[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] So I watched the season finale of Stargate Universe the other day, and I was blown away. I09 has (in a lot of cases rightfully) criticised many points about the series, but it started with a lot of potential, and for all the missed steps it has been slowly marching towards fulfilling that potential. And the final moments of the cliffhanger left me decidedly annoyed that I have to wait however many months for the conclusion. Which is what a season finale, and a cliffhanger, should do. But the defining moment, for me, was the shot of Colonel Young, bloodied up, stood standing whilst the rest of his men knelt for execution. And this got me to thinking about similar such scenes. There are plenty of them, through film and television. You know the ones; where the bad guys seem to have won, where everything seems like it’s going to ****, and then the hero stands up defiantly, and goes on to win the day. And, most times, said hero is wounded or hurt in some fashion. Bloodied, but still defiant. I’m thinking the (numerous) moments in Buffy, when she fights the Big Bad, and after getting her arse kicked across the room, stands up (scratches and all) and wins the day. The final battle in Ronald D. Moore’s Battlestar Galactica, where the thumped Galactica and her crew put their wounds aside for one last gambit to escape. And I suppose the ultimate is Doctor Who; the Tenth Doctor, after coming alive but not unhurt, through fighting off both the Master and Timothy Dalton’s deranged Bond-cum-Time Lord, turns and gives his life to save Bernard Cribbins. So the concept is fairly wide-reaching, but why? I challenged anyone not to be stirred by a well-made example of such a moment. There’s something in it that touches a romantic fondness within the human psyche. It’s part of the reason, I think, that there is such an affection for the Battle of Britain. The great empire, shattered and routed, but rallying itself to defeat the Nazi war machine against the odds. It shows courage and determination, which are traits that society values and individuals aspire to. But the fact that the hero has brushed the edge of defeat, and come back usually with blood running down his or her face, shows that they’re human. It shows the enormity of their task, and the extend of the bravery required to face it. Maybe I’m overplaying this, but given the impact that single image of Colonel Young lent to the final moments of Stargate Universe‘s first season, both for the character and as a metaphor for the all the good guys, I think it’s important to appreciate precisely how key such images are. In the end, we all, on some level, want to be heroes. And we all want to think that, in the same situation, we’d be able to stand up once more, with blood running down our faces, and overcome whatever evil is confronting us.
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] Okay, so I promised this would be posted last night (Monday), but clearly it wasn't . The reason for that is an attack of either perfectionism, or crap writing (depending on your viewpoint). Basically, I got the damn thing finished in time, but was particularly unhappy with it, something which most writers will be familiar with. After banging my head against the damn thing for several hours, and reminding myself that this was only supposed to be a quick piece and not a contender for the Man Booker prize, I got it to a stage where I'm happy enough to post it, at least. This piece was, unsurprisingly, inspired by the droning noise that has been haunting the 2010 World Cup with all the controversy of Nick Griffin's ghost. It's not intended to be a in favour of or against the vuvuzelas (though I do find them annoying after a few minutes into a game). It's just an evolution of an idea that occurred to me during the England v US game. I hope you enjoy it. Vuvuzelas By Matthew S. Dent Everyone remembers where they were when it happened. It was one of those moments. Most people were glued to their televisions, grinning inanely. Or at the pub, still dancing, singing, and getting drunk. No one had expected that it would happen. No one expected what would come next. Those men in white shirts filed past Mandela. They wore their medals proudly. Even they hadn’t thought this was possible. That they could be stood in Soccer City victorious had been only a dream, even up to the final whistle. But it had happened. And as Nelson Mandela commended the gold statuette into the hands of Steven Gerard, the vuvuzelas reached a triumphant and approving climax. The whole stadium was vibrating, and back home, a nation was rejoicing. Holding the trophy above his head, no one watching expected the sudden dark shape that darted for his face. The trophy tumbled to the ground, as the entire England team fell under the swarm of gigantic, black-and-yellow insects, descending from above the stadium. How long had they hidden there? In broad sight, were everyone not focused on the spectacle below. Clear to be heard, were the air not filled with the roar of plastic horns. How long had they been the unnoticed spectators of the tournament, nestled in the rafters through the day? These winged vuvuzelas were unnoticed no longer. Jubilation turned to terror. Spectators turned to flee. The horn calls had ended, replaced by the screams of those who had sounded them. But that terrible, droning buzzing endured, escalating and drowning out all other sounds, until that terrible sound was all that existed.
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] (Bantham Press, paperback, 543pp, £12.99) As a review, I suppose this is a bit on the late side, given that the book actually came out back in March. But with coincidence and life conspiring against me, I've only just finished it. So here you are. First off, Thirteen Years Later is a sequel to Twelve. And both of these books are that most bemoaned of things, vampire novels. But fear not, gentle reader! In respect of tradition, the main character spends both novels trying to kill said undead nasties, rather than trying th shag them, which (odd as it sounds to actually say it) is a breath of fresh air in this subgenre. And the particular original selling point of these books, are that they are set in nineteenth century Russia. Now, I really enjoyed Twelve ( and I highly suggest that you read it before trying to get into Thirteen Years Later), but when I started on Thirteen Years Later I found it a bit tough going. Unlike its predecessor, it is written in third person, and from multiple viewpoints, which takes a little getting used to, and doesn't leave the reader feeling quite as connected to now-Colonel Danilov. Also, it begins with a scene whose meaning only becomes apparent later on, which is a little off-putting as well as confusing for a beginning. But by a chapter or two into the book, I was hooked. The characters are a combination of some of the survivors from the first book (changed and matured over the intervening thirteen years, both naturally and realistically), as well as engagingly written newcomers. And the fact that I devoured this book in less than four (not un-busy) days should show precisely how well it sucked me in. Kent is a very good writer. He doesn't have the technical flair of the literary writers who win the pretentious awards by the truckload (and see my In Defence of Genre entry for why that is absolutely not a criticism), but he is very good at what he does. Both of his novels have grabbed me, and kept me hooked until the very end, and to my mind that is how a good novel should be. And the research that has clearly gone into this is staggering.As a reader, I felt I was right there in St. Petersburg, Moscow, or any of the other locations. Kent knows well both his Russian history and geography. In terms of criticism, there's not much to say. Aside from the aforementioned perspective issue, which really wasn't much of an issue, the only part that seemed to me not to fit was that Aleksandr seems at some point in the second half and for some reason, of which I could discern neither, to change his opinions and motivations as to the future of Russian government. But overall, Thirteen Years Later was a triumph; fast-paced, engaging, slick, and very smart. I thought that it excelled in particular with the contrasts between vampire and human, and how vast (or not) is the difference between man and monster, and also with eh evolution of moral themes from Twelve. Kent considers just how evil these creatures are, and even evokes sympathy for them at times. And all this without them standing around brooding, or anyone trying to shag them. And since this is only the second novel in a planned series of five, I think that it's safe to say that the themes of Romanov blood, betrayal, and revolution will be making returns in subsequent novels, as Kent takes his readers through a tour of Russian history, decorated with vampires and cunning storytelling.
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] Okay, so apparantly I ballsed up somewhere along the lines with the interview mentioned in my previous post, and it’s already happened. But for anyone who is interested in listening to it, the recording is available here, to listen to at your leisure. Sorry about that.
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] I sent off a submission today. It was somewhat unusual, in that I had to print out the manuscript, and the cover letter, in physical paper form. And as I stood in the ridiculously long line at the post office, it occurred to me that even though it’s a rarity that I submit in this fashion (the only markets I submit to by post any more, are the stalwarts of British genre fiction Interzone and Black Static), I do quite like it. There’s something exciting about having the manuscript physically in your hands, and putting it into the post box. A sense of finality in the act of submitting a story, which simply pressing the “Send” button on an email doesn’t provide. Now don’t get me wrong, I understand entirely why the submissions process has moved, en masse, to a virtual mechanism. It’s cheaper, quicker, and generally easier. The writer doesn’t have to pay to print out and then send their story to the editor. The editor doesn’t have to wade through endless wads of paper, and does not have to wait for the daily post each day to get the lay of the land, with new submissions. And whilst I don’t disagree with it, and am not against it, the shift to virtual sometimes deprives me of the satisfaction in seeing a finish product consigned to the higher powers for judgement. Maybe I’m just being neurotic here, but it doesn’t seem to be limited to submissions. The same issue is relevant (to me, and I suspect, to others) when it comes to e-books. I’m not a fan, but equally not a foe to the concept, but I am undecided. Reading large amounts of text on a computer screen gives me a headache, which is part of the reason that I try to keep my blogs to around 500 or 600 words. Now, I’ve heard the arguments that e-readers don’t do that, because the screen isn’t backlit, and maybe that’s true. My main problem with the digitisation of literature is not that, nor is it the expense (I don’t care how much cheaper e-books are, I don’t have the money for a Kindle, and I certainly don’t have the money or the time for that no-longer-pocketsized iPod touch that Apple have been flogging). My issue is the lack of something to hold onto. The lack of pages to turn. The lack of ink to come off on your fingers. The sterility of it. And I think that’s the sticking point for a lot of people. I remember a moment in the TV series Buffy the Vampire Slayer, where Rupert Giles denounces digital information, on the basis that the obtaining of knowledge should be smelly. And he has a point. Laugh as much as you like, but I know that any of you recreational readers out there have revelled in that particular smell of a new book, or the musty aroma of an older book. And I’m thinking, maybe this nostalgic yearning for literature in a physical form isn’t exclusive to strange individuals such as myself. Just look at vanity publishing. For all the arguments that will no doubt be thrown at me in favour of it, it is more difficult to make a success of than traditional publishing. But it can be a shortcut, for writers who long just to see their work in printed form. And if they just want to see their work in the world, why would people choose to pay for their novel to be printed by a vanity publisher, when they could post it online, on blogs like this one, for free? Perhaps it’s because of the innate satisfaction of holding a finished product in your hands. Physical. Tangible. Real. However much of an advance, and however much more convenient, virtual alternatives might be, there will always be a particular joy that writers and readers find in ink and paper.
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] I am pleased to announce that at 18:00 Mountain Time Monday 7th June (unfortunately 01:00 BST, Tuesday 8th June), Page Readers will be conducting a live interview with Jessica A. Weiss, the editor of Pill Hill Press' Silver Moon, Bloody Bullets anthology, in which my story "The Mystery of St. Mary's Morgue" will be appearing. I believe a number of my fellow contributors may also be joining in the interview. I myself won’t be able to (being a poor student and international phone rates being the bitch that they are), but if you’re awake at that time and at a loose end, please do tune in. I am reliably informed that there is a chatroom for it, too, so I’ll probably be bumming around in there if anyone’s interested. If you do want to tune in, the interview will be on the Page Readers blogtalkradio site, and from the look of it, they do archive their interviews, so if you’re busy at the time, or can’t face listening to a radio interview at 1 in the morning, then you can always hear it later.
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] This sort of follows on from my “In Defence of Genre” post, so you might like to take a look at that first. But anyway, I’ve been thinking about what precisely science-fiction is. It covers a great deal of subgenres, some of which I’ve written in. But the fundamental idea behind it is in the name, I think. Science-fiction. Equal measures of each. Fiction about science. Or fiction involving science. It boils down to the same thing, that the difference between sci-fi and other brands of fiction is the science. And I think that lies at the core of a lot of matters. Given that science is under a daily assault (by various religious elements of society some of the time, by the Daily Mail misrepresenting it most of the time), it seems all the more important that sci-fi represents science in the most honest way possible. To me, sci-fi has always been about dreaming, about what could be in the future, but I know that a lot of people think of sci-fi as impenetrable nerd-gruel, but it really doesn’t have to be. Reflecting on it, I think a lot of the bad sci-fi is the scientifically inaccurate stuff. To compensate for frankly impossible plot developments and holes that the writer has dug themselves into, they throw impenetrable technobabble and deus ex machinas into the mix, despite having little to know understanding of how the universe actually works. And then we’re using science as the plot crutch that magic so often is in fantasy. The science in sci-fi doesn’t have to be so bold. It should be the lifeblood running through the veins of the story (and now I’m waxing all lyrical). What I mean, is that it shouldn’t be something glued onto the side to make it fit under the sci-fi label. Science is not a gimmick. And yes, there are sci-fi tropes which are used so commonly that they pass right under the radar (e.g. hyperspace, wormholes, noises in space), and there’s nothing wrong with that, but it still makes me smile when I see something that adheres more strictly to the rules it claims to be built around. I’m talking, lack of artificial gravity, sub-light travel only, kinetic weapons rather than laser-based. They’re minor things, but give the story a sense of realism. Now, I’m the first to admit that I’m not an expert when it comes to science and technology. I have a working knowledge, and I did well enough when I studied them, but it’s been four years now since I’ve had any substantial education in the sciences. So do I have enough knowledge to avoid hypocrisy on this matter? I’m not altogether sure. I try to do my research, I try to keep myself within the realms of scientific possibility (still a very wide berth, for a writer with a reasonable imagination to play within), but in the end, I’m not an astrophysicist, or an engineer, or a geneticist. I’m a law student who likes to write sci-fi. But maybe if we all make that effort to understand what we’re reading and writing about, then the world will be a little better. Certainly, for writers, I feel our fiction will be. If the science is accurate, then the fiction feels closer to reality, and that is what a writer should be aiming for. I’m not saying only people qualified in science should write sci-fi (because that would be hypocrisy), or that only people qualified in science should write sci-fi (because that’s stupid, and even aside from that would create a cut off community of science enthusiasts, like Norfolk meets CERN, while the rest of the world returns to the dark ages). But sci-fi can be, and is, so much more when the writer takes the time to present an accurate snapshot of the universe, with just a bit of research, to get the science right. Realism doesn’t limit imagination. It just focuses it down the right avenues.
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] So, it’s over. And in all honesty, what an ending. But first, a little background. In 2006 a fantastic series called Life On Mars began. It starred John Simm as a present-day policeman, who ends up in a coma and goes back to 1973, where he has to figure out what is happening, whilst dealing with classic 70s policeman DCI Gene Hunt. It was funny, witty, intelligent, and very entertaining. It made two series, and ended with a perfect ending. Then, it was followed by spin-off series Ashes to Ashes, which featured another cop (this time a woman) going back to the 80s, and playing out a similar series of events. I’m going to start by saying that it wasn’t as good as Life on Mars. For starters, it suffered from the inevitable plague of “spin-off syndrome”. Namely, that most spin-offs are awful. Now, that wasn’t true here, it just wasn’t as good as its predecessor. Part of the problem was lead actress Keeley Hawes. She just didn’t have the same chemistry with Glenister that Simm did (which is a little odd when you think about it, actually…). But that’s not really her fault, since very few people have the kind of acting talent John Simm kicks around. I found her irritating though, and her moral stances reflected the same stubbornness that she chided Hunt for, the only difference being that it was her opinion that was unquestionably right, rather than his. But for all I can criticise it, I have to praise it too. It was an absolutely beautiful concept (something which the US remakers failed to grasp), and Ashes to Ashes introduced another dose of philosophical uncertainty into the mix. The story was excellent, with the final season and the final episode standing out in particular, and the writers correctly deduced that the real star of Life on Mars had been old-fashioned copper Gene Hunt. Whilst LoM had been about Sam Tyler, AtA was very definitely about Gene. Last night’s finale confused me. I mean, really confused me. All the way through, I had no idea how it was going to end (well, sort of; I called that they were all dead ages ago), and especially as the series has only ever been realistic police drama mixed in with a bit of psychology, the lurch to full-blown existential head**** could have been a little jarring, were it not so perfectly written. The best ending to a series is when it is completely natural. I don’t know if the writers had this specific ending in mind when they started, but it fits so well with the rest of the series that there really couldn’t have been any more perfect ending. The police purgatory wasn’t the creation of Sam Tyler, or Alex Drake. It was, and had always been, the Gene Genie’s world. The whole thing was steeped in symbolism, from the duality of the Hunt-Keats relationship, to the death of the Quatro at the end (one of the most weirdly moving moments in television). Part of the attraction of both series was, of course, the nostalgia factor. I wasn’t alive in either the 70s or the 80s, so that’s perhaps a bit wasted on me. But the historical context manifesting through background events, through the style, and through the soundtrack, meaning that for a lot of people it’s like looking back in time. Even not having been there, I appreciated a lot of it. The Falklands War, and Maggie Thatcher’s 1983 reelection in particular. And I think this is how the finale works its magic. The shows realism has grabbed the audience every bit as much as it has Alex, and that is one of the primary things that keeps everyone guessing. So in conclusion, I suggest you watch this. You need to start with Life on Mars, obviously, but really it’s so good that it’s hardly a burden, and you really should have already seen it. The two series run together, and by the time you reach the end, it will all seem to have fallen into place. This is brilliant storytelling, coupled with great characterisation, and fantastic acting in particular from Phillip Glenister. Gene Hunt is the classic, outdated copper. Sexist, bullish, very politically incorrect. But I defy you not to love him, when it’s all over. This is fantastic drama, and fantastic entertainment, and proves that the BBC can still make the very best television around. It makes you feel all proud to be British!
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] I promised myself that I wouldn’t do this, but I’m somewhat annoyed at the moment, so I don’t care. Genre fiction is, amongst writing and reading communities, generally considered to be of a lower quality than so-called “literary” fiction. By genre here I mean crime, romance, fantasy, science-fiction and horror, but I’m going to confine my belligerent ranting to science-fiction since that’s where more of my personal experience is to be found. Now, I can understand, to a degree, why someone who hadn’t read much might think that, but should someone who hasn’t much knowledge of it be making sweeping (and rather insulting) generalisations? Now, this isn’t to knock personal opinions. Everyone is at liberty to like and dislike whatever they want. But that doesn’t mean that because you don’t like something, it is of less value from an objective standpoint. I like to state that I don’t generally like literary fiction. I find it boring, introspective, and pretentious. But I accept that there are a lot of works of literary fiction that are nothing short of brilliant, even if I don’t like the genre, or even that specific piece. The perception that science-fiction (and the same applies to horror, believe me) is for less intelligent people than literary fiction, is absolute rubbish, but a widely held belief. And not just on the internet, but in the real world too. China Miéville spoke about this (far more eloquently and effectively than I am) in his acceptance speech for the Arthur C. Clarke award just months ago: [I've removed the video link, to adhere to forum rules, but if you do a youtube search for "China Miéville's Arthur C. Clarke Award Acceptance Speech"] He has a point. Science-fiction is incredibly relevant to modern life, and has a lot more to it than just spaceships, lightsabers, and bloody Vulcans. Good sci-fi (and there is a lot of bad, which is possibly why the misconception exists) works by analogy. It looks forward, in order to examine the world now. Look at the recent film District 9 for example. In my opinion it was one of the best films of last year, and it did exactly what science-fiction should do. It created an analogy, between the treatment of the Prawns, South Africa’s apartheid history, and the inherent xenophobia in humanity. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than the weepy, whiny pontificating that literary fiction is so proud of. But I think the problem that most literary fiction buffs have with genre fiction, is what I count as the inherent difference between the two. Genre is fun. It doesn’t sacrifice entertainment for the sake of making a point. It recognises that as much as people read to be challenged, to learn, to see things a different way, they read to be entertained. Yes, genre fiction isn’t exempt from the curse of boring twaddle, but it strives a lot harder to keep the reader entertained, that the introspective moping of some of the literary novels that are being churned out at present. And I know this is going to piss people off, but I chalk that down to being because the truth hurts. Science-fiction entertains, and science-fiction has a point to make. That’s not always the case, but the great works do, the good works do, and if you’re only reading the **** at the bottom, then you’re doing it wrong. Novels such as 1984 (George Orwell), The Moon is a Harsh Mistress (Robert A. Heinlein), Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep (Phillip K. Dick), Children of Men (P.D. James), and a thousand others, are prime examples of this. And I know people are going to turn around to be and say that 1984 and Children of Men aren’t science-fiction, but they are. If you’re going to argue that science-fiction isn’t worth a damn, after excluding the best works as not conforming to your definition of science-fiction, then I’m not interested in what you have to say. So to finish this ranty little interlude, genre fiction is every bit as relevant and of high general quality as literary fiction. I’m tempted to say that it’s more relevant and of higher quality, but in deference to my own personal bias, I’m going to stick with equality here. My own opinion is that genre fiction does for the everyman, what literary fiction does for the pretentious git. It opens up new windows on the world, suggests new ideas, takes the reader to places they never imagined could exist before. And it does it without boring the pants off them
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] …same as the Old Politics. So it’s happened. For almost a week, we have been living in a ConDem Nation, under a Libservative government, led by (coined by the Mirror in a surprising, if simplistic, show of wit) Dick Clameron. The government that loves a good contradiction started with that now-famous love-in in the garden of Number 10, and made half of the country feel supremely uncomfortable. And on the front page of Friday’s Guardian Clegg looked very much like he felt the same way. The attempted sell of this new oxymoronic regime was the “New Politics”, a supposed new era and new way of running the country. And so far, so…meh. Nothing, to my mind, has really changed. I mean, the Department of Children, Schools and Families is now the Department of Education; everything the government can get its hands on will be cut in an attempt to bring back the recession, the only circumstances the Tories are comfortable in; and endless promises how things are going to be different. The main proposed change is a worrying one, though. Clameron wants to change the constitution so that in order to dissolve Parliament 55% of MPs would need to vote in favour of it. We’re told that this won’t apply to votes of no confidence, and that it’s a necessary part of having fixed Parliament terms, but I still don’t buy it. We have a coalition government, of which the Conservatives command 47% of Parliament. Less than a majority. Under this new proposal, if the Libseravtive coalition fell apart, we could be in the bizarre situation where although the minority Conservative government couldn’t pass any legislation, it also couldn’t be removed. This seems to me a lot like entrenchment, which is something that the British constitution is fundamentally against, and which looks like Cameron trying to cement himself into power so that he can stay in Number 10 even if public opinion turns against him. Yeah, the New Politics are looking great. Also, the New Politics also seems to include a number of wholly inappropriate ministerial appointments. First off, in this new coalition, there are going to be only 4 women. Now, I’m not a raging feminist by any means, but I do feel that such a proportion is wholly unrepresentative, and something of a disgrace for the Lib Dems, and a Conservative Party we are constantly being told has changed. Not to mention that the new Equalities minister is Theresa May, a woman whose anti-equality credentials have already been well-documented across the internet (see the Facebook group aimed at removing her). To put her, of all people, in that position when the Coalition has a host of Liberal Democrats, and Alan Duncan of the Tories, is just illogical. Though I question the appropriateness of anyone who voted against the repeal of Section 28 being in a modern government, to be honest (but since Kemptown turned blue at the election, maybe the message is that homophobia is alright now, I don’t know). The other frankly stupid ministerial appointment is George Osborne as Chancellor. I think that most of the electorate would agree that Vince Cable (the new Business Secretary) is a very intelligent, very sensible, and extremely qualified man. He was the ideal candidate for Chancellor (that is, if Cameron was viewing the Coalition Cabinet as a way of getting the best people into the best places, not just a boys club he had to throw a few minor roles to Lib Dems in order to satisfy the smaller party). And yet we end up with George Osborne, a man who has little to no understanding of money, and who thinks that a flat tax is the way forwards. Another kick in the nads for social justice, then. So this Coalition has been, from the outset, every bit the disappointment I expected it to be. And I think Clegg might be beginning to see his error. The backlash against him has been clear online (thousands of people have joined or rejoined Labour in the last week, a sizable number of them disillusioned former Lib Dems), and even Charles Kennedy and Paddy Ashdown have criticised it. He’s sold his soul for the Deputy Prime Minister’s Office, and judging from the picture of him on the front page of Friday’s Guardian, he seems to know it. I don’t think the New Politics are what he expected them to be…
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] The above named anthology is now on sale in both hardback and paperback from amazon.co.uk (and also on amazon.com, for any US readers interested)! The anthology is published by Pill Hill Press, and contains my short story “Scorched Earth”. The anthology is partitioned into four sections (unsurprisingly entitled Conquest, War, Famine and Death), and mine is in the first of them. It’s a near-future science-fiction story, about a world gripped by strange and sudden effects of global climate change, which may be more than they appear to be. It’s also the first acceptance I ever received (though paradoxically, the third to appear in print), so has a special significance to me as my first step into the world of professional fiction writing.
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] According to quantum physics (or at least, as far as my no doubt confused and flawed understanding of it goes), if it is not observed then an objected exists in every state that it is possible for it to exist in. Then, when it becomes observed, the “wave function” collapses, and it assumes one of those possible states. Now, aside from giving you another reason not to turn your back on anything particularly creepy looking, this is a pretty good metaphor for fiction submissions. Now, I realise that strictly speaking that’s a load of bollocks. There’s still an observer, so the submission remains in one fixed quantum state, but shut up and let me make my point! From the moment I, as a writer, press the send button on the email containing my story, addressed to a publisher, it is out of my hands. From my perspective, it is unobserved, and for the period of time until I receive a response, it is in a quantum state of both accepted and rejected. (For the record, I’ve only ever not received a response on two occasions, and one of those was due to Royal Mail ballsing up going on strike. The other had no excuse, and I won’t be submitting to them again). Now I’m new to the world of published writing. So, as you might imagine, most times when the wave function collapses, the result is bad news. It’s disheartening at times, but each piece of feedback I get (and I’ve found that most editors, particularly with small press publishers, give at least a single line reason for rejecting a story) helps me improve a little, and gets me a little close to the kind of success I’m aiming for. This morning, the wave function collapsed once again, and I awoke to two emails in my inbox. The first was a rejection. A disappointment, since I’m quite proud of that particular little story (about shop mannequins coming to life), but not altogether surprising. The second was that rarest and most sought after of things- an acceptance. Yeah, I’m pretty excited about it, and it really did make my morning. It’s not often that quantum physics comes down in my favour. But this time I’ve come out on top, and “The Mystery of St. Mary’s Morgue” will be published in Silver Moon, Bloody Bullet: An Anthology of Werewolf Tails, from Pill Hill Press. I’m not sure exactly when it will be in print, but I’ll post the link in my Bibliography, and on my Twitter feed, when it is. But my point in posting this is not to blow my own trumpet (well, okay it is, but it’s not just to blow my own trumpet) but rather to make a comment about rejections. They happen. Everyone gets them. Sometimes it’s because the story isn’t good enough- that might be due to the high quality of submissions in general, if it’s a professional/semi-pro market, or it might be because the story needs to be improved. Sometimes it’s simply because the story isn’t right for the anthology. The important thing is that rejection really is a step towards acceptance. When the wave function collapses, as a writer, the thing to do is brush yourself off, read any feedback that’s given, see if you can improve your story, research what markets it’s best suited for, and send it on to the next publisher. If you carry out this process every time, then you’ll naturally improve. And if the result of the wave function collapse is a congratulations. Now go and write a new story. Which is exactly what I’m going to do now.
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] (Pendragon Press, hardback, 160pp, £12) I seem to be having a run of short novels/novellas lately. Maybe it’s a subconscious choice, as I’ve also caught myself praising shorter forms of fiction in particular. Especially with speculative fiction, where the suspension of disbelief is often inherent to entertainment, the shorter novel is often the ideal format. Suspension of disbelief isn’t really so much of an issue in Silversands, as Powell has crafted a fairly realistic-feeling novel, which particularly struck me near the very beginning, upon realising that there was no artificial gravity. As a science-fiction nut, this impressed me from the off. Artificial gravity has become something of a cliché of sci-fi; often no explanation is given at all, and when one is the story often suffers for as a result. To have a characters floating around is, I’ve found, a rare concession. (When artificial gravity does later make an appearance, it is of the centrifugal flavour, which actually make scientific sense). The characters are also imbued with an air of realism. The main character’s motivations are clear and understandable from the start, and her confusion/flirtations with despair when the major plot twist smacks her in the side of the head is entirely sympathetic. And along the way, the secondary characters are equally as sympathetic, making some of the trials they suffer with the progression of the plot really resonate with the reader. Maybe I’m just becoming soft in my adulthood, I don’t know, but I thought they worked well. The plot is, as one would expect with a novel of this length, very fast paced, keeping the reader reading hungrily on. I finished it in about two days, purely because it gripped me by the collar and wouldn’t let me go until I’d finished. The scene changes don’t feel particularly jarring, despite the fact it flits frequently between several locations and groups of characters, and in fact that might be one of the points in its favour. In moving quickly and fluidically between scenes, settings and characters, it manages to sustain an overall commentary, and avoid the annoyance of pulling the reader away at a cliffhanger moment for one character, to bore them rigid with a bunch of people they don’t care about. In terms of actual criticism, I find myself about to criticise the thing I started off praising. It’s length makes it a perfect light read, but it has the sense it wants to be more than that. In some cases it feels that characters are persuaded into unlikely (and in some cases unpalatable) courses of action with a haste that doesn’t seem to sit right. My feeling as a critical reader is that in places it could have done with a let up of the relentless pace, in favour of sitting down and talking out bits- to give myself a chance to catch my breath, and for the characters to be legitimately persuaded around into a course of action necessary, but not particularly easy. My only other criticism is the major criticism of the book, and it feels a little unfair. Powell’s writing is up to its usual high standard (see such short stories as The Last Reef and Ack-Ack Macaque), but finds itself let down by some very shoddy editing work. I haven’t much experience with Pendragon, but given what I’ve seen here, I’m a bit concerned. Too frequently, letters are missing from the beginning of sentences or words (“Marcus” becoming “arcus” a couple of times) and in one place it seemed that the first part of a paragraph was missing. It isn’t Powell’s fault, but with a story so dependent on pace, it trips the reader up, and is a real shame. But on the whole, I really did enjoy this novel. It was fun, but not silly. The characters were strong, the plot engaging, and the writing well beyond competent. But the real triumph, I feel, is the world that Powell has created. A universe with humanity scattered across the stars by unreliable FTL travel is one that has a lot of potential, particularly with the developments at the end of the story. I hope that Powell returns to this universe at some point, and it would be a real shame if some of the characters from Silversands didn’t get a second appearance.
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] Okay, so in less that 12 hours, Gordon Brown has invalidated more or less everything I said in my last post. So here's an emergency update. Given Brown's resignation, and the apparant likelihood of an anti-Tory coalition, everything is now uncertain. In order to have a majority, a coalition would need pretty much all of the smaller parties in addition to Labour and the Liberal Democrats. A government like that has not been seen since the Second World War, and bears more similarity to those in continental Proportional Representation systems than to a First Past the Post system. Which is apt, because one of the first moves of such a government would be to take the first steps towards reformation of the voting system. If the next election features a Proportional Representation system, it will most likely deny the Tories a chance of government. Why? Because they have conclusively demonstrated an inability to cooperate with other parties. I personally think that it's the party attitude which is at fault. Conservatives do not share. They look out for them and theirs, and the public face of their entreaties to the Lib Dems have shown just that. Cameron's speech about a "big, open, comprehensive offer" to them in fact offered next to nothing. He would not waver on the economy, Europe, voting reform, or Trident. Labour, on the other hand, would give them compromise on 2 or 3 of those. If this coalition happens (and it is by no means certain yet) then the reason that Cameron will be denied government will be that he cannot put the country ahead of his own ambitions. He has left the country effectively without a government for days whilst he squabbled over this. Gordon Brown has shown true statesmanship by watching the wheel of the ship whilst he gives the Tories a chance to form a government. And now that they are failing to reach that compromise, he has made his own, even with his own resignation. It shows a level of maturity far beyond anything the Conservatives have shown, and I think should be applauded. Particularly the dignity of his resignation speech. It's a real shame that he has been forced into this. He was a true politician, who put the responsibilities he carried before all else. He might not have been perfect, but I think that he has done the Labour party and the country proud. Coalition can work. Labour and the Liberal Democrats are showing that. The Tories doom and gloom over a hung parliament has been scaremongering from the off, and merely a manifestation of their selfish attitude. A Lib-Lab coalition is perfectly legitimate; it would have more than 50% of the vote. The new Labour party leader as PM is perfectly legitimate. This is a parliamentary democracy. We vote for representatives, not Prime Ministers. Leadership is an issue for the parties. Cameron has shown he cannot cooperate and compromise with other parties, ergo he has proved himself unfit to government in a hung parliament situation. And all he needed to offer was a referendum on electoral reform. No commitment to back it, just the referendum. The Lib-Lab coalition might not happen, but this most honourable move by Gordon Brown has shown up the Tories selfishness. They will either up their game and compromise with the Lib Dems, or they will not enter Number 10. Well, he campaigned for change. That might be just what David Cameron gets. We might just be on the edge of the biggest constitutional change in this country since the Magna Carter.
[Copied and pasted from my external blog. Please do take a look. I'm trying to update regularly, every few days or so] So Thursday's election didn't go too well. I don't think any of the parties were particularly satisfied with the outcome. I know I wasn't. But thinking on it, depending on how this is handled, Labour (and, in my opinion, the country) could actually come out of this in a good position. Allow me to elaborate. Labour is beaten. The acceptance of that is paramount, and indeed I believe even Gordon Brown has accepted it. For all the Tory press might be moaning about him still being in Number 10, the Tories (though they almost certainly will) cannot yet form a government. It would irresponsible for Mr Brown, a man to whom duty is very important, to leave the country without a government. So, the most likely options are that the Tories will go into coalition with the Lib Dems, or form a minority government. Neither will be overwhelmingly stable, and particularly given the difficulty of the massive cuts the Tories intend to force through, they won't be popular. Which will make their government more unstable, and more likely to collapse. If a Labour government can reposition itself as a strong opposition party, opposing the dramatic damage that a Conservative government would do to our economy, Labour could sweep them aside in the resulting election. Potentially. But the man who I really feel sorry for at the moment is Mr Nicholas Clegg. He's not having a good time of it at the moment. After being the star of the election campaign, his surge of votes failed to materialised. Still, the result was a hung parliament, which has been the Lib Dem's wet dream for a long, long time. And now it's turning into a nightmare for him. From his perspective, he either supports Labour, or the Conservatives. He's already voiced his concern at the legitimacy of propping up a Labour government which to all intents and purposes, lost the election. He's also already said that the Tories should have first shot at forming a government. So far, so good. But since he's effectively the kingmaker, he has to choose one. And as a Lib Dem, there are certain things he wants, including: voting reform; reform of the House of Lords; greater integration with the EU; and the dismantling of Trident. And he'll get precisely none of those from David Cameron. Regardless of how DC feels personally on the issue, his party is completely opposed to all of those things. So how does Clegg make a deal? Presumably something is being hammered out behind closed doors, but I'm really not sure what. And then, there is the fact that the vast majority of people who did vote for the Lib Dems did not do so because they agreed with the Tory policies. The Conservatives and the Liberal Democrats are not the same party. They are not on the same side of the political battle-lines. Realistically, they are closer to Labour, and in a deal with Labour would get at least two (possibly three) things on Clegg's policy wish list. If he makes a deal with Cameron, to put Cameron in Number 10, he will be going against the wishes of a large portion (if not all) of his voters. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how to make sure that you don't see power again any time soon. If you go against the clear wishes of your party and your voters, you may as well put the gun to your head and pull the trigger. You'll be about as useful as a politician that way. Clegg owes the Conservative voters nothing. You don't elect a politician of one party, to serve the interests of another. If Clegg trades his policies for a minor seat at the Conservative cabinet table, he's a fool. The consequences would outweigh the benefits (with the possible exception of if he could get George Osborne's seat for Vince Cable, and take that clueless muppet out of government completely, before he can even think about implementing a flat tax rate). What Clegg does will depend on how smart he actually is. If he's particularly thick, he'll enter into a coalition with the Tories, and the dream of three party politics will be over for another century or so. If he's less thick, he might enter a coalition with Labour, and hope it holds up long enough for the positive effects of economic recovery to be noticed despite Murdoch's screeching. If he's particularly smart, he'll give the Tories a minority government, wait for it to collapse, and then wait for the surge of anti-conservative feeling to carry the Lib Dems along with Labour into a new era of two-party politics, and the Tories can take up the Lib Dem's former non-entity status. But at this point, we just have to wait and see.