Comic Timing

Just finishing off Ch.3 of 'The Missing', with the help of Maureen. Still plenty of work to go and with Madam Vin doing the first read through of 'DarkFather' and the new short story I've started, things are busy, busy, busy.

Been able to do quite a bit of reading over the weekend by sticking mainly to comics:

Skin was banned and few people wanted to publish it when it was first touted. The story of a violent skin head Thalidomide is not going to be every one's ideal subject matter and while the comic is worthy it is intrinsically flawed due to its main character. You never sympathise or really care about Martin 'Atchet and early on you realise the inevitable ending. It is however, well written with clever use of language and the bright almost hypnotic art work is uplifting.

Batman Year One I first read years ago and seems to have aged well. It's Miller's re imagining of the Dark Knight, gone is the ludicrous 70s version (including the rubbish Robin character who I've never liked) and in its place is the darkness and film noir of a Gotham in need of a violent anti-hero. Clever, violent and very, very dark.

Ministry of Space is an alternative history piece concerning what would have happened if Britain had won the space race and not followed WW2 with a decade of depression and a huge national debt. What's best here is the art work, it's magnificent, full of Dan Dare type vehicles and colours. It's only problem is the ending, too quick and too obvious.
It is written by Warren Ellis who also produced Freakangels, which I am enjoying and can't wait to read the next episode of.

The Last American is a futuristic 'last man' story that just doesn't seem to go anywhere. It feels as if the writers and artist both got bored with the project and gave up after several episodes. This a shame because it was building into a good story and the small detailed art work gave it a claustrophobic and empty feel, perfect for the attitude of the hero.

My favourite read has been Batman: The Killing Joke. At last a comic book that understands the Joker, how twisted and unbalanced he really is. This Deluxe recoloured version is amazing, lush and sharp. It also highlights what a good writer Alan Moore can be when working with an artist ready to curb some of his more outlandish digressions. Almost perfect.

****
This blog is now also going out on SFCrowsNest run by the talented (and probably very busy Stephen Hunt. If you haven't read the website or Stephen's work I can highly recommend both.

Read this week:
Batman: The Killing Joke by Alan Moore and Brian Bolland
Lat American by Alan Grant, Mike McMahon and John Wagner
Ministry of Space by Warren Ellis, Chris Weston and Laura Martin
Batman Year One by Frank Miller, David Mazzucchelli and Richmond Lewis
Skin by Peter Milligan, Brendan McCarthy and Carol Swain

Iron Arkwright

And the Blogger Buddy seems to work fine. Don't know if I'll use it very often buts it’s a handy little device for when I can't be bothered to sign in.

Just finished Iron Angel by Alan Campbell, this is definitely a book 2 kind of book. It feels like you are in the middle of something and you need to have read book 1 (Scar Night - one of my top trumps of last year) to understand what is going on while the whole book ends without really ending at all, but sets itself up for book three.
Like the first it’s probably classed as dark fantasy and as the plot spends most of its time in hell then lightness is not something you expect to come across. It is perhaps this rendering of hell that is of most interest. Campbell's imagination must have been working over time (or else he's been drinking too much coffee) as it’s beautifully rendered and unlike any version of hell I've ever read about before. It is a truly horrific place where every construct is a damned soul warped to a gods imagining.
The first story was personal while this is vast and that is perhaps my only concern. Because so much was happening across such a vast world to a myriad of characters I felt it was harder to connect with the story (plus Carnival is missing, which is shame. I liked her). It's epic but looses some of the heart of the first book.

Also read the Luther Arkwright series by Bryan Talbot (who I'm seeing in August at the festival). I read this on the back of Alice in Sunderland which was one of my favourites of last year. It's different but also just as ambitious, plotting a story across multiple versions of the same world called the multiverse (which I think I'm heard used before in Interworld (goes to check), it is! I wonder if this was homage or just a result of minds thinking alike by Gaiman and Reaves).
The simple black and white drawings help the complex language and ideas expressed which take some time to adjust to. This is not a graphic story without heart or brains and you have to bring your intellect to the party. It takes a little time to get into it but stick with it, it's worth it.

Read this week:
Iron Angel by Alan Campbell
The Adventures of Luther Arkwright Book 1, 2 and 3 by Bryan Talbot

blogger Budder

Just a quick note to see if my new Blogger Buddy that sits on my laptops desktop works.

A Load of Links

Things are progressing...slowly. They're getting there but everything takes so much time. 'The Missing' is now a few weeks into its edit under the guiding hand of Maureen and DarkFather has been printed off and had its first read through by an audience (of one, by the name of Madame Vin).

I've been doing a bit of surfing recently and found all sorts of lovely things online. Use the links below to explore:

A great little static film in photos from Jonathan Glancey (architecture journalist of the Guardian) on the watery London of tomorrow with a special guest appearance by the hidden Fleet river: http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/interactive/2008/jun/30/architecture

This seems to be a collective artists site with some beautiful and funny films: http://zune-arts.net/

An article about Central Park at night, which makes me think that my comic book script 'The Park' still has legs. I'll probably go on and have a rewrite of it soon: http://www.forteantimes.com/features/fortean_traveller/1188/central-park-in-the-dark.html

And a load of website dedicated to places underground which I'll put here so that I can find them again next time I'm looking:
http://www.undercity.org/intro.htm
http://www.helenair.com/articles/2004/09/28/top/a06092804_01.txt
http://www.columbia.edu/~brennan/rails/disused.underground.html
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=3925259
http://www.theforbiddenknowledge.com/hardtruth/ground_pentrating_radar.htm

****
Currently in the middle of Alan Campbell's new work but last week I read Stella Muller-Madej's account of being a Jewish child during World War II. She ended up in the Warsaw ghetto and then a concentration camp before being saved by ending up on a work detail at one of Oskar Schindler's factories. I was expecting a harrowing account of life during that period but instead found that the violence and death was almost glossed over as another event in the daily grind of life. This is because the Holocaust is seen through the eyes of child, a child who did not fully understand what was going on, allowing her to ask the questions we all want to know, which is the why and how something like that was ever allowed to happen.
The book is written as a memoir many years after the events, and Stella's use of English is shaky which helps to add to the child like quality of the events. It's a hard going book with casual violence and death part of the daily regime but also a reminder of the horror's human can perpetrate against each other.

****

Finally I'm looking forward to the end of Dr Who this weekend and a 'possible' new Doctor. Because Who won't return until 2010 I'll have to put up with a new Batman film instead:



Read this week:
A Girl from Schindler's List by Stella Muller-Madej

All Simian until today

I'm having to oscillate between two different manuscripts at the moment. Maureen and I are going through Chapter 1 of 'The Missing'(or the first part of the novel as it doesn't really have chapters) sending copies backwards and forwards to one another. At the same time I am printing off the first version of 'DarkFather', which is being read by Madame Vin. I'm hoping the stories don't become too intertwined by accident. I would hate for the Missing Man to suddenly pop up in The Gap.

I'm also at the start of a 'get fit for the Cairngorms bike ride' regime, which was going fine until I pulled the tendons on the inside of both elbows. They have been in exaggerated spasm since last Friday causing me to walk around with my arms bent like an Orang-utan. This has resulted in Madame Vin threatening to put things just out of reach and fits of giggles when I bend simian like to pick them up. Fortunately today the arms are once more straight making me feel all evolved.

****
'The Reapers' is the new Charlie Parker novel only it doesn't star Bird and instead focuses its plot on Louis and Angel. I think this book has been at the back of the mind of all John Connolly readers since he introduced us to the characters in the first novel. The two characters have grown with the books but their pasts, often hinted at, has never been fully explored. This book sets the record straight allowing us to watch Louis grow from a poor marginalised southern boy in a racist society through pain and anguish which leads him to becoming a cold hearted killer who is eventually redeemed (as much as a killer for hire can be). It also shows the love and respect Angel and Louis have for one another, the bond that keeps them together and the shadowy lives they must live to protect each other.
It also introduces us to the characters in their lives, from the humble and loyal mechanic Willy and Arno, the local bar owner Nate and the dark brooding presence of Parker, who you realise is just as fearsome (if not more so) than Louis.
As ever the book is well written, cleverly plotted at a fast and rising pace. My only gripe is that the character of Bliss, yang to Louis' ying, is skipped over a little too quickly. I wanted to know more about him, for him to built up like The Collector of previous books. Not that I'm complaining because as usual Connolly has produced a brilliant and creative thriller.

Interworld by Neil Gaiman and Michael Reaves however was a bit of a disappointment. Gaiman I've written about before and remains one of my favourite writers but this fell flat in both ideas and the language used. I haven't read anything by Reaves before so have nothing to compare it to. I don't know if it was the fact of co-writing a book that meant their individual ideas and voices were lost in the joint effort but I just found it lacking in imaginative sparks.
The Subterranean volume is as always beautifully produced, however there are a couple of glaringly obvious editing mistakes.

Finally I finished the week reading 'Arkham Asylum,' a 25 th Anniversary release of the Grant Morrisson and Dave Mckean comic. I first read this over a decade ago and though the story works only in fits and starts the art work is amazing.

****
Read this week:
The Reapers by John Connolly
Interworld by Neil Gaiman and Michael Reaves
Arkham Asylum by Grant Morrisson and Dave Mckean

Age Banding

You've probably already read about the new initiative by some publishers to add an age range to books as a guide for parents when choosing a new book for their offspring. The story has made the press and a full outline of the issues can be read in The Telegraph and at the BBC. I have to say having just finished 'The Darkfather' I'm against the idea, the reasons being:

a) Books should be read for enjoyment not because they mark base camps along the Everest of reading. I read books that are meant for children but its the story and the characters, the language and the created world that makes it for me, not some arbitrary age grouping.

b) When I set off to write a novel I have no idea about the age group it fits into. The story develops and the language along with it. The language I use is suitable to the story not the age of the reader.

c) As I child I came to books late (I read mainly comics as a youngster) but when I started to read I read voraciously and worked through everything from 'The Hobbit', to 'Great Expectations' to the works of Shakespeare. If I had known that were I to pick up a book and be stigmatised by those around me by the 'age' of the book then I might not have picked some of them up.

d) If you're an adult choosing a book for a child and don't know what to buy - speak to a bookseller or a Librarian. I've worked in both positions and I can tell you the people working in books do it for the love of the works and not the pay (which in most cases is rubbish). Go to a good book shop and ask for help. The staff will impart their knowledge freely and try their best to help you.

So that is why I've added my name to the Philip Pullman lead campaign and ask that you do the same. Details can be found here.

****

Started on the editing process of 'The Missing' today with my editor Maureen. She's leading me down the rubbish strewn path of missing colon's, sentence restructure and tense clarification. Chapter 1 has been reviewed and we should have that finished within the next couple of weeks. She's read the book twice and says she enjoyed it (phew!).

****

My new leather jacket has arrived - hurrah! It's taken some time due to my rather poor Lycos email account which seems to be acting up at the moment and the trip to Japan. But it is now here and looks wonderful and fits perfectly. Many thanks to John at Bad Wolf for sorting it all out for me.

Catching up

Couple of things came through in the email whilst I was away.

The short story 'Pastoral Effect' will be published in the June 09 issue of New Horizons magazine. This is one of the magazines produced by the British Fantasy Society, I'll check to see if you have to be a member to purchase a copy.

I have an editor for 'The Missing'. The erudite Maureen will be undertaking the task and we hope to get things complete in three months. I'll keep you posted on how it goes.

****

Read several books whilst away:

Mariah Mundi - The Midas Box by G.P. Taylor takes a while to get going but is full of wonderful gothic inventions and is set in a world that might be Victorian England but then again might be somewhere completely different. It tells the story of the orphan Mariah in his new occupation as servant in the Prince Regent Hotel, a massive monstrosity built on supports over a cliff face with steam elevators and something nasty hidden in the basement. There he meets the feisty Sacha and soon finds himself embroiled in a mystery concerning vanishing children, magic tricks, the Kracken and tunnels underground. Once it beds in the story sets a rapid pace and those the language might be difficult for some children the invention should keep them reading. I will now go back and read the book that he first published - Shadowmancer.

In the Miso Soup is a translation of a work by Ryu Murakami from Japan. It's dark and funny and deadly and terrible violent. Sort of stuck half way between a Tarantino movie and an Ian Banks novel. Its well written and the translated with deft by Ralph McCarthy. Short and brutal but with a heart (cut out and pulsating in a clutched hand).

Tokyo by Mo Hayder is a simple thriller involving the atrocities committed by the Japanese Army in Nanking during their war against China, plotted against an outsiders involvement with the Yakuza in modern day Tokyo. The main character 'Grey' I found a little difficult to understand but the reason for this soon becomes evident and you understand why she has been used. The other great mystery of the story, a Chinese herbal medicine and its contents is the books downfall with its source being obvious early in the story.

Read this week:
Mariah Mundi - The Midas Box by G.P. Taylor
In the Miso Soup by Ryu Murakami
Tokyo by Mo Hayder

The long one about Tokyo

I had been told to expect culture shock. Japan after all is Asian in mind and deed, insular and yet modern, but this is a creeping type of culture shock. You don’t experience it all at once, it seeps into you slowly. Rather than the freezing cold shock of ice cubes down the back of your shirt, it is the dropping of the temperature as you move into the frozen waste lands. Things are obviously dissimilar, the signage is difficult to read, the land smells different, the usual becomes slightly more difficult than normal but Tokyo is a city, and you know the way that a city works. They are the same all over the world. But after a time you realise that Tokyo is different - very, very different.

First the expected. Tokyo at night is (and I know that this is almost a cliché) the city of Bladerunner. The soft rain, neon lights pulsating, smoke filled bars up hidden stairs. It is as if you’ve stepped through the screen right into Deckard’s world, a land of replicants and off world colonies. It’s beautiful and raw, with the thrill of possibility around every corner. But you were anticipating that, you’ve seen the pictures, you know what to expect.

Day time Tokyo is just as thrilling, but in a calming, clean and polite way. I’ve always thought of cities as dirty, angry places. All those people living cheek by jowl with all the rubbish, noise and pollution spilling out onto the streets, but it would appear not so in Tokyo. With a population of 12 billion they have created a city that is clean and polite, that embraces the future whilst heeding the past. People are courteous and kind, get out a map and look vacant (something I’m good at) and within seconds a helpful local will point you in the right direction. Perhaps it’s because the Japanese have created a city that works. In our two week holiday I did not see a train that was late, an electric door that didn’t fail to open, a ticket barrier that did not work, or a toilet seat that wasn’t gently warmed electronically. I didn’t see rubbish on the floor, wanton vandalism, or any signs of aggression. Either Tokyo works in ways that we at home can and will never understand or else Tokyo has a dark, misshapen portrait in its own attic.

We stayed in the plush Park Hotel in a new-ish district called Shiodome (pronounced shi-oh-dom-ee). The hotel staff were brilliant, attentive but knowing when to give you space. The hotel was immaculately kept and wonderfully situated. If you go I can’t recommend it enough. Around Shiodome you have everything you need. The area is ultra modern with underground, over ground and monorail trains next to the hotel. Every type of restaurant you want is within walking distance; from the Japanese salary man barbecue pits to high class (with great views) restaurants. I had the best Italian meal outside of Italy ever in a purpose built Italian section of the city behind our hotel.
We visited like crazy – Imperial parks, museums of the future, Buddhist temples and Shinto (fascinating religion) shrines. We saw Mount Fuji (which is not as easy at it sounds) and failed to see a massive waterfall. We rode the famous bullet trains and drank in the same bar as Bill Murray, and we ate and ate and ate…

The highlight for me was learning a few Samurai sword moves from Tetsuro Shimaguchi, the head choreographer in the swordfight scene in the snowy garden in “Kill Bill: Volume One” (he played the role of Crazy 88 (Miki) in the film). Apparently I’m a natural, but I think he says that to everyone. I have a film on VHS of me and Madame Vin that I’ll get copied to the blog as soon as it is on disc and then you can make your own decision.

So that’s it, holiday over, but I will definitely be going back to Tokyo - I don’t know when buts it’s on my radar. For now it’s back to work and finishing off ‘Dark Father’.

'Dark Father' Almost Finished

Well, it's taken plenty of hard work and several late nights this week but the version of 'Dark Father' I wanted to complete before my holiday is, as they say 'in the bag.' When I come back from Japan I'll have a good tidy up, spring clean a few troublesome areas, check the spelling and make sure no characters change sex, get different names or hop the species barrier, and then it'll be ready for its first test readings.

I'm off to Tokyo tomorrow so no updates for the next couple of weeks, but when I get back expect some interesting posts with photos. I might try to post from Tokyo but if that is problematic I'll wait until my return.

Iron Angel

Last night we went to the signing for Alan Campbell's new novel Iron Angel, follow up to the extremely good Scar Night. It was a quick affair, as Alan points out that he doesn't enjoy public speaking, but he read a brief snippet from the work and then set about pressing the flesh and signing copies.

I'm looking forward to reading this one after reading the short Lye Street which I commented on just a few short weeks ago.

I'll put up a review after I've read it.

****

The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood is a reworking of the story of Odysseus but seen from the point of view of a dead Queen Penelope. It's a slight book, a fast read in 195 short pages, but she manages to convey the brutish and violent acts of the ancient Greek myths for what they are, namely complex, incestuous and verging ever so slightly into melodrama.
Unlike the myths, the characters have a real voice, with an internal monologue giving the queen an intelligent and sophisticated view on the world in which she is thrust via marriage to the scheming Odysseus, a man who she loves and tries to understand. His killing of her handmaids on his return from the Trojan War acts as the catalyst for the story with the handmaids acting as a deathly chorus line throughout the book.

I've also just finished The Black Book of Horror but I've promised a review to the BFS. I might be able to post one here after the next release of Prism.

****

Read this week:
The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood
The Black Book of Horror by Various

I Have Art

I opened the two large packages that arrived today like an excited school boy. After being in the flat for a year we finally took possession of two large pieces of art for the front room. Not mounted prints or copies but two pieces of real bon-a-fide originals. The fact that it has taken so long is that Madame Vin and I have wildly differing tastes when it comes to art and agreeing on two large canvases took perseverance and a cool head.

The first is a piece called Golden Arch by an artist called Yanik.

The second is a piece called Cosmopolitan City by an artist called Muliarta.

Now I know that artist are not in any way well known and their work is classed as simple to produce but just knowing that the piece is unique (and beautiful) and that someone has sweated over its production makes it that little bit more worthwhile to put on my walls.

Heidelberg Here We Come!

I'm off to Germany on Thursday so probably won't post again until next week. I'm visiting Heidelberg on a gentleman's weekend tour. Wikipedia reliably informs me that approximately 600,000 years ago, the "Heidelberg Man", whose jaw-bone was discovered in 1907, the earliest evidence of human life in Europe, died at nearby Mauer. I'll probably be feeling pretty similar by the end of the weekend.

****

Read 'Something from the Nightside' by Simon R. Green last week. This was one of the books I purchased on my excursion to London as the books are currently only available in US versions. I was really looking forward to the start of this series as the ideas contain everything that I find exciting in a story. The books are set in London and the Nightside, a world entwined within the real city where pretty much anything goes. It's a disturbing, threatening, evil place that cares for no one or no thing. The Nightside is well described and Green obviously took his time in thinking the fantasy world up. That said it's just a little bit too 'stateside' in its build to be the other side of London. It feels more like a dark and disturbing Chicago than the capital.
The story itself is very 'pulp', and for me just not complex enough. However I plan to read the next couple before giving up.

'Lost Girls' has been much talked about in the press due to its 'adult' nature and uncompromising position on lesbianism and sexual liberation. It was even briefly banned in the UK as Great Ormond St. Hospital worried it cast a bad light on the character of Wendy from Peter Pan. To be honest I think its a big hoopla about nothing. The book is nicely put together, the art work attractive and the story simple. It's not an erotic masterpiece and I doubt very much that it would shock many people today. I think its a curiosity from another time, something that would have been burnt earlier in this century but can be read and understood from (thankfully) a more mature outlook. Praise must go to Alan Moore and Melinda Gebbie for at least trying something new in the comic book world.

Read this week:

Something from the Nightside by Simon R. Green
Lost Girls by Alan Moore and Melinda Gebbie.

Subterranean Worlds - Pushing Back the Tide

The first in a series of short essays that I'll collect here concerning Subterranean Worlds. Some of them might be about works of fiction whilst others will be about what lurks beneath out city streets - enjoy!

****

The Victoria embankment of the river Thames is the prefect place for a stroll. The street takes you from the old City of London, past the Temple and leads all the way to Westminster, the route lined with trees while the Thames laps gently below you. But the route is a fake, the parcel of land a man made construction that was used to push the river back and hide some of the many tunnels under the city.

The work was begun in 1865, designed and engineered by one Joseph Bazelgette, a truly visionary individual who brought the sewers to London. Before this date the Thames was the only means of removing all human excrement, waste and pollution from the vast and growing capital. It was in no uncertain terms a massive sewer spreading disease through the capital, and people were dying.

Cholera was rife with ten of thousands of people dying in the years leading up to the ‘Great Stink’. Thought to be brought on by Miasma – foul air, the government of the time was finally pressed into doing something.

The ambitious plan was to push the Thames back and lay underneath the new street three massive sewer pipes that would be connected to 1,100 miles of small piping to remove all the sewage from the city before dumping it untreated further down stream.

Not surprisingly this was a massive feet of engineering, and luckily for us Bazelgette was a forward thinker. Not only did he realise that the correct shape for such large pipes would be oval and not round but he built them in such a way as to be scaled up for future use. The same pipes are still in use today (thankfully the sewage is no longer ejected untreated into the river).
Bazelgette and the building of the Victoria Embankment form part of the background for the novel ‘The Worms of Euston Square’ by William Sutton.

At the same time that Bazelgette was sorting out the sewers London was also going through the process of having an underground rail system built into its foundations. It seemed only right that while the bank was open they would also put in a rail line. Today, sitting above the sewage pipes are the lines for the District and Circle services, just a few metres down below the surface of the road.

The fact that the road and area used by so many is in truth artificial can best be seen by two pieces of archaeology still evident above ground. The first is the water gate that can be seen in Victorian Embankment Park shown in the painting ‘River by Moonlight’ (I can’t find an artists name). In the painting the Thames is seen lapping at its foot, but now the gate is located in the park, some 150 yards from the river and down in a hollow.

Further evidence is given by the steps that lead nowhere by the side of the MOD. Queen’s Mary’s steps as built by Cristopher Wren once led from the now vanished Whitehall Palace as built by Henry VIII. Originally the walk led some 70 feet out into the bed of the river, but they are now marooned and stick out of the wall of the MOD building.

Busy Lives

Quite a lot going on at the moment with trips away happening and lots of info for the blog. This entry will be a bit of a round up before I write up things in a little more detail over the coming week.

Last weekend Madame Vin and I went to London, mainly to see Tash in her one woman charity show but also to catch up with friends. We flew from Edinburgh straight into City Airport, which I must say is a great way of doing it as it means less delay on the way into the capital and allows you to miss the disaster that is Heathrow.

Saturday night we took a train to Dulwich (put on the map by Edward Alleyn, a friend of Marlowe’s) to see Hampton and family, now somewhat grown with the arrival of twins last year. Much wine was consumed and hearty food eaten as we caught up, having realised we had not seen each other for some two years…my, how time moves at a rate of knots not conducive to seeing and meeting everyone you should.

Sunday morning we went on an organised stroll around Subterranean London. I’ve mentioned before that I want to start pulling work together on the subterranean world and how it’s been the focus of fantasy works in the last one hundred years. I’ll put several small essays up here in the next weeks on what we saw and a few photos.

Sunday night was given over to Tash and her show ‘Rolling with Laughter’. It was held at the Her Majesty’s Theatre in the Westend, with all money going to the Jennifer Trust. It was a great night, with Tash being introduced by the Hamilton’s (which means they’ve gone up a little in my estimation).

Final point of call was the Dr Who exhibition, which was a cool in a ‘Adam getting back in touch with childhood wonder’ kind of way. It was also a nice run in to the new series which started last night.

*****

Read quite a bit over the last few weeks and whilst in London I was able to nip to the large Forbidden Planet and stock on some wonderful new hardbacks.

The first in a series by Mike Carey featuring freelance exorcist Felix Castor, ‘The Devil You Know,’ is a down to earth horror/thriller. Carey writes for Hellblazer and I was expecting the books to be a bit of a rip off of Constantine but was pleased to be wrong. Felix is his own man and the London that Carey has created is positioned just the other side of normal, which is exactly how I like my fantasy.
His writing style is fluid and descriptive without ever becoming too complex so that it distracts from the tale. There is a good piece of back story and many characters that no doubt will reappear. He reminds me of early John Connelly and I’ll certainly be reading the next two books and purchasing the soon to arrive fourth.

Odd and the Frost Giants is Neil Gaiman’s children novella released for World Book Day. It plays on Norse mythology, introducing their pantheon of gods to young readers without ever belittling the history or storytelling. As always with Gaiman it reads simply, with each word being considered before use that displays simplicity of language that hides the hard work.

Violent Cases is an early work by Gaiman and Dave Mckean. An adult graphic novel that deals with the magic of memory and lives seen through the eyes of childhood. The art work uses simply black and white line drawings intercut with McKean’s unmistakeable use of mix media.

I’ve also just read the 6 issue comic book Wanted by Mark Millar. I know there is a film version of this coming out later this year but from what I’ve read I’ll be surprised if that’s the filming they are making. The comic book is nihilistic to the point of being a mockery of itself. I understand it’s a fuck you to the normal comic book world of bad guy vs cloaked superhero but in the process it turns society into helpless drones with no chance of redemption.

Read this week:

The Devil You Know by Mike Carey

Odd and the Frost Giants by Neil Gaiman

Violent Cases by Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean

Wanted by Mark Millar

Midlands Marriage

Had a couple of days down in the Midlands for Father's and Yvette's wedding. I must say it all went very well, my speech much appreciated (and laughter in the correct places) with even the snow falling in such a way as to resemble confetti. It was good to see family and friends and my little nephew who is growing up so quick.

We spent the night at a hotel on the edge of East Midlands Airport which was comfier and quieter than I was expecting and allowed Madam Vin and me to continue drinking without worrying where we were going to spend the night. As it was we had an early dinner, a relaxing night and very late morning...so I've definitely caught up on my lost sleep this weekend. The plane was delayed on the way back (as every good piece of bank holiday weekend transport should be) so we didn't get back to Edinburgh until late afternoon.

****

Just finished the chapter entitled 'The Gloom'. That's a new chapter added and means I can spend the rest of this week revising it and those that surround it. I want everything sorted before the end of September so I can mention it as completed to anyone I meet at 'FantasyCon'.

****

Savage Membrane is the sort of book that I like to read between meatier works. It's short, faced paced and full of dark humour and wit. Called a 'Cal McDonald mystery,' it plays homage to Chandler but moves the action to a US where the dead have very much returned. It's a great romp and I'll be looking for the others. It is also illustrated with light, pencil grey artwork which adds to its comic book roots.

Read this week:

Savage Membrane by Steve Niles

Back in Business

Well I'm pleased to say that we're back in business and that 'The Missing' is once more to be published by Libros International. No idea when the book will the hit the shelves (12 - 18 months is a good bet) but it will at some point make it out into the real world like all good children (Frankenstein monsters) must.

At least it will give me plenty of time to complete the new book, currently entitled 'Dark Father', which comprises book one of 'The Chronicles of the Gap'.

****

After the lacklustre book version of Constantine's adventures (see previous blog) I moved back to his comic book roots and read 'The Gift'. Here the Hellblazer actually ends up in hell fighting for the soul of his sister while at the same time being used by the demon Nergal for his own nefarious aims. It's probably one of the best I have read so far with Carey pulling out all the stops to display Constantine's wit and desperation.

Also read the first of my Subterranean Press books, Lye Street. It's a good novella that finished all to quickly. It takes place years before 'Scar Night' and feels as if it might have once formed part of the original manuscript, or a failed start at the novel that was ditched. The writing is good, but not as good as the novel. That said, its a book worthy of adding to the 'Scar Night' mythos.

****

Read this week:
Hellblazer: The Gift by Mike Carey and Leonardo Manco
Lye Street by Alan Campbell

Hitting it Back and Forwards

I am currently in negotiations with the publishers of 'The Missing', with them outlining what they plan to do with the book. This contact is allaying my fears but I still have a difficult decision to make as to what I do. Finding a publisher is hard slow work, but then a book deserves the best you can do for it. I'll keep you posted on how things are progressing when I have some more news.

****

In the mean time here are a few book reviews:

Subterranean By John Shirley: The character of Constantine, a mage living in London through the Thatcherite 80s and into the 90s is one of the modern days comic books survivalists. His exploits have been recorded in comics since Alan Moore created him back in Swamp Thing and even after the disaster of the movie version the character has continued to enthrall. Subterranean, a 300 page novel should then be full of the dark wit and adult horror that the comics have so carefully crafted over the last twenty years. Unfortunately not. All I can assume is that Shirley had no time to sit down and write a carefully crafted novel so instead wrote a stream of consciousness adventure leaving in all the dreadful parts to keep people amused.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde: A classic pure and simple. He might not have invented the horror genre on his own but this short novel goes someway to establishing the dynamics and structure for all future authors. Part of the One City: One Book programme in Edinburgh, I was astounded about how much this book forms part of a collected consciousness. The story I thought was well known, but it seems most people (myself included) have a strange hybrid version of the story lodged in our minds. The real version is much darker, much more psychological then any Hammer Horror movie ever pertained to.

The Museum Vaults is a sumptuously drawn graphic novel from Marc-Antoine Mathieu. Part of a series of books co-produced with the Louvre museum this fantasy sets Monsieur Volumer on a journey deep under the museum as he attempts to catalogue the different basements and artifacts hidden below Paris. Created in monochrome, the drawings are simple yet the art work depicted is sumptuous. I can't praise this enough.

****

I've also picked up the new IDW comic Locke and Key written by Joe Hill which hopefully will be as exciting as his novel. They are certainly as good as, if not better produced than DC's comics.

Read this week:
Subterranean By John Shirley
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde and Other Tales of Terror by Robert Louis Stevenson
The Museum Vaults: Excerpts from the Journal of an Expert by Marc-Antoine Mathieu

Rescind of Contract

I have today written one of the most considered and deliberated upon emails ever to be sent in the history of the interweb.

After months of hard work, time and money, to be offered a contract with a small publishing house was all I ever wanted. I have at this time rescinded that contract and have once more become publisherless.

What foolishness is this I hear you cry! Has Adam been spending too much time sniffing the cleaning products kept under the sink. Alas, I have to say I am in a perfectly stable and balanced state of mind.

I decided after much deliberation that I was much better off without the small publisher, feeling that they were not interested in representing the book in its best light. This is not arrogance or self importance but came down to remarks made by one of their other authors who said that those she was glad her novel had been published she just wished that it had not been published by that particular company (paraphrased and names not given to protect the innocent).

Therefore I am once more free and single and on the look out for a good publisher / Literary Agent interested in representing a dark urban fantasy set in the UK.

If you're out there - Get in touch!

*****

Read this week:

Subterranean by John Shirley

Kiwi Article

I found a link today for a recent article I wrote for those nice people at Travel Weekly. It's a small piece on New Zealand and brings back warm fuzzy memories of mine and Madam Vin adventures in that part of the world.

If any of my Southern hemisphere friends are reading please drop me a comment.

*****

Had a nice parcel in the post yesterday from that excellent purveyor of fine fiction - Subterranean Press. It's a copy of Alan Campbell's 'Lye Street', and a beautiful signed edition with a simple Dave Mckean cover. I'll add it to my large pile of to read books.

Dribbling Soup

Took a long over due trip across the border last weekend to Nottingham and visited all the relatives, family, friends, acquaintances, colleagues, comrades and people who just happened to be in the same pub as me in four days. Everyone is well and still able to eat soup without dribbling.

Father announced he was getting married, which is good news and even better he's getting married to the woman he lives with. Another hasty visit has been arranged for Easter but this will be more of the flying type.

*****

I read the 'Good Fairies of New York' at last which is a novel several people have recommended to me but I'm afraid to say didn't knock my socks off. It was okay. The ideas were excellent and the humour well maintained but I found it lacking in polish. It just felt like there were too many ideas flying around Martin Millar's head when he tried writing this and that they were spewed onto the page in a torrent of enthusiasm. It feels like a first draft and in need of a bit of a shine. As most film makers seem to be going back and producing new versions of their most famous films perhaps authors should be allowed to as well. We could have TGFONY Redux. with new scenes and a bit of editing.

Also read 'At the Mountains of Madness' again. I just love the way this book builds in tension. Nothing particularly scary happens for the first three quarters of the book but you know its coming...slowly...slowly...slowly...until...well I won't ruin it for you. This edition also contained Lovecraft's essay at the back 'Supernatural Horror in Literature,' which if you want to know where dark fiction started then it's a very good introduction.

*****

As soon as I finish my current book I'm starting on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde as it's the book that people all over Edinburgh are reading in Feb.

*****

Read this week:
At the Mountains of Madness by H. P. Lovecraft
The Good Fairies of New York by Martin Millar

Leaving the Woods Behind

Just a quick post.

I'm on to rewrites of the Gap novel (which I have decided not to call 'Mind the Gap' because I've heard on the grape vine that another author is using that title for a soon to be published book). There are quite a few changes I want to make, things that will make the story more resonant and cohesive.

A few of the things I'm doing are starting to make their way out of 'the dark woods'. It's nice when things are getting noticed including this blog which is now being quoted elsewhere http://crimealwayspays.blogspot.com/2007_12_30_archive.html .

A review I did for the BFS has also surfaced as a review on YouTube. It's a bit strange to hear something I wrote read out by a voice that is not my own.

Underground

Just finished reading King Rat, a novel that I've been meaning to read for sometime as it is set under London. This is becoming something of an obsession of mine and I believe they should be seen as a sub-sub-genre in their own right. I think an article should be written as subterranean literature has an excellent pedigree (think Jules Verne and going back even further the Greek myths).
I think I'll look in to it.

Read this week: King Rat by Chine Mielville

Gloriously Bloody

Finished the new Clive Barker last week, one of the many books I received for Xmas. His new book moves him away from his roots (horror) and more towards the mythic literature his stories have displayed over the last few years. It's a good read, short but precise the narrator speaking directly to the reader. It is also very funny.

****

Saw Sweeney Todd last night. Gloriously bloody in the Hammer Horror style with a fine cast and some wonderful over the top acting. London looked great, dark, brooding and nasty. Depp and Carter are slowly being turned into one of Burton's own character drawings, with the darkness under the eyes becoming more pronounced and the hair becoming a living entity.
The only thing I couldn't get to grips with was the singing. It was often quite distracting and fell slightly flat, only the acting keeping it on target for me.

****

Finished the first draft of what I am currently calling 'Mind the Gap' (though this will probably change). I'm taking a week off as I need to send out a few short stories and want to do a rewrite of the the script for 'The Park'.

Read this week: Mister B. Gone by Clive Barker

Mole People

While I was in New York I was able to pick up a copy of Jennifer Toth's 'The Mole People', a book I became aware of several years ago when working at Waterstones. Due to the lowly wages I then earned I did not buy a copy but as it is was about people living under New York I noted it as a future purchase and put it on the long 'Books I plan to buy when I have enough money and enough space to house them all' list.

The book is a first hand account of the people Toth (a Los Angeles Times journalist) found living below ground during the 80s in New York City. There they had created pockets of civilisation, linking up to electrical cables and running water while surviving hundreds of feet below the surface of the city. Some used these hidden underground places as convenient stop overs, places for a nights shelter, while others never left the darkness and shunned human interaction. The people living the deepest underground, amid rumours of cannibalism, were called the mole people. They had completely given up their humanity and gone wild.

The interesting thing about this book are not the stories (told in a mix of social journalistic and tight prose) but the fact some of it is now doubted, with skeptics saying that Toth made it all up. There is lots of chatter on the net which covers both sides of the arguments (try here and here), they are many and varied.

I'm sure some of it is embellished, even with the cool, calm collected mind of a journalist (an oxymoron surely) the experience half seen in the darkness of a tunnel, deep under the city are bound to grow in stature with each telling. The underworld has a strange effect on the minds of people. Personally I'm both scared and fascinated by these places below our feet. Over Hogmany we took father down 'Mary Kings Close' where in a group of twenty we sat in darkness as ghost stories were told. Looking at that hidden street from the back of the tour group I could believe anything could happen down in the darkness and in my mind it frequently does.

The Mole People is worth reading if not for the characters, then the encroaching darkness and the heighten sense of threat that she portrays well. Whether real or not, for me doesn't matter.

Also just finished Dark Harvest, a quick frightening read that takes the reader on a roller coaster ride through a brutal world where children must fight against the 'October Boy', a manifestation with a jack 'o' lantern head. Save it for Hallowe'en.

Read this week:
The Mole People by Jennifer Toth
Dark Harvest by Norman Partridge

Snowing on Edinburgh

It's the new year already.

Having some time off work after father's visit. I'm catching up on the writing that I had planned to do over that period and hope to reach the concluding parts of the new novel by early next week.

It is also snowing outside and while people look thoroughly miserable at the bus stop, inside it looks all magical and wintry.

Here's a quick video from outside my study window.

Top Trumps

As it's that time of year I decided to review the highs and lows of what I've seen and read over the year. The media do this all the time so I thought I would do my own (as the things I like never make it into the top 10 lists). It's also a good cheap way to fill blog space (can this be classed as a repeat?)

Novel
The Unquiet by John Connolly - Still on top form with his books featuring the dark and brooding Charlie 'Bird' Parker. There is something about the way that Connolly writes without giving way to the usual horrors. His stories are undeniably dark but he has created a brooding darkness implicated more by what his character represent than what they actually do. I’m really looking forward to ‘The Reapers’ when it comes out next year.

Scar Night by Alan Campbell – This has reignited my interest in fantasy fiction. Unlike most examples of the genre it is not contrived and creates a world all of its own without brutal world building. Campbell is a star in the making and I’ve ordered a copy of his prequel ‘Lye Street’

Film
Stardust – A beautiful rendition of a beautiful story. Fairy tales for adults either work or fail miserably. This never does and I think that is in the main due to Gaiman’s perfect tone and pitch. Also, very funny.

This is England
At look at the skin head counter culture of which I remember my older cousin being a member but for me was a completely closed off area. I was still a child in 1983 and had no idea about the politics and music, all I knew was that the songs were angry and not all adults approved. This film helped me understand what it was all about.

Comic Book
Alice in Sunderland by Byran Talbot – Dream like but informative with little snippets of detail coming at you from all angles and via many different art forms. If this does not prove to those who say comics are just for children that they are wrong, then I don’t know what will.

TV
Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip – This was by far the best thing on TV in 2007. It was slow to start and at the first the characters seemed simply ‘too smart’ to be real. But the writing was so cleverly crafted that it grew on you and after episode 4 it was clever, sassy and intelligent. The last few episodes should be held up as examples of what TV can and still does best.
It is such a monumental shame that the series ended after just one season. Whoever decided that really has no love for the medium and should instead be working in a bank, not in TV.

Flight of the Conchords - Funny from the first moment to the last. Understated from beginning to end (like anything from New Zealand) but having some of the bestlaugh out loud lyrics I have ever heard. They make it all sound so effortless when in truth to be muscians as good as this involves being born talented. Only they could make a song about sellotape meaningful.

So as a little present....take it away boys.

At-choo!

Well Christmas has come and gone already and it was great. Roast beef for dinner, presents under the tree, the company of Madame Vin and Dr. Who on the telly.

It also involved a strenuous walk up to the top of Arthur's Seat (picture below to prove it) that might have resulted in me waking up Boxing Day morning with a cold. Madame Vin has one as well (share and share alike, I say) so after a quick trip to Boots (thankfully everything seems to open and the chemists even threw in some free vitamin C) we sat on the couch and watched one childrens film after another.

The ham is now in the oven and I think I'll try to have a quiet evening before putting the presents away.

Reading Material

While I was away in NY I was able to do a bit of reading, these are the books and my comments on them:

Supping with Panthers - I've read one of Tom Holland's previous books (Deliver us from Evil). He has some interesting ideas with regards the lore of vampires, mixing the Dracula story into many other myths and history. Panthers includes the British Empire, Kali worshipers, 19th century London and Jack the Ripper. The book does seem to labour the ideas a little bit but its still good to see someone doing something different with the vampires.

Lint - Did not get this at all. I see what Aylett is trying to do, but a mock biography (mockgraphy?) has to have more basis in reality to work. There is an underlying Woody Allen style to the work but whereas Woody keeps his prose style to the short story, this 178 page style is exhausting.

Just One Look - I saw the film 'Tell No One' in the year so decided to give Coben a try. His style is fast and to the point. His thrillers seem perfect for the screen. Interesting element of this is that it is all set in New Jersey close to the out of town shopping complex we visited. I didn't know this when I started reading.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Black Dossier: I was looking for to this, a third LOEG comic but was actually a bit disappointed. The visuals are great (especially the 3D comic) but it feels more like the deleted scene elements on a special DVD. The sort of thing you'll look at once and then never bother with again. It felt like a scrap book rather than a story.

Angel of Darkness: De Lint wrote this many years ago under the pen name Samuel M. Key. he claims it is the 'darkest books I've written, and probably the most gruesome as well', well is true. Very different from his Newford books but worth reading. Thoroughly enjoyed it and those short the story seems well formed.

Read this week:
Supping with Panthers by Tom Holland
Lint by Steve Aylett
Just One Look by Harlan Coben
The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Black Dossier by Alan Moore and Kevin O'Neill
Angle of Darkness by Charles de Lint

Pratchett's News

Heard the news about Terry Pratchett and must admit it is very sad news indeed, but like he says in his statement, 'he's not dead yet', and so I refuse to treat him as such. No doubt there are a plenty of book still in him, and no doubt those books will be as good as the last ones.

Goodbye to all that...

Saturday, and our last day in NY. We had to get to the airport for mid afternoon and Madame Vin woke up with a bad stomach. I think the food portions are wearing us down and I actually opted for muesli this morning for breakfast.
Not wanting to spend time on the streets as it was very cold we headed to the cinema and saw the new Coen brothers film ‘No Country for Old Men’. The film is dark and amusing and certainly their best for some time (I could never understand the fuss made about O Brother, Where Art Thou?). It reminded me of some of their earlier works such as Blood Simple, with the actor Javier Bardem playing a killer of truly frightening potential.
And that’s it. We’ve finished our NY trip. So it's back to Scotland and the build up to the Christmas week, plus I have to get the contract to the publishers.

Tango Look-a-likes

Friday night we made a booking to go to a jazz bar just off Park Avenue. It was great night and after I had tucked into to a bucket of barbecued ribs smothered in a thick sauce we sat down to watch the Pablo Ziegler Quartet (you can here them play here) who just blew me away. The music is Latin tango and wonderfully complex yet so full of emotion. They were joined on stage by Nestor Torres, a flutist of considerable skill and power.
The other thing I noticed about them was that they seemed to be a band of look a likes. Ziegler looks like the actor Danny Aiello, Torres reminded me of a Latin Jerry Seinfield and I swear the bassist was Robert De Niro on a night out.

A Rockefelling Good Christmas

We went to the lighting of the Rockefeller Christmas tree last night. The area around the complex was brought to a stand still as people from all over the world joined to watch the lights being switched on along with entertainment (most of those who appeared on stage I had never heard of but from the roar of the crowd they were quite famous).

We had dinner booked at a restaurant in the centre itself but it seemed the restaurant had a private party on instead. This was a shame as it was a place Madame Vin had wanted to go for time.

Dragons and Woody Allen

Visited the Natural History Museum by Central Park to see an exhibition for creatures that have never existed. Mythic creatures such as the Kraken, unicorn and dragon are covered along with lesser known creatures such as the mermaid water goddess Mater Wata and the giant eagle Roc. The exhibition is interesting but like most things in the US it feels like a lot of style over substance. I wanted more information, more history, more ideas but all I got was a lot of pretty pictures. It also feels as if the curators are laughing at the ideas rather than understanding and expressing the social and mythical meaning of such beasts.
Back down to the village after with a trip up and down Bleeker St. looking for a comic shop that seems to have vanished. But I did stumble across a club, The Bitter End, which is one of the places Woody Allen started out back in the early 1960s.

After lunch in a bar we end up down town and pass by Ground Zero. It’s still a big hole in the ground, though building has started on the skyscrapers that will replace the lost twin towers. It’s a poignant reminder of the world we now live in, a world of our own creation.

Drinks with Dylan.

5th Avenue is alive with Christmas shoppers. We join the crowds and head uptown after a NY breakfast of eggs, bacon and home fries. Passing through Macy’s (which takes a couple of hours) we join the throng of people moving from store to store. All the names are here and we make it is as far as Abercrombie & Fitch, where they play music so loud you feel more like you are in a night club than a shop. It’s dark, thumping, hot and sweaty with frantic shoppers desperate to buy a piece of Americana. I think I prefer John Lewis.
Dinner that night is back at the White Horse which is becoming a bit of a local. Madame Vin has researched the bar and found out that this was the place that Dylan Thomas drank himself to death. It seems to have had a rich and colourful past and though now nothing more than a good local it still feels as if some of its liberal disestablishment past is written into the walls.

Retail Therapy and Monsters

Awoke very early as my body clock asserts that it is time to get going but the clock tells me it is only six in the morning. Whereas yesterday had been golden with sun today is muggy, grey and foggy. Not really having the clothes for that sort of thing I sweat around the stores of Fifth Avenue, but Madame Vin is very happy with all of her purchases. I buy some more jumpers and head back to the apartment to drop them off before heading uptown. I want to see Beowulf, the Neil Gaiman co-written animation at the Imax and in 3D. Last year we saw Superman in 3D in San Francisco, but this film is something else. The whole film is 3D and the world of 5th century Norse lands open up on a screen three storeys high. Swords, axes, arrows, dragons and Angelena Jolie’s breasts fly from the screen, causing you to duck or grab depending on what affronts you.
The movie is good, the story lengthened and added to from the original. Though the accents are all over the place (I’ve come to kill ur mawnster!) and the horses waddle rather than run, the action is none stop and thoroughly enjoyable. Perhaps have hit on a new vein of entertainment in the rewriting of 5th century myths.
After the movie we return to the Meat Packing district and dine at Nero’s which is great food but so dark inside I nearly eat my neighbours’ meal by mistake. Finish the evening at the White Horse with a pint of Samuel Adams.

Hello New York!

Travelled to upstate New Jersey, the route passing through an industrial scarred land, populate by blast furnaces and large corporate buildings interspersed with wasteland given back to nature.
About thirty minutes out of New York you hit the wooded hills of Harriman State Park, now a riot of auburn and russet as the trees desperately try to hold on to the last of their leaves.
We are visiting Woodbury Common, a Mecca amongst Mecca’s for discount shopping. It is the ultimate American dream with row upon row of shops selling high end goods at knock down prices. It is also a very good place to purchase socks, which I did, along with a jumper.
That evening, back in Greenwich Village, drained of all commercial industry we went to a great bar on Bleeker St. that served ale including Speckled Hen which Madame Vin dabbled in. Had pizza at John’s, an old dive that apparently serves some of the best pizza in NY.

'The Missing', is to be Published!

Well some good news was had very recently when I received an email from Libros International. They have decided to publish 'The Missing', so hopefully it will be hitting a book shop near you soon. No publication date has been set as of yet and I'll update you when I find out more information.

It's early days yet, with contracts and marketing details to sort out but it has made me feel all beam-ey and twinkle eyed. I always knew it was a good story, I just had to put in enough work to make it seem real and and get the flow of the story correct. If nothing else it's given me the confidence to crack on with the new work.

I'm in New York next week, hitting the sales and making use of their dollars which are worth so little in real money. I'll post photos and a run down on what we did when I get back.

It's alive, alive!

It’s been a quiet last few weeks but that means I’ve been able to get plenty of writing done and have already reached the 200 page mark. The book and the story have been growing in all directions and to have generated a life of its own. What started life in my mind as a small children’s book with several illustrations has now become something more complex, darker and yet far more interesting. That’s the great thing about writing; you never quite know where a story is going to take you until you put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard). I still hope to have the first draft done by Christmas but what with visits from family and New York looming that might be a tall order.

The other good thing about it being so quiet is that I’ve managed to knock a few books off the reading pile.

In the Night Room – Thinner than ‘The Black House’ and having lost his writing partner this is Peter Straub’s work that deals with some of the same themes. In the novel Willy Patrick’s life has become a dream come true, she has just won a prestigious writing award and is about to marry a handsome rich man, following the murder of her first husband and daughter. But problems arise because Willy starts to hear her daughter calling for her in the night.
At the same time Tim Underhill, another writer is haunted by the death of his sister many years earlier and he has started to receive emails from people who should be dead. Then he meets Willy Patrick, which is strange because she is the character he has created for his new novel.
The idea of writing and the relationship a writer has with his creations has been done before, but Straub colours it dark and mysterious. His writing style is quick and furious, and though the story takes several pages to get going it’s a thrill of a ride, where even the reader is unsure as to what is real and what is not. He also uses some excellent typography devices within the structure of the novel.

The Big Over Easy – I haven’t read a Jasper Fforde for several years but once again he had taken something that at first sounds ill suited to a novel and turned it on its head with hilarious results.
Nursery celebrity Humpty Stuyesant Van Dumpty III, is found shattered at the foot of his wall with all evidence pointing at his ex-wife. Detective Jack Spratt and his new assistant are not so sure she’s responsible and start to investigate while getting on the nerves of the rest of the Reading Police Department.
Many authors have tried to ape (Orangutan-ed?) Pratchett’s satirical style and nearly always failed. Fforde manages something similar but retains his own voice, ideas and humour.

Abarat: Days of Magic, Nights of War – What a fantasy novel should be. No rehashing of old ideas or treading the ground of all that has gone before, but an original and entertainingly dark world created to exist alongside our own. This is book 2 and Candy Quackenbush’s (great name) adventures continue in the Abarat, a world made up of many islands, each stuck at an hour of the day. Christopher Carrion, has sent his henchmen to capture her, but why? Why are they so concerned about a girl from Chickentown and what hill happen when the world she comes from learns about the existence of Abarat. Also the book is wonderfully illustrated in Barker’s bold style. If you can make sure you get a hard back copy.

****
My only other request this week is that if you get the chance click on the below link and help feed the world.

http://www.freerice.com

Even if they don’t hold true to their statement, you’ll learn lots of nice new words so that you can hold your own when next in conversation with Stephen Fry.

****

Read this week:
In the Night Room by Peter Straub
The Big Over Easy by Jasper Fforde
Abarat: Days of Magic, Nights of War by Clive Barker

Jack

I was clearing out my metaphysical drawers (hard drive) and found an old short story that hasn't been published anywhere. So I've put it up here. It needs some work, but you get the idea. Enjoy.

Jack

By Adam J. Shardlow


Tobias Small had never accepted that the creature completely owned him. Free will, strength and determination, plus his abounding belief in the power of the Lord, had helped him remain liberated. But the chance to resume the persona for one night, while at the same time bringing a solution to his daughter’s financial circumstances was more than he could resist. Every other avenue had been considered, his thoughts keeping him awake late into the night, while his prayers remaining unanswered. He knew he had no choice.
The creature would once again be unleashed, initiating an evening of panic and mischief. Again the dark muttering in the street of a creature foul and ancient would haunt him and the realisation of what he had done would cause him anguish and a desire to be penitent.
It was time for Springheel Jack to return.
Though the name was still spoken of with due reverence, it was becoming less and less likely to tumble from trembling lips. Instead it had become a story to frighten small children tucked up in bed, a fable of times gone by.
He had kept the monstrous suit, hidden behind a sliding panel in his room, well oiled and maintained; the skin had been repaired when necessary and kept supple. The tightly sprung boots were sound while the mask, with its daemonic grin and painted horns looked as new as the day it had been created from the skull of some lesser creature.
Sometimes at night, from the safety of his bed he could hear the mask calling him, mocking him, daring him to once more wear the outlandish costume and resume the mayhem. But he had been strong and refused to let the devilish creature take full reign and allow wicked thoughts to manifest themselves in his mind.
He was not evil or malicious; in truth he had created Springheel as a way of getting even, a response to all the cruel practical jokes played on him by those who were meant to be his friends. As a scholarship boy at school he had always been treated as an inferior, those with money deemed him nothing more than a servant. They would taunt him with names such as ‘Small Change’ or ‘Small Pockets’, forever mocking his impoverished circumstances.
Standing at the back of church one Sunday, listening to the ranting of the God fearing priest, the idea of Springheel had lurched fully formed into his imagination as if placed their by God himself. Now he knew the idea must have come from the Devil. Born for retribution, Jack was a creature of the night that played on superstitions and fears.
Shrouded in darkness Springheel would launch himself from the rooftops into the path of an unsuspecting witness. He would choose a daughter of his now adult school friends. Landing by her side, the creature would make a great play of screaming and snorting, flexing long bone claws and rolling globulous eyes. Hysterical at the sight of this denizen of hell, the girl would more often than not faint leaving the creature to take a token of appreciation and as witnesses arrived on the scene the monster would leap high into the fog and disappear accompanied only by the sound of malevolent laughter.
The following morning Tobias Small would hide his face in shame and wince at the cries of the barrow boys who hollered the dramatic headlines, ‘The Devil is among us’ or ‘A Daemon in Aldwych’. He knew it was sin, but felt powerless to stop. As Jack he felt more alive and more powerful than those who had once dared to taunt him but at the same time he felt wretched for those he scared and humiliated.
As time wore on he discovered that Jack had only to put in an appearance every few months to keep the stories alive, which grew in stature and detail, until his exploits became penny fictions and Springheel Jack was turned into a mythical apparition, forever on the hunt for the souls of the defenceless.
Lucy, his daughter, had come to him recently with a young looking man in tow to request permission to marry. The boy had spoken nervously of his love for the girl, and his plans for the future. Coming from a good family the marriage seemed suitable but a dowry of some kind would be expected and Small knew he had little to give. Lucy’s heart was set on the union and he hated to think that he might disappoint his only daughter.
He had thought long and hard on the issue and it was late at night, just before sleep claimed him that he once more heard the voice of Jack. The creature reminded him that it was perfectly able to get into the houses of the rich, and in return for a night of mischief, money or goods could be found to pay for the wedding. For Small, the chance to revive the daemon became irresistible.

***

He wore the suit under his work clothes and walked to the house. He did not wish to be spotted too early and risk a hue and cry. Small had selected his target carefully; a wealthy American doctor by the name of John Chalice had a practise in Belgravia. He spent a good portion of his time abroad, travelling Europe with his property locked tight but empty. It would be little trouble to Springheel to fashion entry through a skylight and under the cover of darkness search the doctor’s house for loot.
Later, having completed the crime, Springheel would dance between the chimneys pots and roof tops, while Small would await the morning headlines with dread.
In a small park where the tall trees shivered in the breeze, Small removed his outer garments and retrieved from his bag the long fingered claws, the short cape shaped into the wings of a bat and the mask of the daemon. Hidden from prying eyes, he placed each item reverently upon himself and Springheel Jack was released.
***
It stood for a moment, a night prowler tasting the air, deep ruby eyes open wide, nostril flared while sniffing. Content that it was alone, it moved with an outlandish grace into the open where it bends slowly, its hideous countenance turned to the sky. It took two tiny steps as if testing the ground and then launched itself free of the earth. Air rushed past the creature, arms out for balance, cloak stretched tight like rodent wings, it fires upwards in a parabola, legs bent as if a hawk coming in for the kill.
Reaching the zenith it alters position, aiming for a rooftop, a small alteration and it lands. Silhouetted against the night sky the creature freezes into position, its shadow takes on that of an ancient gargoyle that looks out on the brick and stone of the great city.
It moves now, carefully inching its way up the roof line towards a small set of windows that are dark within. It dances with cat like precision, tentatively testing each roof tile for fault before placing weight upon it. Between the windows sill one talon is slipped, the lock snapped apart. It opens the window carefully and with a final look behind, the creature of the night slips inside.
It was darker within. Rough floorboards under foot and dust in the air. It smells dry, unused and empty, an attic room. Moving forward the wood creaks underfoot, unaccustomed to the weight. If anyone is in the house they would hear the sound, but all is quiet.
The creature traces the trap door in the floor, it is pushed open and Springheel peers down into the gloom. It sits on the rim and swings down landing on all fours with feet splayed. It smells down here. Sniffing at the air the creature can detect a definite fetid reek. Perhaps something has died while the doctor was away, a rat or a pigeon that got locked inside.
Eyes adjust and Springheel spies four doors - four rooms to look through. The first contains nothing of importance, a guest room perhaps. The bed is unmade, the furniture covered with dust sheets, the wardrobe empty.
The second is also a bedroom, a man’s room, unfussy, neat. The good doctor is a bachelor and it shows. The bed has a single dip in the middle, the scent is male. Again nothing to take, the only decoration being a poor painting and a carriage clock, while a few dusty medical manuals stand next to the bed.
The third room is more interesting. It's smaller, a study. A desk with papers and a library of books. The smell is stronger in here; it’s a putrid organic stench. There is a small fireplace in the corner; perhaps it comes from within. With no time to check the creature moves to the desk and looks through the drawers, eyes alight on a silver cigarette case; it disappears into a hidden pocket.
A sound. Springheel turns slowly, conscious of its own beating heart. The noise came from behind it, small and indistinct yet audible. It turns, senses alert. All is quiet again. It can wait, it’s good at waiting. It had sounded like footfall and perhaps a muffled exclamation.
Now it stands and moves forward. There is a curtain at the far end of the study, deep red, the colour evident even in the dark. It pulls the curtain to one side to reveal another door.
What treasure must the doctor hide in the concealed room beyond? It places a hand on the door knob but then hesitates; the sound came from this room. Should it enter? Should it risk being seen? But it needs the money and this desire drives the beast onwards. It presses the handle down and enters.
The smell makes the creature gag, a wave of nausea forcing it to hold an arm to its face. It wants to be sick. In the darkness, a windowless room scrubbed bare something evil, something dead lurks.
All senses dictate that it should leave this room, turn and flee, return to the night but at the same time the hidden makes it curious.
The smell is making it hard to breath and it is hot inside the mask, but the creature has no desire to be seen in its true form. It must remain an enigma.
There is a lamp on the desk, it returns and it picks it up and takes out a strike. It flares, the light burns at the retina and leaves dancing scars. The lamp gutters but then takes, there is not much oil left.
It enters the room and turns up the light. Bare brick and stone floors, no windows to let in light – a secret place, hidden from prying eyes. There is a clinical feel to the room, a place of surgery. A tray on the side contains knives, scalpel and saws. They are stained pink, a long blond hair it attached to a blade, it moves in the breeze from the open door.
There is a trolley in the room, something covered with a sheet stained black and brown. There is no sense in looking but something makes the creature take a tentative step forward, and then another and another until it stands within an arms length.
It checks behind and decides to risk a peek, just quickly and then it will vanish back into the night with its spoils.
It lifts the sheet, higher, higher and then pulls.
The creature shrinks back from the horror. A body, once female lays open, slit from abdomen to chest; the head pushed back, the neck arched while the face is set in a mask of agony, a scream etched into eyes and the open mouth. Naked, mutilated, treated like a base carcass, strips of skin removed from belly and thighs, incisions across breasts that ooze dark clotted blood.
It is too much, what terror has been uncovered, what perversity? The body moves. An intake of air, a gasp that erupts in spittle and blood. The girl lives, she knows someone is present, someone who might be able to help. She thrashes, her body making an involuntary spasm, the last dance of those sliced open and left to die slowly. Eyes blink and breath rattles in her throat, eyes pleading for any death.
As it watches, transfixed with disgust the creature is grabbed from behind. Strong arms lift the lithe daemon from the floor as a fist is punched deep into its side, forcing all the air from it. A scalpel is waved in front of its face and then held close to its throat as the girl begins to slow. Old wounds have reopened and pumped livid blood across the floor, skin gapes wide and innards are revealed, they snake out accompanied by a breathy scream. The girl falls back as death claims her.
***
The mask is ripped from him as an arm spins Tobias round and a giant fist slams into his face, his own blood erupts now, it splutters from his nose and enters his mouth. He is pushed into a wall and falls to the floor. Still winded he vomits copiously, adding to the slaughterhouse stench. Tears sting his eyes as he looks up at his tormentor.
The doctor stares down at the revealed daemon and is unimpressed. He pushes at him with his foot moving the man from side to side. He smiles and speaks in a voice that is quiet but firm.
"A man in a pitiful suit with a sheep skull for a mask. Is this the creature that women talk of in hushed tones? Is this the horror that stalks the city of London? I thought you would be so much more, but I see nothing more than a cheap parlour trick."
Tobias Small looks up into the eyes of the doctor and sees his own fear reflected back. He is scarred, horrified by this evil that preys on the innocent.
The monster laughs out loud, a howl of pleasure.
"What was there to be scared of? Springheel Jack - an old man hiding in the dark. It's pathetic. This great city deserves something far better, the greatest place on Earth, the heart of the Empire and the best we can come up with, to keep the shits and whores down, is you?"
He comes closer. Small can smell the stench of death on him, his walking cloak, the weave of the wool splattered with drying blood. The doctor wields the scalpel with a practised hand.
"I plan to do so much better. When they speak my name they will truly know fear, I will become something altogether evil, something straight from hell."
The man bends and Small feels the blade sting at the thin skin of his neck and knows that the doctor will replace Springheel and bring a red death to the city.
"I like the name though. Can I borrow it?"
Before Small can even answer the blade cuts deep into his flesh.
A new Jack is born.

Man cold

Finally, this time I'm definitely, surely, must be over my cold. It seems to have dragged on for an inordinately long time and has been both draining and sleep destroying and no its not just a 'Man cold,' but a real snot inducing, sore throat making, headache crippling cold. Madam Vin is still ill and walking around the flat sneezing and coughing but I've been to the gym, wrote several new pages of the 'Gap' project, sent off three book reviews and two short stories to a couple of magazines and feel great.

If England win tonight, everything in the world will be just fine and dandy.

Population Explosion

Feeling unwell all weekend. I believe PC Benny and Madam Vin left more than a feeling of bonhomie after the visit last week. No need to worry though, as it allows me time to write, sit inside, read and watch games of rugby where I shout and make my sore throat even worse.

Just a few quick notes...Congratulations to my erstwhile colleague, Hampton, whose lovely and no doubt extremely tired wife gave birth to twins this weekend. I would like to welcome to the world Ava Mirabelle and Miles Dylan, please wipe your feet on entering, don't drop litter and always remember keep a clean handkerchief about your person (I feel that might be some musical influences in the names but haven't asked yet).

Also well done to an old friend who recently joined Facebook and had a daughter in July called Jessica Rose Swift.

The world keeps on getting bigger so I guess we better add on some kind of extension.

To celebrate here are some fire works from the closing night of the festival.



****

Due to being so ill over the weekend I was able to read the new Pratchett which aptly enough is set in the world of banking. Pratchett brings back the character of Moist Von Lipwig (a wonderful name) to take over the affairs of a bank that has a small dog as its chairman and a shady Medici style family in the background.

Expect the usual bunch of golems (one of which thinks it's a she), Igors, werewolves and the Watch. The best character is still Vetinari who I believe is based on Sir Walsingham (who has managed to crop in the new novel) and his ability to maneuver all the other characters around the chess board of life without ever breaking a sweat.

This story is not as good as the last Lipwig novel, but it feels like Pratchett is gearing up for something big in the world of Ankh Morpork and that this novel was necessary to get the spades in the ground (pun - you'll have to read the book).

****

Read this week:
Making Money by Terry Pratchett
Loving Mephistopheles by Miranda Miller