Every year, Sleepers assembles a motley crue of new and established (but mostly new - mostly never heard of) writers for their critically acclaimed collection of short fiction (with occasional miscellany): The Sleepers Almanac. This year sees new stories from people the eds had previously not heard of, including the incredibly talented likes of Isabelle Li and Julie Koh. But there are names that might be familiar, too, to those who love short stories: Brad Bryant, Pierz Newton-John, or Sian Prior, perhaps better known for her journalism, but proving that she knows how to wrangle a story too. What makes the Almanac different is its breadth. The Almanac, which focuses on new and emerging authors, is the result of a slush-pile read, where writers from all over the country have been encouraged to send in stories up to 10,000 words long.

When Cate Kennedy spoke at the opening night of the Wheeler Centre, the new literary hub, she told a story so rich and textured that everyone who had been there that night had just one name on their lips, and it was Cate's. Cate's piece of storytelling is one of the many pieces to grace this latest Almanac, and it sits alongside new work from the likes of David Atle, Steven Amsterdam and Kalinda Ashton.When Sleepers was founded by Zoe Dattner and Louise Swinn several years ago their aim was to bring to the reading public the most exhilarating experience on the page. The previous Almanacs demonstrated how successful they were and now, in its sixth incarnation, the Sleepers Almanac has become an Atustralian institution, as always, the Almanac is a collection of short stories, poetry and cartoons, which specialises in bringrng together authors of some repute alongside novice writers. It will also be launched as an iPhone application for those who like to read on the run.

In these two “astonishing” novellas (The New Yorker), the Booker Prize-winning author of Possession returns to the landscape of Victorian England, where science and spiritualism are popular manias, and domestic decorum coexists with brutality and perversion. "At once quirky and deep, brimming with generosity, imagination, and intelligence." —The New Yorker In Morpho Eugenia, an explorer realises that the behaviour of the people around him is alarmingly similar to that of the insects he studies. In The Conjugal Angel, curious individuals – some fictional, others drawn from history – gather to connect with the spirit world. Throughout both, Byatt examines the eccentricities of the Victorian era, weaving fact and fiction, reality and romance, science and faith into a sumptuous, magical tapestry.

An outstanding collection of short fiction from a bold new voice in contemporary literature. The 13 stories in Karen Hitchcock's debut collection Little White Slips showcase a formidable new talent. One of the most exciting recruits to the Australian Picador list in years, Karen's writing is deeply personal, strikingly feminine, heart-breakingly beautiful, at times fearless and confronting, and frequently hilarious. Whether tackling a troubled marriage using an action figure of Sigmund Freud, celebrating the apparent triumph of weight loss, or coping with the stresses of balancing a career with motherhood, the joys and frustrations of our lives are laid bare. Hitchcock's often painfully honest observations are balanced by a wry humour and sharp wit. And with stories encompassing growing up, love, betrayal, sex, marriage, self-image, and our relationships with family, friends and food, there are few women (and the odd man) who will not recognise themselves in these tales.

'The Weight of a Human Heart' turns the rules of storytelling on their head. A series of graphs illustrates the disintegration of a marriage, step by excruciating step. A literary feud, and an affair, play out in the book review section of a national newspaper. A young girl learns her mother's disturbing secrets.

A biting collection of stories from a bold new voice. A young girl sees ghosts from her third eye, located where her belly button should be. A corporate lawyer feels increasingly disconnected from his job in a soulless 1200-storey skyscraper. And a one-dimensional yellow man steps out from a cinema screen in the hope of leading a three-dimensional life, but everyone around him is fixated only on the color of his skin. Welcome to Portable Curiosities. In these dark and often fantastical stories, Julie Koh combines absurd humour with searing critiques on modern society, proving herself to be one of Australia's most original and daring young writers.

Todd Hearon’s haunting debut collection chronicles the twin paths of isolation and desire in the search for meaning and union with others. On his pilgrimage through the lost worlds of earth and the soul, the speaker encounters drought in both the literal and spiritual sense as he confronts desolate landscapes, from the brown remnants of ruined cities, to the depths of the human heart and man’s capacity for utter destruction. Yet even though he frequently encounters darkness, he never ceases to seek beauty. He is a man who wears many faces, from Adam, staring down a bleak future bereft of Paradise, to the doomed poet Shelley, drowned off the coast of Italy. He speaks as a man adrift in his own life, seeking an answer to his emptiness, an estranged traveler through memory and longing. Lyrical and intense, Strange Land is a quest for understanding and human connection. Strange Land It goes without saying a word: the world under cover of midnight snow, what we have known of pageantry and lilac, leaf and song subsumed in starless silence. Waking at dawn into the tremulous blue of the room, as in earth’s afterglow, we lie, lidless, listening, as crows call out the ear’s horizons. What year is it? Into what country were we born and now must make our way? Outside the pane the stillness feels ancestral but the ghosts not yours, not mine. My émigré, we are cut off. An ocean to the east churns in chiaroscuro while unseen ranges to the south deflect our passage, what passage might have been. This country seems the passing of a dream to a moonscape’s still immitigable white, a land’s amnesia where against the sky three needling black birds fly and slip like an ellipsis out of sight.