Reading redux

So it wasn't just the James Herbert books that I brought back from the visit to my mum. And over the last few weeks I've been re-reading a few of them. What I find amazing is how present to my memory they all are. Just looking at the covers I can call up names, places and incidents from all of them - though I haven't cracked the covers of any of them for more than a decade. It makes me realise how influential they were on me. The downside is that I'm spotting lots of the tropes that I use popping up in these texts. Hmm. Anyhoo.

Harry Harrison - most of the Stainless Steel Rat series. Still very enjoyable - though very light. The breezy style and insouciant charm of slippery Jim DiGriz sweeps each tale along but what I notice now is what escaped me back then. Even now I can remember

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reading the first page of The Stainless Steel Rat in Miss Ellison's class when I was 10? 11? She gave it to me, Nick Dodd, Mark Sanderson and Des (?) as part of a lesson on different sorts of writing. We all hated Miss Ellison as she closed her eyes whenever she said a word with an "s" in it. I'm not sure why that made us hate her but it did.

What I loved back then was the radical feel of the thing and the sheer confidence that Jim oozed; but now I see how adept HH was at using that style to skip over the holes in the plot and bamboozle the reader.

What is also fascinating is its attitude to technology. For instance, in The Stainless Steel Rat Gets Drafted when Jim and his sidekick need to record some video ready for broadcast they go to a TV studio and use the equipment there. Now, of course, it'd be done with a camera on a phone or a web cam and posted online - etc etc. It shows exactly how stories of the future are mired in the present of their creators. But that's also quite liberating because it was never supposed to be THE FUTURE simply a future which means that pretty much anything goes.

William Gibson - Count Zero. Such a great read. Better, by far, than I remember. Just astonishing in places and so dense with ideas and insights. Now that the net is everywhere some of the supposed changes it documents make it looks a little dated.
- No cellphones.
- Using the net involves travelling to places.
- ICE
- Rampant AIs
- Gods in the net
I had a sense when I was reading it that I was missing something that would become clear as I got older. Well, I am and its not. I guess I'm just too thick to catch on.

Terry Pratchett - The Colour of Magic/Light Fantastic. My good friend Carl Berks recommended the first one to me when I was 15/16. I met him via a gaming group that I joined. Reading it again I remember the "watcher-of-the-skies-new-planet" feeling I got having read it. It was also much funnier than I remember. And the Discworld portrayed in the first two books is very different to what it becomes later on in the series. Death is murderous in these books, the Gods are much more present and there are lots of standard fantasy wallpaper to bulk out the story.

Their teeming hordes

James Herbert. There's a name from the past. I visited my folks recently and, as ever, grabbed a few of the books I've left there to bring back home. Three I took were The Rats, The Dark and The Fog by Mr H.

I first read these when I was 11 and, re-reading them now, I'm shocked that I did. What poor parents I had. They are very bloody, gruesome and graphically sexual in some places. Something I'm not sure I would want my kids reading when they were 11. The year I hit 11 Trevor Pickersgill told me what men and women did in bed. For what its worth - I didn't believe him. Though reading the books of Mr Herbert was incontrovertible evidence that he was right.

I remember all his books were a big deal at my school and we regularly used to sit around and read out the rude or gruesome bits to each other. Des, Strawb, Sandra Walker, Jackie Bell and Sniff were all part of that reading group.

The Rats in particular left a mark on me. Even now, if I am on a station platform or anywhere without something to read, then I'll work out what I would do if a swarm of giant rats attacked. My escape typically involves me performing some ridiculous feat of acrobatics to scale a wall, edge out on to a light bracket or beam and reach a point the ravenous creatures would not be able to get to.

What I had also forgotten was how apocalyptic the books were. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of people die in each one. In The Fog the entire population of Bournemouth marches in to the sea and commits suicide en masse.

Where they any good? Not really. The Rats had a lot of bounce, I really liked his device of turning the story on new characters and, usually, their gruesome demise, and they all were easy on the eye. For an 11 year old they were great but for jaded old me they didn't quite hit the mark. The third word of opening sentence of The Rats was an adverb for fricks sake. But, hey, who am I to say. The blurb on the books describes them as supersellers - not just bestsellers. What writer would not settle for that kind of success?

Pennines and pavements

My good friend John Pullan is dead. My oldest friend John Pullan is dead. He died a while ago now, on the morning of Sunday 30 November 2008. He had spent two years battling cancer - if that is the word I should use. Whenever there is talk about the way people deal with cancer the word always trotted out is "battle", but I'm not sure that describes what John did. Better to say that medicine and surgery helped him resist it with a courage that was admirable and an insouciance that was, at times, disquieting. Despite being progressively worn down by the most aggressive of brain tumours he tried to keep his life as normal as possible. For a long time, until the funeral, I didn't understand why that was. It was just one of John's traits that I didn't really get. Pity he had to die for me to come to terms with who he was and his reasons.

The funeral was held at the crematorium in Skipton and I arrived there the day before when scraps of snow littered the streets and a persistent drizzle wrapped everything in a obscuring mist. I didn't want to be there, didn't want my friend to be dead, wanted time to say all the things I should have done and did not want a chapter of my life to close with such finality.

That night, and the next as I was wandering about Skipton, my head was down to match my mood and all I saw was the untidy, gritty pavements passing beneath my feet. And then, I'm not sure why, I lifted my head and had a startling moment of clarity. People do not visit Skipton to look at its pavements. The town sits in an adverbially pretty part of North Yorkshire. The hills circling it are beautiful in any and every weather. Clad in deep frost, light snow and low winter light they looked picture perfect.

It was then that light dawned about why John stayed in Yorkshire; why he went back after studying at Newcastle. He only had to look out of the window - any number of times a day - to know he had chosen well. The way the hills looked on that cold December morning showed how smart John was to stay and what he had seen that I, and others, had missed. And left behind.

But John didn't. That was why he stayed, I think. He had everything he needed; family, friends, a sense of belonging. Enough for anyone. For someone as rootless and faithless as me the sense of his choice, why he did not want to change, was hard to appreciate. But not now. Now I know why. And it makes me miss him all the more. If that were possible. My good friend, my oldest friend, John Pullan is dead.

Back to the future

As is traditional I'll start with a look back at the last 12 months to see how I did. In December 2007 I set myself some big objectives for 2008 which included writing at least nine stories, making a pro-sale and joining the Codex Writing Group.

How did I fare?

I managed to write six in total and had two others almost finished by the end of the year - so I almost hit that target but not quite. And it is actual rather than almost that matters so I was way off. Given the lack of output I didn't make a pro-sale either. I got close. I've had nice rejection letters from some of the finest genre publications. Many, many times I've got the 'good, but not for us' letter or e-mail back with a rejection. It's rejectomancy to read too much into that but I'm looking for crumbs here so I'll take that as progress. No pro-sale meant no joining the Codex Group either.

On the upside I did have two stories published in 2008. One of which I'm getting paid for. And that is progress. In each of the three previous years I've only had one published. Both were accepted much faster when they were taken on too. That's definitely progress. I managed to put out the same number of stories despite only writing until August when work went crazy and the writing stopped.

I long ago realised that if I do anything well, it's start. And so last year proved. Though seven months of start is a sign of a certain amount of dedication.

Turning to this year. What can I do? I guess re-iterate my goals for last year. Try to write a story a month but do at least nine. Make a pro-sale. Join Codex. And I'll add another one. Don't quit.

See you in 12 months for the reckoning.

Back to basics

I know I'm coming late to this but Lynne Truss's book "Eats Shoots and Leaves" is an absolute delight. I mentioned before that one reviewer made me feel giddy when I realised what a difference correct punctuation made to one passage but the feeling was short lived and has only been repeated as I read Ms Truss's book. Not only is it full of rules for the correct use of punctuation but it makes it clear what all the various marks are supposed to do.

One of the most striking sentences in the book is the description of punctuation as: "a courtesy designed to help readers to understand a story without stumbling." I had a real "man with the teeth opening the door" moment (Thanks, Ken) when I read that. Later in the book she talks about the feelings that good punctuation is supposed to provoke in the reader and I had another of those moments. I can now see how useful it can be in writing; how it can make improve what is said; how it can help. (Look at that - two semi-colons in a sentence. Astonishing.)

I suspect Ms Truss must be close in age to myself as she speaks of going through school and never having had any of the punctuation explained to her. Like me. She declares herself a stranger to subordinate clauses. Like me. But I guess that is grammar rather than punctuation but at least now I know the difference.

I suspect I'll have to re-read it to get the full benefit, and maybe copy out the rules, but I feel encouraged by how straight-forward she makes it seem. Doubtless it is not quite as clear-cut as she suggests but at least the basics are a bit clearer now.

Understanding Mildred

I think I've already written about my affection for Of Human Bondage by WS Maugham - now I come to think of it I don't think there is any other book, apart from LOTR, that I've re-read so many times. Pride and Prejudice? Tess? HMS Surprise? Hmm. Not sure.

Anyway I recently re-read it and it confirmed all my best hopes like it always does. What makes it a great book is that every time I read it I discover something new in it. For a long time I've admired its control of character, use of language and how it engenders sympathy for Philip. Although giving him a club foot and making him an orphan looks a bit obvious even to a newbie such as myself.

Anyhoo, this time around it struck me that what gives the book its power is that some of the incidents in it are so well tied to the stage in Philip's life at which they occur. Mildred's destruction of all Philip's property has to happen because in doing that she severs his link with his past - which she represents. By destroying his possessions she forces him to start anew and launches him on that track. After this incident Philips' life slowly, with one major downturn, starts to pick up. He becomes reconciled to who he is and starts to swim well in the stream of life.

For a long time though I just did not get why she did it apart from it being one with her narrow, vindictive character. Which is another reason why its a great book. Not only do the incidents underscore the broader story of Philips journey through life they are also utterly in tune with the characters of the people carrying them out. I'm not sure how many times I've read OHB but I'm betting that 2008 was by no means the last.

And we're back

August 13th. Ooof. I'll blame crazy times at work for the hiatus. I don't propose to bore anyone with the details instead I'll bore allcomers with more entries. Don't say you weren't warned.