by Clive Barker


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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780743417358
Publisher: Gallery Books
Publication date: 04/01/2001
Pages: 672
Sales rank: 141,841
Product dimensions: 5.31(w) x 8.25(h) x 1.90(d)

About the Author

Clive Barker is the bestselling author of over twenty novels and collections, including Weaveworld, Imajica, and Galilee. He regularly shows his art in Los Angeles and New York, and produces and directs for both large screen and small. He lives in California with his partner.


Los Angeles

Date of Birth:

October 5, 1952

Place of Birth:

Liverpool, England


Liverpool University

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One: Homing


Nothing ever begins.

There is no first moment; no single word or place from which this or any other story springs.

The threads can always be traced back to some earlier tale, and to the tales that preceded that; though as the narrator's voice recedes the connections will seem to grow more tenuous, for each age will want the tale told as if it were of its own making.

Thus the pagan will be sanctified, the tragic become laughable; great lovers will stoop to sentiment, and demons dwindle to clockwork toys.

Nothing is fixed. In and out the shuttle goes, fact and fiction, mind and matter woven into patterns that may have only this in common: that hidden among them is a filigree that will with time become a world.

It must be arbitrary, then, the place at which we choose to embark.

Somewhere between a past half forgotten and a future as yet only glimpsed.

This place, for instance.

This garden, untended since the death of its protector three months ago, and now running riot beneath a blindingly bright late August sky; its fruits hanging unharvested, its herbaceous borders coaxed to mutiny by a summer of torrential rain and sudden, sweltering days.

This house, identical to the hundreds of others in this street alone, built with its back so close to the railway track that the passage of the slow train from Liverpool to Crew rocks the china dogs on the dining room sill.

And with this young man, who now steps out of the back door and makes his way down the beleaguered path to a ramshackle hut from which there rises a welcoming chorus of coos and flutterings.

His name is Calhoun Mooney, but he's universally known as Cal. He is twenty-six, and has worked for five years at an insurance firm in the city center. It's a job he takes no pleasure in, but escape from the city he's lived in all his life seems more unlikely than ever since the death of his mother, all of which may account for the weary expression on his well-made face.

He approaches the door of the pigeon loft, opens it, and at that moment — for want of a better — this story takes wing.


Cal had told his father several times that the wood at the bottom of the loft door was deteriorating. It could only be a matter of time before the planks rotted completely, giving the rats who lived and grew gross along the railway line access to the pigeons. But Brendan Mooney had shown little or no interest in his racing birds since Eileen's death. This despite, or perhaps because, the birds had been his abiding passion during her life. How often had Cal heard his mother complain that Brendan spent more time with his precious pigeons than he did inside the house?

She would not have had that complaint to make now; now Cal's father sat most of every day at the back window, staring out into the garden and watching the wilderness steadily take charge of his wife's handiwork, as if he might find in the spectacle of dissolution some clue as to how his grief might be similarly erased. There was little sign that he was learning much from his vigil, however. Every day when Cal came back to the house in Chariot Street — a house he'd thought to have left for good half a decade ago, but which his father's isolation had obliged him to return to — it seemed he found Brendan slightly smaller. Not hunched, but somehow shrunken, as though he'd decided to present the smallest possible target to a world suddenly grown hostile.

Murmuring a welcome to the forty or so birds in the loft, Cal stepped inside, to be met with a scene of high agitation. All but a few of the pigeons were flying back and forth in their cages, near to hysteria. Had the rats been in, Cal wondered? He cast around for any damage, but there was no visible sign of what had fueled this furor.

He'd never seen them so excited. For fully a half a minute he stood in bewilderment, watching their display, the din of their wings making his head reel, before deciding to step into the largest of the cages and claim the prize birds from the melee before they did themselves damage.

He unlatched the cage, and had opened it no more than two or three inches when one of last year's champions, a normally sedate cock known, as were they all, by his number — 33 — flew at the gap. Shocked by the speed of the bird's approach, Cal let the door go, and in the seconds between his fingers' slipping from the latch and his retrieval of it, 33 was out.

"Damn you!" Cal shouted, cursing himself as much as the bird, for he'd left the door of the loft itself ajar, and — apparently careless of what harm he might do to himself in his bid — 33 was making for the sky.

In the few moments it took Cal to latch the cage again, the bird was through the door and away. Cal went in stumbling pursuit, but by the time he got back into the open air, 33 was already fluttering up above the garden. At roof height he flew around in three ever larger circles, as if orienting himself. Then he seemed to fix his objective and took off in a north-northeasterly direction.

A rapping drew Cal's attention, and he looked down to see his father standing at the window, mouthing something to him. There was more animation on Brendan's harried face than Cal had seen in months; the escape of the bird seemed to have temporarily roused him from his despondency. Moments later he was at the back door, asking what had happened. Cal had no time for explanation.

"It's off!" he yelled.

Then, keeping his eye on the sky as he went, he started down the path at the side of the house.

When he reached the front the bird was still in sight. Cal leapt the fence and crossed Chariot Street at a run, determined to give chase. It was, he knew, an all but hopeless pursuit. With a tail wind a prime bird could reach a top speed of seventy miles an hour, and though 33 had not raced for the best part of a year he could still easily outpace a human runner. But Cal knew he couldn't go back to his father without making some effort to track the escapee, however futile.

At the bottom of the street he lost sight of his quarry behind the rooftops, and so made a detour to the footbridge that crossed the Woolton Road, mounting the steps three and four at a time. From the top he was rewarded with a good view of the city. North toward Woolton Hill, and off east, and southeast, over Allerton toward Hunt's Cross. Row upon row of council house roofs presented themselves, shimmering in the fierce heat of the afternoon, the herringbone rhythm of the close-packed streets rapidly giving way to the industrial wastelands of Speke.

Cal could see the pigeon, too, though he was a rapidly diminishing dot.

It mattered little, for from this elevation 33's destination was perfectly apparent. Less than two miles from the bridge the air was full of wheeling birds, drawn to the spot no doubt by some concentration of food in the area. Every year brought at least one such day, when the ant or gnat population suddenly boomed, and the bird life of the city was united in its gluttony. Gulls up from the mudbanks of the Mersey, flying tip to tip with thrush and jackdaw and starling, all content to join the jamboree while the summer still warmed their backs.

This, no doubt, was the call 33 had heard. Bored with his balanced diet of maize and maple peas, tired of the pecking order of the loft and the predictability of each day — the bird had wanted out; wanted up and away. A day of high life; of food that had to be chased a little, and tasted all the better for that; of the companionship of wild things. All this went through Cal's head, in a vague sort of way, while he watched the circling flocks.

It would be perfectly impossible, he knew, to locate an individual bird among these riotous thousands. He would have to trust that 33 would be content with his feast on the wing, and when he was sated do as he was trained to do, and come home. Nevertheless, the sheer spectacle of so many birds exercised a peculiar fascination and, crossing the bridge, Cal began to make his way toward the epicenter of this feathered cyclone.

Copyright © 1987 by Clive Barker

Table of Contents







I Homing

II The Pursuers

III Who Moved the Ground?

IV Contact

V Before the Dark

VI Mad Mooney



I A Suit of Lights

II The Skin of the Teeth

III Selling Heaven

IV Nuptials

V In the Arms of Mama Pus

VI Sick Souls

VII The Tallboy

VIII Following the Thread

IX Finders Keepers

X The Menstruum



I The River

II Waking in the Dark

III What She Told

IV Night Terrors

V From the Mouths of Babes

VI Events in a High Wind

VII The Aftermath

VIII Necessary Evils

IX On the Might of Princes

X Humankindness

XI Three Vignettes



I To Sell Is to Own

II Tell Me No Lies

III So Near, So Far

IV Breaking the Law

V Threshold





I Cal, Among Miracles

II At the Lake; and Later

III Delusions

IV Allegiances

V The Orchard of Lemuel Lo

VI Capra's House

VII Shadwell on High

VIII The Virgin Blooded

IX Never, and Again

X The Summons

XI At the Gazebo

XII A Vanishing Breed

XIII A Proposal



I Time's Gone By

II Despair

IV The Nomads

V Our Lady of the Bones

VI The Brittle Machine

VII Tales of Spook City



I The Messenger

II Seeing the Light


IV As Good Men Go

V The Hours Pass

VI Hello, Stranger

VII Lost Causes

VIII New Eyes for Old

IX A Secret Place

X Fatalities

XI Cal, Traveling North

XII Resolution



I Strategy

II The Burial Party

III The Horse Unharnessed

IV The Rope Dancers

V Nonesuch

VI The Flesh Is Weak

VII An Open Book

VIII The Essential Dragon

IX The Fire

X Unearthly Delights

XI A Witness

XII One Fell Swoop

XIII A Fleeting Glimpse

XIV The Narrow Bright



I Trespassers

II The Temple

III The Miracle of the Loom

IV Shadwell

V A Fragile Peace





I No Rest for the Wicked

II Oblivion

III The Wall

IV Uriel



I Portrait of the Hero as a Young Lunatic

II Representations

III No Lullabies

IV The Shrine of the Mortalities

V The Naked Flame

VI Death Comes Home



I A Chapter of Accidents

II Dust and Ashes

III The Secret Isle

IV Past Hope



I Blizzard

II Shelter from the Storm

III On the Hill

IV Symmetry

V The Sleepwalker

VI Rapture

What People are Saying About This

Peter Straub

Weaveworld is pure dazzle, pure storytelling. The mixed, tricky world where fantasy and horror overlap has been visited before—though not very often—and Weaveworld will be a guide to everyone who travels there in the future.

Customer Reviews

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Weaveworld 4.4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 49 reviews.
SoCalMom More than 1 year ago
Barker's version/vision of "The garden of Eden" totally rocked! He's a genius. This was my first Clive Barker book and I've been a devoted fan of all his work ever since. Weaveworld is a nonstop thrill ride from beginning to end; with staggering twists, sharp turns, and sudden dips. Poor Cal and Suzanna, if it wasn't one thing it was another. It seemed like those two didn't get one iota of peace throughout the yarn, but in the end, all their struggles were well worth it. Like Imajica, Barker really knows how to bring his worlds to life: they are so colorful (in every implication of the word) and vivid that they just pull you right in to its many folds. Weaveworld is such an incredible story, that I don't think my words give it the justice it deserves.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Barker takes you through an exiting roller coaster ride with many twists and turns.Up and down around every corner Barker attacks your senses.The horror genre has never been like this and never will again.This book leaves you a little shooken and wanting more.He throughs everything at you but the kitchen sink in this novel
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Clive Barker is the master of making the reader believe the unbelievable. A must read for anyone who longs for a little magic in their life.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Each Clive Barker book i revisit....for it's been 15+ years since i read most of his masterpieces. They have made me a little stonger and more self aware each book I finnish. In the last 2 weeks i've finnished Sacrament, Weaveworld, and CBs First Tales....but it really started at Christmas with Thief of Always and the Abarat series. Oh and I recently finnished Damnation Game! Fabulous. Thank you Mr BARKER for helping me reconnect with myself. I reccomend thesebooks toeveryone!!
LindaR58 More than 1 year ago
Over ten years later, this story still haunts with a relish to reread again...please enable this into a Nook Book!! Pure fantasy that grabs you and never lets go.
MaGicAllyGeNuisJ More than 1 year ago
Weaveworld is a great book. But I wouldnt say one of his best. Weaveworld is a book about a world beyond this world. A world that imagination can take flight, and where dreams are born. Weaveworld, is a great fantasy fiction, and a wonderful book to read!! *Sp0oKy*
Guest More than 1 year ago
I thought that this novel was the best I've read yet. I am a big fan of Barker's style and I fell in love with this book. I couldn't put it down. It took my mind to places I've never imagined. If you like a mixture of horror and fantasy, you'll love this one.
danconsiglio on LibraryThing 7 months ago
Good stuff! Modern-times fantasy for the older audience. Contains some badass Revelations imagery. I likes me a fantasy author who respects his sources.
mckait on LibraryThing 7 months ago
Oh my, what a read. What an exhausting journey. I read this book filled with magic and horror, hope and lack of hope.. and the always menacing Scourge, and felt all of these things. Suzanne carries the strength of mankind, and the magic of her grandmother. Calhoun is sincerity personified. And that is just the beginning, or would be if there was a beginning. Or for that matter and end. I think this was the story of what we each carry within ourselves. And the fear of losing it. I was left feeling lonely, bereft and yet hopeful. Is that possible? Is anything impossible? The story is also a reminder that no one of us can stand alone.
loremipsem on LibraryThing 7 months ago
This is the master work of Clive Barker. This novel really keeps the tension racked up and imagines a world that is complex and dark. It takes the reader on an adrenaline fuelled journey through both the modern world and the world of magic and shows the characters inhabiting both worlds as more complex than previously imagined. The imagination here and the descriptions of the world are masterful.Highly recommended.
brakketh on LibraryThing 7 months ago
Quite a good book, though seems confused in places.
ehtnioj on LibraryThing 7 months ago
Being my first venture into Clive Barker's depraved mind, I must say that I was very impressed. However, this is a dark tale not for the faint of horror. The basic premise is there is a magical race, the Seerkind, that hides itself in a carpet to protect itself from the outside world and the Scourge, a monster intent on genocide. Once inside the hidden world, the carpet is guarded by a human. However, a Seerkind exile and her human associate work to find the carpet and destroy the Seerkind's world. In the process the caretaker dies and her grandaughter takes up her mantle, while fate brings Cal, a human who is destined to play a role in the future of the Seerkind, into the story and a bizarre and disjointed romance ensues. Anyone who tries to tell you this book is more fantasy than horror is delusional. Barker is a horror writer through and through and that shines in this work. The Fugue is a fantastical world with magical characters, but Weaveworld itself spins around an axis of blood and death. There are monsters galore along with some of the goriest imagery I have ever encountered. My only knock on Weaveworld is that the main antagonists, Shadwell and Immacalota, while vividly rendered are relatively flat. We know what their goals are but there is little in the way of background provided. We are never really told why they want what they want.
nkmunn on LibraryThing 7 months ago
Very trippy, totally germinal.
Miro on LibraryThing 11 months ago
There's a mixture of fantasy and horror in this book. The horror is corny but the fantasy lifts it onto a different plane. An invisible parallel race codes itself into a beautiful tightly woven carpet that lies for years in the half abandoned north of England house of it's old lady guardian. When she dies.......
Crowyhead on LibraryThing 11 months ago
Barker is a fine, fine fantasist, capable of creating and handling the most intricate plots and worlds with aplomb.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I always love his imagery
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is a complicated and masterful journey. His worlds are always thus. Takes commitment to read but is impossible to ut down.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
It took me a little while to read but i am so glad that i did!!! The last 100 pages blew my mind!
repatpat More than 1 year ago
This book is one of my all time favorite books and I have been reading for over 60 years. I read it many years ago and still remember it. Excellent.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This was the first book I read by Barker. I keep waiting for a movie version, which was supposed to be in the works but never came about.
BlueSurvivor More than 1 year ago
This is the book that really got me hooked on fantasy. The author doesn't just write stories, he creates worlds. A true must read if you haven't already.
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