The goodbyes

A very big bonus to writing a blog like this one is that not only do I meet and get to know authors, whose books I like. But I have also met the spouses of [some] authors, as well as their dogs and children, parents, a favourite aunt or two.

Right at the top of that list has been Mr B, active sidekick and husband of Theresa Breslin. We first met him in the Edinburgh bookfest bookshop. Even if I expected Theresa would be busy at events, we sort of knew that Mr B – Tom – would be there, making whatever was happening more friendly and fun. His themed literary ties and printed t-shirts were always present, and his gift of the ‘risk of fire’ t-shirt he had printed just for me (in response to some bullying that was happening) was completely in character.

We saw Tom just over a year ago, grateful that we’d all made it through the pandemic, ‘said hello to Mr B, who was wearing his latest book creation t-shirt and looking great as ever. It had been too long.’

Mr B – Tom – died last week. Our thoughts are with Theresa and her family.

The Space Between Us

“There weren’t many Google hits for ‘telepathic octopus’.” How could you resist a book containing a sentence like that? Admittedly, you need to reach chapter 20, but that is easily done. Especially with a sci-fi novel that more or less reads itself. Just as it sort of jumped out at me in the bookshop. I knew I’d be all right with Doug Johnstone, and if he’d ventured into science fiction, rather than his usual crime, then that was probably a good idea too.

It was.

Not all novels feel deeply satisfying at the end of chapter one, but here four pages were enough to make me crave the rest of The Space Between Us. It’s nicely Scottish, too, starting near the water in Portobello, before reaching other parts of Scotland. The extraterrestrial creatures clearly knew where to come.

To continue with chapter 20 about care home teenager Lennox, “Now he was wanted for murder and kidnapping, sitting in a cheesy brown van with an old woman and a pregnant teacher, and getting psychic messages from a telepathic octopus.”

All three have suffered instant strokes after a meteor hits Edinburgh, but all three are miraculously recovered the next day. They set out to rescue the octopus-like creature in the news, because it’s what you do, isn’t it? And then the race is on, with seemingly everyone after them.

People could learn a thing or two from beings from elsewhere in space. And you don’t need to have super-human powers to succeed; being properly human can be enough.

Dogtown

I have had the publication date for Dogtown in my diary for months, just so I wouldn’t miss it. When two of the best children’s authors in America – Katherine Applegate and Gennifer Choldenko – write about abandoned dogs, you know you’re going to get the best of stories.

I don’t know about you, but I am addicted to dog videos on social media. I know ‘all’ about rescue dogs and forever homes and the sadness of dogs left by their owners.

Dogtown is a shelter for strays, and also for robot dogs (yes, they exist) who have been thrown out by their owners. We meet Chance, a wise, three-legged dog who lost her home due to careless dog-sitters. There is Metal Head, the robot dog who once had a normal home that he dreams of returning to. And we have Mouse – who is a mouse – who lives in Dogtown and who is brave and clever.

The people running the shelter are not necessarily bad; just overworked. The cutest dogs get re-homed while the more hopeless cases linger until they have been there for too long and need to be removed by other means. Chance understands this, and knows that with three legs she isn’t anyone’s dream pet.

Metal Head is no ordinary robot dog. He carefully plans his escape, knowing he needs the help of Chance and Mouse. (Yes, they can talk to each other. I said they are clever.) It’s no easy thing leaving a safe shelter, to be faced with the big wide world, but they are friends, and friends help each other. They are each good at something.

It’s not quite what you might guess you’d get, but this is a most satisfactory doggy tale. I especially appreciated the children who come to read to the dogs, and how you can’t always know what their lives are like either. There’s a bit of autism and dyslexia, and much kindness. And as with humans, there are many kinds of dog personalities from drama queens to old and sensible. And they know about solidarity when things call for it.

Will the dogs find homes?

Read Dogtown and find out. You’ll feel better for it.

(The sweetest illustrations by Wallace West.)

Jump Cut

Helen Grant knows how to give you a traditional novel with a bit of a love story. You know, the kind you might have got from Mary Stewart back in the day, featuring a heroine, a man or two, some travelling, some mild peril and suspense. You know things will be fine in the end.

Jump Cut starts very nicely, except perhaps for Theda’s husband Max, who has died. I got vibes of Rebecca. But at least Theda doesn’t wake up inside a coffin, as was the case in Too Near the Dead. Although…

In order to try and forget Max’s death, Theda sets off for Scotland, where she has landed an interview with the very famous actress Mary Arden, 104 years old and a star of films from ninety years ago. Especially The Simulacrum, ‘the most famous lost movie in film history.’ Many have tried, but Theda is the one.

Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?

So here Theda is, in a mansion in Perthshire, away from it all, to find out what happened all those years ago. Are we sure we want to find out?

Admittedly, the price she has to pay for it is to tell Mary Arden all about her own marriage to Max. That’s not too much to ask, is it?

This is very much the kind of story where you have no idea whether the heroine will end up somewhere worse than hell, or if she will be able to walk away from it all, perhaps into the arms of some man.

And I am not going to help you. You can suffer just like I did. Or perhaps you thrive on this kind of thing? Whatever, Jump Cut is perfect. May you be blessed with strong nerves.

Battling the elements

It rained – a lot – and the Son shone. We were going to Edinburgh, for the Portobello Book Festival, because Son was appearing in an event, Crime Fiction in Translation. Along with three colleagues, admittedly, but it was a first. I think, anyway…

But we live in Scotland where things go wrong with public transport when you want to go places. It rained. Much rain. In their wisdom ScotRail cancelled most of the trains and ran fewer of the ones on ‘our’ line. We decided not to go. And then the Resident IT Consultant wanted to be brave and to represent the family in Portobello, so went for the ten o’clock train which eventually left just before eleven and arrived at its destination a little after when the next one again was due.

I gather it was a good event, and I would expect no less from either Son or Portobello. Participating were Siân Reynolds, Ian Giles, Vineet Lal and Tim Gutteridge, chaired by Duncan Beattie. The room looked very nice too. The Resident IT Consultant felt it was interesting to learn how translators work.

Afterwards he was treated to a third of a slice of cheesecake, before battling his way back home, very slightly faster than in the morning.

Meanwhile Daughter and I stayed dry and did some chores before sitting down with Terry Pratchett’s Hogfather on dvd. We reckoned we’re close enough to Christmas for it to be OK. It was a real treat to see Terry’s cameo, selling a horse.

Might watch again.

A Sudden Storm

This book needs to end badly. If not, it wouldn’t be sending its young readers enough of a warning message. They might think that, yes, the main character is roughed about and feels scared, but it will be all right in the end.

Anyone who reads news[papers] will know that is not the case, and that it is an escalating problem when some people are so scared by ‘different’ human beings that they feel the urge to attack and kill them.

In A Sudden Storm Bali Rai describes the 16th birthday of Arjan, who is Sikh. Born in Britain, but that seems not to matter. Darker skinned and wearing a turban, and daring to speak to a white girl is offensive enough to his attacker.

This book should not need to have been written. But since these things keep happening, I am grateful to Bali for putting words to what does happen.