Walker Books and a witch with wet hands

As usual it was a case of waving your hands (or in this case, my hands) under the drier for absolutely forever, wipe them on your clothes, or go wet, hoping there’d be no hands to shake. You can guess which I chose, and what happened next, can’t you?

I was at the presentation of Walker Books’ and Constable & Robinson’s Autumn Highlights in Manchester on Wednesday evening, when I came face to face with Jo for the first time, and had to quickly get out of the handshaking she had in mind. This flustered me so much I forgot to mention my name. (But everyone knows me, right?) Besides, I’d already got the decrepit old woman treatment. Staff at the venue saw me negotiating the steps outside (which had NO handrail) and quickly bundled me into the lift before I caused more trouble.

Super-Jake was there, but I forgot to check his footwear. Representatives of our local LitFest and bookshops and that most Wondrous of blogs could also be seen. I was quite restrained prior to the talk, as I noticed there were partybags in one corner, which meant I did no stealing or anything beforehand.

Constable & Robinson went first, and I’d not realised that books on prescription, which I have heard of, is for non-fiction self-help type books, rather than patients being made to feel better after a dose of Pride and Prejudice…

They are big on halogen oven books. (Don’t ask.) They are the leaders in cosy crime. You can have books on WWII pets for Christmas. Obviously. C & R have begun offering children’s books, and they had an instructive video on how to fight zombies. (Head removal is recommended.) Gross. Shaun Ryder on UFOs. (It would have helped if I knew who Shaun Ryder is.) Joan Collins is nearly 80, in case you wanted to know. They have a book titled Going on a Bar Hunt. Droll.

This being very much a presentation for booksellers, I now know a lot more about which books are commercial, something I rarely consider in my narrow little world. There will be joke books for Christmas. And they have just begun a relationship with Brian McGilloway, who I am very interested in.

On to Walker Books, who are planning a picture book party. I think that means they have lots of picture books to offer. Vivian French has something new going; Stargirl Academy. Looks good. Pink. Anthony Browne is a Marmite author, which I can understand. That gorilla still scares me.

Cassandra Clare was there last year, before she grew so big that she doesn’t do this kind of talk. She has a film on the way. Nice for her.

Walker have travel guides, and there is new stuff for fans of GHMILY (Guess How Much I Love You books). Mumsnet have done a story collection. In fact, I reckon there is one thing parents want more than anything else. They want their children to fall asleep. Lots of books for that purpose.

Manatees and bears. A book about someone pecking (I’m thinking – hoping – woodpecker) all the way through.  Going on a Bear Hunt is out again. Michael Morpurgo will be 70, and four of his books are being re-issued, including one about funny old men who are famous artists.

Speaking of funny, Tommy Donbavand has a new series called Fangs. Walker are really really really really thrilled to be working with Anthony McGowan and his new book Hello Darkness. Patrick Ness wasn’t there except on video, where he did his best to sound interesting while not giving too much away about his new novel More Than This. His Chaos trilogy, meanwhile, is being revamped for old people.

My notes say ‘spider skeleton.’ I think there’s a book about things like spider skeletons. Kate DiCamillo and her dog spoke to us all the way from their Minneapolis dining room. While the dog made dog noises, Kate told us about her mother’s obsession with her 1952 vacuum cleaner and what would happen to it after she died. Kate’s new book Flora and Ulysses also features squirrels.

Anthony Horowitz has finally come to the end of his Power of Five books, so has had time to write Russian Roulette, the Alex Rider prequel he has had in mind for absolutely ages. He is quite satisfied with it.

Lizzy Bennet (I apologise for sounding so informal) wrote a diary in her pre-Darcy days, which will give us an opportunity to find out all kinds of stuff.

Finally, Walker are publishing the Little Island imprint, which is foreign fiction. I spied a Swedish title in among the covers they showed us, and think it’s high time there are more books from other countries.

As you can see, they had a lot to tell us. They hadn’t rehearsed, so were surprised to find it took them so long. But at the end there were canapés and more drinks and even a few authors; Steve Tasane, Sarah Webb and Katy Moran. Someone else, too. At least I think there was.

I grabbed my partybag and hobbled away home. There was NO handrail on the way out either…

The Drowning

I must agree with Rachel Ward here, and suggest that if you have any hang-ups regarding water, you’d better not read her new novel The Drowning. It’s a bit spooky, and it contains a lot of water based horror.

But if you don’t worry – any more than normal – about water, this is a great horror thriller, set in a gritty, poor area of an English town, featuring some not terribly savoury characters. And that’s another thing; I generally don’t enjoy too much of this kind of background in a book, but The Drowning is quite spectacular.

Also, you can’t really work out how it will end. It could be bad. It could be good. The big question is whether something supernatural is going on, or if it’s all in Carl’s head.

Carl wakes up half drowned, not remembering what has happened. His older brother Rob is dead beside him. There is a muddy looking girl nearby. And he just doesn’t know what’s been going on. But water sets him off on a peculiar journey for the truth.

That truth isn’t particularly nice. Carl finds that Rob wasn’t always a nice boy. He discovers that quite possibly he himself wasn’t all that nice. Their single mother drinks, and they live in a dreadful little house. People in the neighbouhood seem to fear him.

What did he do? And how did Rob die?

And what is that water doing?

Drip. Drip…

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…

Light

Bloody hell! If you’ll pardon my French.

When Michael Grant called his last book in the Gone series Light, this is not exactly what came to mind. I imagined it would be a slightly more hopeful ending to the ‘adventure.’ We would see the light and understand why and how it all happened. There would be a slow but secure path to the outside and we would cry a little over previous deaths, and all would be well. Essentially.

Hah! Not light, and certainly not lite. SPOILER,

but Michael has gone on a killing spree to make books one to five look like a picnic. One were the characters weren’t always the food.

Gross and revolting (but then I am an adult) and so very, very exciting and so well written that even though we wanted to get to the end, we didn’t really, and why did it have to end? After a while I wondered if Michael had a new kind of book series ending in mind. The sort were there isn’t a single character left.

But, some people did make it. And I won’t name names, but one survivor I was almost never in any doubt about. I felt Michael wouldn’t do that. I kept wondering if he’d take the advice of some fans and get rid of Astrid, who’s been surprisingly unpopular. And Sam, and Caine; why should we expect the main characters to pull through?

Because it’s customary? Michael doesn’t do ‘the done thing.’

And I can only say that adults and authorities are idiots. There were few surprises there. (I happened to read a piece by Desmond Tutu, describing what people no longer seem capable of doing, and how that’s why we have no future. My thoughts immediately went to Quinn, for some reason.)

After all the non-picnic stuff in Light (not to mention some awful actual picnicking) the book ends with the best epilogues I have ever come across in a novel. They are so often nothing but disappointments, but this was perfection.

I am so glad I didn’t stop after Gone. (But certain images are ones I will attempt to erase from my mind.)

All you need is love.

—

For anyone who wants to read some of the best pre-Light musings, along with a fantastic review, go visit Cynical. She beat me to it, and she did it so much better. My only contribution was – I think – to introduce her to the books. The she did the rest.

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.

Silent Saturday

I loved Silent Saturday. I also loved Helen Grant’s earlier German novels, but something tells me I love this one even more. Silent Saturday is the first of Helen’s new Belgian trilogy, and if a horror thriller can be described as comfortable, then this is it.

Set in and around Tervuren on the outskirts of Brussels, it begins with seven-year-old Veerle seeing something which scares her very very badly. It was so bad that ten years later she has forgotten all about it. But then her past seemingly comes back to haunt her, and her childhood friend Kris, who was with her when whatever it was happened.

Now she is in love with Kris, and she happily joins him and his group of associates in breaking into people’s houses when they are away. They only do this for the thrill, to see something new and, supposedly, to ‘put something back’ by doing simple repairs.

Before long, things start to go wrong. Members of the group disappear. Dead bodies are found in various places. And they only have one thing in common. The housebreakers.

What to do? If you are breaking the law, you won’t be so keen on talking to the police.

Veerle has problems at home, too. Her mother is extremely clingy, and sees monsters everywhere. The thing is, there could well be monsters, and close by…

Great – and different – setting in what feels like ‘the real Belgium,’ featuring the language gap between the two official languages. Good use of Flemish swearing, or at least I believe it is.

Go find a sofa to hide behind. Not that it will help, but you’ll be under the impression that you’re in control.

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.)

Helen Grant, the interview

We ended up talking about languages a lot. And what it’s like living in somebody else’s country. To join in, or not?

But that’s not surprising when you meet Helen Grant. She’s lived in more countries than your average person, and insists on speaking to the locals in their own language. (Some locals, in certain countries, would insist on that as well…)

While you are waiting with baited breath for Helen’s marvellous fourth novel, read my interview with her to find out how she became such a scary lady.

For some reason Silent Saturday took me right back to my childhood, and I think that’s why the sepia photos of Helen work. (Actually, the lighting at our ‘venue’ made Helen a lot more yellow than would be considered normal. So I have resorted to borrowing some of Helen’s own, which means we get to see Flanders and everything.)

Old men with sticks

Patterns are odd things. When reading a totally random list of books, you discover things that go together in the most unexpected fashion. I suppose you could plan to read lots of novels featuring yetis, should you be so inclined. But it’s more fun when the yetis simply happen to you. (You end up feeling that maybe there is a reason for all those hairy creatures.)

Sorry, but this isn’t going to be about yetis.

All that’s happened here is a week featuring two grandfathers with sticks. Brave ones, and interesting sounding ones. The kind of grandfather I would have loved to have had. (I did know one grandfather, and he most definitely walked with a stick, but I don’t reckon he was adventure novel material. Although, you just never know these things, do you?)

The first one was in Far Rockaway. In order to avoid spoilers, I’ve not said as much about Victor Manno as he deserves. He reads books and is fun company for his grandchildren. He is brave. He attacks a fire truck with his stick, to save his granddaughter. He appears in her delirious thoughts/dreams as she fights for survival. He’s a real hero.

Then there’s Alex in Like Clockwork, who also has a grandfather of the more unusual sort. With a stick, which he handles in un-grandfatherly ways. He’s an odd man, but sounds like fun. Alex certainly didn’t know him as well as he had thought. Not once the robots began to…

Unfortunately, I can’t tell you much more. This ‘book’ Like Clockwork, by Damien M Love, is being published in six parts for Kindle. So far I’ve read the first part, which also exists in some kind of old style newspaper format. And you know me; I am cynical enough to expect the worst of gimmicky things.

But, this is pretty good. In fact, I’d say, very exciting. A person could easily be forgiven for feeling that it would be nice if these parts could appear quicker. Like now. What’s worse is that the first part is only published in mid March, and the rest will appear weekly after that.

They had better! I want to know what this weirdo grandfather is going to do with the robots, and those men he… And whether he and Alex..?

Like Clockwork is rather like Clockwork. Philip Pullman’s Clockwork. Not so much the plot, as the feeling of general creepiness. It’s continental, and it’s got machines that seem to think. Nicely menacing.

I think it might be possible to find out more here.

And, you know, I am sure time will go faster soon.

Tried to google me an illustration to go with this. Like Clockwork didn’t appear. At all. Spooky.