The Haunted Storm

The Haunted Storm is author Philip Pullman's first book. He was only 25 at the time and it was "published by a publisher who didn't realise it wasn't a very good book".

Unease and suspicion divide a small village following violence and death. Matthew Cortez is physically involved in the investigation, finding his spiritual problems have a greater depth of reality. Only in the final disastrous confrontation in a ruined Mithraic temple does he, at last, glimpse the possibility of peace.

An excerpt from the book The Haunted Storm:

At five o’clock in the afternoon of a day in late September, Matthew Cortez went out of his hotel and crossed the road on to the seafront. He hesitated for a moment, and then turned left, and walked swiftly along the front as the first spots of rain began to fall.

He pulled his overcoat tightly around him and turned the collar up, and then thrust his hands deeply into the pockets. The sole of his right shoe was coming away from the upper and already he could feel the rain soaking in. It was falling harder now.

He breathed deeply. The light was extraordinary; the sky was split in two distinct halves. Over the sea hung huge black storm clouds, rolling inland rapidly, but over the hills behind the town there was a wide, gentle expanse of blue, with filmy white and pink clouds scudding restlessly along. The sun was just hidden from Matthew by the edge of the storm clouds, but the cliffs towards which he was heading, outside the town, shone gold and white in its rays, and the crashing waves at the foot of the cliffs sparkled a distant brilliant green.

Matthew jumped down the slope of the concrete front to the shingle four feet below, and picked up one of the pebbles and put it in his pocket. He had no idea why he did this. It was an impulse. The whole thing was an impulse. The storm that was coming was undoubtedly an impulse in the heart of God.

Matthew was twenty three years old. He was a little over medium height, and slightly built; he had a dark complexion, and his hair was black and long. His eyes were brown, and rounder than most people’s, which gave them the appearance of staring wildly and nervously. His hands trembled.

When the stone was safely in his pocket he scrambled back on to the pavement above the beach and strode off again. The storm-clouds had spread much further and there was now very little blue sky left over the hills. The cliffs no longer shone in the sun.