Life after Artemis

What to do now that Artemis Fowl, that loveable rogue, has ‘retired?’ Luckily, the fact that Eoin Colfer writes hardboiled adult crime novels these days, has not prevented him from coming up with more outlandish plot ideas for us younger readers.

In W.A.R.P. The Reluctant Assassin he returns to the Victorian era, with a crime thriller complete with a sci-fi twist. As Eoin warns in his author’s notes, there are neither vampires nor werewolves on offer, but he can give you mutants, murderers, magicians, and other dreadful types. And an ‘Injun princess.’

We have Victorian urchin Riley and 21st century FBI agent Chevron Savano, age 17. (So, totally unrealistic. Or not. How are we to know what those alphabet agents really get up to?) What’s more, we have a wormhole. And Riley and Chevie couldn’t meet without one or other of them travelling through said wormhole.

Other people go through the wormhole, too, and in some cases it doesn’t end so well. W.A.R.P. is the witness relocation scheme with a difference. Witnesses are stashed in 1898, which is so safe.

There is a villain, who – I think – is actually quite charming. The blurb describes Garrick as a terrifying assassin – which he is – but I quite liked him. Not sure if I was meant to.

So, a thriller set in London, now and in 1898. The advantage being that even an FBI agent will recognise the landmarks in the past. They are the same, but smell worse. And Riley’s reaction to television was quite something.

This book has the usual humour that you come to expect and crave from Eoin, and whereas at times I was afraid that it would turn out to be only a Victorian FBI through the wormhole kind of affair, when you get to the end – which is not really an end at all – you understand that there is much more to it. Temptingly so.

Rat Runners

What a marvellous film Rat Runners would make! It’s a great book, but I spent my time reading it seeing the film it could be turned into. Daughter won’t like me saying this, but it’s precisely the kind of thing she likes watching on television. (So read the book!)

This must be Oisín McGann’s best book to date. I have enjoyed all the ones I’ve read, but do feel Rat Runners has that little bit extra. Set in a slightly futuristic London, it’s much as we know the place, except for the way everything is policed and what people can do. They have a kind of robotic – but live – watcher who can see everything, bar your thoughts. Possibly.

Nimmo is under age and isn’t allowed to live on his own, but he does anyway, having made a deal with the scientist Brundle who owns the building. When Brundle is murdered Nimmo wants to find out who did it and why. He also ends up having to search for something that Brundle had, which it turns out all the crooks in London want.

He is made leader of a group of three other adolescents – Scope, Mannikin and FX – and their job is to find this item. The four each have special skills, taken straight from your favourite thrillers. The youngest is twelve, and they all have something that their ‘boss’ can use as leverage to force them work for him.

Very exciting, and I am more than ready for the next one. I can’t see that we are done yet.

The Lighthouse trilogy

It wasn’t until I went into the kitchen to make lunch that I realised the Resident IT Consultant had not even had breakfast yet. I knew he was awake, but had forgotten to ‘keep tabs’ on what he was doing.

But I didn’t need to go and have a look at him to know what. He was busy reading Adrian McKinty’s Lighthouse trilogy. I had, yet again, pointed out he might like to read all three Lighthouse books. Because they really are good. He’d read the first and given up.

Or so we thought. When he took a second look at The Lighthouse Land, he came to the conclusion he had probably (!) not actually read it at all. So he remedied that, and skipping breakfast was one way of getting more reading in, once he’d opened his eyes that morning. He didn’t skip breakfast so much as have it after I’d lunched, so it was lunch he missed in the end.

After that I knew how it would go. He went straight on to The Lighthouse War, barely pausing for breath. And then he grabbed my rare, signed copy of The Lighthouse Keepers, and it was all I could do to tell him not to drop it in the bath.

The next morning he returned it, safe and finished. Knowing that he is sparing with the adjectives, even for marvellous books, I asked ‘was it OK, then?’

‘Reasonable, I suppose,’ said the man who had barely eaten or slept while reading.

If anyone else feels like depriving themselves over three reasonable books, do have a go. He is underrated, that Adrian McKinty. Even by Resident IT Consultants…

Dung beetles in Salford Quays

When the Resident IT Consultant heard that I’d asked another man out to dinner, I had to placate him by lending him a copy of Grk and the Phoney Macaroni. That’s because the man was none other than Josh Lacey, who is also Joshua Doder,* who writes about the adorable Grk.

I then added to my dinner guests by trawling through the shortlist for the Salford Children’s Book Award, and apart from those who were ill or otherwise indisposed, or who claimed to be telling 2000 people in Derry what to do, I found Dirk Lloyd (aka the Dark Lord, aka Jamie Thomson) and Gill Lewis, who both courageously sacrificed themselves to dinner with the witch. (I suppose it beats a dry sandwich alone in a hotel.)

Dining – and wining – authors is almost better than going to awards ceremonies. (Think Disney’s Snow White and a certain witch.)

Speaking of hotels; they shouldn’t be allowed to name and build them in such a way that authors don’t know where they are staying. We almost led someone astray after the meal.

I found Josh and the Dark Lord in the bar at the Lowry last night, where I had gone to warm up, and they for a glass of something. Before long I forced them to go out and search for Gill, who had abandonend the end of a very good book to dine with us.

We talked about a lot of things. The Dark Lord talked the most, and he is very keen on games. And similar stuff. He knows about smörgåsbord, and there was a rather unfortunate conversation about eating elk.

Some people go to awards nights away to sleep, when sleep is hard to come by at home. (On that basis, maybe there should be even more events away for the sleep deprived.) Gill, who is a vet, writes about animals, and the Dark Lord got busy thinking one up for her next book (which, if it mentions too much gamesy stuff is all his fault) to top ospreys, dolphins and bears. It seems dung beetles are the answer.

There was some speculation as to who will win today’s award. Most of our money is on Frank Cottrell Boyce, but I’m sure we could be wrong. It might be one of the dinner guests. Or Barbara Mitchelhill, David Logan or Lissa Evans. Who knows?

I gather Alan Gibbons is doing the talking again this year, so I wish I could be/have been there. But as usual, I’m happy for the children of Salford who have read and voted and hopefully generally enjoyed this year’s award work.

And my fellow diners might never have the same kind of bank balance as JKR, but they are great company, and only ever so slightly slow at ordering food. At least one of us was starving, and another very sleepy. Actually, that makes two of us.

There was some speculation on the feasibility of a Jacqueline Wilson sci-fi novel, and why not? The odds are better than for me getting the hang of modern mobile phonery. I tried texting my guests. I tried answering my phone. I’m pretty useless at it all.

Maybe it’s because I’m a foreigner that I don’t distinguish between more and longer. I meant longer. I never knowingly insult children’s authors.

Thank you, Gill, Josh and Jamie.

PS Gill Lewis and her Sky Hawk won!!!

* I am sorry to have to tell you (well, not that sorry, actually) that Joshua Doder is now dead. Kaput, as Josh Lacey put it. He is taking over his alter ego, and from now on Grk will belong to him.

The old weltschmerz and other fun stuff

‘Never, never, never kill a customer.’ I like a book where the bad baddie – who is still not quite as dead as you’d like – actually takes on board what others say to him.

And I like a book where 15-year-old boys in a small village near Belfast can talk about weltschmerz and get away with it. To be more precise, it was Lord Ramsay who said it, and Lord Ui Neill who puts up with him.

I don’t think it’s too much of a spoiler to mention that Thaddeus doesn’t die in chapter one, from hunting whatever that creature he was out hunting was. He was needed to babysit the two Lords and their alien friend Wishaway, and that’s a job almost worse than being eaten by a large cat in the first chapter.

I’m glad Thaddeus got an outing in the third book in Adrian McKinty’s (I haven’t mentioned him for several days!!) Lighthouse trilogy, The Lighthouse Keepers. He had sort of hovered for long enough that the time was ripe. And travelling through wormholes is so much more amusing if you can have someone new along each time.

Have to admit I was disappointed to have the old baddie still with us, and in Northern Ireland at that. But they have to be somewhere.

There were new baddies too. The CIA. And the clairvoyants. They know for a fact that Jamie – Lord Ui Neill – will cause the end of the world, which means they need to cause the end of Jamie before he does his bit. He has to be killed.

And there is the other world, Altair, and it also has bad people. Or maybe not. They could just be enemies, which isn’t the same thing. Their world is coming to an end, too.

The Lighthouse Keepers is funny and exciting;  and just the right mix of comedy and thriller, with a suitable amount of science fiction-cum-astrophysics thrown in. It’s very Irish. There is also a hilarious description of Larne. Although I might just think so because I have never been to Larne.

Reading The Lighthouse Keepers after the end of the world on 21st December 2012 posed a little bit of a problem, and Adrian was totally wrong about Starbucks, and hopefully a wee bit wrong regarding Paris Hilton and Lindsey Lohan. But not necessarily very wrong, which is worrying.

While the second book in the trilogy probably was better than this one, it is so good that you really must try it. The whole trilogy could do with being re-issued, and preferably by a British or Irish publisher. To me it is much more of a European story, and I feel so many people are missing out on a terrific read.

Today

So, how are we? All present and correct?

I’m not one to buy into this end of the world stuff. I had actually managed to escape the latest ending of our world until quite recently, when I read in Vi magazine what was happening. Their reporter had been to France and was amused by the restaurant he came across, that offered a spectacular last night meal with entertainment.

Perhaps he has not read Douglas Adams? I suspect the restaurant people might have, unlikely though it sounds.

But it set me thinking apocalyptic thoughts. There is Tim Bowler’s Apocalypse; bleak, but not quite the end of everything. (Unless I got it all wrong?)

There is/was – or maybe not – Nicola Morgan’s novel which tried to be Apocalypse, but changed into The Passionflower Massacre ( a much better title, now that I stop to reflect) in deference to Tim.

Most likely there are apocalypses everywhere with our taste for dystopias and horror. (Quick search in online shop only netted a couple more, surprisingly.)

Some years ago the Resident IT Consultant returned home and mentioned he’d seen a film while away. I asked what film. He said it was called The Day Before Yesterday. Or something. Personally I find his a more interesting title than The Day After Tomorrow (which is what he did see.)

Let’s get on with today…

Hello, is anyone there?

Anyone at all?

Maybe it was a mistake to set this blog post to appear automatically?

2012′s best twelve

For the 12th day of the 12th month of 2012 (I love this kind of thing!) I give you my list of the very best books. All twelve of them. (I know, there are really 13, but two for the price of one, sort of thing. Yes?)

All the books I have reviewed have been good, and it’s hard to pick the best. Except for the bestest of the best, because that one stood out by several miles, even back in January. And once we’ve got the twelves out of our system, next year I will have to go for a more restrained list. Always assuming people continue writing great books. Please do.

As always, I only include books published during the year. And here, the VERY BEST is:

Elizabeth Wein, Code Name Verity

Swiftly followed by some alphabetically listed and very marvellous runners-up:

Philip Caveney, Spy Another Day

Joshua Doder, Grk and the Phoney Macaroni

Daniel Finn, Call Down Thunder

Sally Gardner, Maggot Moon

Nick Green, Cat’s Cradle

Barry Hutchison, The Thirteenth Horseman

Wendy Meddour, A Hen in the Wardrobe, and The Black Cat Detectives

Gillian Philip, Wolfsbane

Terry Pratchett, Dodger

Celia Rees, This Is Not Forgiveness

Teri Terry, Slated

That’s it, dear readers. It was a good year, both generally, but also specifically for producing Code Name Verity, one of the best ever.

Bookwitch bites #88

As I was hinting in yesterday’s review, authors really can’t make their minds up, can they? Eva Ibbotson has very sweet, vegetarian abominable snowmen. Derek Landy’s version are the worst possible. They tried to… (oops, spoiler)

Never mind.

And then there is that J K Rowling who has a new book out that dares not to be about wizards. I like that. It’s not even about vampires. And I gather the only dystopia is our own. As it already is, and all that. I’m supposed to be getting a copy. Hasn’t happened yet, but I’ll let you know. Do you reckon after Harry and Barry, the next hero will be called, erm, Larry?

I could kill that Ian Rankin for spreading rumours J K was writing a crime novel. He should stick to balls in BSL.

Although, sticking to things aren’t always for the best. Stephen and Lucy Hawking have new covers for the George trilogy, and for such a stick-in-the-mud, I do like the new covers better than the old ones.

Aren’t they cool? Surely any child would want to read these? I would almost want to be a child again. Almost.

Whenever I receive information as a member of the Jacqueline Wilson fan club (yes, really) I do feel quite young. The message from Dame JW herself in celebration of the newly re-designed website makes me want to worship at her knee.

And there is Emerald Star still to enjoy. It was published this week, but whereas super fan Daughter has read it, I had to stand in queue and will get to it shortly. Time she grew up and let me be the child. After all, I am the shortest.

The Long Earth

My mind is definitely boggling. The concept of the Long Earth in Terry Pratchett’s The Long Earth, which he has written with Stephen Baxter, is still a little unclear to me. I’m not sure if millions of different ‘Earths’ exist on Earth, or if these alternate places are each to be found on their own planet. It possibly doesn’t matter.

I have to admit to not having totally grasped the idea even when Terry explained it to me, two years ago. The thought that with the help of a potato, you can travel instantly to another earth, was almost too much for me. Maybe I have stayed away from Science Fiction for too long? I do feel, though, that the book was a lot more fun than it sounded like when we talked about this potato-enabled hopping. Possibly Terry needs to perfect his sales pitch.

Why is it that in sci-fi you almost always travel? This was less of a space ship journey, because as I said, I’m not sure where the characters went to. I do know where they started from, which was Madison, Wisconsin (my second Wisconsin book in a row, so I will steer clear of that, now). With or without their potatoes, people ‘step.’ Into another world, or ten, and occasionally one hundred thousand worlds. Seeing how you are sick when you step, you can see that it might be hard to step any distance.

We have a Jesus figure, of sorts. And a Hal (who seems a bit Dalai Lama-ish). I think this is all about how we behave on Earth, and the mistakes we make, because we are stupid and greedy. It’s about people who ‘step’ in much the same way the old pioneers of the West went West.

There are nuns, who are very cool, and there are music hall singing trolls and vicious elves. Maybe it’s because I don’t like the unknown, that I felt unnnerved by all the new worlds Joshua and his Dalai Lama pal visit. They pose countless questions about life everywhere. I’m just not sure what conclusions are reached.

You can tell Terry Pratchett has been involved, because there are many absurd characters and ideas (I don’t know what Stephen Baxter is like, but I’m guessing he’s more science), nicely juxtaposed to entertain the reader. I got a little annoyed with one of the minor major characters, feeling she was too stereotypical, but there is actually no reason why someone shouldn’t be like that. So I suspect there is a point to her as well.

The Long Earth has left me with many questions. I don’t feel as if there would be a sequel (I might be wrong), and I suppose I don’t have to have everything explained and sorted out and generally all neat and lovely. (But I’d have liked it…)

And it’s a bit scary what we are doing to our one Earth.

The future is bleak

You need to be very afraid. The future looks bad, but the good news is that there will still be writers to inspire, and scare, us.

Two or three of you might recall there was a short story competition launched during the Manchester LitFest in October last year? Julie Bertagna came and talked about her futuristic writing and the idea was that Manchester’s young hopeful writers would come up with stories featuring their city in the future.

On Friday at the Museum of Science and Industry we saw the results of the competition, and it was impressive. Julie was back to meet the winner, and she and Saci Lloyd and Jane Rogers talked about their own writing, and read excerpts from their books to an audience of participating teenagers from various schools.

Julie felt the day was prophetic, with all the rain and floods everywhere. Her Exodus trilogy is all about flooding, and here we were, practically washing away. She had even travelled to Manchester a day early to make sure she’d arrive in time, while leaving behind a flooded kitchen at home. But we are the children of survivors (or we wouldn’t be here at all), so it’s good. She even managed to fit in Higgs Boson into her talk.

Jane Rogers had a scary story about humanity being wiped out, and I believe it’s set in Tameside, so is uncomfortably close to home. Saci Lloyd likes laughter, and feels her books are ‘quite nice stories.’

After the readings, there was a short panel discussion on science fiction. Julie feels that outdated science is all right (cf Mary Shelley), and knows of scientists who have been inspired in their work by fiction. Saci is worried that the young today have lost too much, and have little to look forward to.

It has to take time to write books. Jane said she needs four years for a book, and her last one took five. Turning off the internet is useful. Saci is simply very jealous of Suzanne Collins and the Hunger Games.

Then it was time for the 31 shortlisted teenagers to have their names read out, and the two runners-up were given signed copies of Julie’s and Saci’s and Jane’s books. There is an anthology printed, containing all 31 stories from the shortlist.

The overall winner was Josh Degenhardt, with When the Rain Falls They Talk of Manchester, which is a story about a very dry Manchester. Julie read it to us, and if there are more teen writers like Josh we needn’t worry about the future of fiction. His story was exceptionally good, albeit scary and frightening. And I always knew the Hilton building would fall down one day.