Working for The Devil

Things have been a little quiet on the blog recently, and I'm afraid it's down to sheer laziness rather than a lack of interesting stuff going on. That doesn't bode very well for my efforts at NaNoWriMo, I suppose. You may remember that I was planning to sign on to www.nanowrimo.org  to join in a group effort to write an entire 50,000-word novel in a month. Well I signed up just after the site opened up to new registrations of the 1st of October, and I've since been happily puttering away on their forums asking questions and electronically mingling with like-minded aspiring authors. The mood is really supportive and the place is packed with constructive advice, so if, like me, you've been planning or writing that blockbuster for a few years now, I highly recommend you take a look.

 

As for books, I finished reading Air by Geoff Ryman and my opinion of it remains unchanged, even if I was a little disappointed by the ending. I'm afraid the whole concept of the main character having a baby develop in her stomach rather than her womb and then giving birth through her mouth (ick!) was a little too far-fetched for me. I can't really see how it was necessary to the plot and I'm afraid it seriously strained my suspension of disbelief. Nevertheless, it's still high-concept stuff that dares to be different.

 

I've since started reading Working for the Devil by Lilith Saintcrow. I suppose you could call it an "Urban Fantasy" in that it's set in the future and makes ample use of ultra-technology like plasma rifles and hovercars, but still incorporates magic and runes and more "traditional" non-human fantasy races like demons. It's certainly got plenty of action, but sometimes it's a little light on explaination and you're left wondering exactly what a "Skinlin" is, or what the difference is between a Shaman and Necromance. It's fast and punchy and fun in places, but I wouldn't rate the quality of writing all that highly. Saintcrow repeats things far too often and her dialogue is sometimes too implausible for comfort, but it's entertaining enough to keep me reading so far.

Air

I never actually got around to reading End of the World Blues by John Courtenay Grimwood because I my attention was diverted by something far better. I'm actually about half-way through Air by Geoff Ryman, and it's proving to be quite rewarding. It's the first SF title I've read in quite a while, and while there may be better books I could have chosen for a return to the genre, there probably aren't many. What makes this book different and worthwhile is the fact that it's set in the tiny village of Kizuldah in a (fictional) impoverished third-world central Asian country called Karzistan, where there's an intriguing mix of Buddhist and Muslim living side-by-side.

 

Kizuldah is the last village in the world to go on-line, but the whole internet is about to be made obsolete by a global wireless system called "Air" in which information is beamed directly into peoples' minds without the need for implants or access to technology of any kind. Suddenly, everyone in the world can contact anyone else, regardless of whether they have access to the net or even a computer. Every place on the planet will be connected through Air, even forgotten little corners of the world like the village of Kizuldah.

The book explores how the villagers come to terms with the prospect of this life-changing development and how it affects their lives. The main character, a middle-aged "fashion expert" called Mae, decides that if she cannot stop the coming of Air, she can at least help the villagers prepare for it by educating them via the existing internet. Others in the village however, see the net and Air as a threat to their very way of life and try to destroy the couple of access points they have. Ryman does a great job of bringing the village to life and of making us see that sometimes the "have-nots" might not want to have...

 

My only sticking point is the main character of Mae. At the start of the book she comes across as bitchy and shallow, and this may put some readers from persevering with the story, as it's hard to empathise with her. Those who stick with it will be rewarded, though, as she develops from an acidic, self-centred gossip to a much warmer deeper woman who is determined to do all she can to survive and to help her village at the same time. Anyway it's a departure from the usual slick SF that's set in America or the cooler parts of Japan. By maintaining an earthy edge and focusing on real human concerns and how technology affects our relationships with each other, Ryman really sets this book apart. Well worth a look.

Fity-page Flops and the Inner Bouncer

Not so long ago, there was a time when I'd feel guilty if I didn't finish reading an entire book all the way through, no matter how awful it was. I'd force myself to wade through the most awful, steaming piles of crap ever written because there was some tiny part of my brain that believed every book should be given a chance before passing judgement. As a result of this little inner critic, I've had to endure ridiculous plots, flat, lifeless characters, atrocious dialogue and some truly lazy writing in which the protagonists stand around and explain huge lumps of the plot to each other for the supposed benefit of the reader (Dan Brown, I'm looking at you...).

 

At some undefined point in my life, however, I realised that life was simply too short for crap books. I had that wimpy little inner critic shot for incompetence, then hired a much bigger, burlier critic with a monobrow and far less tolerance for drivel. Kind of like a bouncer, but literate. Since then I've been able to enjoy books guilt-free, secure in the knowledge that I can simply toss the bad ones aside as soon as they started to stink the place up. I decided that if an author wasn't able to maintain my interest past fifty pages, then it was his fault, not mine.

The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid

I haven't actually finished reading Bedroom Secrets of The Master Chefs by Irvine Welsh yet, but that's because I was sidetracked by Bill Bryson. It took me about three days to read The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid but it felt far shorter than that. I finished it on a packed train on the way home from Waterloo yesterday, and once I'd turned the last page I actually felt disappointed that it was all over and that there was nothing left. I was suddenly and cruelly booted back into the modern world, where you pay a fortune for the privilege of being herded like cattle in a sauna, and where a fellow commuter was happily drooling on my shoulder in drowsy oblivion. Anyway, it's certainly one of the warmest, funniest things I've read in a long time and I'd certainly recommend it to anyone in need of a chuckle. Crowd or no crowd, I laughed out loud on the train at a couple of parts, and the rest of the time I was fighting to keep the sniggers under control.

 

It doesn't really sound like the sort of thing you'd find funny. Bryson basically waxes nostalgic about his childhood in 50's Iowa and paints a pretty vivid picture of what life was like before the unstoppable rise of TV and the total dominance of the motor car. But his self-deprecating wit and refreshing honesty make this a really entertaining read. From describing his annual attempts to get into the stripper's tent at the Iowa State Fair to the time his friends accidentally blew up their house in an ambitious prank gone bad, he keeps you turning the pages until, all too soon, there are none left. I think I would comfortably have finished this in a day if I'd had the time, but it's definitely worth a look. Not sure what I'll read next - perhaps I'll give John Courtenay Grimwood's End of the World Blues a try as I haven't read much scifi lately.

Booker Shortlist

Just a quick post first. The six shortlisted books for the Booker prize have been announced and are:

Author          Title                                   Publisher

                              
Desai, Kiran            The Inheritance of Loss         Hamish Hamilton

Grenville, Kate      The Secret River                      Canongate

Hyland, M.J.            Carry Me Down                     Canongate

Matar, Hisham       In the Country of Men           Viking

St Aubyn, Edward        Mother's Milk                   Picador

Waters, Sarah        The Night Watch                    Virago

 

These were chosen from a longlist of 19 and I'm surprised that David Mitchell didn't make it, but I'm glad that Hisham Matar did. I have a sneaky suspicion that Sarah Waters will win...

Brilliant Blags

A few more fantastic freebies today, one of which I can't believe I got. Apart from a copy of John Courtenay Grimwood's End of the World Blues, I managed to get my hands on a proof of Barry Unsworth's The Ruby in Her Navel (which is on the Booker Shortlist), and a "Specially Produced Bound Manuscript" of John Le Carre's The Mission Song. It says on the cover that it's one of just five copies, so I'm going to take extra-special care of it until it's worth millions and I can retire to the Maldives.

 

However, by far and away my best blag today was the numbered proof of Stephen King's new novel, Lisey's Story, which is apparently due out this November. I'm a huge Stephen King fan and would consider doing seriously illegal things in order to meet him, so this is one I'm really looking forward to reading.  I also heard through the grapevine that there's a good chance he'll be coming to the UK in November to promote this, so stay tuned for further info. If I can actually have my picture taken with the man, I may be too awestruck to actually say anything beyond the odd wheeze or burble.

Fantastic Freebies

One of the best things about working where I do is the fact that I have access to lots of lovely freebies. Publishers regularly send us proof copies or advance reading copies or even trade copies of loads and loads of new titles, and all of the spares are loaded onto a trolley where people can just help themselves. When I was working at the bookstore we'd also get a few proofs now and then, but never anything on this scale. Even sweeter is the fact that if there isn't anything on the trolley that takes my fancy, I can just email my contact at the relevant publishers and ask very nicely for something I'm interested in, and they'll almost always send me a copy (at least they have so far).

 

Today I was very excited to receive a brand-spanking-new copy of Bill Bryson's latest hardback, The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid. It looks like he's apparently returning to form after his brief foray into popular science and keeping it light and funny again, and I can't wait to finish the Irvine Welsh I'm on so I can start reading it. Bryson's warm and humorous recollections of his 50's upbringing in Iowa should make a nice change from the hardcore scottish alcoholism and substance abuse I'm working my way through at the moment. Oh, and the people at Transworld Publishing are very nice indeed - you can tell them I said so.

The best-laid plans...

Following on from my previous post, I'm totally going for NaNoWriMo this year and I think I can make it. If you break it down, 50,000 words in one month is only 1,667 words a day and I think I can do that in about three hours. I've been know to churn out 750 words in half an hour, but that was a totally disjointed stream-of-consciousness splurge that I probably wouldn't be able to keep up for any sustained length of time.

 

I know that if I just try to wing it and write "whenever I get the chance", I'm never going to find the time. Therefore I've been incredibly geeky and practical and put together a daily schedule for the month of November to make sure I get enough writing time in each day and still get enough sleep as well. By getting up an hour earlier every morning, writing while I commute and writing some more during my lunch break, I can squeeze in a respectable three hours a day before I get home from work. The rest of the evening is then mine to have dinner and relax in guilt-free bliss until I hit the hay.

 

That's the plan, in any case. Time will tell if I can actually stick to it.