Book of Lost Nights

So Saturday night was the T Party Winter Meal (calling it a Christmas Party in February just seems willfully perverse, somehow) at the Three Stags in Kennington.

In attendance were the usual T Party suspects  – Tom Pollock,  Gaie Sebold, Sarah Ellender,  Gary Couzens, Peter Colley, Denni Schnapp and her husband, Sara-Jayne Townsend, Martin Owton, Terry Edge, Mark McCann, Jack Calverley, newcomer Jim Siddle and Rosanne Rabinowitz (the organiser of the night) amongst others. We were also joined by Ben Okri, Booker winner, who was a very nice man. He urged Sara, our chairperson, to give a speech, which she did, and then Gaie said a few words as well. Gaie was fresh off a fabulous reception for Babylon Steel at the SFX Weekender, where the book sold out, so what with that and all the other good news about cover art and uncorrected proofs, it was a fairly upbeat do – except of course I’d missed the SFX Weekender, and had to listen to everyone’s stories about how great it was and how the disco was great and the panels were great and how it was great to be anyone but me. (*Sighs long-sufferingly*).

But in all seriousness, it does sound like it was fab and I was very sorry I missed it.

It’s been a good year for the T Party Writers Group (who will not be changing their name despite the bunch in the US, as apparently “we had it first”). They’ve been going for 18 years now, and in the last two years there have been a series of novel deals for people. And after years of running writing workshops at Eastercon there are now to be a slew of T Partiers moderating panels at Olympus 2012.

Global domination beckons.

So all in all, not bad. Here’s hoping for more good news this year.

No Comments | In: Books, Events, Writing | tags: authors, babylon steel, denni schnapp, eastercon, gaie sebold, gary couzens, jack calverley, london, mark mccann, martin owton, peter colley, rosanne rabinowitz, sara-jayne townsend, sarah ellender, sfx weekender, short fiction, sumit says, t party, terry edge, the city's son, tom pollock, workshop. | #

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No Comments | In: Books, Movies, Technology, Writing | tags: authors. | #

I’ve not vanished from the face of the earth – honestly. After sending Sleepwalker to my agent the feedback is this – seeing that the proof of concept is now a go, the book needs to be bigger.

And this suits me down to the ground, as I always wanted the book to be bigger, but was unsure if this was just self-indulgence on my part. At any rate, the new plan has my full backing, even if it is scaring the bejesus out of me.

The other news is that I’m going to Fantasycon in Brighton, which is going to be fantastic, as a whole bunch of the usual T Party suspects  – Tom Pollock, Dave Gullen, Gaie Sebold, Gary Couzens, Peter Colley, Sara-Jayne Townsend, Julia Knight, Caroline Hooton, Martin Owton, Terry Edge, Mark McCann and Rosanne Rabinowitz  are turning up too. Actually, it would have been quicker to list the members that aren’t going. 

I’m also going to be reading from Sleepwalker at the con, at 3pm on Friday in Bar Rogue (which I keep wanting to spell “Bar Rouge”, but the hotel seems quite adamant on its website that it’s Bar Rogue, and it’s got the mediocre ViewBrighton review to prove it).

Anyway, profoundly looking forward to the whole thing, which is shaping up to be awesome. I’ve signed up for three of the masterclasses on the Saturday, as well as the banquet, and Tom (fresh from lunch with his publisher and bearing their new catalogue showing his book and author photo) tells me that Quercus are throwing a party which I must attend, providing I tell people that I am Paul Cornell. This seems a small price to pay, and so long as some kind of costume is not required in order for me to keep the subterfuge afloat, I’m happy to do it.

But it’s ridiculous o’clock in the morning now, so must get to bed. I may have been quiet lately but have not been idle, and hope to get some more posts out between now and Fantasycon. Until then, goodnight!

No Comments | In: Events, Readings, Travel, Writing | tags: agents, authors, brighton, caroline hooton, dave gullen, fantasycon, gaie sebold, gary couzens, julia knight, mark mccann, martin owton, peter colley, quercus, rosanne rabinowitz, sara-jayne townsend, t party, terry edge, tom pollock. | #

This is just a flying entry, as so far I am up to my eyes carrying out the changes on the latest MS. It’s been an insanely busy six weeks, kicking off with a rather wonderful night at the theatre – we saw Frankenstein at the National (Jonny Lee Miller was the monster, Benedict Cumberpatch the creator).

Then it was Eastercon (the T Party contingent were there in force, in fact, including Tom Pollock, Gaie Sebold, Dave Gullen, Sarah Ellender, Julia Knight and Martin Owton, which was just the most enormous fun and at which I met a raft of cool people I’m now tweeting at more or less constantly and had a bunch of books pressed on me, most of which I’m still ploughing through. There’s a new job, a new car, and hopefully by the end of this month, a brand new MS, so it’s exciting times.

When I get the latest draft out of the way, I’m going to start talking about the research work for the next one – which I’m pretty sure is going to be set in Cambridge, though I’m not wholly decided yet. But I’m getting ahead of myself – all that’s for another post.

So since it’s 3am I’ll say goodnight and I’ll only say this before I go dark again – don’t bother with Pirates of the Carribean: On Stranger Tides, as it’s tripe, though you probably knew that already. The line in the credits was actually Suggested by the novel “On Stranger Tides” by Tim Powers. Suggested by? Really? It’s a bit like going out with someone, sleeping with them semi-regularly, and then overhearing them describe you as a “friend of a friend”. Suggested by, indeed. Someone wants a punch in the face.

But I did love Thor, so can’t complain too much about the movies lately.

Thor (2011)

I couldn’t get over how charming it was, which is a strange thing to say about a movie featuring a Norse god everyone’s mistaking for a homeless man.

Currently reading: The City and The City by China Mieville

No Comments | In: Events, Movies, Theatre, Travel, Writing | tags: authors, benedict cumberbatch, culture, danny boyle, dave gullen, eastercon, frankenstein, gaie sebold, jonny lee miller, julia knight, martin owton, national theatre, on stranger tides, pirates of the carribean on stranger tides, reviews, sarah ellender, t party, thor, tim powers, tom pollock. | #

I’m in the process of moving my books out of storage, and in many ways this is a surprisingly moving thing to do, because the story of my life is the story of the books I’ve read. When I was a girl, I saved my pocket money up for JRR Tolkien, Richard Adams, Anne McCaffrey,  and the beautiful, pseudo-erotic works of Tanith Lee. I read and reread them, sucking them dry like orange segments, unable to even imagine a time when I would have more books than time to read them, in the same way I couldn’t imagine driving my own car or being able to choose what I had for dinner every night.

Once I started work, however, I had already started to amass a small pile of overshot – as a bookseller, people are always giving you things, and you will frequently see something come in and fancy giving it a go, even if it’s going to be a while before you get to it. Authors will come in to sign books and it occurs to you that they seem nice enough and perhaps you’ll get one signed yourself, just to give them a try, even though it’s not quite your thing.

And some books you’re told you should read, and know you should read, but just never do. A good example for me is Vanity Fair, by William Makepiece Thackeray, published 1848. I bought it in the 80s - I wrote the date in it in my round, childish hand. I wanted to read it because it was Charlotte Bronte’s favourite novel, and many of my colleagues’ favourite novel too. Friends had raved about it. It is a cornerstone of British literature. And so on and so on.

Twenty-four years later, I have actually picked it up. Though I must have read thousands of books between then and now, I have begun a book I bought in the morning of my life. The pages, with their old fashioned acid paper, are a kind of brownish-mustard colour, and crackle a little at the edges when I turn them.

And the thing about Vanity Fair is this – it’s great. It’s funny, lively, inventive, picaresque: a vast social panoply quickly and wittily drawn on a big canvas. It’s got a strong female protagonist. It’s soooo my thing, what’s not to love? Other novels I have adored clearly draw on it (increasingly I feel Michel Faber’s The Crimson Petal and the White is a direct reply to it – why should women obey the rules and strictures of a society that wishes to dominate them?). Thackeray’s a genius – even in the sentimental outbursts, you can never tell if he’s wailing away about the joys of feminine virtue and filial piety with a straight face or not. It’s just awesome. So why has it took me so long to read it? And why should I care?

Well, as a writer, I ought to care because at some point when I surveyed my pile of unread books, this gem fell through the net. Fell through the net about once every week or fortnight, in fact, again and again, over the course of 24 years. I already owned it. There was no obstacle to reading it. I just chose not to. And if I want to write books, and hopefully sell them, it kind of behoves me to find out why Vanity Fair didn’t make the cut, or else be doomed to writing novels that will sit in other people’s unread book piles, waiting to be picked up.

So, here’s a little list of the factors affecting my decision. Depressingly, there are quite a few that Thackeray can’t really do anything about:

• It’s long. 797 pages long. A long great novel is a wonderful thing – ask Tolkien, or Susanna Clarke. A long dull novel is a season in Hell. I’m looking at you, Samuel Richardson. 
• There’s no concession in the blurb on the back to the idea of this as a novel, an entertainment, a story. To quote the first sentence: ”Vanity Fair (1847/8) is the story of English society in the Napoleonic Wars and the early nineteenth century.” Is it? Is it really? Does English society in the Napoleonic Wars and the early nineteenth century find itself thrown out of Miss Godsham’s Academy for Tormented Orphans, snubbed at the ball, and arrested with Lady Carruther’s diamonds snuggled down the front of its evening dress? Does English society in the Napoleonic Wars and the early nineteenth century throw everything away to declare its love to Monsieur LeRodin, the billionaire racing playboy, despite the opposition of his family and the connivings of his jealous ex-girlfriend? Will English society in the Napoleonic Wars and the early nineteenth century be caught up in a race to stop a conspiracy to kill the President? Probably not.
• Guilt. I have not read this important novel. This makes me feel guilty. Guilt makes me feel bad. I reject things that make me feel bad. So I don’t read Vanity Fair. Aristotle would approve.
• There’s about 20-odd pages of small text by way of “introduction”, explaining how important it is, before I can actually start the bloody thing. Because I am incapable of not reading this, as it’s part of the book, and it’s frequently laced with spoilers (because, God knows, if it’s a classic I should already know what happens in it, ignorant philistine that I am) it makes starting the actual book a serious case of delayed gratification.

But I’ve started it now, is the main thing. And for the next few months, I’m going to have a little experiment. Every second book I pick up to read will be one I would normally reject in the short term. Let’s see if any other hidden jewels can find the light, or whether missing this book is the exception that proves the rule when it comes to my book filtering system. If so, I can then apply the findings to my own works.

Wish me luck…

4 Comments | In: Books, Writing | tags: anne mccaffrey, authors, charlotte bronte, j r r tolkien, michel faber, reviews, richard adams, samuel richardson, susanna clarke, tanith lee, the crimson petal and the white, vanity fair, william makepeace thackeray. | #

T Party bud and fellow word-botherer Tom Pollock got in touch to see if I fancied watching a cagematch between Stephen Hawking, isaac Newton, and Paul Dirac. The point was to see which of these eminent Lucasian Professors, should they find themselves trapped in a balloon that desperately needed to lose some ballast, would need to be heaved over the side in case of emergency.

Since no reasonable person could possibly refuse such an offer, 6:30 on a cold Wednesday night found me settled in the very comfortable attic room of Foyles, where Manjit Kumar, Graham Farmelo, and JP McEvoy argued passionately but with tongue and cheek about the relative merits of Isaac Newton, Paul Dirac, and Stephen Hawking respectively. At the end, the audience voted by show of hands.

I got to thinking, while this went on, that this was an interesting but ultimately futile thought experiment. The thing being debated is the perception of utility, not the utility itself which is impossible to measure and historically contingent anyway.

So how do we perceive utility? And who, in fact, won?

Well, in ascending order, first out of the gondola was the unfortunate Professor Hawking. Though the only living professor (and everyone is always more famous after they’re dead – my guess is that had he expired before he hit the ground, he would have got second place) it seems that the act of popularising science is not what we look for in our scientists.

Which suggests that the virtue associated with scientists is not that they are educators.

Next to plunge to his doom, a victim of the force he discovered, was Isaac Newton. His case wasn’t helped by the fact that he was clearly an unpleasant character, and a lot of his work has been superseded by equally clever men with equally cool hair.

The winner was Paul Dirac; largely, I think, because most people in the room could grasp that the equations of quantum mechanics are in fact super-hard. And while I can only speak for myself, I voted for him because while all of the Lucasian Professors are clearly cleverer than me to an astonishing magnitude, his work seemed the most genuinely a) admired and b) incomprehensible to the layman.

So the value in the debate, as well as being a bit of fun, was discovering what people think of when they think of “scientist”, or what the popular idea of a scientific exemplar entails.

Which is what?

Well, all three were white male Cambridge men, but as Lucasian Professors that’s pre-selected in the sample to a certain extent. Tellingly, they all had issues relating to others – issues either intrinsic to their characters or forced upon them by circumstances. Their heads, as it were, were elsewhere. They all dealt in difficult conceptual maths backed up by practical experiment – applied and theoretical mathematical and physics, so the concrete objects of their research are everyday and tangible (things fall down, the night sky is black with twinkling stars) but the theoretical journey remains opaque and mysterious to the non-cognescenti. Or, at least to the likes of me. 

I think that’s the answer – the scientific hero inhabits a world where maths, a barrier to most, becomes a liberator to those who brave it. They leave the ordinary world behind and take to the stars. The tragic sacrifice is they make is that of human connection.

And while this in no way reflects the reality of lived experience amongst the people that do this for a living; crunching numbers, dozing through presentations, staying up late to write papers to raise their RA rating – this seems to be the popular dream of them.

And the dream of a thing has great power, or, at the very least, can spare you from getting chucked out of a balloon.

5 Comments | In: Books, Events, History, Technology, Writing | tags: authors, foyles, graham farmelo, isaac newton, jp mcevoy, manjit kumar, paul dirac, science, stephen hawking, t party. | #

Ookapalooza is over and was fabulous (I am now in love with the Aran Islands – thanks very much to Sumit for the lift over!). We stayed a week in Clifden, in an enormous and beautiful house. It was wildly productive for all involved -  has already posted on her progress,  has sent his opus on to his agent, and  I know produced a fair amount of short fiction. Everyone had a fabulous time! 

And of  course, Sleepwalker has gone off to Judith, and I am left clambering over the ruins of my life, which currently looks like the aftermath of the world’s wildest party. I stumble through it scratching my head, wondering where the hell I left the car keys.

Happily one thing I can now do is read, and I finally finished The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber, which I loved unreservedly. How I envied the endless, vigorous inventiveness of it all! The book of short stories set in that world, The Apple, is next on my reading list. My big favourite last year was Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke, so I think my enchantment with big picaresque pastiches is here to stay.

I also finished According to Jane, by Marilyn Brant, which K D Grace lent me. In it, a modern girl finds that Jane Austen is living in her head and giving her love life advice, which was fun and all, but I would have expected a bit more culture clash comedy. Also, at the end, there is a section where the characters interview the author, which is the sort of thing I find teethgrindingly precious. I’m not sure that’s Marilyn Brant’s fault. When I was a teenager, I wrote unbelievably dreadful stories where I interacted with my own characters (being a lonely girl in want of friends – actually this is what According to Jane is about) and the memory is mortifying. The idea of doing this as an adult just freezes my blood.

In terms of movies, I saw Resident Evil: Afterlife last night. Please don’t ask me why I do these things to myself. Possibly I find horribly written, horribly acted movies reassuring, but I suspect that the more prosaic answer is that I arrived too late to catch a showing of The Runaways.

Resident Evil: Afterlife (2010)

Somehow Milla Jovavich sails through the more car crashy moments, comparatively unaffected. My admiration for her was complete under the circumstances. The guy playing the villain appeared to have been specially chosen for his resemblance to a character in a terrible Capcom cut-scene. He looked CGI even before sprouting zombie mouth tentacles. He wore sunglasses in semi-darkness, which doesn’t make you seem sinister anymore, it just makes you resemble Bono. It was all there, the black leather, the Darth Vader-esque underling murder, the smirks…

The actress(?) playing Claire Redfield seemed breathless in all her dialogue, because she’s desperately holding her stomach in and pushing her chest out to look sexy. Watching it took me back to the days when I used to go nightclubbing at Legends and had to do that all the time. The mere memory of it was exhausting, but probably better for my core musculature than watching terrible Paul Anderson movies. Though they say laughter is good for you.

Still no idea of what to write next, though at some point when I’m less burned out I’ll collate some Sleepwalker sequel ideas. And I’m signed up for a burlesque lesson next week with K D Grace at Sh!, so wish us luck! Until then, it’s books and loafing and finding my damn car keys…

Currently Reading: One Day by David Nicholls

9 Comments | In: Books, Events, Movies, Theatre, Travel, Weird, Writing | tags: authors, burlesque, jane austen, k d grace, marilyn brant, michel faber, milla jovavich, million monkeys, ookapalooza, resident evil afterlife, reviews, t party. | #

Sorry for the radio silence, guys – still getting Sleepwalker ready.

So I’ve thinking about possible sequels. At present I’m engaged in the ghoulish occupation of sacking and rifling the past for occasions (and indeed juxtapositions) of high drama that can inspire my next move. Enter bubonic plague.

One of the things that I read recently to this end was London’s Plague Years: Lord Have Mercy On Us by Stephen Porter. 

London Plague Years by Stephen Porter

I’d picked it up in trade paperbook in the bookshop in Old Street station. It’s a fascinating subject and the figures were all explained in exhaustive detail, but I couldn’t help but feel that it could have done with a few broader remarks about the history of the period to contextualise the plague for the general reader. For instance, there is reference to the impact of the plague on the Civil War, but not so much about what living through the Civil War was like with the added annoyance of the plague. Perhaps the assumption is that the reader should already know a sufficient amount about the period, but this reader frequently found herself lost.

That said, it is interspersed with frequent and lively contemporary accounts of events, and seemed meticulously researched. I’d recommend it to anyone interested in the subject.

But its primary charm, if that’s the right word, was the reproduction of the Bills of Mortality. These were civil service reports drawn up by the parishes in plague years reporting who died of what. It became compulsory to compile them whenever the number plague dead became higher than a certain amount.

However, the Bills themselves open up a fascinating window into what death looked like to people three and a half centuries ago, when one could die of “lethargy”, “surfeit”, or a “rising of the lights”. (If one could die of either lethargy or surfeit, I’m a little puzzled as to why I’m still alive, but no matter). Reading through the rich, pithy descriptions I find that as a writer I’m enchanted by their muscular, no-nonsense language, before having to remind myself that real people were dying of these causes, being buried, being mourned (spawning more deaths even – there is a figure given for those who have died of “grief” or “hangd and made away themfelves”).

I’ve transcribed the 1665 Bill from the Institute of Historical Research site just to give a flavour of what I mean. I’ve resisted the temptation to regularise the archaic spellings, which in their inconsistency also suggest something about the times.

Finally, to get a true sense of the scope and terror of Bubonic Plague, check out the figure next to “Plague” below. And then remember that plague was traditionally underreported in these things, as walling up the infected was difficult, dangerous, spread panic, and cost the parish money:
The Bills of Mortality, London 1665

1 Comment | In: History, Research, Writing | tags: authors, disease, london's plague years, reviews, science, stephen porter. | #

So the weekend before last - 17th/18th – was the Sleepwalker novel workshop. It happened in the BFI Southbank’s Benugo bar, which turned out to be a great venue to do it in, being comfy, quiet, and having access to natural daylight. A lot of T Party venues err on the dark and dungeony side, and since we had had an (admittedly great) talk with Mike Carey the week before in the George, it seemed a lot to ask people to spend summer weekends there twice in a row.

I’ve attended a few novel workshops for other people from the T Party, but I’ve never had my own picked to death by them before then. It was, I have to say, terrifying and yet exhilirating. Terrifying because a lot of what you believe to be transparent and indeed on-the-nose in your book is in fact murky and opaque, and exhilirating because so many people get what you’re doing, and some even occasionally approve.

I was absolutely blown away by all the work and thought people put into their crits, especially since Sleepwalker is a fairly chunky girl. I taped the session, being aware that the first time you hear some things about your baby, you resist or reject them – you break out the Ego Fu, if you like - and my feeling was that when calm and alone, I could revisit them with a clearer head. This turned out to be a great idea, and I was able to soak up loads of excellent food for thought. I’m a total evangelist for this method now.

In any case, the past week has been spent collating the notes, annotating the MS, and drawing up plans of what to tackle, whether some things should be tackled at all since that conflicts with other things that need tackling, and what order to tackle it all in.

Shouts are going out to the oldskool Sheherazade alumni Melanie Garrett (who also hosted a beautiful BBQ the night before) and K D Grace, as well as other T Party writers Denni Schnapp, Tom Pollock, Sumit, Rosanne Rabinowitz, Mark McCann, and the awesome staff at BFI Southwark.

Thanks guys. It meant a lot to me.

Currently Reading: Lord Peter Views The Body – Dorothy L. Sayers

No Comments | In: Writing | tags: authors, denni schnapp, k d grace, london, mark mccann, melanie garrett, mike carey, rosanne rabinowitz, sumit says, t party, tom pollock, workshop. | #

So, it’s time to pick Sleepwalker up again.

The workshop is still about ten days away, but already I can see a few things that need more work – the character voices (Astrid’s especially), a couple of missing scenes (particularly John’s first betrayal of the Raven), and cuts, cuts, cuts. I’ve already had some feedback from K D Grace and Melanie Garrett, which while pointing out real areas for improvement, leads me to believe that the project is not entirely doomed. In fact Kathy blogged about it, which just makes me feel all snuggly-happy inside, like a sunbathing meerkat. Melanie, meanwhile, plied me with champagne cocktails on the lawn – we had a fab conversation on the sequel, possibly a conversation where my arms windmilled drunkenly a lot while I shrieked. 

You know, people slag off this writing lark, but I definitely can see an upside.

In the meantime, I saw Eclipse at the weekend, so I’ll probably be reviewing that in the near future. Saturday Mike Carey is coming to speak to us at the T Party, which should be good, and then next Sunday is the Sleepwalker workshop, which now looks like it will be taking place in the BFI bar on the South Bank, subject to final review. The week after that, I’m a signed up guest of K D Grace’s as she reads from her new novel at the grand opening of the Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium in Portobello Road, so the next month is going to be pretty exciting. 

Exciting, but lots of hard work, as the book rewrites will also have to happen.  All this and a new job too! Still, it will be great to be properly back in London.

Currently Reading: Brethren by Robyn Young

2 Comments | In: Movies, Writing | tags: authors, eclipse, erotica, k d grace, london, melanie garrett, reviews, workshop. | #