Hornblower and the Monsters from Space

Well, no, that's not really the title of a book (though it probably should be). I'm actually looking for a bit of help here.

A few years ago I was in a bookshop, a very good one in the UK that's now sadly been eaten up, digested and ejected by a bigger chain. It had little notes scattered around the shelves where staff had their current picks and favourites. One of the recent releases was about a man-of-war sailing ship in the 19th century, but mixed up with fantasy elements: sorry, can't remember the details, just that it sounded really good. I love both naval historical fiction and fantasy books, so this worked for me.

I didn't buy it.

"Why?" you ask, incredulously. "Blowed if I know", I reply.

Anyway, if you happen to have read this book, please, please drop a note in the comments to let me know what it is. The correct answer wins a signed copy of our first physical book, when and if we get one finished and published.

Over to you...

The best fiction of the Twentieth Century?

The Folio Society Edition

Over the last three years, I've been re-reading the Aubrey/Maturin novels of Patrick O'Brian. The Folio Society reissued them as a beautiful run of illustrated hardbacks, and despite owning the set already (twice...), the new editions were too good to miss. The books have sustained me through many a long-haul flight. Coincidentally, I stumbled across some first editions of the books recently, and had to restrain myself from bankruptcy. 

These are astonishingly good books: fantastic works of prose, meticulous in the detail of the period, and simply some of the best works of fiction ever written. Don't just take my word for it.

The books are set in the British Navy during the Napoleonic wars, and follow the fortunes of Jack Aubrey, a naval Captain, and his friend Stephen Maturin, a surgeon and spy. The range of storytelling that O'Brian wraps into that framework is amazing, from the obligatory naval battles to prison breaks in Paris to a trial for Stock Exchange fraud. Many of the stories are based on or set around historical events.

O'Brian published 20 Aubrey/Maturin books in his life. The twenty-first, untitled and unfinished book was published after his death: three Chapters that he had typewritten, and some pages of handwritten drafts. Because the books have a continuous narrative running through each of the individual tales, it's better to have these pages than not at all, though it makes for a greater poignancy than if book 20 had been the end of the story.

Buy from Amazon: The Final Unfinished Voyage of Jack Aubrey

One of the things about the presentation of the two versions of the text in the volume I have of 21 is seeing O'Brian at work as a writer. The words change from his handwritten draft to the typewritten version (and it's observed that he would almost certainly have revised and re-revised even further), always for the better. It's a real lesson to budding writers about the need to rewrite and revise and polish and polish and polish in order to make a text the best it can be.

O'Brian's works will outlive most of the fiction of the last century, because it's as near to perfection as he could make it. If you haven't experienced one of his books, now is the time to change that.

For me, it's back to the start with Master and Commander for my next trip away. Can't wait!

Buy from Amazon: The Complete Aubrey/Maturin Novels

Beautiful books

Season's greetings to all of our readers. We hope that you're both well...

Book cover by Slightly Foxed

I had a nice bumper crop of books for Christmas. I'll review them in good time, but right now I want to wax lyrical about some absolutely gorgeous books that arrived in my stocking and under the tree.

The first is the Complete Calvin and Hobbes set. If you haven't heard of Calvin and Hobbes, then welcome to Earth and stay clear of Chernobyl unless your species is radiation-tolerant. C&H is one of the best of all the long-running newspaper cartoons. Not long-enough running in my view: the artist, Bill Watterson, gave up exhausted after battling the constraints imposed by newspaper editors who would cut sections out of his beautifully-drawn cartoons so as not to put any effort into their page layouts. Shame on them.

Anyway, the collection was a real surprise. Incredibly weighty, astonishingly high quality printing, and each book separated from the others by a paper slip case. Wow. That's attention to detail.

The other one is from a company that I've had my eye on for a while, a London bookshop that has branched out into publishing new, limited-run editions of out-of-print books (https://foxedquarterly.com/home/books/). I read a review of them a few months ago, focussing on the binding of their books, which are really things of beauty: hand finished, lovely quality, and the cover embossed with their logo. At £20 each, they're a bargain. (I'm not on commission here!) I've been watching their catalogue for a while, and a book popped up that caught my fancy: Period Piece, a memoir of turn-of-the century Cambridge written by Gwen Raverat, Charles Darwin's grand-daughter. I'll leave the last word to her, describing the river Cam at the time:

"I can remember the smell very well, for all the sewage went into the river, till the town was at last properly drained when I was about ten years old. There is a tale of Queen Victoria being shown over Trinity by the Master, Dr Whewell, and saying, as she looked down over the bridge: "What are all those pieces of paper floating down the river?" To which, with great presence of mind, he replied: "Those, ma'am, are notices that bathing is forbidden".

Period Piece, by Gwen Raverat

20,000 hits (under the sea)

Thanks to y'all out there (see, I can write like Jay, too), we've now hit 20,000, ummm, hits.

Yippee!

As a celebration, we're going to give the blog a bit of a spring clean, weeding out those old posts written in a drunken stupor at 2 am, sprucing up the ones that were neglected over a holiday season, and proudly polishing for re-reading (y)our favourites.

The blog started off following a conversation between me and Jay about Fifty Shades, leading to some hugely popular posts poking fun at that book and puzzling over written erotica in general. Well, we've moved on since then to much more interesting and enjoyable stuff, so we have a new strap line and we'll be burning those embarrassing photos from the past. Sorry, posts.

Thanks for staying with us this far. We'll keep sharing our love of books, and hopefully, before too long, you'll be able to criticise the ones that we're writing right at this moment. Aren't you, Jay?

What should I read next?

Earlier this year Nik introduced me to the Jasper Fforde “Thursday Next” series, where books are a commodity, policed by Literary Detectives, and Jurisfiction rules BookWorld. I’m up to the fourth book in the series and already looking forward to numbers five and six, but looking ahead, what will I read after these?

I picked up so many books on my last trip to Europe: titles and authors that aren’t readily available (and nearly as cheap!) in many US bookshops, especially secondhand: Colin Dexter, Josephine Tey, PG Wodehouse, etc. And I brought back a crapton of my childhood books from my Mom’s house this year, too, titles like The Indian in the Cupboard and Escape to Witch Mountain and The Cricket in Times Square.

But I’m really liking the quirky, funky, upbeat vibe that Fforde creates, especially for light summer reading. So what should I read next? Dilemma? Maybe not. 

There’s an app for that! Just input a title or author you really enjoy into WhatshouldIreadnext.com, and the magic of the Internet produces a list! 

But how good is the list? Let’s give it a looksee:

---

Trial 1: I started with the first title in the Fforde series, The Eyre Affair. Here are the first 5 suggestions:

1. Robert Rankin: The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse
2. Connie Willis: Bellwether
3. Andrew Lang, HJ Ford, and GP Jacomb Hood: The Blue Fairy Book
4. Rosemary Rowe: The Legatus Mystery
5. Connie Willis: Lincoln’s Dreams

Looks somewhat promising! I’ve heard of the first but haven’t read it. From the descriptive blurb: “a town where toys and nursery rhymes come to life and pursue human activities.” Perfect!

And two Connie Willis titles, neither that I’ve heard of. I’ve read – and really enjoyed – Willis’ time travel books, especially Doomsday Book. But I didn’t care at all for Passage a kind of medical thriller thing she wrote. Bellwether and Lincoln’s Dreams seem like maybes: don't think I'll go out of my way to look for them, but if I see them secondhand I'll pick them up.

The third is kind of a dud: not a bad book and nothing against fairy tales (at least "fairy" is spelled correctly, see below), but not what I’m looking for. 

The fourth is a complete unknown, but the blurb isn’t drawing me in: "investigative exploits of Libertus—former slave and amateur sleuth—this is ancient history with a murderous twist." Meh.

Conclusion: 3/5 stars. One definite, 2 maybes, 2 nahs.

---

Trial 2: Let’s try again. Another book I’ve read recently and absolutely adored is Chuck Wendig’s Blackbirds. Let’s see what whatshouldireadnext.com comes up with based on this title:

1. Caitlin Kittredge: Soul Trade
2. Seanan McGuire: Ashes of Honor
3. Terri Windling et al.: The Essential Bordertown
4. Mira Grant: Deadline
5. Seanan McGuire: One Salt Sea

Wow, a list of completely new-to-me authors! After 3 minutes of Googling, though, I’m not drawn in. Descriptions for the McGuire/Grant (same author, different names) use the word “faerie” and the Windling book has elves. Blecch. (Yeah, it’s a personal bias and probably not quite rational, but I just can’t stand this word “faerie” and I’m not keen on elves.) 

Conclusion: Epic fail. 

---

Trial 3: Ok, one more and then I promise to stop. Rivers of London by Ben Aaronovitch:

1. Mary Wesley: The Camomile Lawn
2. Charles Stross: Singularity Sky
3. Terry Prachett (sic): Soul Music
4. Gail Carriger: Soulless
5. Richard Morgan: Woken Furies

60 second analysis because I'm starting to lose interest in this app: Wesley writes about wartime London, including “new-found comforts of sex” (thank you, Amazon) so adding it to the "maybe" list. The books by Stross and Morgan look to be futuristic-y space scifi, not really what I’m looking for. I’ve not read any Prachett or even Pratchett (amazing the near similarity of the authors’ names), but I have the first of the Discworld novels in my to-read pile already. The fourth on the list, Soulless, is a “comedy of manners set in Victorian London: full of werewolves, vampires, dirigibles, and tea-drinking.” Worth looking for, I think.

Conclusion: 3/5 stars

So overall, although whatshouldireadnext.com is fun to play around with when you're killing time on the 'net, when it comes to book suggestions, I’ll stick with Nik. He never lets me down.

Graphic by Master isolated images at freedigitalphotos.net.

Damn you, Ben Aaronovitch

Listen, dude. Because of you, I’ve stumbled around in a sleepy stupor every morning this week. Because of you, I’ve slurped down cup after cup of coffee, tossed the kids Pop-Tarts® straight from the box, and crossed my fingers that my officemates won’t notice my questionable hygiene. My eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep and I’m pretty sure the state of my kitchen is illegal in at least 27 states. Maybe more. 

I can’t put down your books.

It started innocently enough when Nik turned me on to a couple of your New Doctor Who Adventures novels. I tore through The Also People in a few days, completely swept away by the story. I was less successful with Transit, although no fault of yours – I’ve misplaced it more times than I can count. Which, now that I’m thinking about it, is kind of odd. 

But it’s your Peter Grant series, dude, that’s totally done me in.

Did I mention I can’t stop reading them? The only reason I’m even able to write this post is because I dragged myself away from Whispers Under Ground and into the office, where even now, I can’t get Whispers out of my head.

For those of you who haven’t yet read Aaronovitch’s completely addictive series - Rivers of London⁽¹⁾, Moon Over Soho, Whispers Under Ground, and just out last month, Broken Homes ⁽²⁾ - Nik’s posted his reviews of the first two here: River of London & Moon Over Soho

The series is based in London and features Police Constable Peter Grant⁽³⁾, who works for a branch of the Metropolitan Police that handles unusual cases. Unusual as in paranormal and supernatural.⁽⁴⁾ Like river gods and goddesses, jazz vampires, angry ghosts, and truly gruesome monsters who do truly gruesome things. Where magic’s made a comeback, both the good kind and the bad.

Aaronovitch’s style is light and funny and witty: think Doug Adams or Jasper Fforde or David Wong (without all the bad words). He doesn’t dwell and the stories move fast, but there’s always enough detail to complete the picture. I’m absolutely addicted.

And if this wasn’t bad enough, I’ve just learned from Ben's blog (Temporarily Significant) that:

(a) Rivers of London has been optioned for TV (no dates yet); and 

(b) Ben’s working on Peter Grant #5!

 I might never leave my home again.

(1) Released as Midnight Riot in the US. Because, ummm, why?

(2) I’m horrified to discover that it won’t be released in North America until next February, no doubt to leave time to think up a suitable title for the New World. Something with guns and cowboy boots, perhaps. Must sweet talk Nik into bringing me over a copy.

(3) Constable is the starting rank for police officers in the UK. It seems a bit redundant to prefix “constable” with the work “police”  - like calling an Army officer “Army Lieutenant” instead of just Lieutenant, or calling a fireman “Fireman Captain” – but I suppose it helps to differentiate from all the other types of constables running around over there.

(4) Supernatural vs paranormal, what’s the diff? I’m glad you asked. I’ve wondered the same.

Rivers of London

Available here from Amazon

I had a lucky find recently. 

Yes, I know this a bit of a theme for this blog. One can draw one of four conclusions: 1) Since starting this blog I've had a lot of lucky finds; 2) I'm very lucky naturally; 3) I lie about my lucky finds; 4) I can't count to three. 

Only I know that 3 is untrue, which of 1 or 2 applies you'll have to apply to the goddess Fate for an adjudication. 

I've previously written about books I love by Ben Aaronovitch, a Doctor Who scriptwriter and novelist from an age ago. I was shopping for birthday books with my children recently when I spotted in the bookshop two – yes, count them, two! – new-ish novels by Mr A. 

Reader, I bought them. 

This is a review of the first one, Rivers of London. In the true spirit of abject non-objectivity that characterises this blog, I'm already part-way through the second one. I'm also seething furious about the fact that whilst I thought I'd picked up the books for a song on offer at £12 (call it $18) for the pair, as soon as I was lyrical to Jay she waltzes off and picks them up for about £5. Well, the next time she begs me to be let into my hotel room for adult companionship, she will have to look elsewhere. Which I can write in the confident knowledge that there's never been any such begging to date...

Rivers of London is great. It's a story that absolutely lives and breathes London as a city: Jay will have to help me out here once she's read it, to counterbalance my semi-local knowledge.  Perhaps there's a bit too much London in places, but overall it's a lovely story that mixes magic and modern policing. 

I don't think it has the sheer confidence and exuberance of Ben's earlier Doctor Who novels, but I liked it nonetheless. Liked, not adored. A brilliant holiday read, but I may not go back to it.  Oh, and you can testify, I hope, that the title of our second book is and has been "Magic" for some time. Mr Aaronovitch has clearly read my finished book and used time travel to steal some of the ideas. Well, sunshine, all I can say is that my lawyers have watched Doctor Who too, and I've kept a log of dates. Unless you can have me assassinated last month, I'll be gunning for you. 

Once I've finished writing the book.

Choosing books for advanced readers

One of these things is not like the other...

Creepy kids, haunting black and white photographs, an abandoned orphanage on a mysterious Welsh island, and…a Yo Mama joke that references oral sex? As they sing on Sesame Street, one of this things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong…*

Choosing books for advanced readers isn’t always easy.  Although as bright kids they have the skill to read at a particular level, not all books at that level will interest them or have story lines or language appropriate for their actual ages.

So as an admittedly overprotective mom obsessive about preserving my childrens’ childhoods as long as I possibly can, I cringed when I got to this line during a pre-read of Ransom Riggs’ NY Times #1 Best Seller Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children:

Jacob: Were you just smoking and chewing tobacco at the same time?

Ricky: What are you, my mom?

Jacob: Do I look like I blow truckers for food stamps?”

Why, Mr Riggs, why? I can’t for the life of me figure out why this line ended up in a kids book. Yes, I understand that Jacob is troubled, and that by saying something so shocking to Ricky, he loses his only friend. But surely the author could’ve come up with an equally friendship-ruining scene that didn’t include the phrase “blow truckers”?

Now I know that with Jacob being 16, this book is aimed at teens, not pre-teens. But I still think this particular line is a black smudge in an otherwise absolutely fabulous read.

And it is fabulous, truly. After a family tragedy, Jacob, with his father in tow, journeys to Wales in a quest for truth and understanding. He finds the orphanage, long abandoned now, where his Jewish grandfather lived during the war along with a host of other “peculiar” children. But as he soon discovers, not everything is as it seems. Not on the island nor in his everyday life, either.

Adding to the story are a series of stunning vintage photographs of the residents of Miss Peregrine’s Home. Riggs obtained them (the photos, not the actual orphans) from private collections and most are presented unaltered. They’re a key part of the story as well, not just illustrations, and add a definite otherworldliness to the narrative.

So as much as I enjoyed the book, will I give Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children to my 10 year old to read? Nope, not yet, I’m thinking junior high at the earliest. 

But what do you think? Is it silly to set aside an otherwise amazing book due to two poorly chosen words?

* This is how we sang it back in the day, when Bert and Ernie shacked up happily and cookies weren’t just a “sometimes” food. I think somewhere along the way the lyrics changed from “just doesn’t belong” to “are not the same.” Sigh.

Outta My Head

Since Jay and I are having a blitz on these books at the moment, I thought I'd carry on with the next review. I was also a bit miffed at the fact that her reviews (Book Musing: When Characters Seem Too Old) are better than mine, but I'm not sure that I can do anything about that...

The third book in Jonathan Gash's Bonn/Burtonall series is Die Dancing. 

I've read many, many books in my life. Most have them have faded in my memory, and I have to admit, rather ashamedly, that I probably couldn't tell you the plot of a great many of them, even ones that I've read within the last ten years. I enjoy them at the time, but I often read very quickly, and so they don't stick. 

However, there are certain scenes, phrases and vignettes from books I've read that stick vividly in my memory. Maybe I'll write about some of them later, to explore it a bit more. The reason I bring it up now, though, is that Die Dancing contains one of them. 

I suppose it's a fairly nasty scene, all told. A politician is killed by being thrown from a moving train; but it's not particularly graphic or gruesome. Or is it? The killer doesn't actually just throw out the victim, he holds him out of the door and swings him under the train to make sure. So there's no doubt that that's the end of the chap. It is the details like this that mean I remember it long after the first reading. The killer chuckling to himself before the deed, and turning the laugh into an emphysemic cough to gain the sympathy of an old lady sitting near. The ineffectual watching of the police, checking the train at each station. 

Gash's punchy, rich prose really carries scenes like this, avoiding the wordiness that can simply get in the way of telling the story. So again, this is a great book, and you can safely add it to your list for summer reading. 

Amazon: Die Dancing

There are still the inconsistencies in the editing to frustrate the nitpickers. Jay has gone to town on the characters' apparent ages. There's also an odd thing going on about just how often the male goers take on clients: it seems to be several daily, but then we're told it's only one. Then it's clearly several again. And do they use, ummm, protection, or not? Lets leave that one for now...

I'm going to move on to the final one as soon as I can find it on the bookshelf.  

Book Musing: When Characters Seem Too Old

Nik’s post on Jonathan Gash’s Prey Dancing got me a-thinking: what makes a character read “old” (older than the author intended, presumably)? Words, actions, setting? All of the above?

Like Nik, I was completely surprised to find out that the main characters in Prey Dancing are only in their 20s:  Clare, the doctor, is 28, while Bonn, the mail prostitute, is 20. They read much older than this. I’d pegged Clare at mid-forties and Bonn at early-thirties.

To me, Clare reads older for three main reasons:

1. She has a servant. Well, a housekeeper. But the type that fixes the meals, including tea, and basically runs the household. The type who has the final word on all things house-related and with whom one darest not argue. Maybe it’s a cultural thing, but for me, twenty-something yuppies (do people still say yuppy?) don’t have servants. They’re for people in their forties.

2. She’s amazingly well-established in her profession. I might have the timeline wrong for Britain, but in the States, one graduates from college with a degree in pre-med about 22 or 23, then possibly a year for the MCAT and applications, and then another 4 years of medical school. So upon entering a residency program, one would be about 26 to 28 years. Residency length varies by specialty, but is typically 3-7 years, sometimes followed by a 1-4 year fellowship for certain fields.

Assuming Clare was on the fastest possible track to a basic GP - no year off, minimal residency, no fellowship - she’d have been 25 when she started practicing. I suppose now that I’ve done the math I can see how she could be an established physician at age 28, but that’s definitely not the typical path.

3. She’s astonishingly confident, professionally. Given that she has at most 3 years of real doctoring under her belt, Clare stands up to the nursing staff like she’s run the place for decades. Which isn’t necessarily odd - she could be a supremely confident young woman - except she’s not. Her husband manipulates her to a criminal extent and she crumbles under Bonn (although, to be fair, perhaps that’s more him than her). 

Ah, Bonn. The ultimate female fantasy, able to deliver to a woman exactly what she needs and how she needs it. Able to read a woman, understand her, pleasure her. Pleasure so good that she’s willing to pay for it. Sorry Mr. Gash, but unless things were different in 1998 Britain (and if so, get me to a TARDIS stat), I’m just not buying a 20 year-old’s ability to perform to this degree. Call me ageist, but I just don’t find an almost-still-a-teenager uber-lover a believable character. Now, I’m willing to be proved wrong (wink wink), but in my mind, I’m keeping Bonn at 32.

So what do you think? Does a dichotomy between projected age and actual age bother you as a reader? Do you take it at face value and move on? Drop the book? Or simply rewrite their ages in your mind and get on with it?

Amazon: Prey Dancing

Prey Dancing

Amazon: Prey Dancing by Jonathan Gash

Following hot on the heels of Different Women Dancing, I went through the sequel, Prey Dancing, like a dose of salts. It helped that it was the Easter break, but I do find this series to be real page-turners.

The second novel builds on the first. There are ongoing plot strands running through, but this one has a more clearly self-contained story within it, about gangland violence between rival drug dealers.

What’s good about it? The immersion in the criminal underworld again, with all its associated slang. I like how the violence and reprisals are carefully planned out, so the underworld doesn’t have to be intruded upon by the world of law and order. The violence is generally graphic, but not brutally so.

I don't know whether I'm showing my age, but I wonder whether the characters, pretty much all in their early 20s, sometimes seem a bit too old and well, wise. Maybe that's a reflection of growing up fast on the streets.

All-in-all, I really enjoyed re-reading this. I’ll be straight on to the next book once I’m reunited with my library!

I do have to reiterate a niggle from the first book, though, about the editing. Near the start, Clare Burtonall (the novels are called the “Dr Clare Burtonall" series, and of all the characters I wonder why she gets the lead billing!) has a pillow-talk conversation with Bonn, the goer, and asks about “pollen”: a slang term for drugs. Bonn knows the word but doesn’t let on, and then a short time later we have him asking someone what it means. Come on, Mr Editor! We’re busy authors, help us out here!

Different Women, Different Reader, Different Review

My six year old’s teacher has the kids use the “five finger method” for finding a “just right” book to read. Here’s how it works:

1. Choose a book that looks interesting.
2. Read the first page.
3. Hold up a finger for each word you don’t know or are not quite sure about.
4. If you have one finger up (or none), the book is too easy. Two to three fingers up means it’s just right.  Four, and you should give it a go (or try another page) but it might be a little challenging. Five or more fingers, choose an easier book.

Okay then. Nik's pick of Different Women Dancing by Jonathan Gash. 1998 edition, page one:

• Finger 1: Stringers - Not the type one uses in buildings, I’m guessing by the context, as these are referred to as girl stringers. Or maybe it’s a girl building? Or a boy building with girl parts?

• Finger 2: Temazepam flogger - Who is Temazepam and why is the poor guy being flogged? Or maybe he's read too much Shade of Grey and wants his turn under the flogger? 

• Finger 3: Yellow jellies - Mmm, jelly!

• Finger 4: Standers - Someone who stands? But it's used in a more sinister way, “the standers caught them," so like some sort of standing spider creature that catches people?

• Finger 5: Locum - used in different place as an adjective, a noun, and a verb! So one could have a locum doing locum at a locum locum?

So five fingers up and feeling very under-educated for this book. But Nik assured me it’s worth the read (see his post, "Different Women Dancing"), so I got a good night’s sleep, laid off the red wine, and tried again. And it was, most definitely, worth the read.

It turns out the reader isn’t supposed to know some of the words right away, like “stringers” and “standers.” These are particular aspects of the underworld syndicate upon which the story is based and their meaning comes out through the narrative. The story is captivating, following Dr. Clare Burtonall as she digs deeper and deeper into the workings of the city’s underground, trying to discover what her husband is hiding. The new words keep coming and coming, but the story’s so strong and the context so revealing that within just a few pages the new terms stopped tripping me up. (Plus Gash includes a definition at the start of each subsequent chapter for the slower folk amongst us.)

As for the rest of the not-just-right words from page one, here’s what the Google revealed:

• Temazepam is a prescription sleep medication, also used as no-go pills for military pilots.

• Googling flogger gets you mostly BDSM links but…umm…where was I? Oh yeah, informally it’s an aggressive salesperson.

• Yellow jellies brings up both Spongebob sandals and illegal drugs. I'm thinking Gash meant the latter.

• A locum is what we’d call a sub in the States, “a person who temporarily fulfills the duties of another.”  So a sub could be subbing as a sub teacher, got it.

Different Women Dancing

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I’m a big fan of Jonathan Gash. A recent post here ("Very Public Diary of a Call Girl") reviewed a book that’s rumored to be one of his first pieces of writing: an autobiographical account of prostitution. 

I’ve just finished re-reading Different Women Dancing, the first novel in a series of four set in the world of crime and prostitution in a northern English city (it’s Manchester, though that’s never actually explicitly stated). In fact, I wish there were a lot more in the series. Gash wrote 20-odd “Lovejoy” novels, set in the world of antiques crime, and I think this is his only other series, other things he wrote being one-offs. Gash is retired now (he was a medical doctor when not writing great fiction), so maybe there’s no chance of more to come. If you’re reading this, Mr Gash, I’d really appreciate just one more, please?

Different Women Dancing’s a fantastic read. There’s various things I like about it:

1. The complete immersion in the slang terminology. Each Chapter comes with a definition: “Goer: a male hired by a female for sexual purposes”. The main protagonist is Bonn, a goer who was a former seminarian, which makes for some interesting narrative.
2. The fact that the book plays out almost as an assemblage of scenes, with the plot going on in the background. I like books like this: it somehow seems more like a reflection of real life.
3. The fact that the book is definitely the start of a series. I mean that in the sense that at the end of the book, there are still things happening in various plot threads. Very little has been completely resolved, and there is more still to happen. Again, a bit like life!

I only have one very minor niggle, which really mustn’t stop you reading the book. Towards the end, there’s a conversation on one page which a character plays back differently just a couple of pages later. I had to flick back and check “no, she didn’t say that”. So come on, Mr Editor. In fairness, if I’d stopped at the end of a Chapter and had a break I probably wouldn’t have noticed. It’s little glitches like that, “continuity errors” as they’re known on TV, that are rare enough to be surprising when they occur.

Jay read this one, too, so over to her soon for a better review than this!

So an adverb walks into a prologue...

“This is the account of six months in the life of Snip Freeman, a woman who turned her back on a man who was drowning. She was a painter with a waitressing problem, a wanderer…She wasn’t anchored, she touched the earth lightly, she’d visit a place and find a man and a studio and a scrap of a job until the zing of uncertainty pulled her on.”

Thus begins Alice Springs, the second novel (originally published as Cleave) by Australian author Nikki Gemmell.

And with these few lines - in a Prologue, off all places - I was hooked. Here’s why:

1. Curiosity: Who is the drowning man? Is the drowning literal or metaphorical? Why did she turn her back, and did he actually drown afterward? I’m insatiably curious and I need to know!

2. Resonance: Sometimes a book rings so true that I absolutely have to see what happens. In Alice Springs, the female wanderer, the woman who moves from place to place, pulled by the “zing of uncertainty,” that’s me! Before I had my children, I’d never lived in any one city or town for more than a couple of years, the longest stretch being college (split across two schools in different states). I’ve always been drawn to the lure of the unknown, the possibilities, the what-could-happens of a new place. With the arrival of kids though, my priorities have shifted and I now have a home base, a house in the suburbs in a good school district. And as they’ve gotten older we trek together on little adventures, slowly branching out from hikes through local parks to day trips to overnights to week-long excursions in exotic-ish locales. And I love it, I do, but to follow the siren song of the open road for even just a few hours, pure bliss.

3. Rebellion: I read a lot of writing advice, probably too much at times, using it as busywork when my writing doesn’t flow. And three of the many oft-repeated tips are  (1) no prologues, (2) no adverbs, and (3) show, don’t tell. Gemmell happily breaks every one of these “rules” in the first few sentences, and it really works. Had she chosen to plunge into the tale with Chapter 1 - a backstory of Snip as a kid - I’m not sure I would’ve been so drawn in. Sometimes you have to tell it how it is, in a prologue, with a carefully chosen adverb or two. You just do.

So roped in by the first few words, I brought home the book from the library and was mostly not disappointed. It gets a little bogged down in description - beautiful, poetic prose mind you, but perhaps a little too much of a good thing. But overall a good story with absolutely stellar intimate scenes, Gemmell’s forte for sure. Not raunchy or raw, for the most part - I’ll get to those in my review of The Bride Stripped Bare, coming soon - but expertly written scenes of basic human interaction and emotion. Loved it.

The Joy of Lexicons

I was in my local library yesterday, and came across a real find. The library was selling off donated books to raise funds, with the last few being reduced to 50p each. On the bottom shelf were two old volumes of The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary. 

Brilliant! I've wanted a copy of the Shorter Oxford for years. The "Shorter" is a relative term: the full OED is a 20-volume, $1000 monster, so you have to be using some pretty obscure words to need it! The Shorter itself is $100 on a good day, so even though it's an old edition, this was a real find. 

I recall my earliest fascination with dictionaries began with the battered one my mother used to keep next to her chair, to help with the crossword. I decided to read every word and its definition, from the beginning, but was stymied when I was roundly chastised for crossing through the ones I'd completed with a pencil. So I can tell you what an aardvark is, but I'm hazy as to abalone. 

I've always liked the Oxford English Dictionary, as it maintains the traditional usage and spellings: like realize rather than realise. There's a misconception that the former is an Americanization, but it's actually the latter that is a recent corruption, from French influence in words like compromise. 

I've come to like the Chamber's dictionary as well, mainly because it's the one favoured by crossword composers (Colin Dexter says that crosswords are composed, not compiled!), so it tends to confirm whether or not you've landed on the right answer to a clue better than the OED. 

The Shorter Oxford is a mine of information (OK, probably useless information) about the etymology and history of words. I may not use it often, but I'm delighted to have a copy on the shelf.   

The 20-Volume Oxford English Dictionary

The Breastfeeder's Guide to Management

Years ago I worked with a guy who lined his office with trendy leadership books, stuff like “It’s Your Ship: Management Techniques from the Best Damn Ship in the Navy” and “Leadership Secrets of Attila the Hun.” Seriously, he had like fifty of them at one point, all lined up nice and neat, spines perfectly aligned. They were the first thing you saw when you entered his space. To give him credit, he had actually read them all, but displaying them so prominently afterwards (“I’m a leader, look at all my leadership books!”) just seemed kind of cheesy. 

So to amuse ourselves (and because we weren’t all that busy) we used to slip one or two of our own picks in between “Leadership Sopranos Style” and “Lincoln on Leadership.” Classics like “Dr. Mom’s Guide to Breastfeeding” and “More Joy: An Advanced Guide to Solo Sex.” Ah, the good old days before sexual harassment in the workplace became a bad thing.

Now I don’t think anyone’s been tampering with my shelves at home - that would be paranoid, right? - although I do have the occasional whackjob crashing my guest room (no names, I love them, weirdness and all, the same people who have been known to add “afrosheen” and “drinkable sausage” to my shopping list on the fridge, you know who you are.) And really, upon reflection, isn’t it better to imagine someone stealthily placing books on my shelves than to face the possible slippage of my already diminishing mental faculties?

Anyway, the point is, today when I was looking to wile away the afternoon with some hardcore sci fi (settled on The Day of the Triffids), I came across a handful of books that I didn’t recollect at all (cue spooky music). Nothing, nada, not a single memory, however slight.

Please tell me this happens to you, too, on occasion?

Here’s what I found:

NIST Thermodynamic and Transport Properties of Refrigerants and Refrigerant Mixtures by the US Secretary of Commerce on behalf of the United States of America. 

WTF? I can honestly tell you that I’ve never seen this publication in my life, and that the reference to the US government kind of creeps me out. 

But for those of you who are interested in not just refrigerants, but also refrigerant mixtures, this is the book for you! It covers various properties, including thermodynamics, surface tension, and even conductivity. Yee haw!

For Women Only, A Revolutionary Guide to Reclaiming Your Sex Life by Jennifer Berman, M.D. (urologist) and Laura Berman, PhD. (the real doctor’s sister, with a degree in sex therapy). 

First off, I didn’t realize my sex life was even missing. I’ve lost my car keys twice in the past three weeks and have a slew of single stockings awaiting their mates, but my sex life seems to be well, my business, for starters. But definitely not missing. Wink.

Although…having now skimmed through the Table of Contents (strictly for blog research, of course) perhaps it’s worth a quick read. I mean, are we ever too old to learn “How to Perform the Squeeze and Start-and-Stop Techniques for Early Ejaculation” (page 219)? I’ll get back to you in a bit…

Man of Two Worlds (original title Renaissance) by Raymond F. Jones

Nothing to mock here (yet), this could be a real find! From the cover, “He dared the Dark Land to bring Mankind rebirth.” Hmmm…

When it comes to science fiction, though, the real test for me, is page one. Let’s have a looksee, shall we?

“The first globe had set, and the lengthening shadows cast by the second sun were darkening the great hall of the Karildex. 

The mighty machine seemed crouched down in the half darkness, like some mammoth creature settling for the night. The purple sheen of its thousand metallic facets reflected the glowing firebursts that lit the sky from Fire Land.”

On the fence, but I’ll give it a go.

So what unknowns are lurking on your shelves? 

Very Public Diary of a Call Girl

A few weeks ago I was browsing a catalogue of second-hand books, and came across one called "Streetwalker"; subtitled "An autobiographical account of a prostitute". Not usually my thing: the whole "Secret Diary of a Call Girl" cult and its ilk hold no appeal for me. "Streetwalker" caught my eye because it has been attributed in authorship (maybe ghost authorship) to Jonathan Gash. Gash is a hugely prolific author, best known for the Lovejoy crime novels set in the world of antiques; he also wrote some excellent, excellent novels set in the world of prostitution. I think they're fantastic, and will write more about them and Gash's other books before too long. 

The book was a rather costly first edition, but I found a more affordable copy of a later impression. A nice old hardback, with a testimonial on the cover from Sir John Wolfenden, author of a major government report in the UK in the 1950s that featured prostitution and led to the legalisation of homosexuality. 

So did Gash write "Streetwalker"? I've done considerable research* but it was inconclusive. The book reads more like fiction than fact. If it was written by Gash, I would guess that it has some basis in fact. It's not a great book. There's no hugely titillating sex, in fact the small amount of sex is glossed over. The protagonist's life comes across as pitiful, tawdry, and entirely unenviable; full of rejection, fear and violence. The book itself has the ring of fiction, but the story itself rings true. 

*  Research = I Googled it

   Extensive research = I used Wikipedia

   Considerable research = I Googled it and clicked on more than one link