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Barbara Taylor Bradford - Breaking The Rules out today

t5m — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 17:38:14 +0000

Emily Harte returns in the latest Harte family saga, 'Breaking The Rules' on sale in paperback today - March 4th from HarperCollins. Described as gripping story of 'courage, love and passion, treachey and triumph', Breaking The Rules follows a young woman who flees the English countryside for a new life in New York. Moving from New York to the chic fashion capitals of London and Paris, to the exotic locations of Istanbul and Hong Kong, this new tale from a renowned storyteller is a genuine page-turner For more exclusive interviews with Barbara Taylor Bradford check out her channel here on t5m.

How to Live: A Life of Montaigne in One Question and Twenty Attempts at an Answer by Sarah Bakewell

Nick Clarke — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 15:04:58 +0000

In Sarah Bakewell’s versatile, brilliant and joyful account of Michel de Montaigne’s life and work there is a quote from poet and author Leonard Woolf proposing the 16^th century French philosopher to be “the first completely modern man” with an “intense awareness of and passionate interest in the individuality of himself and all other human beings.” Reading Bakewell’s book, and Montaigne’s Essays themselves, one becomes acutely aware of exactly how modern he is, of quite how relevant he is today as he was some 350 years ago. The time that has elapsed since first committing his thoughts to paper seems to have concertinaed into the briefest of moments and his ambiguity, his uncertainty and his energy, his awe and innocent perplexity at the vagaries of life, remain entirely undimmed. They are, even in the swirling miasma of twenty-first century living, some of the most exciting and thrilling and instructive ideas one is likely to come across. Indeed, it is this notion that the Essays transcend history that, for Bakewell, makes them such important writings.

Not that Montaigne’s age was devoid of incident, far from it. Sixteenth century France was a nation beset by rebellion, war, religious enmity, fraught political infighting, domestic uprisings and a succession of weak and ineffectual monarchs; but it was also an age of great philosophical introspection and few were as introspective as Michel Eqyuem de Montaigne. It is this that made, and still today makes, Essays so captivating or, in the words of the man himself “both wild and extravagant”: the subject matter is, quite simply, the author himself. Montaigne spares no aspect of his life, however trivial, in the pursuit of some meaning, doing nothing more than merely inviting his readers to watch him think. It was as beautiful a conceit then as it is today and in his easy-going and accessible style he creates an intense familarity, disarming in his honesty ("I am free to give myself up to doubt and uncertainty, and to my predominant quality which is ignorance”) and appealing in his idiosyncrasies. The result is a free-flowing ramble, a saunter through the mind of a man who, by a series of incidents scattered across his lifetime (including the death of all but one of his children, that of his most cherished friend La Boétie to the plague and his own near-death experience in a riding accident) had learnt that the best way to deal with life’s episodic inconsistencies was simply happy acceptance, just to relax; what we might call today “letting it slide.” As he says himself, “the only thing certain is that nothing is certain.”

Bakewell, rightly, places this attitude firmly within the lineage of the Hellenistic philosophy of the Epicureans, Stoics and Sceptics and their collective encouragement of “mindfulness” through “equilibrium”, that is to say having complete control of one’s emotions – the goal should be happiness in this world (eudaimonia) not Heaven. But Montaigne extricates himself from the fanaticism, often violent, that can beset both philosophy and religion by remaining entirely grounded in the quotidian. It is an approach that would later drive some to distraction, notably Pascal and Descartes, but it is one that has ensured an unbreakable bond with the common reader. So, he writes on his forgetfulness, his cat’s role in his understanding of differing perspectives, liars, thumbs, “That we laugh and cry for the same thing”, smells, sleep, the scent on his moustache, pedantry, cannibals…the essays are as varied as they are simple. And they are more accomplished and relevant for it.

Bakewell’s thrust that Essays has passed through the ages undiminished is hard to dismiss. So much of what Montaigne concluded then, in that he concludes anything at all other then there are no simple conclusions, might help us to better grasp the violent shifts in today’s changing world should we choose to embrace it. The notion that the best way to tolerate randomness and uncertainty, to understand and engage with haughty ideologies that pass as universal codes of behaviour, to comprehend the multiplicity of the human condition, would be simply to suspend judgment is a wonderfully truthful one. And it is one that, while counterintuitive to a modern world where we are encouraged to seek out only definitive answers, should really command our attention. For this reason alone How to Live is a fantastic, enjoyable and enthralling primer into a world of relaxed thinking and tolerance and it, and of course the essays themselves, thoroughly deserve to reach as wide a readership as possible.

Image courtesy of Bridgeman Art Library

Tough choice for the Costa judges

Emma Lee-Potter — Wed, 27 Jan 2010 17:16:40 +0000

Goodness knows how the judges, an eclectic bunch who included the likes of model Marie Helvin and Spandau Ballet’s Gary Kemp, decided between the five writers vying for the 2009 Costa Book of the Year Award. Somehow they had to weigh up the respective merits of a novel set in 1950s New York, the account of a young Bangladeshi fleeing an arranged marriage, the biography of a physics genius, an anthology of poems written in tribute to the poet’s late wife and a children’s novel where the characters can hear each other’s thoughts. A tough call, but in the end (and by a “substantial majority”), they voted that this year’s award should go to poet Christopher Reid for A Scattering (Areté Books, £7.99), his heartrending tribute to his late wife, who died of cancer at the age of 55. His descriptions of her last few days, when he played Schubert to her, read her favourite Yeats and “cultivated my clumsy, husbandly bedside manner” are intensely moving and are sure to find a wider audience now Reid has won the £30,000 Costa prize. But if you haven’t read Colm Tóibín’s Brooklyn (Viking, £17.99), please beg, buy or borrow a copy. This beguiling novel made headlines when it beat Hilary Mantel’s Booker-prizewinning Wolf Hall to the coveted Costa novel award and I was rooting for it from the start. It’s the story of Eilis Lacey, a young girl who leaves small-town Ireland to find work in 1950s New York. An elegantly-written and tender story of love and loss, Brooklyn swiftly became the early favourite to scoop the overall prize – but sadly it wasn’t to be. The other finalists are well worth reading too, especially Raphael Selbourne’s Beauty (Tindal Street Press, £7.99). The winner of the Costa first novel award, Beauty was inspired by Selbourne’s experiences of teaching in Wolverhampton. Authentic and at times deeply shocking, it’s the gritty tale of Beauty Begum, a 20-year-old Bangladeshi girl who returns to England after escaping from an abusive arranged marriage to a man 30 years older. To my surprise, I found the fourth contender, Graham Farmelo’s The Strangest Man (Faber and Faber, £22.50), riveting. The reclusive Paul Dirac, who died in 1984, is said to be one of the greatest British physicists since Isaac Newton, yet few people have ever heard of him. And don’t miss The Ask and the Answer, the hard-hitting sequel to Patrick Ness’s award-winning The Knife of Never Letting Go. Set in a sinister world where men can hear each other think, it’s aimed at a teenage audience but it’s absolutely gripping.

When Children’s TV Gets Sex Right

Penelope Friday — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 11:54:04 +0000

I never thought I'd be quoting CBeebies to sum up my position on sex. It just shows what you may come to! But let me introduce you to the theme tune of children's television program 'Big and Small':- It doesn't matter if you're tiny or tall, It doesn't matter if you're BIG or SMALL. If you wanna have sex, it doesn't matter at all. Okay, I admit it. I might just have changed one word - a slight swap from 'fun' to 'sex' (and y'know, there's not a lot of difference there, really, sometimes!) - but the principle still stands. There's this idea that all erotic fiction is full of beautiful busty blondes, or dark-haired niobes who could seduce anyone in the blink of an eye, having sex with... let us say well-endowed men. Frankly? How dull it would be if it were true! How very much less of a population crisis we would have if it were true in real life, as well, mind you! But let us stick to fiction. It would be boring for readers - and most certainly for writers - if all we had was gorgeous heterosexual couples having gorgeous heterosexual sex. One doesn't need to go into great detail about the plainness of a character - in fact, most of my characters have partners who think that the characters are gorgeous - but let's branch out a bit here from the stereotypes of what constitutes male and female beauty. Men having first time, maybe awkward, sex with other men? Wheelchair using heroines seducing able-bodied men in their own special way? Stories which ignore the media's usual obsession with 'coupledom' and having happy polyamorous characters or menage fiction? You name it, I've probably written it - or if I haven't, I know someone who has! And it makes erotica all that much more interesting. It doesn't matter if you're big or small or plump or thin or male or female or queer or transgendered or heterosexual or bisexual or pansexual or gay or lesbian - if you wanna have sex, it doesn't matter at all. (But I can see that the brevity of 'Big and Small''s theme tune is rather more catchy!)

Jay McInerney’s “The Last Bachelor”

Chris Lochery — Thu, 07 Jan 2010 17:40:00 +0000

Of all the things that the world could do with a few hundred thousand less of, stories about naval-gazing, drug-using Manhattanite writers written by naval-gazing, drug-using Manhattanite writers should be amongst the first to be tossed in the fire. There seems to be vast swathes of literature these days that stick firmly to the advice “write what you know” and now all the characters that get the good lines, the funny thoughts and the enviable (if woefully tricky and tortured) lifestyles just so happen to writers. They’re all playwrights, poets, novelists, journalists, screenwriters - and it’s beyond tedious. These stories are all likely to be influenced - be it directly or indirectly - by Jay McInerney, arguably the man who made this whole thing fashionable with his novel Bright Lights, Big City. Yet should the proposed cull take place, McInerney himself might just survive the cut. Though plentiful crimes have been committed in his name, McInerney should not necessarily be held responsible for them all (much in the same way that Bram Stoker shouldn’t be held culpable for every single half-arsed vampire story doing the rounds at the moment). And when he is divorced from the boring, unimaginative trend that he started, his stories do actually have some real merit. The collection’s opener, Sleeping With Pigs, is a fine story. It treads no new ground in its broad subject matter, but it does possess an individual and distinctive twist that makes the well-told tale of marital disharmony a worthwhile read. The same can be said, to a lesser extent, of the second story - I Love You, Honey. Though the serious subject matter the story is set against has changed, it is essentially about two similar-yet-somehow-different characters having a similar-yet-somehow-different romantic crisis. However, when the protagonist of the third story is revealed to be a playwright and then both of the characters in the fourth story also turn out to be writers (ones who do such insufferably, unforgivably twattish things like ordering “Kettel One and tonic” - which sounds like literary product placement) you really do start to question if he’s capable of writing a lead character who doesn’t share his profession. Thankfully he does change tack as the stories progress and it is exponentially refreshing when he does. Never before has a story about a voyeuristic fetishist provided such a welcome switch of pace in a short story collection, but the fear that he too is going to end up enjoying some sideline in writing - maybe blogging about his sexual exploits - is never far from your mind. Ultimately, if you like this style of writing - and in these small doses it can be witty, acerbic and truly fantastic - then there is much to enjoy here. But even if you are McInerney’s biggest fan, you’ll probably want to take a good long break between stories as it all tends to be rather samey. And for those who would roll their eyes, tut, and say “OF COURSE THEY'RE ALL THE SAME! THAT’S THE ENTIRE POINT!”. If that is true, then I say this: The point has been made. Good job, Jay. You can stop now. Image: Paul Martin Eldridge / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The Oligarch’s Wife - Chapter One

Anna Blundy — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 12:59:39 +0000

Chapter One It was on the news. A hard fact now, illustrated by short scenes, brightly lit and frenetically cut together to demonstrate, perhaps, the dynamism of the forthcoming police investigation, the dedication of the reporter bringing you the breaking news live as it happens, or even, perhaps, to reflect the violent horror of the man’s death. They showed the blue flashing lights of the empty police cars parked at frenzied angles and left running by the canals. And the still serenity of the ambulance that would be in no rush today. Nobody was under any illusions as to where Pavel Ivanchenko would be going this morning. They cut in a statement from a Kremlin official in Moscow denying that the Russian government had any involvement whatsoever in this regrettable incident and dismissing the very suggestion as ludicrous. Now over to the bridge where the reporter’s hair blew across her face as she shouted above the noise. Then some stills of Pavel standing on the terraces of his London football club, Katya next to him, smiling the tight smile of the lavishly imprisoned. And back to the studio. ‘That report from Serene Gosling in St Petersburg. Police spokesmen have confirmed that the body retrieved from the river Neva this morning is that of Russian tycoon, Pavel Ivanchenko, who was reported missing on Thursday by staff when he failed to return from what he had allegedly described as ‘an important meeting’ in central St Petersburg. Ivanchenko, who accused Russian President Vladimir Putin himself of being behind two previous assassination attempts, had been in virtual exile in London for six years and was wanted in Russia on charges of embezzlement and tax evasion, though he is thought frequently to have entered the country, unknown to the authorities. ’ Mo breathed out. She wasn’t sure whether the news made it seem more real or less real. Cobwebs seemed to surround her, slowing and tangling her every move, muffling sound and threatening to creep down her throat and stop her breathing. They had been there since she’d woken up on Friday (still, apparently, inhabiting her body but cruelly separated from every physical or emotional sensation). She wriggled her toes now, touching each one to the cork tiles under them and looking out at the magnolia tree, whose huge creamy artichoke globes were getting ready to drop, exhausted, to the grass below them. He was really gone. The bracelet was heavy on her wrist, a twisted plait of diamonds and pearls, brilliant against her dark skin, the colour, he’d said, of chestnuts from the Siberian forests, shiny, glistening and brown as they burst out of their green cases. This was Pavel in whispering romantic mode, breathing the soul of his vast country into her ears. But really, had it ever been true? It was strange, she thought, having absorbed the sight of the limp body being hauled, dripping, out of the water, how still death is. When that bestial, raging, choking struggle to live is finally over. It had been worse than she’d thought. They should have given him the full dose, but Katya had been advised that that would make it detectable. Also it would taste bad. Mo, who knew nothing about poison, was reassured that even half of what they were giving him would kill an ox. Why an ox, she’d wondered, feeling sorry for this huge, gentle creature with a big wet nose who would topple sideways, tongue hanging out, lowing, not knowing why he was attacked or by what. Sorrier, by far, for this imaginary ox with his broad hooves, than she felt for their real victim. As it turned out, he was stronger than any big-eyed ox. Katya, whose white mink was perhaps unsuitable for the occasion, realised something was wrong and tried to shoot him but she missed and hit a painting above the fireplace, an 18th Century gypsy dancing scene, a kind of War and Peace image of Russia from a time when stirrups gleamed and moustaces bristled and peasants knew their place in the mud. As he ran at her she shot him again and blood spurted on to her coat and into her face but he kept running, knocking her to the ground and falling on top of her, drenching her with blood that was so hot it seemed to steam as it flowed. A bowl of orchids had smashed to the floor. It was this that struck her most when she came into the room, just then, as it fell. Mo, cold and clear as though she was standing in bright snow, tried to drag him off and plunged a large hunting knife into his back, feeling first the resistance of dense muscle and then the scrape of bone against the blade as she pushed. But he stood up, shouting, swearing in Russian, bellowing, hurling himself about until, unfamiliar, as if he were someone else, crazed with pain, perhaps, he threw himself out of the window, breaking the glass, sharp shards raining down on to the polished parquet inside and crashing into the concrete of the courtyard outside. Mo ran to the window as he lurched out towards the gates, barely human in his agony, garishly illuminated by security flood-lights. Katya scrambled up and tore down the stairs after him, stumbling in her high heels, groaning and grasping at her bruised throat, the bodyguard standing there, inexplicably motionless. Mo followed now, out into the dark street to see Katya’s coat fly out as she turned the corner towards the river, aware on some level of where he must be going. Both women stopped, fifty yards apart, as Pavel climbed the embankment wall, pulling himself up on a lamppost with a fish tail winding around it, and hurling himself, with a final roar, into the black water. Katya had turned and raised her white hand, almost smiling. Mo nodded and then both women were still. Mo took a taxi to the airport and was in London again by dawn. The sky was pale blue at the edges by the time she turned the key in her front door and found that the flat smelt the same as it had when she’d left. Of toast and dust, of the apples that had been too long in the fruit bowl, of the paper record sleeves in the sitting room and the clean sheets she’d put on yesterday. She ran a hot bath with rose oil she’d bought with Pavel that time, and she put her clothes and shoes in a Tesco carrier bag to throw into the rubbish van as it moved, perhaps. She lay in the burning water staring at the cracks in the ceiling and wondering how she should feel, how other people had felt afterwards. She looked with detached interest at static scenes in her mind, flicking through a mental Roladex. It occurred to her how strange it is that when death happens, scrolling backwards through the life that has ended, it seems so inevitable, its manner and all the particulars. It seems as though that life was constructed in every detail to meet that death and as though time was always hurtling towards it. But, really, she need never have gone on that first trip to Russia. Katya need never have left Kirgask for Moscow. Her life, so swirling and chaotic, had not seemed, at any prior point, to be part of the design of Pavel’s death. But now she and Katya had fulfilled their gruesome purpose and, for Pavel Ivanchenko, at least, time had stopped. Had it, she wondered, also stopped for her? Or had it really stopped when she first saw Katya, smoking a cigarette in the lobby bar of the Ukraina Hotel? No, she decided. That, of course, was when it had started.

JL Merrow - The Interview

Penelope Friday — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 12:07:29 +0000

Tell us a little bit about yourself. I'm a writer of romance and erotica, mostly but not exclusively m/m (gay male). I'm quite new to published fiction; my first story came out in June 2009, although I'd been dabbling in writing for a couple of years prior to that. Although most of my published stuff so far has been contemporary short fiction, I've also written a couple of historicals and some urban fantasy; I'm currently working on a werewolf novella. I spent the first eighteen years of my life trying to escape from the Isle of Wight. When I finally got away from there I overcompensated and ended up in Germany, a fact which tends to crop up in my writing every now and then. What made you decide to write erotica? The short answer is, 'because I can!' And I think most writers would agree that it's hard to write a genre well if you don't yourself enjoy reading it, and read a lot of it. What's more, it's not much fun trying! I write because, as Terry Pratchett has said, it's the most fun anyone can have on their own. ;D But why gay erotica? Well, the obvious answer is, I like men, so if one man=good, two men=better! But I think the real reason goes deeper than that. I've also written f/f (lesbian) and m/m/f (menage) stories but the one thing I feel really uncomfortable writing (although I have done it) is het, and that's because of the gender dynamics. Yes, it's societal conditioning—but I find it hard to get away from having double standards, and worrying if my female character will be seen as a slut if she jumps into bed with a guy on the first date. Plus, I like playing on the edges of BDSM when I write, and I'd find it hard to have a guy dominate a girl or vice versa without making a feminist statement out of it. What's your favourite story of those which you've had accepted - and why? Oh, that's a toughie! My favourites tend to be my firsts: my first story published (Different Strengths, in Torquere's Cherry anthology) or my first historical (Pleasures with Rough Strife in the Dreamspinner Mistletoe Madness line). But I think actually my favourite is one which has been accepted by Dreamspinner and will hopefully be coming out next year (presently called Angel, though I don't know whether that will be the final title name). Although it's an m/m romance with explicit sex and BDSM scenes, there is a very strong Christian theme. There's a lot of hate spouted against LGBT people in the name of Christianity, and I wanted to show there doesn't have to be. What sort of books do you like to read? I think it probably goes without saying that I read a lot of m/m romance! You may have guessed that Terry Pratchett is a long time favourite author of mine, and I've been a fan of Sookie Stackhouse and Harry Dresden since way before they got on TV. I also like mysteries of the old-fashioned, country house murder mystery kind. Tell us three things - anything! 1. I own over forty Agatha Christie novels translated into German. And one in English. 2. My sense of direction and grasp of geography are equally non-existent, to the extent that I once accepted a job in Middlesborough thinking it must be in the Midlands somewhere (it's actually about as far north as you can get and still be in England) 3. I jived for Cambridge University. Any last words? I've got a story coming out next year in the I Do Two anthology in support of marriage equality in the US. Please consider supporting this very worthy cause!

My top ten books of the year

Emma Lee-Potter — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 10:10:17 +0000

Newspapers are busy filling their pages with their top tens of the year. 2009 has been a vintage year for fiction so here are a few of my Christmas must-reads. High-brow, low-brow, you name it, it’s an eclectic list. In no particular order (as they say on The X-Factor), my favourites include: 1: I've bought Kamila Shamsie’s Burnt Shadows (Bloomsbury, £7.99) for almost everyone I know. An ambitious, epic novel, it follows the “complicated shared history” of two families from Second World War Japan to post 9/11 Afghanistan. 2: Colm Toibin’s Brooklyn (Viking, £17.99) has been shortlisted for the 2009 Costa novel award and must stand a chance of winning. Eilis Lacey leaves 1950s Ireland to make a new life in America. 3: Screenwriter Sadie Jones took the literary world by storm last year with The Outcast, her debut novel. Her second, Small Wars (Chatto & Windus, £12.99), is equally assured and elegant. 4: David Nicholls’ One Day (Hodder & Stoughton, £12.99) is unmissable. A funny “will they, won’t they?” romance, it traces the relationship between university friends Emma and Dexter on the same day each year for 20 years. 5: Sue Townsend’s latest Adrian Mole book is hilarious one moment, poignant the next. Adrian Mole: The Prostate Years (Michael Joseph, £18.99) sees the hapless Mole enter middle-age. 6: Detective Inspector Rebus is a hard act to follow – but Ian Rankin is on to a winner with his latest creation. The Complaints (Orion, £18.99) introduces us to Inspector Malcolm Fox, a cop who investigates other cops. 7: I’m a big fan of Marian Keyes and The Brightest Star in the Sky (Michael Joseph, £18.99) is her best book yet, Keyes deftly weaves the tangled stories of the inhabitants of a rambling Dublin townhouse. 8: For a pacy, unputdownable read, try Who Dares Wins (Century, £18.99). Chris Ryan tells how brothers Sam and Jacob Redman have watched each other’s backs right through their military careers. But then Jacob is kicked out of the SAS . Six years on, the brothers find themselves on opposing sides in a deadly war. 9: My top book for teenagers is Robert Muchamore’s Brigands M.C. (Hodder Children’s Books, £12.99). The eleventh in Muchamore’s hit CHERUB series has a cracking plot. Dante Scott is only eight when he sees four members of his family brutally murdered by a biker gang. 10: For children over nine or ten I recommend Geraldine McCaughrean’s The Death-Defying Pepper Roux (Oxford University Press, £12.99). When Pepper Roux is born, his Aunt Mireille predicts he’ll be dead by the age of 14. But when he hits 14 the resourceful Pepper decides he isn’t ready to die and instead sets sail on a string of adventures.

McSweeney’s Small Chair: The Literary Pick of 2009

Chris Lochery — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 10:16:43 +0000

McSweeney’s has long been known for its innovation and imagination in an age-old and well-established industry, and subscribers to their flagship publication, Timothy McSweeney’s Quarterly Concern, will already know what forms this imagination can take. For example, Issue 17 of this inventive literary journal came disguised as a bunch of post - stories, essays and other curiosities were presented as a series of letters, envelopes, magazines and junk mail circulars. Issue 6 was delivered with an exclusive accompanying soundtrack (written by They Might Be Giants) which could be played to complement the stories and artwork in the book. There have been stories printed up and presented as decks of cards, books which physically split up into separate smaller books, all encompassing designs which camouflage the quarterly journal as a dime-store novel or a tabloid newspaper. It seems that there’s nothing they won’t try to get people interested in their unique brand of literature, so it’s no surprise that they have been making the most of the new developments in smartphone technology. Small Chair - the McSweeney’s iPhone application - is split into two parts. The titular “Small Chair” is a weekly updated collection of exclusive multimedia pieces from across all of their publications. So one week you may get an interview conducted for McSweeney’s monthly essay magazine The Believer, the next you may get a short film from Wholphin, McSweeney’s cinematic endeavour. Already films by Spike Jonze, comic strips by Jerry Moriarty and stories by Jonathan Ames have made the 50p per month subscription fee to Small Chair seem like an absolute steal, but it is the second part , “Internet Tendency” - the daily updates by less well-known names - that really make this phone application the finest literary purchase of the year. With two or three new pieces added each day, there is a rich assortment of material to be found in Internet Tendency. Some are full stories, some are short little skits, some are open letters to people or institutions that will never respond. There is imagined dialogue between figures from history, there are amusing and eccentric lists (McSweeney’s famously published a book detailing the names of every heavy metal band ever to have existed, all in one long list) and there is also a fantastic, wide ranging series of regular columnists. Highlights of the Internet Tendency columns include: “Oh My Gawd” a column by Caroline Lazar, a 16 year old trying to navigate her way through religion - a frank, honest and surprisingly wise series of pieces. “Stained Teeth” Matthew Latkiewicz’s wine column which is both completely about wine, and not at all about wine. “Dispatches From An Indian Casino” where croupier Leslie McDonald writes on the kinds of things she sees at the tables and behind the scenes. “The Conflicted Existence Of A Female Porn Writer” by Lyndsy G is absolutely one of the sweetest and funniest pieces of employment memoir to be published in recent memory. The relative ease to publish in this way, and the absolute ease of receiving the content direct to your phone, means that it is an incredible way to get the work of new and exciting writers out into the public domain. Writers who do not have enough material written for a full memoir, pieces which defy normal categorisation, and other immensely odd but brilliant things are floating out around us all the time and now they all have a natural home. Small Chair. For less than the price of a new paperback, you get an entire year’s worth of McSweeney’s goodness daily. You can learn a little more about it here.

Nazi Hunting with The Browser

The Browser — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 16:04:07 +0000

Nazi John Demjanjuk is on trial in Germany for his part in the extermination of thousands of Jews at Sobibor. It is for that reason that I wanted to bring everyone’s attention to the excellent interview to be found at The Browser with Times journalist Guy Walters. He is the author of eight books, which include four wartime thrillers, the critically acclaimed Berlin Games and his latest work on Nazi hunting, Hunting Evil. He told us, basically, that Simon Weisenthal, the world’s most famous Nazi hunter, is a big liar. http://thebrowser.com/books/interviews/nazi-hunters-guy-walters Walters not only crushes the Weisenthal myth but he also had a few things to say about Odessa, the group of former SS men made famous by Frederick Forsyth’s book The Odessa File and assumed by many to be an actual organisation. ‘The problem with Odessa, which stands for Organisation of Former SS Associates,’ he said, ‘Is that if you’d been in the SS and were trying not to get hunted you’re not going to call your organisation that, are you? So, basically, it’s bollocks. But because of his book the myth persists. A man called Willhelm Hoettl fed the story to Simon Weisenthal [the famous Nazi hunter] who fed it to Anthony Terry at the Sunday Times where Forsyth picked it up and all these people put their spin on it.’ Walters thinks it’s probably true that there were various groups of former SS people and perhaps even one called Odessa in Southern Germany, but the ball has been tampered with so many times and it now lodges deep in the imagination of anyone trying to think about Nazis in the post-war period. But although there were all kinds of myths that grew up around the hunt for the world’s biggest Nazis, the true stories are even more bizarre. Walters told me this surreal story: Isser Harel was head of Mossad [the Israeli Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations] in the early 1950s when Mossad found, from the stories of a half-blind German Jew, that Adolf Eichmann was living in Buenos Aires. Mossad went to have a look at the house and decided there was no way he lives in this little bungalow. ‘But the half-blind Jew, Lothar Hermann, persists, and Mossad eventually collected enough information to say that he in fact is living in this crappy little house – actually, another crappy little house – in Buenos Aires, and they staged their audacious, cack-handed, brilliant kidnap of Eichmann off the street in Buenos Aires and took him back to Israel to face trial and he was hanged in 1962,’ Walters explained. ‘People say that Harel is trying to exculpate himself for dragging his feet on Eichmann, but in the early 1950s Israel had enough enemies on its doorstep to be worrying about Eichmann and it was not easy for them to mount this operation. The idea that they could have done it straight away at that time is just silly. In any case, Eichmann wasn’t a household name until after his trial, so it wasn’t as if this was a big Nazi name then. This book shows that Simon Weisenthal, despite his claims, was not involved in the kidnap or search to the extent that he says he was.’ Walters insists that Weisenthal is, in essence, a liar. ‘He’s just not this secular saint that everyone says he is. His memoirs all contradict each other and are at odds with the rest of the evidence,’ he says. ‘The Weisenthal Centre claims 1100 Nazi scalps, but the true figure is about 10. The Centre bought his name in the 1970s and is basically an Israeli brand-builder fighting anti-Semitism.’ Though he challenges the hagiographic stories about Simon Weisenthal, Walters is nonetheless appalled that the Allies failed to prosecute the thousands of Nazis who went on the run after the war. ‘It is disgraceful that if we thought it was a criminal regime we didn’t go on to prosecute the 80,000 people who committed murders and greater crimes. Nazi Hunting basically stopped after 1948 when about 5% of them had been caught, if that,’ Walters says. ‘Sure, some Nazis were useful to use against the Soviets in the Cold War, but the extent of it and the cynicism with which things were not done is disgusting. I say this without being naïve.’

Bush Theatre re-opens to unsolicited script submissions

Matt Boothman — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 16:00:02 +0000

The moment the Bush Theatre axed its script reading team, citing a lack of funds, was the moment the recession became real for me. Beforehand I'd been taking my usual naïve/optimistic view of the situation, confident that it couldn't be as bad as the media made it out to be, and that it would soon blow over with no major consequences. The discontinuation of script reading at one of London's premier new writing theatres, though? That was a major consequence.

Which is why it's excellent news that the Bush are back doing what they do best, only this time with an additional social networking element. Bushgreen.org is a site "for people in theatre to connect, collaborate and publish plays in innovative ways". Playwrights can submit their manuscripts directly to the Bush's team, or publish them publicly on the site for other writers to critique, or for publishers and producers to peruse. There's even the option to charge for downloads of your script.

When I signed up on the site myself, I discovered that, whether deliberately or unwittingly, the Bush have taken a stance on the issue of whether critics are part of the artistic establishment, or whether, as the Telegraph's Charles Spencer would have it, they stand apart ("the belief that critics are part of the theatre community" is, says Spencer, a "great misapprehension").

You can register on the site as a Playwright, Actor, Agent, Director, Dramaturge, Choreographer, Composer, Costume Designer, Lighting Designer, Literary Manager, Producer, Production, Production Manager, Publisher, Set Designer, Sound Designer, Stage Manager, Student, Enthusiast, Theatre Company, Group or Other. Critics – in fact journos of any kind – apparently aren't "people in theatre", or worse, we're the feared and exiled Other.

I doubt very much that the Bush are actually trying to make any kind of statement with this; it's much more likely I'm drawing random conclusions having happened to stumble on the site not long after wading through the critical blogosphere, catching up on the debate. But it's worth stating that I think critics absolutely are part of the theatre community, and that reviews – and increasingly, comments on reviews – are as much a part of the creative process as writing, rehearsal and performance. A show doesn't end when the house lights come up. Its influence continues to resonate as long as it's inspiring debate.

FlashForward - The Gift

Uprising — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 17:44:13 +0000

After the mundane drivel that was week six, episode 7 sees a “change in the game,” as FBI Agent Gough takes destiny into his own hands in an overdue attempt to cast doubt on the certainty of the flash forward theories. Light entertainment is provided by the Blue Hand Club from Benford’s magic board of clues, not to be confused with the Blue Man Group who incidentally are a lot scarier but not quite as stupid. Those who were unfortunate enough not to have a flash forward and thus believe they are destined to die have formed secret death club, with Russian roulette as the entry policy and, We Might Die Soon So We Might As Well Try and Kill Ourselves, as the Monday night fancy dress theme. “Like a book club but with bullets,” says Benford with all the humour and comic timing of rich tea biscuit. With undercover experience, Gough joins Demetri and Benford to investigate and finds willing torture victims who would rather experience unbelievable pain rather than spend time with their loved ones? Odd, but maybe that’s just me.

In the middle of the night, instead of a foam or balloon party, one reveller is chosen to die. To be honest I don’t blame them, foam parties are rubbish and balloon parties are pointless. Tonight however Benford, who is faster than a speeding bullet, stops the vulgar act just as the latest ‘victim’ is about to pull the trigger.

A rant about not being able to escape the inevitable encourages Gough to confront his own demons as we find out he causes the accidental death of mother named Celia in his flash forward. Unwilling to accept this fate, Gough offers the ultimate challenge to his unwanted future, with an excessively spectacular suicide from the top of the FBI roof. I suppose this is TV Drama after all. I was half hoping/expecting him to land on poor Celia right in front of her precious twins, killing her but escaping largely unharmed, left wondering what might have been had he chosen a more community friendly way to die. His death does however change everything previously accepted by the flash forwards. It is hard to believe that he’s the only person out 7 billion people to try and change their future but nevertheless, things have just got a lot more interesting. So, the Benfords don’t have to split up, Demetri doesn’t have to die and most poignantly of all, Wedeck doesn’t have to be on the toilet! The sub plot involving Benford’s sponsor and his alleged dead daughter also gains some legs, no pun intended. You see, her ex army buddy arrives in town letting Aaron know that she can’t be alive because he saw her die in an explosion. He didn’t, he saw her leg blown off and she was unconscious because apparently things like that hurt a bit. Episode cliff-hanger sees daughter, Tracy, sitting at the dinning room table. Dream? Look-alike? Wedeck in a Mission Impossible mask? I’m not sure. The series has a clunky script, characters I don’t really care about and moments of truly bad acting, Fiennes’ attempt at looking sad or stupid or whatever in this episode was one of the funniest moments ever filmed. He looked like he just heard his book club ‘joke’ while biting into a lemon and thought, “oh that was just awful.” Yet I’m still watching it, waiting for episodes such as this one. Next week it will be interesting to see who will be the next to kill themselves and how? I’d go for Aaron, drowning in his own beard.

Barbara Taylor Bradford: Breaking The Rules

t5m — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 17:05:32 +0000

This month, Barbara Taylor Bradford's latest novel 'Breaking The Rules' , published by HarperCollins hit bookstores. The release was amidst the 30th anniversary of her bestselling debut novel 'A Woman of Substance' along with an anniversay edition of the book. 'Breaking The Rules' introduces M, a beautiful woman who would do anything to protect the ones she loves. A terrible experience at her countryside home forces her to flee to New York in the hope of a new beginning. In New York, her life is turned upside down as she becomes a top model and muse for French designer Jean-Louis Tremont. It's love at first sight when M meets dashing actor Larry Vaughan. They become the most talked about couple on the international scene, appearing on the front cover of every celebrity magazine. With a successful career and a perfect marriage, M truly believes she has put her past to rest. But things take a dramatic turn when a dark figure from her past, someone who she thought she'd never see again, is back and determined to shatter M's world forever. Don't miss out!

Let’s Go NaNoWriMo!

Uprising — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 11:59:48 +0000

November is a strange month. The clocks have gone back, the weather starts to turn (or maybe not judging by this week's weather forecast) and the stores start to break out their seasonal displays, if they haven't already set them up at the end of July. November is the odd month where nothing really happens; it's definitely no longer summer and the seasonal craziness of December hasn't fully set in yet. So what do you do? Write a novel, of course. National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo as it's catchily called, runs throughout November. The idea behind NaNoWriMo is simple: write a 50,000 word novel (roughly 175 pages) in 30 days. A novel in a month? Crazy! Don't great writers usually take years to hone their craft? Maybe, but NaNoWriMo encourages everyone to load up on caffeine, throw off your worries and just get stuck in. NaNoWriMo started with a small group of people in San Francisco back in 1999. Last year over 120,000 people took part. The press release for NaNoWriMo states how around 18% of participants finished. But the finishing isn't everything – it's mostly the taking part. If you think about the word count, that's nearly 2000 words a day which is a lot of writing by any standards. But the beauty of NaNoWriMo is that it encourages participants to write, write, write without any fear of 'doing it right' or 'making it good'. The reckless approach breaks down the traditional barriers to writing; by giving a tight deadline and championing the joy of writing with abandon, NaNoWriMo inspires people to do something they wouldn't normally do. Ever wanted to write a novel but never got around to it? NaNoWriMo is a good way to start. You sign up and then come November 1st, you get writing. The website allows you to track your personal progress, and the online element helps with the NaNoWriMo forums acting as a good source of support. As your word count mounts, you'll find lots of people going through the same challenge, willing to share tips and tricks. If you finish, you go down in the hall of fame, get your sense of personal achievement and who knows, you could even go on to get published like several NaNoWriMo participants have in the past. But even if you don't finish, you'll probably have a great time trying. So fire up your laptops! Sharpen your pencils! Go brew your coffee! As the nights get longer and the weather gets colder, there's no time like November to live out your wildest 'reclusive writer' dreams, and retreat into your imagination.

The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance

Chris Lochery — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 18:05:50 +0000

Mormonism has a lot to thank Scientology for. Ever since Tom Cruise decided to bounce up and down on Oprah's sofa, the Mormons - once the butt of pretty much every religious joke going - have now found themselves almost wholly guarded from comic crossfire by the Scientologists. In fact, the only person who is still making jokes at the expense of Mormonism in 2009 is Elna Baker. This is not to say that Baker’s comedy is in any way dated, because it isn’t. The reason that she chooses to poke fun at the Mormons is because she is Mormon herself - and unashamedly so. The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance is her memoir; a coming of age story of a girl conflicted between the values of her religion and the wildly different values of the city that she chooses to move to. While this may sound like a story you’ve heard a hundred times (and while it sometimes it may read like one too) there is something quite unique about her particular experience. While a good half of the anecdotes in the book could have happened to any young girl between the ages of 18 and 50 in any major metropolitan city (the stories of weight-watching, awkward romantic encounters and mundane jobs) Baker’s faith offers her the chance to deliver a fresh and largely unaired perspective on these topics. Occasionally talk of her relationships does start to skirt along the lines of self-indulgence, but she speaks with such genuine, wide-eyed optimism that you can’t help but be charmed by it. The remaining half of the anecdotes however are uniquely Elna. Stories of accidentally buying amphetamines over the internet, using feminine hygiene products in place of first aid supplies and suffering what is undoubtedly the most regrettable wardrobe malfunction of all time - they are the product of a hugely inventive and individual imagination and appetite for life, which, again, is impossible to stay unmoved by. It is these anecdotes which mark Baker out as an impressive and distinctive talent and mark The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance out as a story worth reading. As she complains in the book, Baker often feels as though she is defined by her religion. There is no escaping the fact that this book too is defined by her religion - it is, very much so - but it is also defined by her craft as a storyteller and her voice as a comedian, and therein lies its charm. Photo of Elna Baker by Helen Stevens

Has Dan Brown Lost It?

Uprising — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 08:42:18 +0000

I was faffing around in the book aisle at Asda, desperately seeking Dan Brown's latest book 'The Lost Symbol'. I heard on the news that day that Asda was selling them for a fiver compared to WHSmith's £18.99! I still had my i'm-a-poor-student-i-cant-afford-anything-more-than-a-fiver hat on and rushed down there in the pouring rain. Ah, desperate you must be thinking. But I loved 'The Da-Vinci Code' sooo much I knew this was going to be amazing too. I was speaking to one of the cashiers, and a woman before me had just bought 73 copies! leaving me to purchase the last one. Wa-hay! Paying for my book, I rushed home to begin reading it immediately (unemployed people have nothing better to do!) The book still focuses on the main character Robert Langdon, Harvard Symbologist cum celebrity. I couldn't help but picture Tom Hanks as Robert Langdon throughout the book! There is another death and another archaic symbol that draws Langdon to Washington DC, which is bubbling over with Masonic secrets. Langdon must unfold these secrets if he wants to save the life of his best friend, mentor and a Mason of the highest order. The book itself was a thrill to read. It was fast paced and some parts had me ooh-ing and aah-ing. But I felt that Brown had simply copied the template of the da vinci code, all but altering the location and the symbols. By the time it came to revealing all the hidden gems and ancient secrets...I was bored. I actually skimmed over the juicy bits, only returning to it the other day forcing myself to read it. It's still on my bedside table, page folded over, waiting, pleading to be completed. I'm just not interested, and I don't know why. I think Brown's lost it.

Ginger Baker: born under a bad sign

Harry Shapiro — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 16:47:57 +0000

As Ginger explains in the introduction, the story of his autobiography ‘Hellraiser’, is just as fraught as the life it describes. For years now, he has been approached by procession of would-be biographers who then proceed to write utter drivel and are quickly fired – including one who cost Ginger a shed load of cash when Ginger blocked the book and was sued by the publisher. What he fails to mention are my attempts to let me tell the tale. Ginger always politely declined my offers, saying that he was determined to do it himself. In my last contact with Ginger on the matter, he must have been in a low mood because he said the whole story was so grim and awful, he couldn’t bear even to think about it, much less have it written down. But here we are, and true to his word, it is his story told by him albeit with the assistance of probably the only person he could trust to write exactly what he wanted – his daughter Nettie. So what’s the verdict? Well, judging by the hair-raising tales told within, Ginger Baker should be stone dead – the drugs, the booze, the fights, the car wrecks, the accidents – something should have finished him off. But no, hard as nails, uncompromising, unyielding and grumpy as ever, Ginger, now 70 years old, has bounced back from it all. Inspired by his heroes, Baby Dodds, Max Roach and Britain’s own Phil Seaman, Ginger first came to attention in the sixties as half of rock’s greatest ever rhythm section with bassist Jack Bruce. (By the way, call Ginger a rock drummer to his face and you are likely to need two drumsticks surgically removed). Both Ginger and Jack came out of jazz and brought that improvisational freedom to Alexis Korner’s Blues Incorporated, the Graham Bond Organisation and most famously in Cream. Of all the drummers of that era, Ginger with his red hair and skeletal features, battering out triplets and ruffs behind what was then a monster kit of two bass drums and a forest of cymbals, was the only one to play percussive melodies. He told stories on the drums in the true African tradition he so loves and admires. Both Ginger and Jack played with a volcanic intensity that exploded into the now legendary animosity between them, although it didn’t stop Jack bringing Ginger back into the spotlight in later years and of course in 2005, they took the stage as Cream once again. There is some fascinating unreleased footage of Ginger being interviewed for a Cream DVD in between the first and second nights of the Cream Reunion at Madison Square Gardens. Once the interview is done, Ginger declares that Jack is playing way too loud and how he isn’t going back on, until he is reminded of the huge pile of cash that awaits him. In the book, Ginger gives his side of their fiery relationship: for Jack’s you’ll have to wait for my authorised biography published in February. Once Cream split up, Ginger stayed with Eric Clapton in Blind Faith and then formed his short-lived big band, Airforce. But I think it is fair to say that he pretty much lost interest in being a professional musician after that. The last forty years of his life from 1971, only takes up about a third of the book and most of that centres on his abiding passions, polo and Africa. Some of his later forays into the music business were frankly bizarre like Hawkwind and Public Image Ltd, nor did his own bands progress much beyond a handful of gigs. He acknowledges that the motivation for most of his post-Airforce outings was financial and only has (justifiable) enthusiasm for the three jazz albums he recorded in the 90s, ‘Going Back Home’ (1994) and ‘Falling Off The Roof’ (1996) with Bill Frisell and Charlie Haden, and ‘Coward of the Country’ (1999) which Ginger declared ‘the best record I ever did.’ If you were looking for a root cause of Ginger’s short fuse, it is probably his decades in the grip of heroin addiction. Its genesis lay in the twilight world of the modern jazz scene of early sixties London and he came off the drug many times, yet there is no real explanation of why Ginger carried on for so long given his otherwise incredible resilience. He certainly used it as an emotional crutch when times were bad, but you get a sense of somebody who doesn’t like himself that much – which would at least explain why he seemed to have a hard job liking anybody else and managed to hurt those closest to him. But the anecdotes of mayhem and chaos, sex and drugs, come thick and fast and make for an entertaining read. Ginger can truly say he has lived life to its brim, warts and all. Oh, and the book jacket – fabulous - taken from the cover of the BBM (Bruce, Baker, Gary Moore) album ‘Around the Next Dream’ – and my favourite album sleeve ever. Ginger Baker with Matrix-style greatcoat, fag in mouth and angel’s wings leaves you treading waist high in paradox. Could he be Fallen? But where from - Heaven? I don’t think so. Ginger Baker: Hellraiser - the autobiography of the world’s greatest drummer is published by John Blake.

Some Things I Have Learnt From The Browser Five Books

The Browser — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 15:47:02 +0000

The amazing thing about working for The Browser and doing the Five Books interviews is how much I’ve learnt from the people I’ve interviewed. In choosing the best Five Books on their area of expertise, the Browsees often encapsulate whole areas of the world (as Sara Wheeler does with The Polar Regions and Michela Wrong does with Africa) or whole conflicts (Philip Gourevich on Rwanda), even whole schools of thought (Jonathan Glover on Philosophy and David Bell on Psychoanalysis). One of the first interviews I did was with Mary Kaldor of the London School of Economics and she was talking about War. When someone is the world’s leading expert in something they can impart a vast amount of knowledge in a short period of time. It had never occurred to me before that there are ‘theories of war’, although, of course, there must be. She talked about Clausewitz, who fought in the Napoleonic wars, and about his theory that unless you put absolutely everything into a war and are prepared to suffer enormous losses you can never win. She explained that war has changed since the Balkans and that war is now invariably among the people. While once people fought to protect the women and children, it is now the women and children who are often attacked. War is now fought more in the way that drug dealers compete for territory in inner cities. She also said that the Americans eventually started doing the right thing in Iraq and Afghanistan, trying to protect civilians rather than defeat an enemy. This change actually happened under Bush, who finally hired incredibly intelligent generals, though Obama will likely get the credit. I have learnt the name of one of the main people responsible for the genocide in Rwanda - Theoneste Bagosora. It is astonishing that someone guilty of such huge crimes against humanity is so internationally unknown. Lord Robert Skidelsky explained that the economists Reagan and Thatcher followed did not believe that people and their lives and choices are unpredictable. They thought of the economy as a pendulum that might swing right or left but that ends up in the middle. This, said Skidelsky, a champion of Keynsian economic theory, does not take people and their viscissitudes into account. Dr Vivette Glover of Imperial College London, described the findings of her research on human fetuses. She has discovered that stress during pregnancy adversely affects the unborn child more than post-natal stress or depression. Stressed mothers give birth to smaller babies and smaller babies are vastly more likely to suffer from coronary heart disease later in life. Stressed mothers also give birth to children more likely to have ADHD, cognitive delay and anxiety, all factors that can lead to criminal activity in the adult. I was stunned by the facts but perhaps not by the message – supporting pregnant women matters. I learnt a lot about the psychology of George W Bush from Jacob Weisberg of Slate Magazine. He explained what it must have been like being the son of the golden child of the Bush family, the athlete, the businessman, the President. He detailed the pressures of the dynasty to me and how George W battled against his father and his brother, how jealous and angry he became, how much he wanted his father’s love and approval. I almost ended up feeling sorry for him, but then, hearing about the cruel nicknames he made up for those close to him, my sympathy waned. Dr Michael Nicholson explained that Solzhenitsyn did not start out with A Day In The Life of Ivan Denisovich and then start writing longer and longer tomes about Russia as he aged. He had worked on lots of the big tomes, including Gulag Archipelago, long before he wrote A Day In The Life. The world has got the chronology wrong. He also said that archives prove the actual Politburo sat around discussing what to do about Solzhenitsyn – being a writer really matters in Russia in a way it just doesn’t in the West. Guy Walters, who is an expert on the Nazi Hunters and has written a book about them, told me that Simon Weisenthal is a liar who was much less involved in the capture of key Nazis than he pretends. Sung J Woo told me that there are more Chinese restaurants in America than McDonalds, Burger King and Wendy put together and that the egg roll is now as American as apple pie. Psychoanalyst David Bell explained that Freud did not discover the unconscious – poets and writers had always known that we could be motivated by ideas that were not consciously known to us. Freud captures the unconscious within an explanatory model that has a theoretical structure. So, the model of the mind shows that not only are parts of the mind unconscious but there are parts of the mind that are held in the unconscious. This is called the dynamic unconscious and means that we actively repress things we don’t want to know about. From talking to Hippo lover Karen Paolillo, I learnt that hippos only attack when they are afraid. Susan Quilliam, who updated The Joy of Sex, tells us that sex is for life – it doesn’t stop at menopause. Jeffrey Archer has sold 250 million books and says what makes a book immortal is a good story, not always literary prowess. Contrary to popular belief, people who commit suicide do not usually leave a note (Johanna Reiss on Suicide). Plato and Aristotle were already arguing about political spin, so we can’t blame it all on Alastair Campbell (David Greenberg on Spin). Yosri Fouda of Al Jazeera, an intrepid reporter and the world’s leading expert on 9/11, told me that America had expected the attacks and had not done enough to prevent them. He thinks the 9/11 Commission Report is a laughable disgrace. Sara Wheeler recommended a book about a young man from Togo who went native with the Inuit in Greenland in the 1960s – she says it’s the best book ever written on Greenland and it sounds like it. Of course, there are a lot more amazing things contained in the Browser Five Books interviews. We hope you will go to the Browser website to find out more.

Real men read Twilight Part 1 - TheShagDaddy

Eyes of Amber — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 10:21:04 +0000

In the world of Twilight, the ladies over at Letters to Twilight have coined the term "unicorn" to refer to the male fans. The guys who didn't just "like" the movie, but they've read the books, too. Why unicorns you ask? Because these men are such rare and beautiful creatures. Many of us have heard of them, but few actually know any. So those of us who do know one, or are lucky enough to be married to one, are bringing you a series of articles, straight from the unicorn's mouth. We hope that you'll enjoy hearing their perspective and pick up some tips to turn your own significant other into a unicorn. This week we're featuring TheShagDaddy. He's the husband of Rob My World's Amber, a true Twilight fan, a Kristen Stewart supporter and a hilarious twitter addict. The following is from a chat between Amber and TheShagDaddy.

Amber: You have to tell the story of why you started even reading the books. Was it more then just messing with me? TheShagDaddy: no that was it. I wanted you to think that I got more out of the movie then I did Amber: well, since there is no way you could bust out Jasper's last name without reading... Amber: sorry, REAL last name. TheShagDaddy: actually, it was Rosalie's last name that got you wondering at first Amber: hey, I've slept a lot of nights and drooled over a lot of Rob pics since then. My mind may be going. Amber: but then, once you were done messing with me, why did you KEEP reading them? TheShagDaddy: that's because I love twilight while YOU love rob Amber: hey I love Twilight, mainly ‘cause it opened lots of doors for new obsessions, including Rob! TheShagDaddy: it was well written with stephenie meyer's awesome ability of description Amber: speaking of new obsessions, Twilight started a new one for you with Twitter! TheShagDaddy: it's not an obsession, it's a casual hobby that I can stop any time you say. TheShagDaddy: please don't say stop Amber: please, if I tell you, then I have to stop also. TheShagDaddy: #truestory Amber: okay, we need to talk about why other guys should pick up the book. Amber: other then the obvious one of pleasing their wives/significant others TheShagDaddy: what other reason is there? Amber: okay, you read the books and like SM's writing style, but let’s talk about the blogging Amber: that's kind of above and beyond right? TheShagDaddy: hmmm..i think maybe it was because I liked the idea of being 1 of a handful of straight guys willing to read and talk about twilight Amber: it was kind of nice to hear a real man's opinion TheShagDaddy: it was after that I realized I liked the attention and that somebody [cared] about what I had to say TheShagDaddy: of course I kept going to see where the story was going to go. and to have something else to blog about, I wanted to keep the ladies please ;) Amber: Ha, good point. Amber: but seriously, was it the vampires or the love story that was the biggest draw TheShagDaddy: the love story, it reminded me the way I felt about things WAY back in high school Amber: Are you saying I was your Bella? LOL TheShagDaddy: umm, next question TheShagDaddy: hahahahahaha Amber: I know the ending made you sad. how are you filling the void now that you finished the saga? TheShagDaddy: by constantly talking about it to [guys at work] Amber: Are you breaking those guys down? Making them want to read it? TheShagDaddy: not really, but [one guy] saw twilight on his own. he doesn't even have a girlfriend Amber: that is impressive Amber: if you could give one tip to ladies who want to get their DH/BF/SO to read Twilight, what would it be? TheShagDaddy: don't push so hard and if they do read any of it, definitely reward it. a smart guy will keep reading after that

You can read the remainder of this exchange at Rob My World. You can also follow the wonderfully entertaining ShagDaddy on twitter. So what do you think? Let's get the comments rolling, show TheShagDaddy some love and encourage other guys to join in...

Conversations with my bailiff: 8th October

Madelaine Greene — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 16:43:57 +0000

I’ve been very quiet for the last few weeks. First it was the flu and now it is the “debtors” blues. She of the E Bay Party and the trip to Hoxton Market, has decided another on another expedition. She is collecting me in her yellow foxy car and we are going “somewhere”. I warn about the lack of ready cash. “No problem, “ she informs me, “this afternoon is on me.” All morning, as I pipe choux pastry into hundreds of little balls, I dream about where we might be going. It could be a movie, wouldn’t mind a movie, or a massage. A massage would be bliss. Perhaps it’s a pedicure at one of the Vietnamese places where tiny, perfect ladies shove your feet into soapy water, peel away dead skin, buff and polish whilst they watch Vietnamese movies on their expensive laptops. One place I know even has an electric massage chair. It is total bliss, a robot pounds your back as a deadly looking knife skims over a callus or three. That’s got to be it, I am convinced we are going to have our feet “done”. Barry and money, the ex and his used car salesman patter, and the non appearance of Michael, will all be drowned in a foot bath. I suppose, after all this time, I ought to bring you up to speed with my “debt clearing project”. Pierre is a gift from the gods. Because of Pierre we eat. And I enjoy myself. I love the frou frou business of cakes. Don’t get me wrong, I love slabs of fruit case, or a neat slice of Victoria sponge, or a cup cake with a smear of icing! But I love making tarte au citroen, tarte of fraise, mille feuille, sacher torte, cheese cake, strudel made with the flimsiest pastry, the alchemy of baking, the magic of assembly, its perfect escapism. And I get paid for it. Paid enough for the daughter and I to eat. It’s the rest of the debts that are the worry. The mortgage is beginning to get a bit of a problem. Job seekers allowance would help with the interest, but I have a job with Pierre so I don’t qualify for job seekers allowance. I must stop worrying. Worrying is not going to help. I just have to keep churning out ideas and someday, someone is going to pay me, something – anything. No one wants my debt column. Not even the local paper. I offered it to the Council; they publish a glossy every month. The woman on editorial said “we aim to cheer people up, communal swimming classes, happy faces at the new allotments, talent shows; you know the kind of thing. We both know that debt is not going to make them feel happier.” Still, there are the Memoirs of an Armed Robber on the horizon. I have just have to wait for the visiting order to come from Pentonville Prison. Pierre is sure he will give me an advance. He thinks it might be as much as £3,000! I told Barry. I thought he’d be pleased. All he said was that he didn’t like the idea of me associating with crooks! Well, needs must! I told him. His needs! My girlfriend’s cheerful yellow car pitches up at Pierre’s café. I dash off, happily yelling that I am going to have my feet done. “No, you aren’t”, she informs me, “you are going to tarot reader!” A tarot reader! Surely sensible people like us don’t believe in fortune telling! “I don’t she tells me, “but it might make you feel better!” But what if she tells me its all doom and disaster? “We won’t believe her” my friend says cheerfully, as she pulls out into the traffic. But what happens if she says the future is going to be wonderful. “We will believe her.” Couldn’t we have a pedicure? We can get a pedicure quite cheaply. I am ignored; the sat nav guides the foxy yellow car to the house of destiny!

Why we love Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight Saga

Uprising — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 16:09:36 +0000

The recent saga to hit the roof is Stephanie Meyer's 'Twilight' series. From bookstores to bedside tables these vampire novels have been whisked into a must-read frenzy; slightly more civilized than a Primark store opening but nevertheless this consumption has considerable eagerness behind it. After shamefully grabbing a copy from the 'kids section' of Waterstone's I sat down to read the second book (I had already seen the first film) and could not for the life of me leave the series alone until the end of 'Breaking Dawn.' It had consumed me along with the other millions of women around the world to the point where I was having vampire dreams (me being Bella of course) and had had an argument with my boyfriend based around his inability to match up to Edward Cullen's immaculate chivalrous behaviour. On my way to Croatia my friend needed a good beach book that she could really sink her teeth into and naturally I recommended Twilight. Having just graduated with BA hons in English Literature I automatically blushed, having promised my father to read Tolstoy's 'War and Peace,' it might appear strange that Twilight was a priority. My friend then looked at me dubiously as if to ask why should she read a book about vampires and it was that look of unsupported disapproval that gave me twilight verbal diarrhoea. Firstly, I would like to point out the uncontrollable irritation that beholds me whenever I see Twilight in the 'Kids section' of book stores. I agree that the supernatural element usually epitomises that of a children's novel but we have to give this best selling series a bit more credit than that. Funnily enough the vampire stuff comes second to romance. The love between Edward Cullen and Bella Swan is the focal point of the story. Everything that happens is controlled by their inescapable feelings for each other. Their emotions are so strong that they cross both natural and supernatural boundaries and are so ardent that they force those around them to not only accept their fatal love but also fight and risk death to protect it. Here readers are presented with idealised, all encompassing, self-sacrificing love which in 2009 is hard to find. When will the average woman find such a chivalrous, gentlemanly, devastatingly handsome and dare I say perfect man who only has eyes for her and whose body and soul seems to function only to make her happy? I used to blame Knights in old tales who live in a land far far away but now this modern day story makes Mr Right seem real yet so inaccessible. Having acquired traditional gentlemanly manners towards women learnt from hundreds of years of experience, it is no wonder that Edward appears to be so perfect. It also does not help that in the movie Edward Cullen is played by the gorgeous Robert Pattinson who is a real person who could bump into you at any moment. The tale of a super boyfriend meets average girl seems too good to be true but all too real and familiar. There is always that one man to whom you give yourself fully in every way, who is capable of making you the happiest person alive or the most suffocatingly depressed. Here, love precedes all and presents an ideal in which we happily indulge. However, the unique aspect to this story is the mix between reality and the supernatural that subtly creates a love in which people can relate but at the same time be phenomenally envious. It is not just a story about a 'teenage' love affair but of a powerful emotion that has struck the hearts of millions of readers worldwide. Edward and Bella's love has also breached boundaries not only within their own story but also of fact and fiction, of countries and languages because people either remember that first, pure love or aspire to it. One important thing that the vampire element of the story has on the affect of the novel is the idea of the forbidden fruit. Edward and Bella's sexual interaction is for the majority of the series restricted. The physical and mental battles of longing and restraint are internal but are impatient to the point of urgency. Stephanie Meyer illustrates sexual tension and frustration as a longing desire for a body to unite; a necessary step to complete a mature relationship and individual. Edward insists on waiting until the time is right and in the meantime is careful not to take their physical relationship too far (another of Edward’s courteous old fashioned male qualities). However, Bella's desire is captured in a way that is so personally true to itself that one begins to ask whether the author's experience has had an impact on the story. As a Mormon, Meyer's restrictions are similar to Edward and Bella's. Unable to have sex before marriage, alcohol or even caffeine, her real life restrictions slip into the fantasy on paper. Despite the character's squeaky clean teenage behaviour (almost an impossibility in modern times), the desire depicted in the Twilight series crushes any sort of criticism that Meyer is preaching her own blueprint of ideal morality because the desire is not presented as evil but inevitable. Sooner or later Edward and Bella will consummate their love; it is the pathway that the couple have chosen that is the important factor. The choice to wait and restrain oneself for the safety of another is what is highlighted. The overwhelming desire is a side effect that the book does not fail to acknowledge. Meyer's choice to include raw feeling of desire indicates its importance to her novels and her execution of such a complex sentiment is more than satisfactory. One can imagine millions of women transfixed by Bella's longing for Edward and can probably remember a similar feeling back to when they themselves were teenagers. This is another factor as to why Twilight has been categorised as purely a young adult book. Mistaking the fact that the love and desire shown in these novels relates to all people of all ages, book stores have directly transposed Edward and Bella's age to that of the audience which inevitably restricts and limits the book’s mental accessibility. Why can't an English Literature post graduate read what a fifteen year old is reading? How can a 34 year old Mormon mother possibly write such an intricate and complex story about young love? - Because love is not young, it is old. So, I have dealt with themes of love and sexual desire and why they should not be seen at face value. Now I would like to touch more on the reality side of the Twilight series where Meyer makes accessible real life urgencies. She deals with loss, heartbreak, relationships, life and death, pain, birth, marriage, love, sex, the sublime... the list goes on.... in four books. The issues develop and grow more intense as Edward and Bella's relationship grows, inviting in a world which breaks the innocence of Bella's youth. Here, the vampire theme of the novels is an advantage because to put all those real life issues into a marathon is quite heavy going. The reason why we can digest it or in this case devour it is because it combines the magic of the unreal. However, this is not to say that the issues in question are lightened: In 'New Moon' Bella's is constantly trying to secure the hole in her chest that Edward has left and has to fight the indulgence of merely thinking about him for a second. This is not flimsy stuff. Instead the issues are made to appear as equilibrium to the excitement of the supernatural. Because a life without complexity is not a life at all whereas it is the way in which Edward and Bella tackle life's obstacles that is the beauty of the story. We can all relate to the Twilight saga because of our relativity to its reality. In this case the phenomena then becomes more vivid because it is intertwined with every day life and not the other way around. The last layer of the Twilight apple amongst the many that I would like to address is Meyer's either conscious or sub conscious Utopian way of living. I am not shooting myself in the foot by saying that Meyer prescribes a certain way of life but presents not only an ideal love, but also an ideal way of living. Amidst a history of war and blood thirst, allegiances can be made and in effect defy the boundaries of natural positions in order to choose the right path and live harmoniously. Werewolves and vampires fight together and vampire clans from all over the world unite and are willing to fight to the death in order to uphold morality. In 'Breaking Dawn' Meyer purposefully avoids a physical war opting for a mental battle of which the Cullens win. Mentality over physicality is an overriding theme throughout the series also linking themes of sexual desire as explained above. However, fighting is not the only theme that invites Utopian ways of living. Again Meyer expresses this in a method of choice. Breaking Dawn does not end with a wedding but begins with it instead. Here everything after the ceremony is what is important giving Edward and Bella a marriage and not just the party. Unlike most romantic films and fiction, Breaking Dawn shows true love in the practical ways of the life in which we all live. The couple do not go horse back riding into the distant sunset but settle down into a life together working out ways in which they can keep their family safe and intact. They learn that trouble can always threaten their family at any point in time but they seem astoundingly grateful for each moment, second, millisecond considering that they are both immortal. In conclusion to my rant, I shoved Twilight into my friend's hand and would not take no for an answer. Needless to say she could not put the thing down all holiday unless she paused to look wistfully thinking about Edward Cullen or evil eyed her boyfriend because he was not Edward Cullen. Oh sweet minds... But we have to remember why the Twilight series has this effect on people. Through layers of complex themes and descriptive, intricate relationships, the novels contain a hybrid style which is encompassed by a simple but precise narrative. They remind me of a vast, modern day bildungsroman where the author presents 'the psychological, moral and social shaping of the personality of a usually young main character' (wikipedia). However, this is relevant to Bella only in relation to Edward. This is not just Bella's journey but her and Edward's as a couple, a unity and because immortality, thousands of years of history and the complexity that I have explained above is entwined into their relationship, their story has a little more depth to it. Well it certainly extracts it from the Kids section.

What’s on t5m: Sarah Palin’s memoirs, London Film Festival, the God debate and Uprising launches

t5m — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 12:23:50 +0000

What a week! While most people were busy enjoying the last few days of summer - t5m have been covering everything from the London Film Festival to Milan Fashion Week - with a healthy dose of the science vs. God debate, an inside look at the politics behind Sarah Palin's forthcoming memoirs and a look at Tony Blair's growing role in Europe. Yes, we really have been that busy! As well as all that - our Network have been busy attending films - including Just Another Love Story (we love film noir!), The Story of Anvil and the hunger-inducing Julie & Julia - as well as reviewing the very best of the latest book releases for your bedtime / commute pleasure! Eat your heart out Booker prize... Perhaps most exciting however - is the news that we have launched our new publication, Uprising. An online magazine, Uprising is all about giving young writers, aspiring journalists and just anyone with an opinion a place to get experience and exposure. Covering everything from fashion to music and films (as well as everything in between) - prepare for opinions, passion and enthusiam galore! So yes, it's all go here at t5m towers - don't forget to comment and 'rate' your favourite articles!

We’re hitting the road!

Eoin Noble — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 17:15:25 +0000

Coming twenty years after his first novel, And the Ass Saw the Angel, Nick Cave's latest offering, The Death of Bunny Munro, is sure to shock and appall. Buckle up, you're in for a bumpy ride. Bunny Munro is not a nice guy. A relentless misogynist, his infidelities cause his wife Libby to commit suicide in the first few chapters, and the rest of the novel is spent peddling his seedy wares around Brighton with the helpless Bunny Junior in tow. The word 'explicit' doesn't really do this book justice, it is not for the faint of heart, but then Cave's music is hardly for the squeamish. We're presented with a pretty loathsome character, but a character that everyone can relate to on some level, at least according to Cave. In a recent interview with David Peace he said, 'What I wanted to try and do was create a character that men recognised, and to create a monster... women also recognised men in this character, or something they'd always suspected about men.' Much of the debate concerning the novel has centred around this critique of masculinity, of how men define themselves. This position of a travelling salesman was also famously used to comment on manliness in Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman, which has similar father-son, men-family and men-labour themes. The salesman is a charlatan, a pusher of snake oil, as Bunny himself admits:

'So what do you go and do, Dad?' says Bunny Junior. 'Well, you've got to have something they think they need, you know, above all else.' 'And what's that, Dad?' 'Hope... you know... the dream. You've got to sell them the dream.'

This is a stark contrast to Bunny's father, a former antiques dealer.

'Your fucking Dad, I tried to teach him the business...' 'Come on, Dad,' says Bunny. 'And he ends up peddling toilet brushes!' 'Beauty products.' 'Door to fucking door,' snarls the old man, contemptuously. 'By appointment,' says Bunny. 'Fucking amateur.' 'I work through a reputable company,' says Bunny. 'You're the bloody Bog Roll Man.'

If your job forces you all over the country, how can you be the father and husband that society expects you to be? If the market for manual labour has tried up, how can you be the epitome of hardy, practical masculinity? As a child in the pool at a Butlins holiday resort, the young Bunny finds meaning and self-definition in his relationships with the opposite sex.

'I knew that I had this power... this special thing that all the other bastards who were flopping around in the pool trying to impress the girls didn't have... I had this gift... a talent... and it was in that moment that I knew what I was put on this stupid fucking planet to do...'

Granted, Bunny doesn't exactly bemoan the condition of the travelling salesman, he's too busy sleeping with the customers, but the fact that society has produced this caste of men is telling in itself. Opinion over, now onto format. The choice. Firstly, check out all these amazing covers from the book's publishers around the world, some really great work there. The audiobook cds come in cases covered in Nick Cave's scrawled notes for the novel, and it's really interesting to see some of the horrific stuff that didn't quite make it into the book! The audio is also using spatialised sound effects, giving an immersive 3d experience if you wear headphones, and is accompanied by a soundtrack composed by Cave and fellow Bad Seed Warren Ellis. Last, but by no means least, is the stunning iPhone app. The audio is fully synchronised with the text, so you can swap from reading to listening at the click of a button; it's got a really intuitive tilt-to-scroll feature, great for giving your thumb a rest; and it's bundled with eleven videos of Nick Cave reading the book. Once you've seen his expansive, emotive gestures you'll wish he'd been filmed reading the entire thing. Finally, an ebook with some bite! There's a sample version as well, first three chapters, give it a shot, it's a really enjoyable way of consuming a book.

Bedtime Story Competition - La Senza and Little Black Dress

Hot on her Heels — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 17:43:28 +0000

Ever fancied writing a romantic comedy? La Senza has teamed up with Little Black Dress books for the fabulous Bedtime Stories competition - offering five lucky winners the chance to snap up a luxury weekend break, along with some fabulous La Senza nightwear and £75 worth of Little Black Dress books. Sound nice? To enter, simply write a short story of no more than 2000 words, then head over to the La Senza website to fill in the entry form. For more information about the competition, check out this page. Good luck!

Through the Lens: Norman Parkinson’s Photographic Wonderland

Julie Anne Rhodes — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 15:12:30 +0000

If you have read Jewels from The Roving Stove, you will know that I love photographs. I often use photographs to fill in where my memories fail. Little snippets of life; occasions, places, and people that I’ve adored. I can picture my elder years vividly… my rocking chair, my view of the Caribbean (I’m an island sort of gal), a few noisy but well-behaved grandchildren running about, with a zillion happy memories in frames and photo albums all around me. Sheer contentment.

Except, it is not only my own personal photos that I lust after. A great photograph can temporarily whisk you away from your own reality into another realm. I’m an aesthetically sensitive creature who sometimes craves mini-escapes from the daily doldrums of my life. Beauty nourishes my soul, so it is only natural that I wait with baited breath to receive my copy of Norman Parkinson: A Very British Glamour by Louise Baring, and published by Rizzoli New York next month. Especially since Mr. Parkinson happened to be one those people I adored.

He did my wedding pictures. Still dashing at 71, he appeared on the morning of our betrothals in a white Antony Price suit that he’d run out and bought specifically for the occasion. A nod of approval to our choice of designer, and a hint that he lived his life in the same exquisitely stylish manner his photographs expressed (see A Portrait of the Quintessential Englishman at http://jewelsfromtherovingstove.blogspot.com)

In a career that began in 1931, and flourished until his death while on location in 1990, Norman Parkinson’s photographs have exuded elegance and glamour with a sly sense of humor tossed in for good measure. He has influenced generations of photographers who have followed him in favoring real-life locations, natural lighting, and the nuances of a woman’s naturally graceful beauty to stiff poses in an artificially lit studio. As the years progressed, the situations and locations became more exotic, including photographing wife Wenda riding an ostrich or Jerry Hall on location in soviet Russia for American Vogue. Adding to the allure, both Jerry and Vogue creative director Grace Coddington recount their experiences with the legendary photographer in this book that is sure to become a veritable bible to reference for those working within the fashion industry, intrigued by fashion photography, and an absolute must-have for the coffee tables of the chic.

NORMAN PARKINSON: A Very British Glamour

By Louise Baring

with contributions by Grace Coddington and Jerry Hall

Hardcover with Jacket

9” x 12” / 224 pages / 200 color and black & white photographs

$65 U.S., $79 Canadian, £40.00

Rizzoli New York

ISBN: 978-0-8478-3342-9

Publication Date: October 2009

www.rizzoliusa.com

Image © Norman Parkinson Ltd., provided courtesy of the Norman Parkinson Archive, London

Five Alternatives To Dan Brown’s New Book

Chris Lochery — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 15:52:50 +0000

With Dan Brown’s long awaited novel, The Lost Symbol, due to be published later this month, there is a very good chance that any conversation about books for the rest of this year will be derailed by the inevitable series of questions: “Ooh, have you read The Lost Symbol yet?”, “How far are you in?”, “Have you found out that such and such is a member of blah blah blah...?” Destined to become a mandatory talking point, the fans will eagerly lap it up, desperate to finish first and offer their opinions on how it compares to his previous works; newcomers will be anxious to see exactly what they’ve been missing out on all this time, and even people who hate Dan Brown may well find themselves giving in and reading it just so that when they slag it off, they can do so with some authority. All of which is fine - these big ‘must-read’ books come around every couple of years and they cause a stir only to be forgotten about in a few months down the line. What’s so galling about the whole thing is that people think that the page-turner begins and ends with Dan Brown. The man doesn’t have a monopoly on the genre and there are hundreds of excellent crime, mystery and suspense novels overlooked in favour of a Dan Brown title in bookshops the world over. So before you get swept up in the hype, at least consider a few alternatives and perhaps try out a few of the following. Each of them excellently gripping and thrilling reads, the added bonus about these books is that you won’t be embarrassed to have any of them on your bookshelves in five years’ time. _ The Secret History - Donna Tartt A murder mystery where - somewhat unusually - the murderer is revealed within the first few pages, what keeps you reading the remaining 500+ pages of The Secret History is uncovering the motive. As the story unfolds we get a deeper insight into the strange and self-destructive circle of six gifted classics students, who are all wrapped up in not just the murder of Bunny Corcoran but a string of bizarre incidents. Tartt’s linguistic style is gloriously rich and her depiction of the unsettlingly claustrophobic campus gives the book a truly creepy edge - the type a horror writer would give their right eye for. _ Carter Beats The Devil - Glen David Gold Though reviews for his latest work Sunnyside have been a somewhat mixed bag, Glen David Gold’s debut novel Carter Beats The Devil remains to be one of the finest novels of the last decade. Part biography, part mystery thriller, the book gives us a fictionalised account of the life of stage magician Charles Carter. The story begins with the death of the US President - just two hours after he appeared on stage with Carter in a trick where Carter appeared to decapitate him, chop him into pieces and feed him to a lion - and details the subsequent FBI investigation. Whilst on the one hand this is a sad and sympathetic look at a long-established artform being made obsolete as a result of new technology, it is also a thoroughly engrossing tale of death, deception and illusion. _ Farewell, My Lovely - Raymond Chandler Philip Marlowe - Chandler’s timeless creation - is one of those characters that makes a good story great and a great story classic. Showing Robert Langdon up to be the boring, cardboard-cutout of a character he is, Chandler’s private eye protagonist is a marvellously interesting and intriguing individual. Even in his plainer works, Raymond Chandler’s dialogue and sense of atmosphere - delivered to the reader through Marlowe’s ever-weary eye - are always worth savouring, but when he’s really writing at the top of his game (Farewell, My Lovely being a prime example) the effect is breath-snaggingly good. _ Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close - Jonathan Safran Foer Although this has closer parallels with that other perennial book club favourite The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Nighttime, the story of nine-year old Oskar finding an envelope in his late father’s jacket - containing a key and marked only “Black” - is a much more accomplished novel. The young narrator manages to create a genuinely fascinating story out of very little and offers a wholly unique insight not only into the world of autism, but to the whole world around us. Dan Brown would do well to read this and learn how to effectively incorporate trivia into a story. _ The Code Of The Woosters - P.G. Wodehouse Of course, it may be that you read Dan Brown’s books because you enjoy ridiculous, implausible nonsense. There’s no shame in that. Ridiculous, implausible nonsense can be the most entertaining reading of all - provided it's in the right hands. Aside from being some of the finest and leanest comic writing ever committed to page, the books that make up P.G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves and Wooster series are also artfully crafted suspense stories. With young Bertie getting himself lodged in all manner of far-fetched and preposterous scrapes, the plotting, pace and pitch of these yarns is absolutely immaculate. Far from being simple, whimsical, knockabout capers, these are true works of genius. (photo courtesy of smileham)

Channel 4 commissions William Boyd’s Any Human Heart

t5m — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 12:33:48 +0000

Prolific author and t5m patron William Boyd will see one his best selling novels adapted for the small screen. Any Human Heart, which chronicles the life and times of Logan Mounstuart as he travels between Oxford and Uruguay, is one of the many series that have been commissioned by Channel 4, as they inject a staggering £20million into new drama series. William Boyd has adapted his own novel, and will work with Lynn Horsford and Lee Morris who will produce the four-part series for Carnival Films, with Sally Woodward Gentle as executive producer. Filming is due to begin this winter. We can't wait!

Recession-friendly chick-lit

Hot on her Heels — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 15:06:46 +0000

A writer has edited the US version of her latest book in order to make her chick-lit offering 'recession-friendly'. Author Sarah Bilston, whose first novel Bed Rest was released in 2007, penned Sleepless Nights, which was published in the UK last year. However, when Bilston began to revise the novel for it's US audience, she decided to make some changes. According to the Guardian, Bilston spent time rewriting Sleepless Nights, replacing the glitz and glamour contained in the first version with 'a credit-crunched poplace struggling to make ends meet.' The editing process even involved the heroine's sister (Jeanie) from taking a summer off, with Bilston claiming that, "as an academic myself, I see every day how anxious new graduates are about entering the workforce. Jeanie's motivations needed to be more intimately connected to anxiety than pleasure-seeking. The novel had to be an enjoyable escape from reality while shadowing that reality accurately enough to maintain reader sympathy." A good idea? Well, it's definitely different. As the recession has hit, many of us have had to give up life's little luxuries in order to get by. But what about in the chick-lit world - a place for fans to escape to a world of love and glamour rather than having to worry about the gas bill? Bilston believes that chick-lit riddled with glamour and shopping tales is now over. "In the next months and years, expect to see plots that turn on overcoming repossession and job loss, not shopping and sex," she predicted. "The frothiest novels must respond to a more sober age. Like many American businesses, chick lit must reinvent itself – fast – if it's going to survive."

Barbara Taylor Bradford goes back to her roots

t5m — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 15:20:20 +0000

One of the world's most prolific and famed writers, Barbara Taylor Bradford has gone back to her roots to conduct research for her next novel - which will no doubt become a bestseller like all her previous efforts! Barbara was born in Yorkshire, and is returning home in September to celebrate 30 years since her debut best selling novle, Woman of Substance which kick started as career as one of the world's best loved novelists. She is also visiting Ashdell prep school and Meadowhall shopping centre to talk about her life and career, and to sign copies of her latest novel, Breaking the Rules. Taylor Bradford's visit to Ashdell coincides with the launch of the school's first-ever literary festival and she has agreed to perform the official opening. Barbara said "I'm really excited about my trip to Yorkshire. I always get such a warm welcome." To learn more about Barbara's fascinating career as a novelist, journalist and charity patron watch t5m's exclusive interview with the best selling writer here. What's your favourite Barbara Taylor Bradford Novel?

New nightmares

Eoin Noble — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 20:10:07 +0000

Every generation reimagines or adds to the stories and myths passed down to them; this is part of the process of culture and its communication, and it's something that Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan, co-authors of The Strain, are acutely aware of. When dealing with a mythology as often returned to as vampirism, it is especially important, to my mind, to bring something new to the table. The Strain is quick to debunk some pre-conceived notions we might have about the children of the night:

"Garlic has certain interesting immunological properties and can be useful in its own right. So its presence in the mythology is biologically understandable, at any rate. But crucifixes and holy water?" He shrugged. "Products of their time. Products of one Victorian author's fevered Irish imagination, and the religious climate of the day."

If you've seen Blade II, which Del Toro directed, you'll be vaguely familiar with the unusual physiology of these vampires, and the authors clearly use this film as a platform upon which to base some more bizarre physical traits, but I won't spoil these for you. Another particularly refreshing aspect is the perspective from which we as readers view the narrative. Vampire literature traditionally draws from a limited pool of protagonist types; I've had my fill of brooding vampires and their equally self-centred hunters, lone individuals who barely have to interact with the world around them, but this book is different. Hogan and Del Toro's hero is a middle-aged man struggling through divorce proceedings while trying to maintain a normal relationship with his young son. Alright, so he's also the head of a bioterrorism response unit, but apart from that he's like all of us: weak, scared and human. Therein lies the true difference between this novel and the majority of the vampiric canon, the supernatural is really just a foil for humanity, we are the central players. Much like Pan's Labyrinth, another of Del Toro's, it's humanity that causes the worst atrocities, not the terrifying fantasy world that we sometimes inhabit. As a vampire says to one of the central characters, a former inmate in an Austrian concentration camp during the Second World War:

"But why destroy me, boy? Why am I so deserving of your wrath, when around you you find even more death in my absence?"

Set in New York, a city trying to build over the scars of 9/11, the outbreak of vampirism is initially mistaken for a bioterrorist attack, or the beginnings of some new epidemic, the implication being that human beings could easily have caused as much carnage without the help of their vitamin D-deficient cousins. Scarily enough, once people start to realise what's happening, there's a perverse pleasure in defending oneself from former loved ones and acquaintances. Annoying neighbours, smug co-workers, even estranged spouses, all are dispatched with an eerie relish. As one would expect from a director turned writer, pacing and description is bang on; the writing is so seamless you can hardly tell it was a collaborative effort; and it actually made me afraid of the dark again, which is surely the ultimate achievement for such a work. Inevitably, however, we must turn to the question of a future film adaptation, and what effect this had had on the writing. As already mentioned, it's a vividly descriptive book, and the build-up is perfect, but to what degree one can differentiate this from plain good writing is hard to tell. One thing to note is that the way the chapters are split up, to me, seemed cinematic, almost scene-like, but your mileage may vary. Whatever the balance, I wouldn't be surprised if this trilogy ended up on the silver (!) screen at some point in the not-too-distant future. PS the audio version is narrated by Ron Perlman, long-time Del Toro collaborator, which got me excited.

Samuel Carver: the real-time hit

Tom Cain — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 17:19:17 +0000

So here's the plan ... Samuel Carver's an angry man. He wants to take someone out. Someone very well-known. A very senior politician - a real one. He's going to be planning and executing the hit over the next few days. You can follow the action on my Twitter or Facebook pages ... then all will be revealed with the release of an online short story at a time and place to be revealed ... but it won't be long now before the hit goes down ...

Transformers part two - Decepticons

Eoin Noble — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 12:48:27 +0000

Every action movie, especially a franchise one, needs its villains; they must be as varied and distinct as the heroes they strive to destroy. Transformers has the Decepticons, ranging from devious to bungling back in the 80s, to the fanged, spitting monstrosities of today. They are led by Megatron. *Note, this post contains discussion of the most recent Transformers movie, so if you don't want some spoilers you might not want to read on.* Megatron had to undergo a few changes before reappearing on the big screen. For a start, this massive machine could no longer transform into a pistol; apparently modern movie-goers wouldn't be able to accept this. Sure, a giant cube could shrink into one the size of your head, that's believable. Grumble. Anyway, much as I like the old Megatron, I can't deny that the new one is pretty menacing. Again, though, Bay's attempts to make him even more realistic leave me cold - old-school Megatron could be mean enough without drenching an IMAX camera in spittle. No, my problem with the new Decepticons in general, and their leader in particular, is that they seem to be so readily expendible. Granted, they don't have a few series to develop all of the characters fully, but shouldn't the mighty Megatron be a bit more hardcore? In the first film he spends about a quarter of an hour wiping the floor with Optimus Prime's shiny metal ass and then he's melted by the Beef, and in the second film super-Prime dismantles him in less than a minute! Other Decepticons get even less screen time, causing mild carnage before being turned into scrap so quickly that you actually start to feel sorry for them! You really can't have villains so weak that they make the good guys seem over-righteous. Starscream, Megatron's not-so-loyal lieutenant, another face with too much going on, but looks plenty evil, fine. He suffers from chronic under-development. In the original series he's always trying to assume leadership of the Decepticons, through any underhanded means necessary. Something that surprised be with the second of the two films was that none of the other Decepticons had made a play for power after Megatron's demise. They're just so limited. I actually struggled to find another Decepticon from the first of the new movies that was worthy of mention, so I had to resort to Devastator from the latest film. He's a mega-bot made up of five or six normal-sized Decepticons, good opportunity for a pretty cool bad guy, huh? Wrong. He spends a fair amount of time inhaling sand, gets beaten up by two tiny, racially stereotyped Autobots, and then gets blasted with a rail gun fired by some nameless extra twenty miles away. What a disappointment. I mean, what's he even meant to be? The picture's not the greatest, but watch the film and you'll see. Wait, am I advertising that film now? Next week's love interests, humans and optional extras, as requested.

The very best summer reads

Emma Lee-Potter — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 11:42:09 +0000

Just when the long summer holidays are here my fearless teenage son has gone and toppled ten feet off a Warwickshire hill on his mountain bike. As well as his wounded pride, he’s broken his collarbone in three places and is now out of action for the entire summer. No sailing. No skateboarding. Certainly no biking. As the lovely staff nurse in the children’s ward told him: “Well, you could always try and get ahead with your GCSE coursework.” He wasn’t impressed.

As well as watching DVDs and playing on the Xbox, he’s got plenty of time on his hands for reading. I’ve just reviewed some of the summer’s best fiction for a newspaper – so while he lies with his right shoulder strapped up in a sling he’s got some cracking books at his bedside. Here are my top three.

It’s eight years since Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s million-selling novel The Shadow of the Wind was first published. But his new book, The Angel’s Game (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, £18.99), is here at last. And well worth the wait. In a spooky, abandoned mansion in the heart of 1920s Barcelona, David Martin earns his living writing sensationalist novels. Zafón is a fantastic storyteller and this stylish novel, half romance, half literary thriller, is completely gripping.

For a bitter-sweet love story, try David Nicholls’ One Day (Hodder & Stoughton, £12.99). Nicholls trained as an actor before switching to writing - his first novel, Starter for Ten, was made into a film starring James McAvoy and Rebecca Hall. His third book is a funny “will they, won’t they?” romance tracing the relationship between university friends Emma and Dexter on the same day each year for 20 years. I read this book in one go and it’s a joy.

Paolo Giordano sounds like a complete genius. He’s 27, a high-powered Italian physicist and a writer to boot. His debut novel, The Solitude of Prime Numbers (Doubleday, £12.99), has sold more than a million copies worldwide and won a clutch of literary awards along the way. His book tells the intertwining stories of Alice and Mattia, two children whose lives have been scarred by tragedy.

I’ve got a feeling though that my action-mad teenager is more likely to choose Sandstealers (HarperPress, £6.99) by Ben Brown. One of the BBC’s most experienced foreign correspondents, Brown has written a highly-autobiographical thriller. Set against the backdrop of Bosnia, Chechnya and post-liberation Iraq, it’s the story of renowned war reporter Danny Lowenstein, who gets ambushed by gunmen on the way to an interview. A fast-moving book that oozes authenticity – from the “lucky boots” Danny always wears to the intense friendships he forms with his fellow adrenalin-addicted journalists. Adrenalin-addicted? It sounds right up my son’s street.

Apologies for my absence: I’ve been ravaging Africa

Tom Cain — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 16:33:26 +0000

Look, I know I should have blogged weeks ago, but I got started on my fourth book, and things took an unexpected turn, and the next thing I knew, rhinos were being poached, families were being slaughtered on their private game reserve, teenage daughters were being kidnapped and botched rescue missions were leading to frenzied scenes of mortal combat in obscure villages in Mozambique. And my hero, Samuel Carver, still hasn't been given the mission that will actually define the book - a hit on someone who may seem to have a few things in common with someone you might know ... And that's all I'm saying about that! Meantime, my third book Assassin was published yesterday and is available here ... And for anyone who wants to see the actual places that inspired it, I'm building up an album of them here ... Tragically, I neglected to organise a launch party and was obliged to crash the simultaneous publication of Even by the ridiculously tall and correspondingly talented Andrew Grant, who was accompanied by his seriously babelicious - and, yes, correspondingly talented - other half, the American author Tasha Alexander ... ... And the second book The Survivor (which is paradoxically called No Survivors in the States) was recently nominated for Best Thriller in the Barry Awards, which are the main event at Bouchercon, the biggest crime-writing convention in the States ... ... And voting is still continuing for the Crime Novel of the Year award for which The Accident Man (first novel) has been nominated ... And a couple of red-hot Hollywood screenwriters I'm contractually forbidden to name have just finished their treatment for the movie of Accident Man ... ... And I'm off to New York next week for Thrillerfest, which is another big convention. I'm taking my Flip and planning to grab hold of some top crime scribes and interview them for this blog ... assuming I can figure out how to upload it all ... So now I'd just like to sign off by saying that contrary to some suggestions that have been made to me, the mysterious death of Michael Jackson from a fatal heart attack had nothing whatever to do with Samuel Carver ... even if he would, in fact, know just how to induce a heart-attack without anyone being the wiser ... and may, in fact, do so quite soon ...

The year of magical thinking

Eoin Noble — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 14:54:01 +0000

Recently acquired a set of Fourth Estate's 25th anniversary limited-edition hardbacks, one of which – The year of magical thinking – is pictured above. Theatre designer Bob Crowley is responsible for the cover, fitting since he worked on the book's stage adaptation. Superstition is, I think, something that most of us court at one time or another, I used to believe in what I liked to call the 'cosmic seesaw'. This meant that if something bad happened to me I could shrug it off, the seesaw would have to bring me something good in return, which was comforting. However, if something good happened to me I could never fully enjoy it – the seesaw giveth, the seesaw taketh away. It's kind of like karma, only the seesaw doesn't give a damn if you're naughty or nice. With that in mind, I can understand part of Joan Didion's mindset in The year of magical thinking, which details the year following her husband's death. For her, 'magical thinking' is her rational mind attempting to assimilate her loss: if she'd read the signs she could have prevented it; and if she were to perform the correct rituals she might be able to bring him back.

'I could not give away the rest of his shoes. I stood there for a moment, then realized why: he would need shoes if he was to return.'

I often struggle with so-called mourning literature as it must, necessarily, be specific; it makes me an unwilling voyeur intruding on a life that I ultimately have no part or interest in. I feel like a fraud for glossing over the details of a life so that I can get to the parts where something is actually communicated between writer and reader. More than once I determined to abandon this book to its grief, but for some reason I could not. What is grief? I've been to the funerals of grandparents, but no matter how close to them I was, their deaths did not cause this utter dislocation of the everyday that Didion talks about. I realised that my notions of grief have, perhaps naturally, come from literature, television and film; and that grief is for me, in a sense, unreal.

'We might expect that we will be prostrate, inconsolable, crazy with loss. We do not expect to be literally crazy, cool customers who believe that their husband is about to return and need his shoes.'

Is grief something that culture simply cannot communicate, whatever the medium, or is it our inability to comprehend that is at fault? No matter how much I feel I've taken away from this book, will I have any clearer a picture of what grief is?

'Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it.'

This isn't a book that will give you any of the answers, and, unlike many others, it doesn't pretend to. It is a eulogy for a man, a marriage and a way of life; all three perhaps taken for granted at one time or another, but who among us cannot say the same? Beyond the name-dropping, the illustrious career, the holidaying in Malibu and Honolulu, this book earnestly tries to provide some perspective on the nature of human existence. We're not in control, no matter how much we like to think we are; you can read the signs and enact the rituals, but

'Leis go brown, tectonic plates shift, deep currents move, islands vanish, rooms get forgotten.'

Our time here is brief, the duration of our stay not of our choosing. It's sometimes helpful to be reminded that our lives are not constants, that the world will quite happily go along without us, 'As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end'. I won't necessarily remember this state of mind tomorrow, or next week, but for brief moments this book gave me fleeting glimpses of clarity and perspective, which I guess is as much as any of us can hope for.

Forget about Gordon or Dave, vote Cain!

Tom Cain — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 08:50:57 +0000

My publisher rang me up the other day to tell me the good news that The Accident Man was on the shortlist for the Theakston's Old Peculier Crime Novel of the Year Award which may have a wacky name, but is actually a great award, presented at the Harrogate Crime Writing Festival in July. It's a bit odd, being on this year's list, since the book came out in 2007, but better late than never. It turns out, however, that this is actually the world's longest shortlist, with 14 nominations. This lengthens the odds against actually winning. But on the other hand, it greatly increases the number of people who have to fake smiling good-loserdom when some other jammy bastard wins, so there are plenty of equally embittered, envious, poison-bellied malcontents hanging round the bar for sorrow-drowning purposes. Of course, it is possible (13-1 against, but possible) that one might not actually lose. What's more, it's also possible to affect the result. This is an award voted for by the general public ... that's YOU!! ... so like any good politician I am now going to kiss your baby, spend your taxes on porn films, moats and second home and beg you to ... VOTE! VOTE!! VOTE!!! ... for The Accident Man. It's second from the top of the list, so that really shouldn't be too hard!:) PS: If you want to get a taste of the book, read by me and shot by a camera that seems to have a special 'double chin x6 multiplier' lens, it's HERE

I really don’t want to alarm you, but …

Tom Cain — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 11:36:16 +0000

… there’s something you need to know. I think a lot about killing people.

I consider, at great length, original and effective means of taking peoples’ lives. Recently, for example, I planned, in extreme detail, an assassination attempt on the President of the United States that would, I believe, be impossible for the US Secret Service to combat.

But before the NSA and GCHQ spooks who track our emails and blog posts get too excited and start ringing for the anti-terrorist squad I should point out that I am neither a psychopath nor a close friend of Osama bin-Laden.

I am a thriller-writer.

Once a year I have to deliver a new book. My publishers expect 100,000 words of action, excitement, tension, violence, romance and sex, all set in glamorous and original locations. There must be wicked villains and beautiful, strong, captivating heroines.

The hero, though is a given. His name is Samuel Carver. He is a hitman who makes very bad things happen to people who deserve them.

He kills his targets in carefully planned, and entirely deniable ‘accidents.’ Hence the title of the first Carver book, The Accident Man. That was inspired by an accident which many people believed was actually a murder: the death of Princess Diana.

At the time I wrote the book I thought of it as a one-off. It never occurred to me that I would spend the next several years trying to dream up ever more exotic accidents and assassinations. But that’s the way it’s turned out.

The apparently infallible assault on a US President occurs at the climax of my new book, Assassin, which will be published in July. Is it successful? Well, that would be telling!

Now I’m pondering my next target, and how to terminate him. All suggestions gratefully received!

Yours,

Tom

Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights goes Bollywood

t5m — Wed, 13 May 2009 13:24:05 +0000

t5m loves a good trip to the theatre, and we are particularly excited to hear that the characters from Emily Bronte’s most famous novel would be taking a trip to India and singing... Wuthering Heights is the latest show from British Asian theatre company Tamasha, creator of 'Strictly Dandia' award-winning musical 'Fourteen Songs, Two Weddings and a Funeral' and the avant-garde East is East. Tamasha and former Eastenders star Deepak Verma takes this classic story of class-barriers, passion and envy from the moors of Yorkshire and places it in the scorched desert landscape of Rajasthan, creating a vibrant, pulsating new musical version of Wuthering Heights. Shakuntala, the willful daughter of spice merchant Singh, falls for Krishan, an Aladdin-like street urchin that her father brings home after a trip to the market. But can their adolescent love withstand India’s rigid social hierarchies, and Shakuntala’s yearning for the luxurious life that she has been born into? Taking into account the strict caste regime that has existed in India for centuries, the story of Wuthering Heights works well and is realistic with an Indian backdrop, despite the strong presence of English culture in Emily Bronte’s novel. Despite its 18th century setting, this timeless story incorporates all the vibrancy of colour, dance and music of classic Indian cinema: and will no doubt captivate theatergoers of any age. Lyric Hammersmith Lyric Square, King St, London W6 0QL Book online or call 0871 22 117 29 www.lyric.co.uk

William Boyd on leading a double life: An exclusive profile

t5m — Wed, 06 May 2009 16:49:23 +0000

Scottish screenwriter and novelist William Boyd was born in Accra in Ghana, and spent most of his early childhood in Nigeria, explaining that “I wanted to be a painter actually when I was at school. I was very good at art. My father said it was out of the question”. However, perhaps unsurprisingly for one of our generations most prolific writers, William does also describe himself as an avid, compulsive reader of books. William tells t5m about his exciting childhood, which saw him leaving Africa to go to boarding school in Scotland, and moved between the two worlds for the next nine years, a process he calls a ‘double life’. In an exclusive and personal interview with t5m, William tells us about his fascinating childhood and the implications this had on his conception of his own identity, as well as describing to his the painstaking detail of his writing process. William Boyd on t5m is essential viewing for anyone fascinated, intrigued or inspired by the power of English literature.

Barbara Taylor Bradford talks to t5m about Breaking The Rules

t5m — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 14:09:25 +0000

You can't argue with the statistics - 20 million copies sold of her debut novel A Woman of Substance, 24 consecutive best sellers on both sides of the Atlantic and 81million copies of her novels sold worldwide in 80 countries. Wow, Barbara Taylor Bradford is a literary force to be reckoned with. t5m caught up with Barbara in her New York home to talk about everything from history, diabetic dogs, the future of print journalism, and of course, her upcoming novel Break The Rules. Check out what Barbara had to say in our exclusive interview on her personal channel, here on t5m.