Bookwitch bites #109

If my bites didn’t already have such an excellent title, I’d call today’s post Hoffman & McGowan. It’s got a nice ring to it. Solicitors. Or television cops. Yes, that’s more like it.

Ladies first, so we’ll go to Mary Hoffman who has a new website design. Again, you could say, but that’s OK. Mary has been writing books for a while, and needs to go through a few web designs. They are like shoes. You must have them. They wear out. And with so many books, Mary simply has to be able to organise all the information sensibly. And beautifully. Like the shoes.

We’re not leaving Mary yet. Earlier this month she wrote this beautiful blog post on the History Girls blog about her mother-in-law. I find it fascinating to read about the lives of ‘reasonably ordinary’ people. Because once you start looking at an individual, you soon discover that many people have something special or exciting in their past.

On to Anthony McGowan, who is excited about his upcoming film. Or more correctly, the upcoming film of one of his books; The Knife That Killed Me. I gather it’s just appeared at Cannes, which in itself is pretty exciting. I’m a little wary of knives, so I don’t know how I feel about watching the film. I found the build-up in the book almost unbearable. Well done, but hard to cope with.

And from the topic of knives, it’s a short step to bullying, and to another couple of ‘solicitors/cops;’ Morgan & Massey.

Nicola Morgan blogged about cyber bullying on the Huffington Post. And about teenage stress, also on Huffington. (I suppose I need to find out how to get blogging there…)

Finally, awards time! You remember how I mentioned David Massey a couple of weeks ago? Like, he was at the Chicken House breakfast, and I helped myself to a copy of his book Torn? Now he’s just gone and won the Lancashire Book of the Year, which just proves I move in the right chicken circles. The ceremony isn’t yet (can’t find when…), but the announcement came yesterday.

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…

Being critical

I’ve done nice, in a Thumper-ish kind of way. If I don’t like a book, I will stop reading. If I can’t, I probably won’t review it. Though, having lost time reading something I didn’t care for, it’s possible to salvage something by blogging about it in a more general way.

In a week that began with Anthony McGowan’s much discussed negative review in the Guardian, and continued with Julie Bertagna’s blog, I have come to the conclusion that it might be time for a policy change. Not to slag off books, but to blog about them, warts and all. I have some way to go before I can do what Anthony did, because he got it just right (not having read the book in question I don’t know if I share his opinions), which requires skill.

What’s the verdict of my review of Advent yesterday? It’s a book I liked for the most part, and in the past I would have concentrated on that, while leaving a bit of a hole in the middle. I now feel that when I’ve invested the time, I shouldn’t do half a review. (Or should I?)

I remember the book by GPT some years ago, which I had to finish because I was leading a group discussion afterwards, only to find that not a single child in the group had bothered, so I needn’t have either. If only I could have that week back!

More recently I was grabbed by the description of a novel by a new author, except the story ended up going nowhere. By then I felt I might as well finish the book, and that’s when it turned out it was the first in a trilogy. So no review. Perhaps that’s where I went wrong? Maybe I should have shared my thoughts?

I tested this idea on the Resident IT Consultant yesterday. In no uncertain terms he pointed out that my review of Advent was negative. At least for me.

So where do I go?

The Truth is Dead

What if?

What if it had gone the other way? This short anthology, edited by Marcus Sedgwick, takes history and turns it round. Some famous times in the past get a new look through eight authors. Marcus has rounded up some of our best writers, like Philip Ardagh, Frank Cottrell Boyce, Anthony McGowan, Linda Newbery, Mal Peet, Eleanor Updale and Matt Whyman, and asked them to rewrite history.

I was fairly taken with Anthony McGowan’s Jesus, and I sincerely hope he will not get into trouble for this. Anthony, I mean. Jesus seems to have messed up, and he even passed on the Nike trainers. Honestly.

And I loved Mal Peet’s character, almost from the first sentence of his short story. I knew Mal is talented, but this is quite spectacular.

Linda Newbery does what she does so well, offering a tale from WWI. Philip Ardagh shows what a space nerd he is with his story about the moon, and Matt Whyman does other strange things to the same moon.

Marcus gives a new side to Napoleon, and Eleanor Updale tackles the millennium bug, while Frank Cottrell Boyce has a related topic in the world ending next year. That’s after the Aztecs colonised Glasgow.

At times I had to work to keep my wits with all this back-to-frontness. Makes you think.

The Random Christmas Party

After frenzied discussions on facebook as to the level of insanity of me travelling in this snowy weather, it was all a bit of an anticlimax. Nothing untoward happened as far as my travelling was concerned. To go or not to go. That was the question. And until I put my coat on and locked the door behind me, I didn’t know myself.

Sat next to someone on the train who wrote a list of cocktails on his Macbook, and I wanted to scream when he listed vodke. But to point it out would have been to admit I was reading his document.

And while on the subject of drinks, I may have been standing in the part of the room at Random’s Christmas party where all (well, two) the wineglasses broke, but it wasn’t me. They simply exploded next to me.

I knew I was in the right place. Address, not exploding bits of glass corner of room. Partly because I’d been there before, and also because when I got to the front door Klaus Flugge stepped out of a cab, which was as good a sign as any.

Everyone was there. Except for all those less than intrepid souls who cancelled because of the weather. If I could broom in, then anyone could. Maybe. I understand it’s normally more of a crush at these parties, and although I was unable to hear myself think, Mum Clare told me it was on the quiet side. Of course it was.

Someone even missed Daughter, which was awfully kind of her, and it made Daughter’s day to have been remembered. I’d heard about these parties, and decided that people might dress to the nines for them, but that my Arctic explorer persona would allow me to be sensibly dressed. So I was only slightly disconcerted to find beautifully assembled guests ahead of me. And the rest of them changed into their party toilettes in the toilets.

So, who was there? Philip Pullman was there, until he left. I steered clear of him on account of me having complained about his writing speed only last week. Same for David Fickling, to spare him any more embarrassment. Eleanor Updale came, and I missed speaking to her too. Didn’t even see John Dickinson.

I did spy Sarah McIntyre, so decided to make myself known to her. Her beautiful spectacles and lipstick make her instantly recognisable. I looked at the floor to see if Sarah was wearing very exceptionally, extra high heels, but she wasn’t. I felt a wee bit short. Sarah introduced me to Neill Cameron, who’s one of her David Fickling Comics colleagues.

Neill has a book launch (for Mo-Bot High) today in Oxford, so make sure you don’t miss it. I hope Neill doesn’t miss it either. He looked worried when I said the forecast was for his non-return to Oxford, and said he’d leave at the first sign of a snowflake. We spent some time shouting to each other on a variety of subjects, from what three-year-old boys should read to me being followed on Twitter (and I don’t even tweet) by a fictional 17th century Scottish faerie (hi, Seth!).

I saw Jenny Downham, who actually had a new book out yesterday. I say they missed a seriously good opportunity for a book launch party there. I was introduced to Klaus Flugge, who is too old for blogs. I’ll show him!

Ian Beck was there, and so was Steve Cole, but I never made it across to say hello. Didn’t speak to Anthony McGowan either, and I so wanted to ask him to smile at me. Lindsey Barraclough was there. She’s the neighbour of Random’s Annie Eaton, and who will be a publishing sensation next year. Annie smiled at me and touched the sides of her head. She might have been saying her hair was very nice or that mine was awful. Either way she’d be right.

Agents Rosemary Canter and Hilary Delamere chatted by the window, and Philippa Dickinson made a good speech. It was all about hairnets and labcoats and Puffin’s Kaye Webb, whose biography we must read. I’m more worried about needing to wear a hairnet to operate my laptop.

At some point I found myself clasping a small spear and wondering why, as I had no intention of stabbing anyone, until I remembered it had arrived with a tasty mozzarella ball which I had eaten. Many delicious canapés were being walked around the rooms, but I seemed to attract mostly the sausages and the chicken. If there were no breadsticks left, I suspect it might have had something to do with me.

I have finally met Pete Johnson! And he wasn’t anywhere near as short as his name had lead me to believe. I was so overcome I couldn’t even recall the title of his book which I read about a year ago, so I had to assure him I could remember everything about it except the title. (The TV Time Travellers)

With elderly knee and hearing both giving out, I decided to call it a day before I ended up spending the night (I had threatened poor Clare that I’d come and sleep at her house if the trains were cancelled!) and broomed away pretty swiftly and caught the second last of the offpeak trains where I had a choice between sitting next to a John Boyne lookalike and a Nick Green lookalike. I picked Nick because he had a window.

Bookwitch bites #24

It’s lists and launch time at bookwitch towers with my bites one day early.

Last night Keren David had a launch party for her second novel, Almost True. I wasn’t present as unfortunately there’s a limit to how frequently I can do the commute to London. And I’m afraid I’m on my way there today, although not to see the Pope if I can help it.

Gillian Philip has been shortlisted for the Royal Mail’s Scottish Children’s Book Awards, along with Barry Hutchison, Julia Donaldson, Debi Gliori, Elizabeth Laird, Cathy MacPhail, Lucinda Hare, John Fardell and Simon Puttock. Luckily there are several categories so more than one of these lovely people can win. I hope they do. Not sure what they win if they win. Stamps?

The Roald Dahl Funny Prize 2010 judges have also come up with a shortlist, or rather two shortlists, because you can’t have too many lists of whatever length:

The Funniest Book for Children Aged Six and Under

Angelica Sprocket’s Pockets by Quentin Blake

Dogs Don’t Do Ballet by Anna Kemp, illustrated by Sara Ogilvie

Dog Loves Books by Louise Yates

The Nanny Goat’s Kid by Jeanne Willis, illustrated by Tony Ross

One Smart Fish by Chris Wormell

The Scariest Monster in the World by Lee Weatherly, illustrated by Algy Craig Hall

The Funniest Book for Children Aged Seven to Fourteen

The Clumsies Make a Mess by Sorrel Anderson, illustrated by Nicola Slater

Einstein’s Underpants and How They Saved the World by Anthony McGowan

The Incredible Luck of Alfie Pluck by Jamie Rix, illustrated by Craig Shuttlewood

Mr Stink by David Walliams, illustrated by Quentin Blake

The Ogre of Oglefort by Eva Ibbotson

Withering Tights by Louise Rennison

I gather Philip Ardagh, who is one of the judges, may almost have read too many funny books in the course of duty. I believe it was something like 130, which is enough to put you off even that which you like best.

Right, I have a train to catch. See you tomorrow.

Bookwitch bites #8

As I was saying – I do hope you remember – a little revamping of websites can be good for the soul. Today is actually the first time I’ve said that, but I touched on the revamp idea before. Cathy Hopkins has a new look. Not Cathy, but her website, obviously. It’s a sign of how long I’ve had Cathy’s site bookmarked, that she is number three on my list (I haven’t done much sorting of anything).

And I keep going on about people’s launch parties. Felt so bad about saying no to Anthony McGowan’s party, but it seems to have been a waste of good concern. He got so many coming to the bookshop where the party for Einstein’s Underpants was held on Thursday, that they had to turn people away. (That could have been me!) Or it could be a publicity stunt, maybe? At least Tony managed to get there himself, after being marooned with ash problems ‘far away from home’ for some time.

News about the Booktrust Teenage Prize: “This year’s judging panel will be chaired by popular children’s and young adult author Tony Bradman and includes journalist and author Barbara Ellen, author and reviewer Mary Hoffman, Chartered Librarian Barbara Band and 2009 Booktrust Teenage Prize young judge Claudia Freemantle.”

From Booktrust to an old bird; Puffin is 70, and has a specially designated website to make the most of old age. I’m not sure exactly when the big day is, but the website turned up on my horizon this week.

Speaking of birthdays, former children’s laureate Michael Rosen was 64 yesterday.

Since it’s Saturday, I’m glad that Terry Pratchett and I can sit down together for our weekly Doctor Who. Not in the same room, alas, but a shared interest is always good. Terry made it known this week that he thinks they make it too easy for themselves these days, but he still watches every time. And personally I never encounter any problems with the windows when I transport hospitals through space. It’s always the aliens that annoy. Not the broken windows.

Bookwitch bites #3

There are new paperbacks out now of Sally Gardner’s two French revolution novels. Both The Red Necklace and The Silver Blade have been given facelifts (not that they needed it, but you know what it’s like), and it’s the usual thing for me. I don’t need more copies of the same novels, but they do look very good. Very must-have.

I was beginning to think my mind was playing tricks on me, but then I understood. Maybe. Jeanne Willis and Lydia Monks have a sort of new book out. I’ve previously mentioned a book that’s almost identical to Zits, Glitz & Body Bits, except the title is different and the contents vary a little. So this is probably an updated version of two books. That’s what I’m guessing. It’s about all those things that girls want to know about growing up. From where I stand it’s good advice too, as long as you pay no attention to that old misguided notion that fat people need to avoid horizontal stripes and go for vertical stripes. IT’S THE OTHER WAY AROUND! Trust me. I’m a Gudrun Sjödén customer.

I’ve vowed to mention Anthony McGowan often, so consider him mentioned this week, too. Nicely mentioned, however briefly.

Theresa Breslin has a new book out in April, and I will tell you more about Prisoner of the Inquisition soon. Meanwhile, there is some sort of competition for secondary schools to enter. It’s a case of acting out the opening scene in the book, and all instructions can be found here. It’s National Drama who are working with Theresa’s publisher on this. The winning school gets books and an event with Theresa, so get acting!

An aspie – or two – at the theatre

The witch regrets the late running of today’s blog, and any convenience this may cause to your day.

I was most of the way through my egg sandwich when David Fickling found me in the foyer of the Unicorn Theatre yesterday. (His red scarf matched my shoes, but somehow he looked more elegant.) He was pleased to see me reading. Well, I’m a bookwitch. Duh. We’re on kissing terms, but it seems as if the man spends most of his days kissing his way past all the females he encounters.

The Unicorn was heaving with literary people, which wasn’t a complete coincidence, as many of us had been invited to drinks before the show. Authors, agents, Random ladies, family members and a lone witch were there to see The London Eye Mystery, Siobhan Dowd’s wonderful book about aspie Ted and his lost cousin.

It was lovely. The play I mean. (The gathering, too, of course.) We choked up a bit and cried some, and laughed as well. Many of us admitted to having forgotten the very special voice of Ted, which when translated for the stage is at least as strong as in the novel.

We got to mingle with the actors during drinks, and both sides were equally star struck. ‘Gloria’ was very bubbly and ‘Ted’ was nothing like Ted.

Everyone very kindly tried to introduce me to David Fickling. (Hate to think how many kisses that would have amounted to.) I must have looked needy. Otherwise I had to recognise everyone all by myself. Lee Weatherly was there, and so was Fiona Dunbar who was one of the driving forces behind the evening. With her was Siobhan’s very good friend Helen from New York, who I finally got to meet. (And when I did, I thrust a whole pile of books at her.) Agent Hilary (I know that sounds like the FBI) was there for something like the third time. Siobhan’s sisters had also already seen the play.

Not counting Facebook I talked to Tony Bradman for the first time, and Anthony McGowan came with a small person. So did Candy Gourlay, which was lucky for me, as she’d promised to let me sleep in her cupboard under the stairs. Very, very kind of her. She even offered me a cauldron. Her lovely husband Richard was also very lovely. Random ladies Lauren, Mum Clare and brand new Random Rosie were there, and RR narrowly escaped a DF kiss. I think.

As Richard took the younger generation home, Candy, Fiona and Helen allowed a non-author to join them for a meal and LOTS of gossip. No really, I’m too discreet. But since you ask there was something about Jeremy Irons. Then I was spirited backwards to north London, home of all children’s authors in the world. Almost.

After a very comfortable night’s sleep (not under the stairs, I hasten to add) I had breakfast with Candy, while comparing notes on our foreign-ness. In Random style she then marched me up the hill to the tube station, where I left for home and Candy took off for her coffee haunt, away from the internet, to write the next novel.

Bookwitch bites

No she doesn’t. Or not very much.

This is bites, as in small somethings.

You may be blissfully unaware of this, but one of my most asked questions in the comments section is ‘When will there be auditions for Valkyrie Cain?’ Two years after the Derek Landy interview I came to the conclusion that we really need to find out, so I asked him. He took an age to reply. Maybe he’s writing a book. For anyone who missed what Derek had to say, I’ll paste it here for all to see: ” The answer to this question is, um, no…! Nothing fresh to report! No developments, no greenlight, no auditions! It’s an ongoing process… a LONG, ongoing process…!”

Another piece of news this week is that Anthony McGowan has a website, all of his own making. Or so he says. Not that he has it, I mean. That he made it. I think it looks very nice, and it’s got lots of pages with lots of information. Go and enjoy.

Websites can offer other things, too. Naomi Alderman has devised some sort of interactive reading-cum-computer game site called The Winter House. It looks very good, but I have to admit to having struggled a little with it. It’s not the website, it’s me. I’m old. In computer interactive areas I’m practically pre-historic. But that’s OK, because this site is intended to help ‘young people identify with the short story form. The story, which plays on the website like an animated film and includes game-like interactive elements, is nonetheless a single narrative with a third-person narrator – the central character Millie – whose father has been murdered. The Winter House hopes to encourage young adults to read stories online, how to make them interesting and visual, so that being on a computer is an encouragement to reading.’

And as the week draws to a close, I have to return to Monday’s meeting with Caroline Lawrence. She has let me see the first page of the Western Mysteries, and let me tell you this: It looks good. I could see myself wanting to read the second page some time soon, as a matter of fact. I suspect this will turn out to be quite an enjoyable series. Yeehah!