Henry J. Wilkins writes fiction that moves through the shadows—literary noir driven by fractured memory, moral ambiguity, and the weight of silence. In The Tenth Cross, he delivers psychological noir at its most harrowing: a brutal meditation on faith, repression, and the lasting violence of belief systems. The book doesn't flinch. It stares hard, and keeps staring.
With Silt: The Two Cuts, Wilkins shifts tone while keeping the blade sharp. This quiet, eerie novella offers social commentary with a deadpan smirk, following two mirrored narratives about complicity, cowardice, and the emotional cost of doing nothing. It’s satire dressed in silt-stained denim—still noir, but with the tongue pressed lightly in cheek.
His forthcoming collection, Is There Some Way Out of Here, turns inward and upward, threading metaphysical unease through surreal landscapes and existential mazes. Across genres and styles, what binds Wilkins’ work is a relentless exploration of identity, guilt, and the impossible hope of escape. Whether deadly serious or grimly amused, his fiction lingers long after the page goes quiet.