Deklan Green was displaced in time. Born approximately one hundred years later than he ought to have been, he has been described—even in his earliest years—as an “old man.” A lover of all things antiquated, Green smokes a pipe, wears a waistcoat, and still checks books out from the library.
Perhaps it is not surprising then that his writing, too, harkens to that more familiar era, an era of embellished decadence and a dogged adherence to decorum designed to gloss over the turmoil and injustice that stirred beneath. Whether as homage or simply forestalled theft, Green draws inspiration, at varying times and depths, from such masters of the age as Howard, Poe, Wodehouse, and Lovecraft.
Working against the steady and inevitable march of technology, much of Green’s work is principally composed on a manual typewriter, and nearly all his reading is done in print. And while the odds are that you’re currently reading this on some manner of digital platform, he reckons he can forgive you for that anyway.
