Like Clockwork – the bitter end

Nah, only joking. It’s sweet and sunny all the way through. No, it’s not. (Damien M Love knows how to keep his fans on their toes.)

Alex and the adventure his grandfather set in motion by running off to Paris, continues in the cold and the snow, and mostly in the dark. I lost touch with how many days and nights they had to fight robots and other machinery, but I believe it was only something like three days. It just felt like more, as the reader shivers along with Alex in the Continental pre-Christmas weather. And then you shiver a little more when those creatures are after you. I mean, after Alex.

The grandfather is charming, but quite a slippery sort of customer, when you stop and think about it. You don’t always think when sliding off some roof or other, or those little robot things have a go at you, but the man always changes the subject!

You – and Alex – want to know who The Tall Man is. Why does Alex feel as though he knows more than he can remember? And those funny ‘feelings’ he gets. What exactly are they?

This is an exciting dash through several countries, in classic thriller chase mode with plenty of fight scenes. Nothing terribly deep anywhere, and until they also become too clichéd, I’ll take robots over vampires/zombies/etc any day. Good old-fashioned entertainment. (Although at some point I did wonder if Damien’s rather rubbish at maths, but I realised there was method in the confusion.)

——-

You can buy it here. Parts one to six. Great stuff. Although it is cheating if you buy them all at once, with no waiting and no suffering for a week as Alex hangs on yet another cliff. But go on. You may, just this once.

Like Clockwork parts 2 and 3

I do. I mean, I did. Last night. I liked it. Just before bedtime was not the best of times for reading about machines that think – and attack – but I had finally got my paws on parts two and three and couldn’t resist. That’s despite me being halfway through another excellent read.

You may recall that I blogged about the first part of Like Clockwork some time ago. Then I received the second part as a pdf, but I hate reading on a computer screen so much that I just never got round to reading. I begged an ebook version instead, which is what I devoured in the middle of the night.

Oh, the ‘thrill’ of having to wait for more instalments! It must be akin to what Dickens used to put people through, and I don’t see why Damien M Love should do this to me. It’s calculating. It’s cruel. Leave readers hanging off cliffs (or worse) and see how they feel. (Ready to buy the next part, I suppose.)

Anyway, Alex and his Grandfather have escaped to ***, where they encounter more of these *** and as they try to get away…

The thing is, even bad baddies are people. These machines are not, and this notches up the creepiness levels considerably.

I’ve got halfway, and I can’t work out what will happen next. But all three cliffhangers have hung pretty good, so my hopes are high.

And that’s not all that is high. You should have seen when they were…

The Ninnies

It’s gross. There is no other word for it. Well, nightmarish, perhaps. The kind of stuff you see at night and hope will be gone when you wake up.

And I wonder if Paul Magrs could possibly have imagined how we’d be talking about our food in 2013, when he came up with the idea for The Ninnies, or even when his book was published last year?

I’ll give you one clue. It’s not horse. But you will go off your food.

When I began reading this (as an ebook) I had no idea where it was set. I only realised it was close to home, reading about the ‘crisps’ and the crisp factory as my train sped past the very place. It mainly happens in ‘the Stockport Road’ and this is not a good reflection on that town.

So, you witness some outlandish creatures grabbing your dad and driving off with him. Your pregnant mum thinks the two of you have been abandoned. You have weird neighbours and you meet an unusual girl who introduces you to some very moreish crisps.

People are going missing all over the place. Those neighbours know something. Your new friend is happy for an adventure looking into these disappearances. And what’s going on at the zoo?

It’s yuck everywhere, but this will probably appeal to non-crisp-eating boys, and maybe girls. Described as a YA fantasy, it is quite realistic. Really. Apart from the fantastical elements, which are no longer as far-fetched as they were.

If you think I’m skirting around the whole issue, you are correct. There is only so much I can subject you to.

The Big O as an e

It’s his birthday tomorrow. That’s why I’m letting Declan Burke have two reviews in one and the same week.

I’ve already reviewed* The Big O. It was back in 2007, when I didn’t know what to make of this Irishman with his entertaining blog. Could he write crime novels?

He could. And for anyone who is now feeling traumatised after reading Slaughter’s Hound (if you haven’t had time yet; don’t worry. You will feel in need of something lighter), The Big O is just the thing for you.

As good, but less bloody. The characters swear, and they commit crimes, but the tale is more humorous than brutal.

The paper version of The Big O is long gone. And Declan found it was hard to interest people in its sequel when there was no way of reading the first book. Hence the move to a new ebook. I think it’s an opportunity you should take. If only because it will then ease your way to reading Crime Always Pays. The sequel. Which is even better. And funnier.

I know what you are thinking. That witch is besotted. But then, so is Eoin Colfer. I’m in good company. Join us?

*Please note. Back then I didn’t imagine there would be much more Irish crime for me to read. Hah!

The Talent

I don’t watch talent programmes. Can’t stand them. I’m also becoming wary of too many dystopias, so an ebook that combines the two wasn’t going to be at the top of my shopping list. But since it’s that very busy bee Philip Caveney who wrote The Talent, I decided to give it a go. Published a year ago, you can see how long I’ve taken getting started, but I had my reasons.*

Set in Manchester some time in the not too distant future (a parent character recalls going to the kind of concert we have today), people are hungry and poor and live in crowded conditions, sharing flats with strangers. Tobacco and alcohol are illegal, and corruption is rife. Joining the Army is almost the only guaranteed job, but a very bad one. Police brutality is a daily possibility.

Josh plays the guitar, and caterwauls his own songs on the roof of his block of flats. His grandfather believes in him, and now that Josh is old enough, he will try for The Talent, the television programme the whole population follow avidly. If you win, you have a future.

If Josh didn’t get in, there would be no story, so it’s no spoiler to say he ends up taking part. I won’t say too much about what happens, but Philip has added all those things we already worry about, or can see are happening, and this makes his future vision a very realistic one. I can see all this coming, rotten tomatoes and everything.

Not quite totalitarian, but close. Many of the characters are stereotypes, but I believe that’s what makes this effective. We already know these people. We see them on the news and in the talent shows today.

The plot has several interesting angles apart from the competition itself. Is it rigged? Will they fall in love? Is Josh’s MIA father dead? What to do about Holly’s father? Can society even survive?

There are some surprises, and some fun solutions to the problems. Mostly it’s simply an exciting story about musical talent and honest behaviour.

And it’s not only the dystopian future that Philip has portrayed accurately (as we see things today). One of the characters says that he ‘could eat a horse.’ I wonder how he knew?

—-

*Somehow I had mixed in some of the ingredients from the Hunger Games with this book. To put it bluntly, I was under the impression that anyone who didn’t sing well enough was likely to be shot. Or something like that. Not tempting. Sorry to be such an idiot. (And now that I have done all the silliness for you, you can just get on with the reading.)

The Bone House

Screaming on trains, even on the Stirling to Dundee train, is not a good idea. Which is why I restrained myself and refrained from giving vent to my feelings on reading The Bone House by Barry Hutchison.

The worst thing is I have no recollection of how and when I got it. I am OK with forgetting books, but when I come upon them again, I tend to recall, well, something. But here I was on the train, as I said, leafing through the Kindle, having just finished one long overdue, previously abandoned ebook, just to see what else there was. The complete Sir Walter Scott was so not on my agenda.

Hence this little story of Barry’s.

The school holidays have just started, and two teenagers go out into the woods, where the boy has found something ‘cool’ he wants to show the girl. It’s a ‘collection of bones’ and I am actually rather worried that Barry, who seems almost normal, could even think this kind of thing up. It might have been the squirrel, I suppose…

And then, well, I could foresee something, but I didn’t do it enough or in time.

SCREAM!!!!

(By really odd coincidence I was discussing this on Facebook with someone, and then by odder coincidence still, Barry went and won the Scottish Children’s Book Awards, and decided he’d celebrate by making The Bone House available for free for a day. Unfortunately for you, that was yesterday.)

Some travelling thoughts

It’s travel time again. A quick dash north, and an equally quick one back. Or I hope it will be. I suppose I have jinxed the trains by saying/thinking this.

My bag isn’t full of things this time, so much as simply being a bag. OK, there are a couple of new reads for Daughter; Eleanor Updale and Marie-Louise Jensen. But I am primarily bringing the bag that ‘someone’ was unable to take last time. I’m the bag lady.

But you know, back in my childhood, who’d have thought you’d be able to sit looking at a small machine on your desk or kitchen table, checking if your train is running to time? (Or running at all.) On the other hand, back then who’d have thought there would be a need to? Trains ran. Often on time.

And, isn’t it slightly weird that I can slip the complete works of Sir Walter Scott and Rudyard Kipling, as well as the King James Bible into my pocket? The trains might run late, or encounter the wrong kind of snow, but that’s a lot of reading in one pocket. Trollope, Twain, Wilde. And so much else. (Don’t worry; I won’t Kiple or Scott too much. I’ve got other books I need to read. Even one ‘real’ book.)

I was excited to see that Sophie Hannah is doing an event in Dundee this evening. I’ll be close, but not close enough. After her event I’ll be freezing on the platform at Dundee, while she is no doubt warm in a hotel somewhere.

Too far away for Barry Hutchison’s launch of The Book of Doom in Aberdeen. Also tonight. It feels funny to be closer than usual, but still too far away. Maybe I should move to Scotland? There are things going on here.

(Decided I was allowed to borrow this photo, on account of bag lady duties, and the fact that the bag contains Lent buns, even if they are late Lent buns.)

Bookwitch bites #100

For my 100th bite I am donning my gossip magazine disguise, and we are going royal. Admittedly, the combination of authors and royals in the news has been somewhat unfortunate this week.

But all is rosy chez BWB! Earlier this week Nicola Morgan casually dropped the bombshell that she was agonising over what to wear for a dinner at The Palace. She’s in Edinburgh, so that would be Holyrood. I’m not sinking low enough to deal with the garment situation, because I’m all excited knowing someone who dined with the Princess Royal!

‘It was a dinner to spread the word about a charity she’s Patron of, Opportunity International, and I was very impressed indeed by how she spoke about it so intelligently and passionately,’ Nicola said afterwards. It seems everything went well, forks and other implements behaved themselves, Nicola was suitably covered and Hilary Mantel was only mentioned ‘very quietly.’ Ms Morgan ‘found the whole thing really interesting and it was amazing being inside the palace.’

So now you know. The rest of us can only dream.

Further good news is that Celia Rees has won the Coventry Book Awards 14+ category for This Is Not Forgiveness. Well done!

More good news for Michael Grant fans. The last Gone book – Light – will be here in just over a month. So will Michael himself, and Dublin fans will be delighted to hear he is actually coming to Ireland this time. Hang on for more details.

Finally, a big WELL DONE to all of you who bought/downloaded The Storm Bottle last week. Nick has reported back that it was a resounding success, with sales both sides of the Atlantic taking his book to seventh and sixth place respectively, and a lovely fourth place in the free children’s action and adventure category.

So you see, pulling together does help!

Bookwitch bites #99

The children’s book world is a very nice place, but not 100% so. My estimation of Terry Deary sank somewhat this week. Not because he thinks it’s OK to do away with libraries. It’s his right to have opinions, and I’m sure there is a (very) small grain of truth in there, somewhere. But it appears he felt it was all right to get personal when Alan Gibbons turned out not to agree with him. Here is what Alan had to say in reply, and he has to be admired for the way he did so. He’s got style!

I don’t know where Rhys of Thirst For Fiction blog fame started off his reading. These days I assume he gets all the same books I do. But he might well have been to a library at some point during his 16 or 17 years. The library is where I first met Caroline Lawrence, and here she can be found talking to Rhys, in an interview that is so much better than what I managed with Caroline.

How did you people do with getting your hands on the free ebook The Storm Bottle during the last couple of days? Don’t tell me you forgot. It’s no longer free and you will have to fork out 77p. But it will be worth it. Katherine Langrish posted a pretty perfect blog about Nick Green on Thursday. With people like her and Rhys around I will soon have to hang up my broomstick.

Another tireless book person is Tony Higginson, whose Formby Books is opening in new premises today. It sounds like he needed more space, and that can only be a good thing. (Please tell me those are the customer toilets, Tony? Or the fitting rooms, where you try new books out before taking them home, perhaps?) The address you want is 5 The Cloisters, Halsall Lane, Formby. Run along now! There is an absolutely perfect book waiting for you.

With ♥♡♥ to you

from Nick Green. (Yes, you might have come across his name here a few times in the past.) He has decided to do a Valentine’s thing, and offer The Storm Bottle on Kindle for free today. And tomorrow. So maybe it’s just me making it into some Valentinian happening…

But anyway, here is your opportunity to get a good read for free, while helping Nick hoist his great book a little higher on Amazon. I understand it’s the kind of thing that really helps. A sudden surge. A bit like what happens in the Bermuda triangle, but in reverse.

The Resident IT Consultant assures me you don’t need a Kindle for this (which would have made the free offer a little less good value). You just go here, and you click in a ‘buy this’ kind of way, and you can then choose how you would like your new free ebook.

You could obviously get copies for friends and family, too, or tell them to shop while it’s free. The book is suitable from around age ten, and there is absolutely no upper age limit!

Go click!