The Words of Life

Some Thoughts About Leeds

2012-02-09T10:53:00.000-08:00

Two nights ago I thoroughly enjoyed the official launch of my new novel, The Constant Lovers, at Leeds Central Library. After from the cock-up – the booksellers actually only had two copies of the book for sale – it was a great event, and as close as I’ve come (geographically at least) to appearing on the stage at Leeds Town Hall.

It made me think about my relationship with my hometown. I haven’t lived there since 1976, and I’ve actually spent more time in another place (Seattle). But Leeds has a claim on me, and exerts a hold, that no other place can ever match. In part it might be genetic. My family’s been there since the end of the 18th century. The place is in my DNA. My father grew up in Hunslet, and spent his summers in the relative countryside of Sheepscar, where a relative ran the Victoria – much bigger in the 1920s that it became later, and with a huge garden and supposedly renowned rhubarb garden. For him, above all, it had a piano he could play. My mother’s family was decidedly more middle-class, out in Alwoodley, with a maid and a chauffeur.

Each time I return to Leeds, which is several times a year now, it renews me. Yet, curiously, I see a place that isn’t that. Several places that aren’t there, really. In my mind I see the place from my books, the jail at the top of Kirkgate, the Moot Hall in the middle of Briggate, close to where Harvey Nick’s is (and I know which I’d prefer), Garroway’s Coffee House on the Headrow. In truth, there’s very little of those days left; about the only private residence of that time is now Nash’s, just off New Briggate.

I also see the Leeds of my childhood. The magical toy shop that was the Doll’s Hospital in the County Arcade, Fuller’s where my other and I would meet my grandmother for tea every week, and the department store Marshall’s, which had a uniformed doorman, and where I, a very innocent four-year-old in 1959, saw my first black person in 1959 and asked my mother why the woman was made from chocolate. My mother apologised to the woman, but I truly had never seen a person of colour before. It was a very, very different time, and not a better one. Then there was the music shop at the corner of County Arcade and Cross Arcade where I went with my father when I was seven. Ostensibly we went in to buy a harmonica for me and came out with a baby grand piano, which appeared a few days later in our front room. And I did get my harmonica.

And then I see the Leeds of my youth, the great bookshop opposite Leeds Poly, sorry, Leeds Met, where I discovered Hamsun, the small, two-storey Virgin shop on King Edward Street (I believe), the head shops close buy, the discos at the Poly, gigs at the Town Hall and the 100 Club not far away where I saw Taste and the Nice. On Saturday mornings I’d go into town (before I had a Saturday job), get off at the ABC, cross the street and go down to the basement coffee bar for a frothy coffee before spending the morning mooching around, and maybe buying a record at Virgin or Vallance’s.

Before this descends into mawkish reminiscence, let me say this is simply a small sampling of memories that tie me irrevocably to Leeds. The city formed me much more than I was willing to admit for many years. It took a long time, and many miles, for me to really understand that, and give me the desire to start studying the city’s history.

Out of that have come my books. Apart from being mysteries with (hopefully) good characters, they stand as love letters to Leeds. The city of the 1730s that I describe might not be a beautiful place. The people, many of them, anyway, a degradingly poor, the place stinks. But it’s mine as much as it’s Richard Nottingham’s, and I love it then as I love it now.

A New Year Underway

2012-01-22T06:06:00.000-08:00

Perhaps you think that writers don’t work hard, that they jot down a few words and call it day, stopping to laze and enjoy a drink or several. Maybe there are some like that, but I’ve never met any, and hope not took. We tend to be a bunch of real grafters. Especially those who combine fiction writing with other types. It all revolves around deadlines, and in the case of music journalism, those can sometimes be tight. Still, that’s part of the fun, and music remains such an important part of my life…

December and January saw three – yes, three – manuscripts depart from here. A medieval novel is now being sent out to publishers by my agent (yes, it’s crime, but unlike the Leeds books, somewhat gentler), the Seattle novel – now a long novella of almost 50,000 words – is being considered by a small press, and my non-fiction book on Studio One reggae is being considered by an ebook publisher.

That’s a busy start, right? On top of that, Cold Cruel Winter came out as an ebook on January 1 (buy it here), and my new Richard Nottingham novel, The Constant Lovers, will arrive in hardback on the 26th; I’m looking forward to having my author copies this week. America, which has really taken to Cold Cruel Winter of the back of some frankly astonishing reviews, will have to wait until May 1 for publication (although Book Depository in the UK will sell you a copy and not charge you postage). I’ve complete the book trailer for The Constant Lovers, now up on YouTube, and yes, I even did the music. The launch event will be in the Exhibition Room at Leeds Central Library on Tuesday, February 7, 6.30-7.45 pm, and all are welcome, with copies of the book on sale.

That’s all topped by the news that the publishers have accepted the fourth book in the series, Come the Fear. My wonderful editor has gone through it and I’m making my final changes now; it will come out in July, so more on that later. But, even as I plough through those words, I’m writing others – the fifth book in the series, provisionally titled Over the Hills.

The Walkabouts - Travels in the Dustland

2011-11-30T11:12:00.000-08:00

The Walkabouts
Travels in the Dustland
Glitterhouse GRCD 731

I first saw the Walkabouts perform in 1986 – I’m pretty sure it was at a bar named the 5-0 on 15th Avenue East in Seattle. They were a young band then, but the potential and the deep level of artistry was already there. Seven years later they were my first interview assignment when I started writing for The Rocket, and I couldn’t have been happier; I’d been a fan for a while then. Over the years I came to know them and develop a huge respect and love of their work. So, when talking to Chris Eckman a couple of years ago about his excellent Dirtmusic project, I asked if there’d ever be another Walkabouts album: “If we don’t do it soon it might never happen,” he answered, and the future didn’t look too good.

But they did do it, and Travels in the Dustland is more than worth the long wait. It’s still quite inimitably the Walks with the driving guitar rhythms and intensely poetic lyrics. But it also builds on what’s gone before. Since the 1990s there’s been a more cinematic sense to their music, but this time around it’s fully realised in what’s essentially a suite of songs, and that realisation is musical as well as lyrical. “My Diviner” and “The Dustlands” both have wide sweeps of sounds, but with minute attention to details that help add to that widescreen sensibility, such as the chamber orchestra on “The Dustlands” or the trumpet that echoes distantly towards the end of the piece to offer the idea of space. The band bring in a number of guests but use them very sparingly – this remains very much a group disc, one with a feel of the dry, parched Southwest rather than the lush green of their Northwest home. For musicians who don’t play together so often these days, they lock in together beautifully, and it’s a compliment to say you never notice the rhythm section; what they do is so exact, so perfect for each song that they don’t need to stand out. Chris Eckman and Carla Torgerson are still the front people, their voices complementing each other as they always have.

It’s an album with epic ambitions and performances to match. A number of the songs are more than six minutes long, but never seem stretched out, a series of connected vignettes that highlight Eckman’s literate lyrics, which still possess that Raymond Carver-esque quality of image and a story encompassed in a few words. What they’ve created isn’t a rock album, but a disc that’s ultimately American music, both in sound and words tugging at the fabric (both real and mythical) of the country, and it’s a brilliant piece of works.

2011-11-24T02:22:00.000-08:00

Last Friday I discovered that my second novel, Cold Cruel Winter, had been named one of the Top 10 Mysteries of 2011 by Library Journal. At first I didn’t believe it, even when I saw it, and then I became almost speechless for the rest of the day. Next morning I had to check again, just to be certain it wasn’t all a dream. But the words were still there, still in the same order.
It’s one of those things writers dream about, but never expect to actually happen. When it does, when those dreams come true, shock sets in. It drains away slowly, but even six days later it doesn’t feel completely real.
Library Journal is one of the biggest publishing trade magazines in the US, aimed – as you’d guess – at libraries. It had given the book the kind of review I’d have killed to have, but I’d never expected more. Publishers Weekly had also raved about the book, and Kirkus and Booklist had both been very, very positive. The book has been better-received than I’d dared hope.
Since then I’ve been told by the publisher that Cold Cruel Winter has gone into a small second hardback printing. On January 1 it’ll be available globally as an ebook, and January 26 will see it out – in the UK, at least – as a trade paperback.
That’s the same day the follow-up, The Constant Lovers, appears. The official launch will come a week or so later at Leeds Central Library, and I’m flattered that they’ve agreed to host it. I’ve every reason to be grateful to Leeds Libraries, huge supporters of the books in the branches and reading groups. I’ve learned a great deal since The Broken Token appeared in 2010, and now I just want to make the most of that and write – and continue to learn – as much as possible.

Story Chain

2011-10-22T23:33:00.000-07:00

My friend and fellow-writer Denyse Kirkby has had a touch inspiration. Her story chain – well, two story chains, really, one adult, one young adult, is an idea to build a global story where everyone can contribute.

I think it’s beautiful, and I urge everyone to take part.

Adult Story Chain

Young Adult Story Chain

I'll be popping over there later...please pass the word about it.

Girl Singer

2011-10-17T23:10:00.000-07:00

Girl Singer
Tell Her What She’s Won
It’s 15 long years since singer Carolyn Wennblom released her only album, Bees to the Honey, one of the most underrated delights to emerge from Seattle in the ‘90s. But now there’s a chance to rejoice as she’s back, this time as part of the band Girl Singer. And make no mistake, this really is a band, not a vehicle for her. The four-piece, which includes two members of the Walkabouts (and, interestingly the song Injury Wants An Encore sounds like it could have been taken from the Walks’ songbook), is a tight, thoughtful unit, which suits the moody, enigmatic material. Wennblom’s voice has taken on more of a velvet quality with time, but still wonderfully elusive, and the other players (plus a few guests) give the ideal framing for each one, whether it’s the soft drive that propels Start It All Over or the drone of the opener, Coming Around. It’s an album born of maturity, the emotions and situations never clear-cut, the emotions in shades of grey rather than black and white, the music considered. It is what it is, with no compromises for commerciality, but always deliciously listenable, and worth hearing again and again. The production, too, is beautifully realised, smooth without being slick, and great attention to details in the sound. The thing to hope for is that it’s not a decade and a half until we hear from them on disc again. One of 2011’s superb discs.

I've been remiss - forgive me

2011-10-08T08:41:00.000-07:00

It’s been a while – far too long, really, since I posted on this blog. But that’s what happens when life intervenes and the need to make a living takes over.
But, for the novelist side of me, the last couple of weeks have been very interesting. The first reviews of Cold Cruel Winter have appeared in the US, and I’m quite staggered at how positive they’ve been. So far Publishers Weekly, Booklist and Kirkus Reviews had published them, the first a starred review that called the book “superb” while the other two were effusive in their praise. To complete the set, there’s one due from Library Journal at the start of November, and I’ve been told that, too, will be a starred review. So all the trade journals seem to like it, which is a very positive thing as I wait to hear whether the publisher wants to offer a contract for the fourth in the series.
While waiting with crossed fingers for that, I’ve been sent the cover for the third book in the Leeds series, The Constant Lovers, which will be out (in the UK at least) in hardback next January, the same time Cold Cruel Winter appears in trade paperback. In colour this time, and the moody shot of Kirkstall Abbey is lovely.
As if all that didn’t make for a basket full of joy, people have begun paying me for appearances, which has come as a shock, albeit a gratifying one. But the biggest and most exciting news on the appearance front is the duo – of sorts – with storyteller and musician Simon Heywood. It will receive its first outing at the end of November at Slaithwaite Civic Hall. The evening will be a mix of conversation, some readings from my books, some storytelling – from both of us – and some music that features in the books – mostly from Simon. We’ll be videoing the evening, and putting any worthwhile clips on YouTube. If it works the way we hope, then we’ll be touting it around to literary festival organisers (and anyone else who’ll have us).

Another Book Finished

2011-09-04T04:01:00.000-07:00

The fourth book in the Richard Nottingham series, Come The Fear, is now finished and with the publisher, so it’s breath-holding time as I wait to see if they like it. It’s always a good feeling to complete something, especially when I feel good about it (and I certainly do with this one).
Equally interesting, at least to me, is the process that went into it. When I wrote The Broken Token, I more or less blundered my way through it. I had a story I wanted to tell, but equally, I wanted to evoke the Leeds of the 1730s, in feel if not always absolutely historically accurate; my idea was that if a reader emerged thinking they’d experienced the period, I was successful, and it seems many did. I had my characters, and that was about it. I hadn’t even considered it in terms of a series.
But a series it’s become, and I’d like to think my professionalism as a writer has increased with each book. A series is an odd duck. Characters recur. Some leave, some die, new ones enter, but there must be development, and character has always been a central facet. I’ve come to love Richard Nottingham and those around him. When someone important leaves or dies, I actually grieve a little. I feel I know these people intimately, and their lives expand (or contract) as the books develop.
There’s more planning these days. I still essentially have just a starting point and an ending, and the characters dictate what happens, as if I’m watching a movie, but I’ve come to take on the role of director a little more. I sketch out ideas, which may or may not be used, and I approach each book with a much stronger idea of the focus (For Come The Fear that’s very much the poor and dispossessed, even more than in previous books) and how I want to approach it.
These books have their own tone, often poetic among the dirt and debris and an 18th century city, and I’m not even sure how that came about, but it’s part of the book’s landscape, and something I actively consider as I’m writer. I make note of phrases, which either come to me or are inspired by reading others, and these will be inserted, often during the revision phase.
So, publisher willing, Richard Nottingham will be back (book three is due out early 2012). Meanwhile, I’m working on a couple of other projects, a mystery set in the Seattle music scene of the late 1980s (I spent 20 years in the city, quite a few of them making my living writing about music’; for once I’m writing what I know!) and another mystery, a Leeds setting again, but during the Civil War, in 1645. Quite a while ago I knew I wanted to write novels that covered the history of Leeds, and this is the first step outside my comfort zone, so we’ll see how it pans out…

Beginner's Guide to Scandinavia

2011-08-06T01:52:00.000-07:00

Various Artists
Beginner’s Guide to Scandinavia

Nascente NSBOX079

This 3-CD budget collection really does make a very fair introduction to modern Scandinavian music – that’s Scandinavian in the inclusive sense, adding in Iceland, Finland, Greenland and the Faroe Isles. Each of the discs has a theme – Pop & Contemporary, Folk & Roots, and Jazz, Experimental & Atmospheres, but the borders between them are very fluid – Valrav could easily be in folk rather than pop, for instance, while Kimmo Phojonen might just as easily have fitted in Experimental. The pop disc is nowhere near as fluffy and vapid as it could have been, with Lars Demian sounding Serge Gainbourg weary on “Alkohol” and Cornelis Vresswijk channelling inspiration from Jacques Brel on “Samba For Pomperipossa.” There’s no Robyn, sadly, one of the best pop stars to come from the region, but there is the sweet acoustic indie sensibility of Pascal Pinon, the folktronica of Valravn and Pohjone’s barely contained strangeness.

The folk disc does offerme moderately well-known names – Värttinä, Maria Kalaniemi, Annbjørg Lien and a couple of others, But it does also shine a spotlight on others, such as Eivor, who deserve more fame for their adventurous work, as well as Morild, Hedningarna and BOOT. It goes some way to showing the range of Nordic folk music being produced, and the fact that roots music has enjoyed a real resurgence is some of the countries thanks to university degree programmes (Finland and Denmark), while other countries, like Norway and Iceland, are still lagging behind in delving into their folk traditions, at least on a more global stage.

But its disc three that holds the greatest adventures, the music that tends to defy easy definition. From Benny Anderssons Orkester (yes, the former ABBA man) to the joiking of Wimme and Mari Boine, it’s a lesson in possibilities. Nordic jazz has long show a different, more abstract, sensibility than its American counterpart, and you can hear that in the piece by Karl Seglem, where sax mixes in new, ornate ways with folk music (Gjermud Larsen draws from folk in similar ways, too), or the excerpt from the beautiful, breathless “Judas Bolero” from Lars Danielsson or the voice and ice instruments used by Terje Isungset. It’s perhaps apt to end with a pair of Samí tracks, a people whose nomadic ways have taken them across many of the Nordic countries. Both Mari Boine and Wimme have been relentlessly experimental, and the tracks here highlight that, as well as the innate beauty of the joik. Put all together, it’s a fascinating primer on Nordic music, one that stays clear of the main highways and focuses on the smaller, less-driven roads – but the scenery there is always more interesting.

Treme

2011-06-20T11:06:00.000-07:00

I’ve probably watched more television drama this year than in the past decade or more. But then again, I’ve been spoilt by what’s been on. First there was The Killing, the best thing, apart from folk music, to come out of Denmark, with some superb acting and writing. Then there was the discovery of Nurse Jackie. Billed as comedy, perhaps, but so much more. Then Spiral, the very tough French crime drama.

And now my new love is Treme. Set in post-Katrina New Orleans, it’s a beautifully crafted, very human show. And, of course, there’s plenty of that irresistible New Orleans music and cooking to spice it all up. Thanks to Lovefilm I’m catching up with season one, and enjoying every second. As a drama it does several unconventional things. The focus is on people rather than plot, a very refreshing change. And it’s people who are generally out on the margins rather than those with power. It’s also very rare inasmuch as most of the main characters are black and presented in a very three-dimensional way, not cheaply stereotyped.

The show’s evidently been panned (at least in the first season) for its lack of plot, but that’s part of its power. For most people there’s no straight line plot to life, and that makes it far more true to life. We’re usually made up of small incidents, and in this case, the big one, the hurricane, is always there as the backdrop, affecting the lives of everyone.

It also stands out as a superbly political show, sometimes explicitly, as in John Goodman’s character, and more often implicitly, as in the actions of the police, or the reportage of prison inmates left on the bridge without water, or finding another body. The show brings an awareness of the way the rich and the politicians have been trying to sell out the poor of New Orleans, sometimes quite literally, and the way the Bush administration failed so abysmally in its duties (no real surprise there). It’s a beautiful, unique city, unlike anywhere else in America. To see it portrayed with such honesty, as well as with such compassion, is a joy. It’s also some of the very best television around, and that’s something we need.

Duo Jonsson Coudroy

2011-06-07T10:53:00.001-07:00

Duo Jonsson Coudroy
Vind
Bemol Productions BEMO 045

Take a Swedish fiddler and a French melodeon player and you not only have an interesting combination of musical cultures, but a pair of very talented players and composers. There are some traditional pieces here, such as “Gavotte,” and they’re performed with real delicacy and imagination. But the true joy lies in the originals, which exhibit such wonderful sympathy and communication between the pair that it’s almost mystical. Far from seeming empty, they fill each others spaces and do some very interesting things with the music, as on the closer “Sjön,” which uses chordal drones in a highly unusual fashion to create a remarkable atmosphere. That, however, just typifies the approach of this pair, who impress by their willingness not only to play beautifully but also think outside the box. This is a disc that rewards frequent listenings and bodes well for the future.

Mama Rosin with Hipbone Slim and the Kneetremblers

2011-06-06T11:08:00.001-07:00

Mama Rosin with Hipbone Slim & the Kneetremblers
Louisiana Sun

In an ideal world people would hear this on an AM radio or through tinny speakers where there’s hardly any bass. It’s a real throwback to the raw 1950s days of rockabilly, swamp pop and outrageous Cajun music. Mix together a Swiss Cajun-punk band and some London rockabillies, don’t give them long to think about anything, and this is the result. It’s a glorious, fevered workout that time travels through the Southern states of America. There’s some early rock’n’roll – The Cat Never Sleeps and Paint The Town Red – plenty of swamp pop and Zydeco (even a rocked-out two-step), and even one track that could have come straight from the pen of Fats Domino. Add to that the title cut, which is a wild variant on California Sun (in French, naturellement) and you have one of the subversive delights of the year. When people talk about roots rock, this is what they really mean, as it doesn’t get any closer to the roots than this. You’ll need a cold beer or two just to listen to it.

On Gary Heffern And His New Music

2011-06-04T02:29:00.000-07:00

It’s been my privilege to know Gary Heffern for quite a few years now. We met in Seattle, neither of us natives to the place, but it was where we called home. Gary is a superbly talented singer and songwriter with not only an ear for a good line, but also a way of putting it across, a gift of writing songs that truly resonate, that can catch a deep kernel of truth in a few words.

In the new Millennium Gary moved to Finland, the country of his birth, although I didn’t know that until I watched a very moving documentary about the circumstances of his leaving, and what happened to him in California (see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPIAux15da0 and it’s highly recommended viewing). He lives deep in the country there, where temperatures are bitter in winter and the nights can seem almost endless. But the dislocation of geography and culture has been good for him as an artist. His new album, Gary Heffern & Beautiful People, stands as one of his best. It’s very much as band album, as his new associates contribute tracks, and yet it hangs together as a whole, although (for me at least) it’s Gary’s work that stands out particularly. “Hand Of The Devil” is an epic opener, almost gospel (you can see the video at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jLAhIx7iic ) and true redemption, building and building, simple yet ambitious and a true barn burner. “Religions (They Really Worry Me)” riffs on – well, you can figure that out – over a chord sequence that’s reminiscent of REM’s “Losing My Religion,” although whether that’s deliberate or not is hard to tell. As a song it’s certainly in the same class as its better known sibling.

There are touches of Gary’s punk past on “Here Comes The Government,” while “Everything Is Slowing Down” is a meditation on life in part, and the entropy that can come with living and the depressions that can occur, while “It’s Gonna Be A Cold Cold Winter” finds the chill of the heart and soul as well as the temperature.

Gary’s words are everyday poetry, finding the beauty or the heartbreak in the mundane and shining a spotlight on it. With the Beautiful People he has a band that’s made up of some crack musicians who are very sympathetic to what he’s trying to achieve. Finland has been good for his artistic maturity – the material here reaches an entirely new level to his previous work. And this is just the start. Seattle might be far away for us both, in many senses, but moving on can be worthwhile, too.

A Chronicler Of Lives

2011-05-25T10:18:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow sees the publication of my second novel, Cold Cruel Winter, a continuation of the Richard Nottingham series begin in The Broken Token. At the end of last week I received the first copy of it, a lovely hardback with a wonderful cover, enhanced by some delightful quotes pulled from reviews for the back cover.

When I began that first book I had no idea that it would become a series, that Richard Nottingham and John Sedgwick would take on lives of their own. But that’s exactly what’s happened. In my head they’re living, breathing people, and the Leeds of the 1730s is as alive to me as the city centre I sometimes walk around.

At this point I’m midway through book 4 – the third should appear early in 2012. It’s a decidedly odd feeling, popping into someone’s life periodically and describing what’s going on with them. But that, I guess, is just what a series of books hopes to achieve, to transport the reader back into this other world again and again.

I’m proud of Cold Cruel Winter. To me, the writing has improved greatly, it flows more easily, and there’s a good tale to tell. There’s more depth to the characters, as I know them more thoroughly, their voices are louder and more individual. They’ve all grown, as part of the real pleasure as a writer is describing that growth, those changes, how lives have moved on. I’m not the author so much as the chronicler of lives, and I’d have it no other way.

That Library Appearance...

2011-05-12T01:27:00.000-07:00

There can be nothing quite so lovely, or so daunting, for an author as to talk to a group about his book. I felt flattered that Chapel Allerton library in Leeds had had all the tickets for my appearance there snapped up, and it was a good crowd sitting there. I talked. They asked questions (after an initial hesitation). Some of them, in the reading group there, had already read The Broken Token. Others hadn’t, so it was a no spoilers situation.

Two members of the library staff remembered my mother, an avid library user until her death, and one even recalled my father. That, perhaps, was the most gratifying thing of all for me, that sense of continuation. Plus the chance to walk around the old neighbourhood (even with blisters on my heels on aching feet from a pair of Doc Marten shoes that didn’t fit as well as they should). Old home week – or afternoon, at least.

As the icing on a delicious cake, a woman arrived bearing a tipstaff or cudgel from the period. It’s a lovely object, dated (apparently) 1719. It might be ceremonial, no one knows. She doesn’t even know how it ended up in her family, but having the chance to hold it gave me a real connection to Richard Nottingham. That was a magical moment for me.

There were great questions that required long answers, even if my voice was giving out towards the end. And, once it was over, they descended on me to buy copies. I’d taken 12 and could have sold more. Always nice, and it more than paid for my train fare and dinner (with a friend and her daughter) beforehand.

The only downside was time spent in the old St. Matthew’s graveyard, now a neglected and overgrown tangle. I know there are some fantastic old graves there, it just seems such a pity when, with a little effort, they could be on show to everyone, and people remembered.

On Libraries...And More

2011-05-06T10:56:00.000-07:00

It’s been a little while since I blogged, partly because of hard work and partly because of a much-needed break in sunny Devon (and it was gloriously sunny, too, with the sea right at our door. Well, 30 yards away).

Cold Cruel Winter appears later this month. The first two chapters are up on ScribD, there’s an audio excerpt, my website (www.chrisnickson.co.uk) has been revamped – you can find the links there – and I’m all set.

I’m not doing many events to coincide with the book’s release, but I will be talking to a group in Nottingham that’s read The Broken Token, which should be real fun. The other event, next Wednesday, is in Leeds, and it’s given me pause to reflect on how special these events can be.

It’s at Chapel Allerton library. Until I left home at 18 I never lived further than a mile from that library. I first went there when I was three, it was my treasure house of books. At primary school my class would go there every week. I discovered so many authors there, Henry Treece, Jack Kerouac, probably an endless list. It was my mother’s local library until she died. We might have had very different taste in literature, but she used the library regularly. So, for me, it’s a real return to my roots, and that strikes as me a lovely, beautiful thing.

Under the cuts being proposed by the coalition in government, many future writers might not have the chance to write the words I just wrote. That’s robbing them of a future, and of an education they can’t get anywhere else. That’s not just a sin, it’s a crime, and we all need to do everything we can to prevent it happening. Not just for ourselves – I’m still an avid user of the library – but for the future.

The other part to this comes from an email I received from someone researching family history who came across The Broken Token. She evidently doesn’t have the real Richard Nottingham as an ancestor, but she does have a tipstaff – cudgel, truncheon – from the period that’s been handed down in her family. I has two brass badges, one the emblem of George 1, the other the hanging sheep of Leeds with the date 1719. How it relates to her family she’s not sure, but she’s hoping to attend next week’s event and bring it with her. The thought that I might be handling something that could have been touched by the original Richard Nottingham is aweful, in the very best sense. That’s what you call a connection with your character. If it happens, there will be pictures. There have to be.

Busy Times

2011-03-27T06:37:00.000-07:00

Back in 2004 I wrote a biography of John Martyn for Helter Skelter, a small London. The book was accepted, but for several reasons, never published. Since then John died, early in 2009. A couple of books had come out about him, and I thought mine would never see the light of day – how many John Martyn books does the world need, anyway?

Then, a few weeks ago I received a call about the book from the heading up the release of John’s posthumous album and a tribute disc. All of which now I’m now doing more interviews and adding to the book to finish it. Solid Air – The Life of John Martyn should appear as an ebook and print on demand in June, through Amazon and also marketed via the website that will be handling the music releases.

On top of that I’ve finished going through the final page proofs for my second Richard Nottingham book, Cold Cruel Winter, to be published as a hardback in the UK in May (September in the US). The publisher has just accepted the third book in the series, The Constant Lovers, and I’ll shortly be working with the editor on that.

As if all that wasn’t enough, the fourth book in the series (tenatively called Come the Fear) tapped me on the shoulder and said I had to start writing it, and an entirely different novel seems to be happening as well, although I refuse to say more about it than that.

There’s also the business of earning my daily bread, so I’m working, writing articles and reviews, doing other interviews for features. If people say writers have it easy, don’t believe a word. Many of us work damn hard.

A Book Finished

2011-03-06T00:24:00.001-08:00

This morning I finished the final read-through of my new book, attached it to an e-mail and sent it off to my agent so she can forward it to the publisher. That’s it, job done. Several revisions, two excellent critiques with changes made, and The Constant Lovers is off my desk.

As always, when a book that’s been so much a part of you goes it’s a case of mix feelings. There’s the pleasure of finally being done, of having given it everything, having lived, sweated and died with these people, loved them and hated them. Then there’s the sadness of letting go, off seeing this child venture out alone into the world, beyond my care.

And there’s also the oh shit, I have to do it all again soon feeling.

The good part with The Constant Lovers is that, from start to finish, the book took a little under six months while working other jobs, some writing, some not. The bad part is that it took a little under six months. A good book should take longer, right? I came into it right after finishing the previous book in the series (Cold Cruel Winter, which will be published in May), so the characters were strong in my mind, and I had a good idea what I wanted to do. But it’s not a course I’d take again. It’s just too much, too fast. More breathing space between is needed. So now I know that, and the fourth book has been taking shape for a few months. It’ll wait longer before I really begin, though.

Meanwhile, I can address that what next feeling. Seven years ago I wrote a biography on John Martyn that, for complex reasons, was never published. Since then the man himself died. This June a posthumous album will be released, along with a tribute album, and my book, revised and completed, will appear as part of the celebration of John. So it’s a welcome change-up to non-fiction for a few months (along with paid work) and music writing. And after that? Well, we’ll wait and see what happens…

Cold Cruel Winter (Part 1)

2011-02-10T06:05:00.001-08:00

People think that once a writer has finished writing the book, the work is done. That’s far from the truth, of course. In many ways it’s just beginning. There’s still the wrangling with the editor, sometimes fight for something as trivial as a word (swear word or otherwise) until the text has been agreed upon.

Is it finished? Hardly. Wait a few months and there’s the cover copy to be settled, which can mean more to-ing and fro-ing. Once that’s out of the way there’s the cover itself. The publisher might have two or more to choose from delivered by the artist, including style of letting, where it’s placed and so on. This is where I am right now. The cover is set for Cold Cruel Winter, and very good it looks took, quite bleak and chilling. The placing and style of the lettering keeps the “brand,” which is a good thing. Now there’s the sub (for want of a better phrase). Currently in there is ‘A Richard Nottingham historical murder mystery.’ I’m probably wrong, but the words historical murder mystery always manage to sound fluffy to me, and this book is anything but that (I hope). So the publisher and I have been going back and forth, and it seems as if we’ve compromised on ‘A Richard Nottingham mystery.’ It might not seem like a great difference, but it feels like one.

And what next? There will be the final cover, going through the proofs, and then publication. For those writers better-known, or whose publishers have deeper pockets, that’s when the book tours and interviews begin. For me…well, that’s over three months away. A great deal can happen in that time.

Look Back in Charanga

2011-02-05T01:25:00.001-08:00

Sue Miller & Charanga del Norte
Look Back in Charanga

Charanga del Norte CDN OOCD10

Accomplished flautist and Cuban music expert Sue Miller deserves an apology from me. This CD arrived last summer, and was played then, but somehow slipped down into a pile…This is someone who knows her stuff and loves nothing more than a god descarga (jam session). She feels Cuban music in her blood, and the band behind her does some sterling work. That she’s the star is beyond doubt, and her freewheeling, spiralling improvisations are joyful to hear. Bonus points for coming from Leeds and the delightful wordplay in the title, but the meat is in the performance, which is as tasty as they come – within Cuba or outside.

On a sonic level the recording could have been better – the flute is sometimes too shrill – but that’s essentially a minor quibble. The music is what matters, and there’s plenty of it.

2011-01-26T11:39:00.000-08:00

It’s been an odd but very heartening week for writing. As I focus on editing the third book in the Leeds series (currently called The Constant Lovers), things have been building a little with the first book, The Broken Token. First there was a lovely review at http://pamreader.blogspot.com/2011/01/broken-token-by-chris-nickson.html, which made me feel good, and that was followed by this from Mystery Scene, which I’m reliably informed is quite influential in the US (http://www.mysteryscenemag.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=1743:the-broken-token&catid=26:books).

That should have been quite enough to spur me on, and it has been. The cherry on this lovely topping, however, was a message I received from a friend on Facebook. She’s a dramatist with several plays on radio and TV to her credit, and lives in Leeds, where The Broken Token is set. She’d read the book and is interested in adapting it for television. Costume drama but not for girlies, as she put it. Now, we both know that the likelihood of this reach fruition is minimal, but that someone wants to do that, and agents are talking to each other, is one of the biggest boosts I could have received.

As if all that wasn’t quite enough, during November I began work on a side project, another novel set in Leeds, this time in 1645, during the Civil War. I penned 12,000 words, and this week, carefully revised and vetted, they’ve gone off to my agent to see what she thinks. There’s even been time to put down some notes about the projected fourth book in the Richard Nottingham series. It never stops. At least, I hope it doesn’t.

Thoughts on Arizona

2011-01-10T10:50:00.001-08:00

In Arizona a Congresswoman comes close to death from a gunman while six other die and over a dozen are wounded. The politicians – being sane for once, as they realise it could have been any of them – condemn the culture of violence that helped foster this assassination attempt.

And yet, many of them have been indirectly responsible for it. Those on the right have benefited from the escalating hatred, the vitriol that’s been put into the air by politicians and for many years longer by political commentators such as Glen Beck and Rush Limbaugh. Hypocritical, yes, but it has to be hoped that it’s not too late to pull back from this brink. The commentators, notably, don’t feel any sense of responsibility for what’s happened. That, however, is no surprise.

But America is a country that seems incapable of doing anything by halves. Rather than quietly accepting the embarrassment of Wikileaks (and virtually all of these cable leaks have been nothing more than that), they empanel a secret Grand Jury and subpoena all manner of documents, as if revenge on a few individuals will satisfy an appetite, an hunger to strike back. Of course, if the country had been ethical in the first place, none of this would even be necessary. They’ve made Bradley Manning, the young, gay soldier suspected of leaking information (note that he’s just suspected, and that on the word of a reportedly unreliable source) into a scapegoat, violating his rights in the same way those at Guantanamo have been treated. For those of us who hoped for a new chapter with Obama taking office, it’s a case of plus ça change…

The ripples of what happen in America spill out into the rest of the world. Any country that has the hubris to consider itself the world’s policeman, and that feels bringing democracy, even if it’s not wanted or appropriate, is akin to a holy duty, is on very tricky moral ground. The divisions between left (such as any left remains anywhere) and right will deepen all over the globe. American can regain a little of the high ground by bringing back civility. Will it happen? Sadly not, as too many of its citizens are too stupid to want that (and that herd mentality isn’t just American, it’s duplicated in every nation). They prefer the swagger and strut of argument, and now that concealed weapons can be carried in so many states, the toll of blood, public and private, is just likely to grow.

At Year's End

2010-12-30T11:19:00.001-08:00

Well, here we stand on the cusp of 2011, so it’s time to look back on the year that’s almost finished. Quite a year it’s been, too, certainly on the writing front.

Once again, I’m lucky enough to be paid for writing about music and musicians who have some meaning to me. Records labels sent me CDs for possible review (or send me downloads, as is becoming more common these days). I’m exposed to some of the most interesting music being made today – or in previous years, in the case of those glorious compilations of West African rock from the ‘60s and ‘70s. I have the chance to interview musicians like Tim Eriksen and Justin Adams whom I’ve come to know and respect. That’s pretty damn good.

The fact that people will pay me for all this stuff is still sometimes strange to me. I’m glad they do it, even if I’m not publishing as much music journalism as I did a decade ago. But with that lower quantity comes greater discrimination, so I’m definitely a happy bunny. And along the way I hear some great artists like Mama Roisin and Krista Detor I’d never have come across otherwise.

That said, my personal crowning achievement for this year has been the publication of The Broken Token. Or, rather, that was the first. The second was receiving a contract – with an advance – for my next two books. Now I’ve published plenty of non-fiction books, most of them crap that paid the bills handsomely, although holding my first-ever book was a magical feeling. It couldn’t compare to holding my first novel, though. That was my baby, nearly as lovely as my son. It had taken a long time to reach that stage, and now I’ve started on a new road. No idea where it will lead, but that’s part of the fun, really.

So, yes, I’m looking forward to 2011. More writing, the new novel out in May…life is good, and I hope that for the coming year yours is just as fine.

Waving Goodbye to Democracy

2010-12-10T11:06:00.001-08:00

This week has given us the proof that democracy has become little more than a word, rather than a practice. Both in Britain and the United States, government has bared its fangs quite openly.

In the US, various payment services have cut off Wikileaks after suddenly (and, coincidentally, all at the same time) discovering it had violated their terms of service. PayPal at least had the decency to admit pressure had been put on it by the US government to sever any ties with Wikileaks. Both Mastercard and Visa took action right as it was revealed that the US government had put pressure on Russia to allow them to continue doing business in that country and not be frozen out by a new system. A quid pro quo? You hardly need to ask, do you?

And all this because the US is highly embarrassed by the cables coming out into public view of the way it does business and conducts policy. The Emperor’s new clothes have been shown to be nothing more than a mass illusion. More than that, it certainly ripped away any last vestiges people might have held of Obama as a man of real principle, standing up for right and justice.

On this side of the Atlantic, the coalition forced through a measure not really discussed before the election, without the mandate of the people, and only because a number of Lib Dems have been willing to blatantly break a written promise they’d made. Kudos to those who stood firm to their pledge, and those who resigned positions to be able to vote no on increased student fees, especially the Tories.

More worrying is David Cameron’s position on the student demonstrations. He can only focus on damage done by a few of the thousands out there, not the general sense of outrage and betrayal. Nor does he mention the wanton violence of the police, some of whom seemed to relish the violence, and to operate in ways that are, at best, on the edge of the law. The tactic seems to be to punish the young for daring to speak out. If, as Cameron says, those who broke laws should feel the full force of the law, that should apply equally to the police. Ideally, no one should get hurt, but when the police are so provocative (banging weapon on shield or metal as an aggressive tactic is older than the Romans), charging students on horseback, squeezing into smaller and smaller spaces, lashing out indiscriminately and dragging a protester from his wheelchair, this isn’t a force there to serve the public, it’s one meant to cow the public.

The focus of today’s papers is the horror of Charles and Camilla having to face a very small group of angry protesters. They represent the type of entrenched privilege this government wants to perpetuate at the expense of the less well-off. I’d have been angry to see them, too. What is truly worrying is that the head of the Metropolitan Police felt that the armed bodyguards showed great restraint – as in not shooting anyone.

The good news is that the Web makes fighting back possible. Hackers have attacked Visa, Mastercard and Paypal. Tweeting, texting, and other things help savvy protesters evade police and also quickly document outages. A generation has become politicised. In both the long and short term, that’s a good thing. In Britain these demonstrations are likely to continue and grow as the cuts truly start to bite. As well they should.

Where Wikileaks Meets Student Demos

2010-12-04T02:09:00.001-08:00

In Europe and the US we’re constantly being reminded by our governments that we live in democratic societies where free speech is allowed. In the last few years, however, that seems to have become mere lip service, more honoured in the breach than the observance.

Take the perfectly legitimate student protests in Britain, for example. They can protest, but the police will kettle them and keep them in one place because they might cause trouble if allowed to move. I know the police have employed psychics before, but have they now found one who can accurately predict how an afternoon will turn out? And if so, why are they letting him/her work for the Met Office?

America, for all the hope that entered with Obama, is nothing more than business as usual. The Wikileaks revelations have brought real transparency to government and no one in power is pleased. Sarkozy has reportedly issued orders that the services can’t be hosted in France, the US has banned Federal employees from looking at Wikileaks as the papers are still classified (the words bolt, horse, and stable door spring to mind). The death knell was sounded when Bush announced that anyone who wasn’t for America was against it in this war on terror, even as his people were arresting people on no pretext.

Governments don’t want democracy or transparency. Osborne didn’t want the HMRC deal with Vodafone made public, for instance, in part because that £6 billion could have saved plenty of cuts. The police have had plain clothes people at demos in spite of saying they don’t. They leave a police van, an expensive piece of equipment, around students they’ve kettled as bait, then, when it’s damaged, it’s a crime scene so they can keep students there for hours. An interesting tactic.

Maybe, just maybe, governments are beginning to run a little bit scared. The student protests, along with the flash mobs closing down shops, are real democracy in action. It’s a groundswell with no obvious leaders, the power of the people. And the Americans can’t contain what’s out there on Wikileaks. Overall, maybe, the grasp on power is beginning to weaken a little. What that will bring in return, of course, remains to be seen…

The Missing Stieg Larsson Book?

2010-12-03T10:58:00.001-08:00

I’ve no idea whether Julian Assange is guilty of the sexual misconduct charges that have been levelled against him in Sweden. I do, however, find the timing of this new warrant for his arrest disturbing. These charges first appeared earlier this year, then seemed to vanish, then returned more strongly just as Wikileaks was about to come out with its new batch of revelations.

Timing, as they say, is everything. Add to that the hacking of the Wikileaks site and pressure on various hosts (reportedly from the US Department of Homeland Security) to take it down and the whole thing is beginning to take on a bizarre conspiracy theory feel.

There’s a rumour that there’s another, unfinished Stieg Larsson novel on a laptop, which may, or may not, see the light of day. Whatever your opinion of his three books, they’ve sold in huge quantities and have, perhaps, made people more aware of conspiracies and the darker corners of politics. That can be no bad thing. Maybe it’s the Swedish association, but what’s going on with Wikileaks and Assange has all of the feel of a Larsson novel coming to life.

It’s far from an exact analogy, of course. For a start, this is real life, not fiction. But it certainly raises plenty of questions, especially when Assange’s lawyer says his client has asked to meet with prosecutors to answer questions and was rebuffed. If he ends up in court there will be questions marks over any evidence present (from both sides) and the verdict.

What is perhaps unsurprising is some of the American reaction to these leaks. Sarah Palin suggested he be hunted down and killed like Al-Queda, which hardly comes as a shock from her. But the assertion that these leaks put lives as risk seems excessive. In many ways this was a series of revelations waiting to happen, as the US supposedly gave a staggering three million people access to these documents. Not what anyone would call secure, by any means.

Yes, some communications do need to be secret. There’s no doubt about that. But the putting them on a network available to so many who don’t need to see them, that’s just asking for trouble. And that, it appears, is just what the US government got.

On Music Journalism

2010-12-01T11:05:00.000-08:00

One of the joys of what I do is that some of the time I have the chance to write about wonderful music, ranging from the sublime to the bizarre. In the last week, for example, I’ve covered The Sound of Siam, vintage music from the 60s and 70s in Thailand, easily one of the strangest discs I’ve ever heard, Angola Soundtrack, some excellent rock from Angola in the same period (and hard to believe the capital rocked so hard during the war for independence and the ensuing civil war, and Ballaké Sissoko and Vincent Ségal’s Chamber Music, a series of duets for the kora (a West African harp) and cello, a disc of intimate beauty.

That I’m paid to listen to and write about this stills amazes me after 17 years of doing it. I’m sent CDs in the hope I’ll review them, so I have a small mountains of music, which can lead to lovely discoveries periodically. I’d have listened to those discs anyway, but perhaps not with the same intensity.

I’m lucky in what I do. I’m lucky to be a writer who makes a living at it (although I do work bloody hard and often long hours). So few do. I have the job I wanted when I was 15, even if it took a few decades to get there. Writing is never a chore for me, it’s a pleasure. Maybe not always an easy pleasure, when words won’t flow quite the way I want, but a joy nonetheless.

What makes it even better is that this particular outlets for me means I combine my two loves, music and writing. I was never good enough as a musician to make it. But I can help those I do believe it to hopefully win a slightly wider audience.

On Finishing That Final Edit

2010-11-27T10:16:00.000-08:00

And so the edit for my second novel, called Cold Cruel Winter, seems to be over. At least, it’s gone back to the editor, although there might still be a few minor points to discuss.

Am I happier with it? Well, happier than with my first, given that I approached the book with more knowledge of my shortcomings and attempted to correct them. The proof, however, will be in the pudding, which is what readers and reviews think when it appears in May. But I do believe it’s a 100 per cent improvement on the first novel.

The map of Leeds has been drawn by a very talented artist and looks very good indeed. Given that the book revolves around the streets and landmarks of the city, I think a map helps place and ground it for those who don’t know the place, and aids them in finding their bearings. I want the Leeds of 1732 to live for people reading it.

Finishing that edit, saving the file and sending it back is a little like seeing a child leave home – or at least going to school. There will still be the proofs to read through, of course, but the real work is all done.

And meanwhile I’m more than halfway through the third book in the series ( currently known as The Constant Lovers), which is a bit of a surprise. The Broken Token - the first novel - feels like the work of someone else now, in many ways. The characters of Richard Nottingham and John Sedgwick have grown, but I’ve grown even more. This playing God thing is quite fun, as long as I don’t let it get out of hand.

Student Demos

2010-11-25T06:31:00.001-08:00

So the Metropolitan Police Commissioner is predicting “more disorder on our Streets.” (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-11839386). He makes it seem like a shocking surprise that, in the wake of all the cuts the coalition government plans to make, people would be up in arms and vocal about it.

What perhaps took him aback is that in the demonstration yesterday in London there were plenty of school aged kids. Good for them. This rise in tuition fees and the dismantling of the allowance that’s designed to help keep them in school directly affects their future. They need to be angry about it. A lot more of them need to be furious about it.

What was really worrying about the police actions at this demonstration is that they made it seem as if the protestors were being punished for exercising what is a perfectly legal right – to demonstrate. They even had permission to rally outside Downing Street, permission later revoked.

Yes, a police van was vandalised, but why, exactly, did the police leave it in with the demonstrators. It offered the perfect provocation and allowed them to turn the demonstration into what the Commissioner called “a crime scene.” So they could keep the demonstrators there in the cold until late. There may have been water and Portaloos or not – tales vary – but TV footage shows wielding of batons with great glee in some cases, and there’s footage of a policeman kicking a 15 year old girl.

The vast majority of police around the country do wonderful work in extremely trying circumstances, and they deserve to be praised, not to have their jobs cut. But there’s an element in the force, the Tactical Support Group, that’s always pulled out for these events. You might remember some of them with their numbers covered up at the G20 demos. It was one of their number who pushed Ian Tomlinson, the newspaper seller who died afterwards. Their reputation is for being the hard men who can handle this stuff, namely kettling kids and preventing their legal right to demonstrate peacefully, something that most of them were doing.

Gold Command, which gave the orders yesterday and on all demos, is either too blind to see that their heavy-handed tactics will radicalise many more people, or they don’t care, feeling a situation like China is far preferable. Maybe it’s time to break up the TSG, and, more than that, hold the heads of these organisations to account for the actions of the staff. Given their cavalier attitude it’s hardly any surprise that more disorder is to be expected.

More than that, how many of these perfectly legitimate demonstrators will end up on databases of "domestic extremists" that are being kept by secret police units (http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/libertycentral/2009/oct/25/doth-i-protest-too-much)? They will have been photographed and identified. Of course, the police say anyone who finds themselves on a database "should not worry at all". Of course not. Big Brother is definitely watching, with the approval of al the major parties.

Book Signings

2010-11-21T06:49:00.000-08:00

The last two Saturdays have seen me doing booking signings, one at Waterstone’s in Derby, the other at the Nottingham branch. Now, as I’m not an established author, people aren’t queuing up to buy copies of The Broken Token with my autograph in it. I have to convince them it’s worth their time, and, above all, their money. Being part of the general 3 for 2 on fiction helps; people will take a chance on that.

What it really means, however, is that I’ve become a salesman. Granted, the product is one in which I believe, but it’s still talking to people, engaging them, and convincing them that this book will enrich their lives (it will, trust me). I’ve discovered that having a couple of copies in my hand, hanging around the crime section and starting out by asking “Are you looking for a good crime novel?” makes for a fair opening. Being showered and having clean teeth and clothes and well deodorised is a plus, too.

Plenty of people are happy to talk, although there are always a few timid rabbits. Leave them be. Engage people. I start by asking what authors they like, and talk about those, recommend some others who are very good. Then people will ask about my book, and I tell some. A fair few will actually end up buying a copy – maybe 50 per cent of those I have good conversations with. And along the way I end up meeting some interesting people and learning fascinating titbits – for instance, Sarah is the Jewish spelling of the name, but Sara is Persian.

It’s tiring (I’ve learned to take along a bottle of water for the voice) but also strangely energising. It’s a bit of a buzz to talk to people, to have them become interested. Best of all, after roving around, to come back to the table and have someone say, “I’ve been waiting for you, I looked at the cover and it seems right up my street, I’d like a copy.” Only one of those so far, but it’s uplifting.

Reflective

2010-11-12T07:19:00.001-08:00

As I prepare to head off to Derby tomorrow to sell copies of The Broken Token to an unsuspecting Derbyshire public, I’m feeling mild contentment. Not only did I receive my first royalties on the book today, yesterday I signed and sent off the contracts for the next two books in the series.

Knowing that the publishing future is secure for the next couple of years is a relief, and that someone, somewhere, likes these books and believes in them enough to pay me money to write them is a real vindication. Will they sell in huge amounts? Probably not, but that’s fine. If each one builds a new audience then in time they’ll attract a crowd rather than a gaggle and life will be good.

One thing I have concluded is that writing is a craft, in the same way that designing and constructing fine furniture is. You need to have the idea in your head and the ability to put it together. That’s skill, yes, from some small glimmer of inspiration, and that’s what all writing is.

We learn from everything we do, and writers also learn from all that they write, especially when you have a good editor. I’ve been lucky to have a few, particularly for my music writing, who’ve improved my work tremendously. I have an excellent editor for my novels, and I’m grateful to all of those who’ve worked hard to help. I’m lucky, too, in having a close friend who’s the best writer I know, and who reads my novels and offers suggestions that always improve them (I do the same for him, but whether I improve his work or not, I’m not sure).

Writing is a very solitary occupation. It’s not glamorous; it involves hours of sitting and typing. You live in your head a great deal. But it can prove to be an interesting, occasionally magical, place…

2010-11-05T11:55:00.000-07:00

There are so many Swiss Cajun/Zydeco/punk bands around at the moment that it might be the trend of 2010…well, even if that really were the case, Mama Rosin would stand out.

Whatever “it” might be, their third album, Black Robert, has it. Starting with clattering drums and the sound of a pair of Louisiana residents, it takes off through a haze of raw electric guitar, thumping accordion and some storming backbeat laid down by a thumping female drummer. But its spirit is very akin to some of those wonderful early Cajun recordings (they cite Zydeco as part of the mix, and indeed it probably is, although in those early days the difference between the two styles was more one of colour, not music).

But it’s not a studied primitivism. Instead it’s quite inspired, ridiculously vibrant, and at times surprisingly authentic (“Move Your Popo”). Purists who prefer to keep regional styles as a museum piece will hate it, but music needs to be alive and evolving. What they do blends with other things – “Bon Temps Roulet No. 3” is an unholy but gleeful marriage of New Orelans and the Velvet Underground with Amede Ardoin replacing John Cale and “Les Cuisines d’Enfer” is as raw a blues as you’re likely to hear this year. Although they’re just as home with acoustic music as electric – the banjo on “Mariniere” works superbly – energy jolts through the whole album. In a time when punk has effectively become a pejorative its real ideals live on in small bands like this who play the music of their hearts, even if it originates somewhere far from their home. It’s an album that walks up, slaps you in the face and then asks you to dance the two-step.

Albums like this and (in a completely different style and fashion) Krista Detor’s Chocolate Paper Suites are reminders that music is very much alive and still has the power to seduce. One of the best of the year. And in a better world there might well be more Swiss Cajun/Zydeco/punk bands on the street corners.

A New Contract

2010-10-31T01:47:00.003-07:00

I should be, and I am, a happy bunny. After a few weeks of feeling stressed and smoking too much I now have a book deal. Not just a book deal, but a deal for two books.

I also have an agent to negotiate it for me, which is even better news. She won’t be able to get me more money on the deal, but she’ll do a god job on the details. I was surprised at how difficult it was to even have an agent willing to work with me – until I happened to say I had a book offer (to be fair, the one I’ve signed with showed interest before that news came through).

The publisher, which is Severn House as there’s no secret about it, wants to have the book – to be known as Drive The Cruel Away – out in May. That’s fine by me and I’ll be glad to get it out there after a good editing process. I’m lucky in that Lynne Patrick, my original publisher, will be my editor, as I know she’ll do a great job for me.

Of course, there still needs to be a signature on the contract. Nothing is certain until that happens. But it’s definitely a move forward.

Promoting Your Book

2010-10-20T00:23:00.001-07:00

Many writers think that the publication of a book is the end of the process. After that it’s just a case of sitting back and waiting the royalty cheques.

Wrong.

It’s just the beginning. Once the book is out there people have to buy it, and to do it, they need to know it’s there and be convinced. Many writers with small, independent publishers know their publisher has no promotional budget. Even those with big publishers can find themselves not being pushed. So who’s going to take on the load? The writer. After all, it’s your book.

Contacts are important. In my case, I’d done some writing for a regional paper. When The Broken Token was published the paper did a short feature on me (I had a hook to the story, which made it more attractive to them). Since I also work as a music journalist, I was able to find another general writer at another paper through musician friends. That brought another piece with the great pull quote that my historical mystery “reads like an 18th century Red Riding.” Not true, of course, but it sounds good.

The point is to use the contacts that you have. It might take some persistence, but it does help sales. You have to make yourself visible. Use those publicity copies wisely to go to people you feel can help.

Plenty of people blog about writing. They want to review books, do interviews with writers. Research, find out who these people are and contact them. Word your query in such a way as to make your book and yourself fascinating (well, you’re a writer, you can do that). Not everyone will agree, but every time someone does, it’s more publicity.

Create a website. With all the software around these days, it’s easy to do. It doesn’t need to be huge, it simply needs to be attractive and do the job, telling people about the book, where to buy it. Use Facebook – have a Facebook page for your book. Get yourself on Twitter, an excellent way to network. Start blogging, too. It doesn’t all have to be about your book. Again, it’s getting your name out there.

Record an extract from your book, a self-contained piece running 5-7 minutes. Add a slideshow of pictures and put it up on You Tube. It’s one other weapon in your arsenal.

Bookshops love authors. Contact some of the small ones near you and say you’d be interested in doing a book signing there. Go in and sell yourself to them. Contact Waterstone’s, too. They generally have local writers in on Saturday mornings to do signings. You might need to contact them several times to elicit a response but it’s worthwhile.

When you do a signing don’t just sit at a table and wait for people to approach you. Unless you’re a big name, that won’t happen. Grab a couple of copies of your book, head off to the relevant section (such as mysteries) and start talking to people. You need to be outgoing and friendly. Convince them to take a punt on your book. It can work – at the Leeds Waterstone’s in August I sold out their stock of my book, 14 copies, in an hour. That astonished me. But if I can do it, anyone else can.

Contact the small literary festivals in your area. Talk to the organisers and it can result in an invitation. Maybe not this year, but possibly next.

Libraries need speakers for groups. Contact the person in your area who’s in charge of this. Send a copy of your book and offer your services. You might not get paid, but you can sell copies of the book after. Most people will buy, and it can be fun to do.

All of these things require effort, of course, but the outlay is minimal. It all helps to make people aware of your book, and of you as an author. Every single copy sold is a victory. Enjoy every single one. Put as much effort into selling your book as you did into writing it.

New Novels and the Problem of Literary Agents

2010-10-18T10:58:00.001-07:00

Now 12,000 words into The Constant Lovers. The Broken Token was published in America last week, and I’m awaiting word from a pair of publishers about Drive the Cruel Winter Away.

I would happily have stayed with my publisher, but she’s sold out to someone larger (one of the publishers considering the new book). It’s a shame when that happens, having built up an excellent relationship, but she has her reasons, and I respect that. I was pleasantly surprised to receive interest from another publisher, so it’s a case of wait and see what happens, and whether one, or both, make offers on the book.

With this you’d have thought it should be no problem finding a literary agent. Instead it’s just as difficult as if I’d never been published. One, recommended by a fellow author (who also told her agent I’d be getting in touch) hasn’t even bothered to answer my e-mail. Another has my book but has yet to reply; I’ve been advised to give her a month.

All of this makes me greatly appreciate the non-fiction agent I had in America. She replied very promptly, and if she believed something was saleable it tended to sell in days. Fiction is a different beast, I understand that, and that agents can be overwhelmed with submissions. However, you might imagine a record of 30 non fiction books, countless articles, one novel, and 16 years of making a living as a writer (not to mention the interest from two publishers on the second novel) might carry a little clout. Apparently not. The attitudes I’ve had have been decidedly offhand.

Ah well, such is life, it seems. There might well be a good agent out there who’s truly interested in working with someone.

University Fees and the Lib Dems

2010-10-13T11:17:00.001-07:00

Back in May I voted in a General Election for only the second time in my life (well, I did spend 30 years abroad). I voted Lib Dem. Never for a second did I consider voting Tory (and considering Ken Clarke is the MP here, my vote wouldn’t have made much if a difference anyway), and Labour, even if it did manage the credit crunch right, had long ago sold out its old values.

The Lib Dems seemed honest. But like so many con men, the real truth only emerges later. Their leaders, at least, have been perfectly happy to throw away minor things like ideals and scruples for power. The latest, and worst, is the U-turn the party has made on the rise in university fees.

Britain was its young educated so the country can continue to compete in the world. That, we’ve been told, is a necessity. But now there’s the barrier of massive debt hanging over graduates, as bad as anything America has cooked up in the past. It’s a hurdle that will put many ably qualified people off going to university, and there’s no real set of scholarships in place to benefit those who are poor but academically gifted.

Once more it appears to be a case of the Tories aiming to make the rich richer. Those wealthy families who can afford it will easily be able to send their offspring to university, after which they’ll be in good jobs and essentially set up. The poorer, on the other hand…yes, the students will have to earn a certain amount before they start paying back this money, but the interest rates aren’t being kept low to help them. Suddenly everything is at market value, even your future, which you’ll mortgage for a degree to enter the marketplace with the promise of a good future.

Labour isn’t without a large share of blame in this, either, for introducing top-up fees in the first place, which seems to me to be a sell out of the idea of equality and education. But that was under Tony Blair, who at heart was about as Labour as my cat. The jury is still out on what Ed Milliband can offer. But it won’t have to be too much to draw many voters away from the Lib Dems. Possibly including me.

The Witch and The Child Allowance, a Sort Of Fairytale

2010-10-05T07:38:00.000-07:00

It’s good to know that Christine O’Donnell, the woman who won the Republican primary in Delaware and goes up against the Democrats in the election next month, isn’t a witch. She can’t be, she’s said so herself in a TV ad.

Of course, a few years ago she claimed on TV to have dabbled in witchcraft. So maybe she was a witch but gave it up for Lent, or because the Lord told her to (but how did she know that voice wasn’t Satan).

This is also the woman who says that masturbation is a form of adultery, which means that the majority of people in Delaware, not to mention other states and countries, have been judged adulterous by O’Donnell. And let’s not talk about teenaged boys and what they get up to under the covers. Almost certainly already consigned to hell.

The simple fact is that her past has come back to give her a very heavy, unforgiving kick in the ass. Although the Democrats can’t seem to get their act together on these elections, they do seem to be making hay at O’Donnell’s expense. And why not, when you have a comedy opportunity like this.

Back in Britain, the Tories are alienating their fanbase by taking away the child allowance from families that don’t need it. Of course, last year they said they wouldn’t touch it, but they weren’t in power then. The level is £44,000 per year if there’s one income. But if both parents work and make, say, £43,000 each, the allowance stays. Cue plenty of Tory mum squawking.

Better to say that if the household income, regardless of whether one or both parents work, is over £44,000, then the child allowance goes. There are others who need it. Same with the winter fuel allowance. If your pensions are giving you over £40,000 a year you don’t need my taxes paying for your heat.

Much as I hate to see cuts, the simple fact is that they have to be made, and all the protests in the world won’t stop that fact. It’s where they’re made and who suffers that’s the important part. Scrap Trident, don’t just put it on a back burner. Talk to the other countries that are having to make cuts (which is most of them) and everyone put together a tax on bankers. That way they can’t shuffle off somewhere else to keep their bonuses intact. After all, the banks need viable markets as much as we need the banks, and I don’t see hedge fund managers and investment bankers being happy to set up shop somewhere in Central Asia.

The Constant Lovers

2010-10-02T02:13:00.001-07:00

Well, the new book has been started. 4,000 words written – 4,028 if you want to be very picky. I know the final scene, pretty much how it will all end, and a few signposts along the way. Other than that it’s a long journey full of undiscovered places.

That’s the beauty of writing. We create, maybe, but much more it seems like a case of transcribing the movie that happens in the head. Of course, sometimes the projector doesn’t want to function well…

Or, to keep with the journey analogy, it can be like walking through a dense wood. Sometimes you can barely make out the path ahead and you’re stumbling. Then it will open up a little and you can walk more freely. Sometimes you’ll even turn a corner and the landscape will open up before you with a long, straight match ahead.

What this means, of course, is an interesting few months ahead. The new book, provisionally titled The Constant Lovers, will work like the previous two, with the crimes and also the family lives of Richard Nottingham and John Sedgwick. Time will tell how well it goes….

Desert Island Books

2010-09-26T07:15:00.001-07:00

Most people are familiar with Desert Island Discs – the tracks you can’t live without, that you’d take to an island with you. But what about books? Most serious readers have favourites they return to again and again for the sheer pleasure of them…

Knut Hamsun
Mysteries

Arguably the first novel of psychological realism and the book that transformed Hamsun from a 19th century Romantic into a real 20th century man. It’s odd, deliberately ambiguous, and often maddening. But strangely addictive.
I was introduced to Hamsun when I was 20 by a Norwegian I knew in Leeds. We sat and talked about him one Friday night; he was a new name to me when I was hungry to absorb fresh literature. The next day I went to a small independent bookshop by the Poly and found a table full of a new translation of this book. It seemed like synchronicity. I bought it, and the rest is history.

William Boyd
The New Confessions

Boys does the big book, the fake biography (or autobiography) so well, but this is something special, his first venture into the territory, the tale of an ambitious British film director who’s an iconoclast in the days of silent pictures, first during World War 1, then later in Berlin during the Expressionist era. He tells his tale brilliantly and knowledgeably, his character absorbing and egotistical, and very, very human. Although Boyd has been far more feted for his later work, much of which is superb, he’s never done the big book quite as well or enthusiastically as this.

Annie Proulx
Accordion Crimes

It’s hard to single out one of her books, but this is almost a mix of short story and novel, with an old accordion as the main character – a variant of the tale of a penny we had to do in essays at school. She conjures up times and places beautifully, with wit, grace and sympathy. A masterful writer, there’s real music comes out of this novel. It’s a beautiful read, with the passing of time a subtext, and the way the face of America changes – yet in some ways doesn’t change at all. It’s not a city book, but one that clings, as much as it can, to the country. And you don’t even have to like accordions to love it.

Louis de Bernieres
The South American Trilogy

A cheat, I know, three books in one, but they do go together. Remarkable, sustained storytelling and suspension of disbelief. He creates a world in some unnamed South American country peopled with the ribald and magical. It’s Borges and more, that magical realism, and utterly convincing, warm, and with a compassionate heart; it’s hard to believe it’s written by an Englishman. The good guys win in the end, but it’s the journey that counts, and who can resist the big black cats that always smell of chocolate, or the macho man who refuses to dismount from his horse. Maybe there’s a lesson here, maybe not. Ultimately it doesn’t matter, and starting it over again is always a joy.

Peter Høeg
Borderliners

Difficult to known which of this man’s books to pick, but this gets the nod over the better known Smilla, which is a wondrous tome in its own right. There’s an intensity here that’s moving, the sense of the outsider and the children who have this yearning for freedom in a bureaucratic, prescribed state. The translation is very, very good. It’s not an easy read, but that’s part of the joy. He’s certainly one of the greatest contemporary writers (with the possible exception of The Woman and the Ape), and this is a good place to make his acquaintance. The Quiet Girl mines faintly similar territory, but this does it in a less fantastical fashion.

Joanne Harris
Chocolat

A book for the times you need magic in your life. Disregard the movie, this is so much better, a place where the reader never thinks the unlikely couldn’t happen, and where the mundane can become mystical. Vianne Rocher is one of the great fictional creations, a witch, maybe, but also an ideal to fall in love with even thought her feet are very much of clay. The nearest analogue, just for the uplifting feel, is the movie Amelie. Most of Joanne Harris’s books are great (including the more sombre sequel to this), but this is simply carried on a tide of real magic.

Michael Ondaatje
Divisadero

He’s known for The English Patient, and most of his other work has been ignored, which is a shame, as he’s one of the most poetic writers in the English language. Part coming of age novel, part meditation on American in a supposed golden age, This doesn’t carry the sepia romance of The English Patient. It’s a book that glides, and only reveals it many layers through multiple readings. The language flows like a sunlit stream, Anna is remarkable, and the whole thing pulls you into its dream.

Christian Jungersen
The Exception

A book that seemingly made hardly a ripple in its English translation from the Danish original. That’s a pity, because Jungersen creates female characters better than any man I’ve read. Not just one, but four of them. In this sort of whodunit-thriller, he alternates their voices in a way that truly messes with the reader’s head. New revelations from one woman change the way you think of the others, leaving you unbalanced. It’s majestic writing and truly wonderful characterisation, all quite bravura. And it’s certainly a book you need to read several times.

Submitting A Book And Starting A New one

2010-09-24T23:52:00.001-07:00

Well, the second novel in the Richard Nottingham series is now with the publisher. She’ll be back on Monday and a few days after that I expect the verdict. A good one, I hope, but who can ever really know? All that faith in myself, in my writing, is put on the line. It’s a little like waiting for the result of an exam where you think you’ve done well, but you’re not really sure, and the outcome is out of your hands.
As my publisher has sold out to a larger (but happily not large) publisher, this book is particularly important. Not only does it have to please her, but the new bosses, too. They plan on keeping the imprint and the current writers, but there’s always that caveat – as long as we like the book.
In the meantime, ever the optimist, I’ve written the first thousand words of the next book. The idea for it has been in my head for a while, cooking away on the back burner. In some ways going to it without any real break from the second volume offers a sense of continuity. I don’t have to take the time to put myself in the heads of the main characters; it’s already there.
That doesn’t make it easier. I have 1,000 words written. Whether they’re the right thousand words remains to be seen. But they’re a start.

Electric Eden review

2010-09-15T08:07:00.001-07:00

Rob Young
Electric Eden

Electric Eden is subtitled ‘unearthing Britain’s visionary music,” and the back of it promises that Young “investigates how the idea of folk has been handed down and transformed by successive generations.” All of which would be nice if it was true.

It’s a hefty volume, and at £17.99, not a cheap one. Still of the basis of all that, and the good reviews it’s enjoyed, it should make for an interesting read. However, when the opening chapter covers Vashti Bunyan’s 1960s hippie journey and her music as emblematic of visionary English folk it all becomes a little worrying. Her first album was a pleasant enough piece of hippie music making. But it didn’t tap into any deeply British spirit, or at least no more than plenty of other bands of the period with Utopian dreams.

It’s a book that throws a lot of information at the reader, talking about musicians famous and obscure. It’s not just everything except the kitchen sink; it’s everything including the kitchen sink, taps, plug and water pipes. Young some clever turns of phrase, and some areas he knows very well. But if this book is supposed to be about the folk process, it quickly shies away from that central idea to the point where it seems to have little real thesis at all.

If anything, it seems designed to give Young a chance to talk about people he admires. So there are sections on Nick Drake, Fairport, the various stages of Ashley Hutchings’ career, Led Zeppelin, Julian Cope, Comus and more. He impressive and insightful when discussing the early 20th century composers, several of whom collected folk songs (although Percy Grainger barely warrants a mention, curiously), and he offers a reasonable look at Ewan MacColl and his do as I say, not as I do idea of folk music. A.L. Lloyd is a recurring presence for part of the book.

It’s true that with Liege and Lief (and “A Sailor’s Life,” recorded before it) Fairport Convention upended folk music, bringing new people to folk music. Those who’d sung folk songs in primary schools suddenly reconnected to it in a different way. And with the folk revival on the 1950s folk had made its real comeback after being placed on a dusty museum shelf.

It’s after that where Young seems to really lose his way. Nick Drake was a great singer and songwriter, but was he really part of folk music? And what about Black Sabbath, who get a page of two? A long section on the Incredible String Band makes perfect sense, but there’s no mention of John Tams, whether in his early Derbyshire career, in Home Service or since. You can make a good case for the inclusion of Julian Cope and discussion of the film The Wicker Man, but not so much for some of today’s underground – especially when the folk music of the last 20 years gets little more than half a page near the end.

It’s arguable that since, say, 1990, there’s been an even great connection between the folk tradition and music making than at any time before. People are pushing folk in new ways, and they’re not just the Imagined Village (who do crop up on Young’s radar). Where, though, are Bellowhead or Jim Moray, or any of the other dozens of acts who are working new magic in the tradition?

This book promised a lot and tries to blind with its deluge. However capable and well written it is (and there are plenty of factual errors in there), ultimately it doesn’t deliver on the promise. Oh, and by the end you'll be sick of the name Mighty Baby, which seems to run under everything like a subtext.

Terrorism in America

2010-09-11T23:29:00.000-07:00

I lived in the US when 9/11 happened. Like so many others I watched in shock and horror as the planes hit the twin towers and they came down. I blamed Al-Queda, but I never blamed Islam.
Now, however, it seems that Bin Laden and his people have got exactly what they wanted as so many on the right in America seek to demonise Muslims. They wanted to create division and war, never mind how they did it. They’ve apparently succeeded. Those who claim to be looking for America’s honour have actually become the terrorists, albeit unwittingly in some cases. They’re setting the scene for jihad.
Terrorists seek to rip a societal structure apart with fear and hatred. They have their goals and they’ll achieve them at any cost, including lies and gross distortions of the truth. And this is exactly what’s happening in the United States today. Those at the top, like Newt Gingrich, are manipulating people who don’t want to think for themselves into a spirit of hatred and intolerance. All it serves is their own ideals. Except it doesn’t. All it does it serve the divisive cause of Al-Queda. Gingrich, and all those raising their voices in protest against Islam, those stabbing Muslims and setting fire to mosques, are nothing more than terrorists themselves.
The curious thing is that no one seems to have said it. They call it patriotism, but all too often that’s a distorted lens, one with blinkers, and the last refuge of a scoundrel.
The invasion of Iraq by troops from the US gave Al-Queda a bonanza of recruits. It was a horribly botched job that’s cost many, many thousands of lives, and still does as terrorists set off bombs with alarming regularity. In Afghanistan, as history has proven, there will be no victory.
But there is already one victory for Al-Queda, in the US. Whenever anyone wants to brun Q’rans or prevent the perfectly legal building of an Islamic cultural centre in New York, terrorism wins another small victory. The problem is that the people don’t see it, that they’re allowing terrorism to fester on their own doorsteps, cloaked in the name of patriotism.
Ultimately there’s no difference between a Terry McVeigh or a Pastor Jones or a Gingrich. They all seek to rend the fabric of American society. They and all their followers are nothing more than terrorists.
For those who don't know me, I lived in american for 30 years, from 1976-2005. I'm not a Muslim, my son is American, and one of the reasons I left to return to the UK was that I was very disturbed by the direction American was taking while Bush was President.

Desert Island Discs

2010-09-10T06:14:00.001-07:00

Desert Island Discs. It’s a programme that’s run forever on Radio 4, where people get to select eight discs they’d take with them to a desert island. It makes for a great game, but it’s also a chance to whittle down your music collection to its absolute essentials, to those pieces that touch you in a ways others simply can’t. So I thought I’d do it and surprised myself. No punk, no real world music, although I love them both.

Spem In Alium – Thomas Tallis (Oxford Camerata recording). One of the most sublime pieces of scared vocal music ever penned. At motet for 40 voices in eight choirs of five, it was Tallis’ English response to a Dutch 40-voice motet. It contains all manner of codes and clues within, something for musicologists to puzzle out. The listening pleasure, especially on this version that has plenty of space, is sublime and enveloping. It’s a piece to sink into, one that transcends both space and time.

Solid Air – John Martyn. From the time a girlfriend first played me some John Martyn in 1972 I was a fan and I bought this as soon as it appeared the following year. Written for Nick Drake it’s since become a favourite of the chill out crowd, but its magic is in how restrained everything is. The feel is slightly jazzy, but the folk undertone is ever-present, Martyn’s vocals curling like a tenor sax over the top. Music can transport you, can fill you with a place and this does that for me.

The Ship Song – Nick Cave. I’d always admired Nick Cave’s intensity, but I’d never really been a fan until I heard this at 4.30 one Saturday morning in Seattle while delivering papers (long story). It’s direct, but still wonderfully allegorical, a love song that speaks from the heart with real emotion, never devolving into easy sentiment. That makes it the very best love song I know, and when my heart is full it’s one I want to play.

Man Of The World – Fleetwood Mac. For my money, Peter Green was the best British guitar player of his time, and this disc has heartbreak in just two notes of his solo; he expresses so much with so little. There’s so much of an ache to this song, along with some lovely chord changes, that the melancholy simply flows. At this time Green was on the edge of falling apart, and maybe this was his cry for help, or simply his elegy to the world he was leaving behind as he drifted into some other place.

Clock Of The World – Krista Detor. The newest favourite, but it’s not a choice of the moment. The way all the parts fit together make this an almost perfect song. The lyrics are enigmatic, with the meaning just out of reach, but in some strange way they make absolute sense. Add to that some sublime – yes, even angelic – harmonies and the piece sounds pretty damn perfect. Detor is a remarkable talent, one of the very best to come along in years, never maudlin but with a direct reach to the heartstrings and a sense of art.

Fratres For Violin And Piano – Arvo Pärt. Pärt’s vocal pieces are beautiful, but there’s something about his Fratres that seems to reach back to Bach with their mathematical precision. They sound nothing like Bach, of course, but they range from angular to lyrical in the course of a few minutes. They’re thought provoking and challenging, rather than music to just listen to. Music should involve the listener and draw in the ear and the mind. Ultimately these are disquieting, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Norsk Rheinländer/Plink-Plonk – Haugaard & Høirup. In 2003 I was commissioned to write a piece on Danish music for a magazine and spent some time there, falling in love with not only the music, but the place. I’ve been back pretty much every year since and written extensively about Danish folk music. I’m grateful to have made many friends there, among them the duo of fiddler Harald Haugaard and guitarist/singer Morten Alfred Høirup. They no longer play together, but this fairly early piece is stunning, a gorgeous rendition of a traditional dance piece followed by some harmonic pyrotechnics in the fiddle. It’s a thrilling, highwire piece, a demonstration of virtuosity, but one that never fails to delight me in a childish way (and the subtle guitar accompaniment is lovely). Selecting one piece of Danish music was almost impossible, but this own out.

The Dear Irish Boy – Martin Hayes & Dennis Cahill. Another fiddle/guitar duo, this time Irish and American. Hayes is a rarity among musicians, a person who deconstructs what he plays and takes the listener to the foundation. This slow air is almost like a sonata, and in his hands certainly more complex than a two-part folk tune. It’s majestic in its simplicity, a piece of music to leave the mind and the heart full. Not only is it a reminder that skill doesn’t mean playing fast, it’s music made by the heart, and an extended sublime moment.

Blair's Book Signing - The Non Event

2010-09-06T10:45:00.001-07:00

So Tony Blair has cancelled his London book signing. According to him it’s to stop any strain on the police force and avoid “hassle” to people. Funny, though, how it comes shortly after protests against him when he showed his face in Dublin.
For all his supposed concern for the public resources (not that it seems to bother him that taxpayers for out millions for his security) it seems very likely that he’s finally realised just how large the protests in London would be and he doesn’t have the guts to go through with it.
He’s smug enough to say that it’s not as if he needs to go and sign books. His tome is selling well enough as it is. However, those sales only kicked in after he gave his advance and royalties to charity – a masterstroke of PR from his spin doctor. And, according to some sources, one that will additionally save him plenty in taxes.
My admiration is more for the woman who tried to perform a citizen’s arrest on him in Dublin, and there will doubtless be plenty of others eager to do the same whenever they get the chance.
Perhaps the greatest irony is that Blair, one of the people responsible for the dangerous destabilisation of the Middle East, should have been appointed as a peace envoy there. And he’s proven to be someone who’s saying we shouldn’t rule out military intervention against Iran. Quite obviously history was never one of his good subjects as he seems incapable of learning from it. Even Bush has enough sense to keep a low profile for several years.

The End of Summer

2010-08-28T10:18:00.001-07:00

For some people the end of summer comes when school begins. For me, at least for the last few years, the end of summer arrives when my son goes back to the US, and 10 months later, on his return, summer begins again. As he travels back to Seattle tomorrow, the end of summer is high, waved out on a high note by a bbq of ribs and corn on the cob. But it’s been a good summer, seeing a fair bit of England, revisiting favourite places, discovering some news ones, the ongoing Connect 4 championship.
He turned 15 this summer, now almost as tall as me, growing in every way, someone to make me proud and happy. At this time of year the blues always descend for a brief period, but then I look through the pictures of the summer, over 100 of them this time, and recall what a good time we’ve had.
Tomorrow it will be Heathrow and all the sweet sorrow of parting. It does become a little easier each year, but never simple. However, his life is over there, and that’s fine. As he grows older, he needs to build his own life and instead of nine weeks here, it will decrease. In just a few short years it might be no time at all, or a brief visit every couple of years. That’s growing up and growing away, a natural process.
For now I’ll enjoy him while I can. I’ll relish his presence, his quiet enthusiasm (especially for anime, manga and Xbox), and the way he changes and grows into himself. To be there when he needs me, to love him…maybe that’s all parents can really do.

How Much History Is Too Much?

2010-08-24T21:26:00.001-07:00

This was written for the upcoming web site The Write Crime:

When you’re writing your history you have to know your period, and your place. Developing that depth of knowledge is obviously important if you’re going to make your book believable. But you also need to find a balance.

The reader needs to believe he’s there, but not be overwhelmed by it. Achieving that fine balance can be a difficult trick.

As someone who writes historical crime (my novel, The Broken Token, is set in Leeds in 1731) I’m very conscious of setting the scene well. That’s not just the streets and buildings but the other parts of life, especially the sounds and, above all, the smells. Cities in the 1800s stank. Now, putting that on paper might not be pretty, but it certainly is vital. People didn’t wash much, most of them were very poor, and didn’t both too much about barbers or being shaved. They possessed maybe two sets of clothes which were rarely laundered. Personal hygiene wasn’t a top priority – simply surviving until the next day trumped everything else.

Carts were pulled by horses, so you can guess what was all over the streets. In a city like Leeds, where dyeing and fulling were an important part of the wool process, urine was used extensively. It was also used in tanning, along with faeces. It didn’t smell pretty at all. And with no refrigeration, the butchers’ shops in the Shambles (which was along Briggate, by the Moot Hall – pretty much where Harvey Nicks is today) wouldn’t have smelled so sweet, either.

The rich dressed well, their servants looked after the house. But they weren’t isolated in a perfumed world. The things we take for granted, like daily showers and good cleaning of the teeth, weren’t part of their universe.

These are the minutiae of life that can tell far more than big political details. It’s history, but on a level every can feel and understand. I’m lucky, since the street layout of Leeds now is much the same as it was then, even if virtually no period buildings survive. So I can use names that anyone familiar with the city can picture.

Research is important when you’re writing a historical mystery. You have to read as much as you can, from libraries, online, every possible source. Leeds history was a passion of mine long before I began this book. However, I happened to be living in Seattle at the time (I was born and raised in Leeds). I’d pick up books when home, and go to the library and the Thoresby Society, but I was also helped by eBay. There I was able to bid on and win a few 19th century histories of Leeds that had never been reprinted; all grist to the mill.

So I knew the city, I knew the time. Leeds was just emerging as England’s leading woollen town, its merchants were growing rich. They controlled the Corporation, they made the local laws. The gulf between rich and poor was huge. Portraying how they both lived was important.

I also knew the bigger picture, the politics, the economics of England, with the South Sea Bubble a few years before and so on. To have that kind of knowledge of your chosen period is vital if you’re going to make the history convincing in your book.

The danger from all that can be trying to cram in far too much. A mystery is meant to entertain. It’s not social history or a textbook. It’s a mystery. That means picking and choosing, conveying the sense of the time to the point where the reader’s imagination can take over.

The writer adds the brushstrokes and just enough detail to suggest more. Readers don’t want screeds of background. They want characters, above all, and a story. As the writer you have to give it to them. That means pruning and shading the history until it flows as part of the narrative. Put in the details that set the scene and give it atmosphere, but there’s no need to do more than that. As to the bigger picture: unless it’s strictly relevant, forget it.

What about dialogue? A convention seems to have arisen among a number of writers that before the 20th century people didn’t use contractions in speech. On a purely personal level, I doubt this. People are naturally lazy in speech and probably always have been. They’ll find the shortest way to say something. This is why I’ll use contractions in dialogue just as if the people were contemporary (although some of the vocabulary will inevitably be different). It seems more natural and to the modern eye and ear it flows better. Whether strictly accurate or not it makes the experience of reading better.

Dialect can be important, too. It doesn’t need to be overdone, but use of some dialect words can help fix the story geographically. The words don’t need to be obscure, just associated with the area. For Leeds, choosing owt, nowt, summat, babbie, mebbe all work and give a feeling of location while still being very easy to comprehend. Think before you write.

Historical mysteries can be wonderful things, to write as well as to read, and the best of them are the equal of anything else published. But with more to be explained, the actual process of writing and creating has to be far more exact and careful to make readers feel they’re truly there.

On the Dangers of People Thinking

2010-08-21T02:09:00.001-07:00

The newly-breaking item that Lord Ashcroft hasn’t resigned his position with the Tories and might, in fact, end up with greater power just shows how eager political parties everywhere are to grab at the money, no matter whether it might be seen as tainted or not.
We like to think of our politicians as idealistic souls, in public service to serve the public, as they all claim. While some are doubtless pure, so many seem to end up gorging themselves at the trough of power (remember the Republicans taking over Congress in ’94 under New Gingrich and promising to only be around for 4 years? How many are still there? Gingrich himself is reportedly planning a 2012 Presidential bid).
The truth is that the parties want power, no matter what the cost. Was New Labour something heartfelt, or was positioning itself more in the centre a reaction after seeing the success Bill Clinton and the Democrats achieved by that strategy?
For all that politicians give us the refrain of transparency it’s not going to happen. Anywhere. Why? It’s not in their interests because it means they actually have less power. And it’s that drive for power that keeps so many of them going, at least at the higher levels.
A highly informed and educated electorate would demand more transparency. But that kind of education works not only against the ultimate interests of politicians, but also against the interests of most of the media. Educated people, taught to think for themselves, would see through all the awkward deceptions put out by politicians and the media empires that love to slant the news (and for all the talk of a liberal media, how come the biggest-selling papers are very much to the right of the spectrum?).
It might well be true that most people don’t want to think, that they’re as happy to be led as a flock of sheep. How else do we account for the popularity of awful TV shows, for instance? But then again, no real attempt has been made to truly educate them. To have a mass that will follow serves political aims well – witness the tea baggers, for instance, or those 20 per cent of Americans who think Obama is a Muslim.
It takes effort to think and maybe people don’t care enough. But maybe if we instilled the idea of thinking in them from an early age that might change. Then again, a mass of thinking people, all realising how broken the system truly is, could be a very dangerous thing…fortunes might be lost and the entire political structure altered.

Krista Detor

2010-08-20T08:04:00.000-07:00

Evidently this is her fourth album, but she’s a new name on me. Krista Detor. The album is Chocolate Paper Suites, a total of 5 “suites,” each comprised of three songs around the topic, generally speaking, about Lorca, Darwin, Dylan Thomas and who knows what else. As a music journalist I listen to a lot of music, and it’s so rare to come across something that moves me so much it makes me cry. The first few tracks I thought it might be Lisa Germano under another name, but Detor asserts her own personality. She’s a stunning writer – there are shades of Jane Siberry in there, along with Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen. More than that, there beauty in the music, her own beauty, and Clock Of The World (watch it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tzLgf66oOeE) is one of those songs that’s absolutely perfect, like The Weight by the Band (although there’s nothing to compare them musically). All the elements come together in absolute perfection. The way the images build might seem random, but each is shaped just so and makes complete sense within its own context. But So Goes The Night and Small Things are equally gorgeous. This is someone who deserves more praise for her art and her talent. There’s not a single track here that falls below excellent. I don’t know what she’s done before, but this qualifies as one of my albums of 2010.

On Finishing Writing A Novel

2010-08-18T08:27:00.001-07:00

There no feeling that mixes pleasure and sadness like finishing the writing of a book – or at least a novel. There’s the sense of relief of ending after so many months, so many words and endless thought. And then there’s the sadness that comes with saying goodbye to it. The revisions are complete and it’s ready to move on to the publisher. Well, in this case, on to my closest friend, a wonderful author whose critique is invaluable, then the publisher. But even though I’ll return to it a couple of times in the coming months I feel as if it’s sailing away from me.
But it’s the sadness that’s the most powerful feeling. I’ve lived with these people (I can’t call them characters, they’re too real for that) for so long. Our lives have intertwined, I’ve felt their grief and joys (more of the former this time) and they’ve affected me. But the movie in my head has ended and the credits are rolling.
So it’ll be time to start thinking about the next book very soon…

14 Books In An Hour

2010-08-14T21:54:00.001-07:00

To many authors it might seem like nothing, but I was incredibly heartened to sell 14 copies of The Broken Token in an hour at a book signing at Waterstone’s in Leeds yesterday. For a first time, unknown crime writer that feels like an achievement (and certainly better than I’d managed at book signings for my non fiction).
The store had ordered in 12 copies, and then had two take the two they had on the shelves. While I was there the manager ordered another 20 copies and suggested that I come back and do a second signing. Needless to say, I agreed. To be fair, the book takes place in Leeds, so it’s local, but even so…there will be copies on the display of local interest books at the front of the store, which will help sales, and a staff recommended tag by it on the crime shelf.
When you’re with an independent publisher maybe this kind of gradual word of mouth groundswell is the only way to succeed, short of an incredible lucky break. Keep lugging away, doing the book signings, converting people one by one. Writing a book is only the start of things. Getting it published isn’t even where it ends. Once those hurdles have been jumped, there’s still the marketing, and that can be the trickiest, most time-consuming bit of all.

Independent Publishers

2010-08-11T07:08:00.001-07:00

Being with an independent publisher (in my case the wonderful Crème de la Crime) is being with a publisher where you can call up anytime and speak directly to the person in charge. That person has real interest in your book. They’ve taken it on because they believe in it, and they’ll do what they can to promote it. Of course, the author has to do his bit, too. Got to make calls, summon up press and appearances, put together a website, Facebook page, Twitter and whatever (including this blog, obviously). That’s fine. I’m proud of the book, I want it to sell, and I’m happy to put in the effort.
The downside is that there’s no publicity budget. It’s definitely flying by the seat of the pants time. However, that’s very similar to the DIY ethos that powered much of the punk scene, and several of the various movements of bands. Even today there’s an underground. There might not be money but there is satisfaction. It’s good to come in as an unknown quantity and convince people that The Broken Token is a book worth their time and money. That can be in a signing in a bookshop or when talking to an audience. It’s getting out there and hustling, which can be quite antithetical for most writers. Once you get in the groove and figure out how to do it, it can be fun, too. So the downside certainly isn’t all down. It does, however, make it harder to get reviews in the dailies. My plan? Build a reputation slowly until they can’t ignore the series any more…

The Discoveries In Revising A Book

2010-08-09T08:40:00.001-07:00

How much of what we write in novels is dictated by the unconscious? I’m not one to write an outline of a book. When I begin I know how it opens and how it will end. Beyond that I’m simply writing down the movie in my head as it unfolds. Sometimes I know what will happen 30 pages ahead, but usually no more than a page or two, sometimes not even that.
It’s akin to walking in the country. At times you can see far into the distance, but all too often your view is limited. With writing, however, the paths are of your own devising and sometimes the ones you create take unexpected turns.
I’m currently revising my new book. Today I was working on the scene with the villain and his girlfriend, who never appeared before, although he name has been mentioned. In an insidious way she’s proving to be more evil than the villain. That opens up interesting possibilities, and as yet I’m not sure how it will all develop. But that, really, is part of the fun of this vocation (can’t call it anything else, really). Time will tell. And you’ll have the chance to find out more next year.

Something for the Weekend

2010-08-07T23:25:00.001-07:00

So Leeds lose the first game of the new season. Some fair football played and it’s a pretty new team. We need better striking options, but other than that I’m going to be quite sanguine about things.
The weekend is a time for enjoyment. You could argue the case that every day should be that way, of course, but work being what it is…For us, it was a trip to Twycross Zoo in the afternoon. Highly entertained by an ape that has discovered that an endless series of forward rolls is a great way to charm people, and the grace of the leopards, snow and otherwise.
In the evening a visit to Nottingham Riverside Festival. For my partner, who’s lived here most of her life, this is old hat. For me (and my son) it’s new, and ostensibly to hear a couple of bands. But it’s more feast – in the Leeds sense – that festival. Endless rides by the path along the river, an orgy of noise and lights that becomes an assault on the senses. I went to Woodhouse feat a couple of times as a teenager but it was never my taste, and most of this wasn’t either.
The chance to see Shooglenifty again was good, and overall they didn’t disappoint. They can play beautifully, but the mix let electric guitar overpower everything, not a good idea. The Ghanaian music of Atongo Zimba was as lulling as when I saw and interviewed him five years ago, but Penny wasn’t convinced. Should be stay for the fireworks? In the end the answer was no. Both of us felt overwhelmed by all the noise and the people. Still, I’ve never done crowds that well. So it was home to bed…

Leeds Un ited and the Upcoming Season

2010-08-06T07:37:00.001-07:00

So the season begins. Derby tomorrow, Forest next weekend. That one’s going to raise problems as my partner’s a Forest supporter. It’s good to see Leeds in the Championship, heading back towards the place they belong, according to many pundits.
However, wonderful as the victory over ManU was, it’s putting ridiculous expectations on any team to say they belong in the Premier, as if it stood as a God-given right. All things being equal, Leeds should finish mid-table this coming season – as long as they gel properly as a squad and tighten up the defence. Expecting more than that would be ridiculous, and very dangerous.
Say the completely unexpected happens and Leeds end up winning promotion again. Much jubilation and drinking of alcohol to celebrate. But once the hangovers have passed comes the knowledge that Leeds don’t have the men, or the money, to compete. While money might be a source of much grumbling and grunting among Leeds fans, possibly with reason, it’s simply a fact. Go up to the Premier in the next two years and we’ll be straight back down again – and it’ll be a bumpy, humiliating ride.
This next season should be one of regrouping of starting out a small fishes in a bigger pool and growing. Mid-table this season? Great? Close to the playoffs the season after? Very good. Then, and only then might Leeds be ready for something bigger and better. But it’s not our due. Like all the others, we have to earn it. It the financial bubble bursts around those teams that are global brands, which is quite possible, things will improve, and the playing field will become more level. Hope for that to happen, because it will become a real sport. Until then, I’ll have satisfied with Leeds in the Championship, which looks like the most competitive and equal league, anyway.

Old Acquaintances

2010-08-05T07:25:00.001-07:00

Meetings with old acquaintances aren’t always a good thing. Too much time might have gone, paths diverged too far. Luckily, last night wasn’t that way.
It began disappointingly as the pub where we were meeting wasn’t serving food due to a gig – the gig being the reason he was there, even if he wasn’t playing himself. But settling down over a drink, and knowing that we’d both changed in the 12 years since we’d last met, it all worked very easily.
He’s a writer, I’m a writer. Music had been our common ground (he was my editor at a music magazine in Seattle, and started me writing music reviews for Amazon when they began selling CDs). It’s not so much that way any more, as both of us have broader interests, but it made a good starting point. And then there was Seattle.
He still lives there, and he and my soon could briefly discuss that and I could dredge up memories, although only five years have passed since it was my home. But now I’m in Nottingham, happy with my partner, happy here and part of it all felt, rightly, like another life.
We talked for an hour, pleasant, easy chat about many things including books. I gave him a copy of The Broken Token. He’s working on a book. I’ll catch up with him again next month when his partner has a Nottingham gig. But for all I wondered how it would go, with some trepidation, it was fine. As easy as breathing, as easy as living…

Revising A Book

2010-08-03T11:27:00.001-07:00

Revising a book has to be one of the most joyous and most frustrating things in existence. It’s a chance to understand how bad (or good) your first draft was – and it’s certainly never perfect.
It’s back to square one, tearing down what you’d lovingly constructed and rebuilding in, hopefully to make it a better, much more solid and beautiful structure. The joy comes when you look at something you’ve reworked and realise that it’s much closer to your original intentions.
But it’s not solely about structure. It’s about character mood, the rhythm of sentences, the pace of the book, having dialogue that seems real. It’s like a Soviet exercise in self-criticism, except you’re the only person who has to make the criticisms as well as take them and you have to have the courage to be completely honest with yourself. That’s the only way to produce a book that’s halfway decent.
As anyone can tell I’m halfway through the revisions on my second novel, Drive the Cruel Winter Away. I believe it works, or that it well when I’ve finished with this. I’ll revise, then revise again, then send it off to the friend who tells me the truth about what I’ve written and listen closely to his remarks. Then I’ll make more changes.
With a little luck it should be finished by the end of November, about a year after it was begun.
And then it’ll be time to begin the next novel. Of course.

From Drive the Cruel Winter Away

2010-08-02T11:28:00.000-07:00

There was one final area to walk, taking the path along the river by the tenting fields, where cloth was pegged out to stretch, then cutting along by New Mill to Mill Garth and through to Boar Lane, past Holy Trinity Chruch and back to the jail. And finally home.
He loved this short stretch of his rounds, no more than a few hundred yards from the city but as peaceful as the country. Even the occasional floating corpse in the river couldn’t spoil it for him.
He’d almost reached the track at New Mill when he noticed something from the corner of his eye, a low, pale shape that didn’t look quite right among the trees. Stopping, he cocked his head and squinted for a better look. It was probably nothing, but he’d better check; it was what he was paid to do.
The hard, frozen grass sawed against his threadbare stockings as he moved through the undergrowth. But it wasn’t until he was three yards away that he was able to make everything out fully.
“Fuck,” he said softly. “Fuck.”
It was a man, lying on his back, eyes blank and wide, staring endlessly into the face of death. One arm was thrown carelessly across his breast, the other outstretched as if reaching for something. The strangest thing was that he was bare-chested. The deep red cut across his neck showed how he’d died.
“Fuck,” Sedgwick said again. He sighed. He wasn’t going to be home anytime soon.

Politics Lite and Music

2010-08-02T07:51:00.001-07:00

In Britain we moan about the decline in seriousness of our political figures, and perhaps rightly. We seem to have slipped into politics lite, everything slipping very swiftly towards the centre, so that it can be hard to tell one part from another without a scorecard. Whither Old Labour?
However, we have it good when compared to the US, where the hottest candidate for 2012 seems unable to even discuss policy. A Huffington Post article pointed out the people accept Sarah Palin because of her celebrity and because she inadvertently drags up deeply symbolic icons, like the Mama Grizzly (a reference that wouldn’t work as well in the UK). Palin via Jung, a scary thought.
The dumbing down on politics is universal – witness Regan. It’s interesting to note, however, that Reagan’s star was high when Madonna came on the scene, another victory of style over substance. As was pointed out in a recent New York Times article, Madonna did at least sometimes sneak in references to religion and politics in her music, however lightweight they might be.
Now we have Palin. Her followers are mad as hell and aren’t going to take it any more. They want to burn it down (“For God’s sake burn it down probably never rang truer, Dexys) even if they don’t have a clue what they’ll replace it with. There’s even more style and even less substance. Being against something is fine, but you have to be for something.
So is it any surprise that Lady Gaga is in the ascendancy? Her lyrics Make Madonna seem like Auden. Being vacuous, both musically and lyrically, has become a real style. Maybe there’s an analogue between music and politics in the US (and possibly globally here). You don’t even need to give the people what they want, because they don’t really know what they want. Lady Gaga’s music has been aptly described as a “distraction.” It’s simply there, presented in flashy colour with lots of daring costumes. The emperor’s New Clothes. And politics in the US is headed that way. The problem is that, where America leads…

Susan Hill

2010-07-31T12:33:00.001-07:00

Just reading the newest Susan Hill, The Shadows In The Street. It’s her fifth detective novel, all featuring a police, Simon Serrailler. Forget the Ian Rankins and Peter Robinsons or whoever else. She is simply the very best in the field. All of the novels are so superbly textured, with characters who are totally, utterly alive and three-dimensional. It’s what I aspired to in The Broken Token and also in the new one, but reading her makes me realise just how far I have to go. These are books about characters with full lives – even the confirmed bachelor Serrailler – where the mystery comes second. You feel these people, you know them you’re sorry to feel them go when the book ends.
I’d just re-read The Pure in Heart, the second in the series, and even there it’s note-perfect. She’s an acclaimed writer, of course, although the other books of hers I’ve tried haven’t touched me like these. With these, it seems, she’s opened up a beautifully rich vein, and she deserves to be celebrated for them. If Richard Nottingham and my other creations can come close to this level I’ll feel I’ve done something. The mystery novel is all too often derided as genre fiction (albeit less than used to be the case) but Susan Hill creates literature of the highest order.

Why Leeds?

2010-07-30T23:00:00.001-07:00

One question I’ve often been asked is why do I set my books in Leeds? After all, I haven’t lived there since 1975 and marginally spent more time in Seattle than in Leeds itself.
There might not be a simple answer, but as close as I can come is that Leeds is in my heart and my genes. My family has been there since around 1800. I feel it in my blood. Every time I’m there my blood moves faster, there’s a sense of home in the place.
Today, sadly, much of Leeds is a generic city. Those that governed the place during the 20th century gave little thought to history. No one thought to conserve the Red House (although I’m told that some of the layout of it was preserved in Schofield’s), for instance, or hold on to the heritage of the few ancient houses that remained off Lower Briggate. That’s shameful, but it’s happened, it can’t be changed. Leeds wanted to be the city of the future, and did it by largely turning its back on the past.
Small fragments of the history do remain, but they’re few and fair between. The most obvious examples are Holy Trinity and St. John’s churches (the Parish Church was rebuilt in the 1800s).
But this is by the bye. Leeds is in me in a way no other city could be. I’ve written about other places in (thankfully) unpublished novels. But once I began writing about Leeds, it all clicked, it felt right. In The Broken Token, Leeds is as much a character as any person. The same is true in the new one, currently being revised, called Drive the Cruel Winter Away.
I’m toying with the subtitle “A Leeds Novel,” even if it sounds pretentious. The main characters will come and go, but Leeds will be the constant. There are other books I have in my head, set in different time periods, but all in Leeds. In other words, Leeds is essentially the main character.
None of which answers the question, why Leeds? The answer, maybe, is that deep down inside it can’t be anywhere else than the place that shaped and formed me.

Agora

2010-07-30T01:06:00.000-07:00

Went to see Agora yesterday, knowing nothing about Hypatia or Alexandria in the 4th century AD. Impressive CGI, a movie grappling with big ideas and putting out all sorts of allegories for today. But as it focused on ideas rather than people, and too many of them, it was a failure, albeit one that sparked debate.
I came out knowing no more about the main characters than when I’d entered, never a good sign, as you have to care about people to get to the heart. A poor, wooden script. And, after some checking, seemingly incorrect in some important areas. The movie showed the Christians sacking the library of Alexandria, although there seems to be no evidence the library even still existed at this point. I’m no apologist for any organised religion, but this seemed gratuitous. Also, the real death of Hypatia was far more gruesome than the one shown – although that wouldn’t play with film audiences. Instead she received the Vaseline lens, soft core death.
So, in attempting to show how the Christians had twisted and perverted the tenets of their own bible, the film seemingly choose to bend the truth a great deal. Do two wrongs make a right? Not really.
As someone who likes historical mysteries, this obviously resonates. I use time and place as the framework for my books. But as far as possible I try to keep the history correct, rather than trimming and altering facts for my own ends. The massive sleights of hand the filmmakers attempted in Agora rankle. If they’d gone for a much smaller film, one that revolved around characters, they could have made their point far more effectively and created a tragedy worthy of Shakespeare. But then there’s the lure of the epic and the chance of all those Hollywood dollars. A shame, as there was real potential there.

The Words of Life 1

2010-07-29T12:13:00.000-07:00

There’s great joy in being a writer. Even more so when you hold your first novel in your hand. For most writers this is the Grail, what we all dream about, what turns us into writers on the first place.
Even after around 30 non-fiction books, holding The Broken Token was a profoundly moving experience. Now, after almost 3 months, the trick is still to sell the damn thing, to see those copies flying out of bookstores.
But now it becomes just one part of the problem. I’m almost one-third of the way through the second novel to feature Richard Nottingham, and the challenge is not just to come up with a good mystery element (always the lesser part to me) than to make the characters grow, to make them, and the Leeds of March 1732 even more real.