Marion, the translator for Kind van de Nacht, the Dutch language edition of The Heir of Night, has sent through a link to  “a positive Dutch review, posted on a big book lovers blog” (as follows):

http://www.ezzulia.nl/forum/viewtopic.php?f=6&t=8243

Marion also advises that:

“Roughly translated it says:

‘Kind van de Nacht’ turned out to be hard to put down. Not just its world but also the structures of the people to which the young heroine belongs and several other ones are convincingly portrayed, as is the enemy. The author also knows how to build up the tension. In short, it’s a gem to read. Roll on the next books.

Or, as Google Translate puts it:

Child of the Night was a difficult way to explain the world but also the structures of the people where the young heroine belongs, and some others have convincingly put down and so are the enemy. In addition, the author knows how to deal with tension, in short, a gem and let the reading continue coming.” 😉 (I added the wink, not Marion, btw!)

But that’s a very cool review—thank you so much, Marion, for sending it through and for the translation!

Go Kind van de Nacht!

Sometimes, when you’re reading, particular lines leap out at you.

Perhaps because of the year we’ve been having here in Christchurch, with the earthquakes (you can read some of my reports here and poems here); or reflecting on the 10th anniversary of the collapse of the Twin Towers in New York on September 10, 2001, and the legacy of that event a decade later; or just taking two seconds to consider the world around me (famine again in the horn of Africa, kidnappings and murder in Kenya, oil still not contained in the Gulf of Mexico, the spectre of global financial crisis) the following lines have all resonated for me in recent reading:

From Helen Rickerby’s poem Vital Melancholy in her collection My Iron Spine (Headworx, 2008):

Two nights ago
driving the storm road
beside the lake
I realised I was afraid
Now knowing that the world
is frightening
for children because
they don’t understand it
and frightening for grown-ups
because they do

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I also read Fannie Flagg’s Fried Green Tomatoes at The Whistle Stop Cafe recently (saw the movie years ago, but only just read—and also enjoyed—the book!) and was struck by the following lines:

” … He had seen a lot happen at the mission … seen [men] … down on their luck … He had seen men come through that had been rich doctors and lawyers, and one man who had been a state senator … Smokey asked Jimmy what caused men like that to sink so low. “I’d have to say the main reason is that most of them have been disappointed in some way,” Jimmy said, “… and so they get lost and wander around. And, of course, old man whisky plays a role. But in all the years I’ve seen men come in and out, I’d say disappointment is number one on the list.”

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This quote from Fried Green Tomatoes reminded me of poet and doctor Glenn Colquhoun’s speech on “The Therapeutic Uses of Ache” to the Royal College of General Practitioners in Wellington in 2009, where he observed:

“In fact, apart from a few of the old favourites, I don’t often see much of what I learnt about in medical school at all … Of all the conditions I do see that no one ever taught me about, ache is by far and away the most common. Too often in my practice it has forced me to leave the tar-seal of the textbook. At those times I have returned to what I have learnt from life by living it, mainly from making a hash of it. It is the most reliable source of ache I know … Over time our sorrows accumulate. Ache becomes part of our shape – a weird anatomy. It can be felt, seen, perceived and mapped by those who know its language.“

To read the full address, click here: it’s well worth it and also reminded me all over again what an acute observer Glenn Colquhoun is and how I need to read his collection Playing God again, and maybe even share some of the poems with you of a Tuesday.

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For me, writing is primarily to tell the stories that are “out there” in the realm of imagination, wanting and waiting to be told in the world. But within and through that come other things: to illuminate the human condition, to explore truths, to understand why we are and how … Literature, whether engaged in as writer or reader, is about connection, the realisation that we are part of a greater whole; and also reflection—holding up a mirror to ourselves, which very often shows us Glenn Colquhoun’s “ache.”

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And to finish, a quote that has long been a favourite of mine, from that very prolific writer, Aurelius Augustine, aka St Augustine of Hippo:

“Bad times, hard times, this is what people keep saying; but … we are the times: Such as we are, such are the times.”

On August 1 I began “Fun with Thornspell”, in which I asked readers to tell me the Thornspell character they would most like to have a standalone short story written for, or about—as well as why, based on that character’s exploits in the Thornspell story.

And I asked three judges, introduced here, to decide which character, from amongst the suggestions you’ve put forward, I would get to write a short story about—to be published here on the blog with a dedication to the selected commenter.

The competition closed on September 1 and the judges all went into a huddle (coughs: waited for me to get done with copyedit on The Gathering of the Lost and get my act together!) to decide which comment would be “the one.” Because as with Highlander (so long ago now, but so good: the Kurgan, serious claims to best badass ever!)—“there can be only one!”

But now we have a result and the winning comment is:

• from Andrew on August 4, the first day of “Fun with Thornspell”:

“Well I would like to see a short story about Rue.

There is a lot that could be said about her struggle against the Magravaine’s spell, and her efforts to help Sigismund while her own power (or most of it) remained bound and fettered by the 100 year sleep.

That and her own relationship to Fae and Faierie could make for a really interesting story.”

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The comment ranked second came:

• from June Young, again on August 4:

“For a Thornspell short story, I’d like to see something with the Margravine (Farisie) and her sister, Syrica, the Queen of Faerie. Before the Margravine came to this world and created the Sleeping Beauty.

Specifically Page 288-9 (hardback version)- an old sorrow. What got the Margravine started or helped her towards what she became?

She obviously didn’t start out this way.”

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And the following comments were ranked third equal:

from Dru on August 11:

“What about Syrica?

Hers is an interesting story. Staying hidden for a hundred years. Thwarting the Magravine’s plans despite the risk.

There has to be a story or two there.”

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And from Luke on August 25:

“Yeah, Balisan’s “the man”, but I’m going for a story about the good fae, because when you think about it she was staunch, countering the death spell and then hiding out for a hundred years to see things through.”

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Interesting that the two comments ranked 3rd equal were both for Syrica! And the overall top-ranked comments from our judges were for female characters.

So there you have it: I shall be writing a short story about Rue, which I hope to bring to you within the next month to six weeks (as per my post of September 1.) I think it will need to be soon, before I get too wrapped up in writing Daughter of Blood (The Wall of Night Book Three), which I suspect may quickly become an all-absorbing project!

And thank you very much to everyone who participated—it was fabulous to get so many wonderful comments and suggestions. Who knows, Daughter of Blood allowing, there may even be a similar event for The Heir of Night in the not too distant future …

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Just to remind you, our three judges were: (in alphabetical order by first name):

Beth

Beth Miller: Beth Miller works at Writers House Literary Agency in New York, where she is the assistant to my agent, Robin Rue—and as such was amongst the first people out there to read and love Thornspell. She is also a writer in her own right; her first novel, Into the Scottish Mist, was published by Wild Rose Press in 2010 and you can read my interview with her here.

Fitz

Peter Fitzpatrick (Fitz): Fitz was another early reader of Thornspell and has been an integral part of my writing journey since he has designed both my Helen Lowe on Anything, Really and Thornspell websites, as well as designing the map for The Wall of Night series—for which he was nominated for a Sir Julius Vogel Award for Best Professional Artwork earlier in the year.

Sharon

Sharon Stogner: Sharon is an avid reader, follower of a number of blogs such as the Supernatural Underground, and a book blogger herself on the ismellsheep book and movie site.  Sharon was also an early enthusiast for both The Heir of Night and Thornspell.

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For the first chapter of Thornspell, click here

To listen to a reading, click on this link:

Cashel Mall, in the centre of Christchurch, pre earthquake

As you know, I’ve been running the “peek inside” series for a while now, giving readers a taste of the Tales for Canterbury anthology, out together by Cassie Hart and Anna Caro to raise funds for Christchurch’s earthquake recovery. So it would be wonderful to keep interest in the anthology going and those orders coming in.

Up until now, all the featured stories have been from the “Hope” section of Tales for Canterbury. Today though, I’m breaking the mould and bringing you the first “peek inside” from the “Survival” section of the anthology—Neil Gaiman’s Inventing Aladdin.

"Cashel Mall" now

The photos—well, they’re just to give you an idea of part of what “survival” means in Christchurch right now. Sure, there’s probably lots of worse stuff happening somewhere in the world, maybe a whole lot of places, but this is my city and my community … To orientate yourself, note the position of the Bridge of Remembrance —at the far end of the mall in the first photo, and a whole lot more visible in the second.

But now, without further ado—a peek inside Inventing Aladdin:

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Inventing Aladdin

by Neil Gaiman

In bed with him that night, like every night,
her sister at their feet, she ends her tale,
then waits. Her sister quickly takes her cue,
and says, “I cannot sleep. Another, please?”
Scheherazade takes one small nervous breath
and she begins, “In faraway Peking
there lived a lazy youth with his mama.
His name? Aladdin. His papa was dead…”

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To read the rest of Neil Gaiman’s tale of Scheherazade inventing Aladdin, hie thee to Tales for Canterbury, which may be purchased from Random Static, here.

The other “peek inside” features in the series to date include:

The Unicorn Bell by Karen Healey

Eggs for Dinner by Jay Lake

Juggling Silver by Juliet Marillier

The Daughter of the Khan by Mary Victoria

The Magician by Janis Freegard

Sign of the Tui by Tim Jones

The Fountain by Helen Lowe

QUINQUIREME of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
With a cargo of diamonds,
Emeralds, amythysts,
Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.

Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
With a cargo of Tyne coal,
Road-rails, pig-lead,
Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.

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by John Masefield, 1878-1967

from Ballads and Poems, 1923

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On May 24 I featured Masefield’s poem, The Ballad of Sir Bors, from the same collection, and quoted Carcanet Press’s bio from their 2005 publication, Sea Fever: Selected Poems of John Masefield (ed. Philip Errington):

“John Masefield (1878-1967) is one of the great storytellers of English poetry, a spinner of yarns and ballads of tall ships and exotic seas, of the deep-rooted life of the rural England in which he grew up, and of the great narratives of Troy and Arthurian legend. Some included here – ‘Sea-Fever’ and ‘Cargoes’ – are among the best-loved poems in English …”

When I first encountered Cargoes as a young reader, I loved the romance of the first two stanzas—the “quinquireme of Nineveh” and the “stately Spanish galleon” as well as the sense of adventure redolent in locales such as “distant Ophir” and the hinted at Spanish Main. As a somewhat older reader I felt a far greater appreciation of their juxtaposition with that “dirty British freighter with a salt-caked smoke stack”—and the humorous irony of a cargo of “cheap tin trays” when compared with “apes and peacocks” or “gold moidores.” (Which reminds me, isn’t it international Talk Like A Pirate Day very soon?)

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Over on the Tuesday Poem Hub, convenor Mary McCallum is marking the tenth anniversary of September 11, 2001 with a clip of New Jersey poet Deborah Garrison reading four poems about New York, recorded on a subsequent September 11. Do head on over and check it out.

You can also read a transcript of Billy Collins’—who was US poet laureate in 2001—September 11 tribute poem to the victims, The Names, here.

The Writers’ Tea Party at the the Hurunui Memorial Library in Amberley, has now come and gone—but I had a great time.

I was reading with fellow authors James Norcliffe and Joanna Orwin and we met up first at a local eaterie, Brew Moon (and I have to say, although I am generally not much of a beer drinker, I tried their Hophead IPA and it was good!) Writing is a solitary occupation so meeting up with other writers is always fun. I know Jim through poetry circles, but it was the first time I had met Joanna and I certainly hope to have the opportunity again.

On arriving at the library it was also great to see some faces I knew, including people who had driven out from Christchurch—definitely very much appreciated!

The Tea Party itself involved each writer speaking/reading for half an hour, followed by an actual tea party with cakes and sandwiches. (V. good, as Bridget Jones—she of diary fame—would say!) I was first off the blocks and talked about my love of Fantasy and the moment when the Thornspell story first sparked, and why—with two readings: the first from “The Silent Wood,”  when the hero, Sigismund, meets Auld Hazel; the second from “The Boar Hunt.”

(Both sequences by the way, were featured as part of my recent “Fun with Thornspell” series, here for Auld Hazel, while the boar hunt is here.)

I then spoke about the different forces at play in The Heir of Night and WALL series, including that it’s a darker story and more strongly influenced by the epic and tragic elements of myth. I read Malian’s call to arms, from the chapter of the same name, and the later Gate of Dreams sequence where Kalan meets the Huntmaster for the first time (again, from the chapter titled “The Huntmaster.”)

And that was my half hour done! But I enjoyed having the opportunity to read, because one thing I always feel is that story is not just about words written on the page—story is meant to be heard and that means the writing must work equally well when read aloud. So I hope Thornspell and The Heir of Night pass that test—but I certainly enjoyed listening to both Joanna and Jim talk about and read from their work.

Joanna Orwin is primarily a Childrens’ and YA author, with a focus on New Zealand stories and themes. She has a considerable number of books to her name, several of which have won major awards.  I was particularly intrigued by her reading from Owl and have been interested in reading Collision for some time, given my interest in history and cultural interaction in particular.

James Norcliffe is well known as both a poet and a novelist. You may recall that he was one of the guest authors who posted as part of my “Why Fantasy-SciFi Rocks My World” series to celebrate the Australia/New Zealand launch of The Heir of Night last year—and you can read his guest post here. (Believe me, it’s worth it!) His Junior novel, The Loblolly Boy, (published as The Boy Who Could Fly in the US) was one of my recommended SpecFic stocking fillers on The Realm last Christmas—and probably far more importantly (;-)), featured on the 2011 USBBY Outstanding International Books List. Yesterday, Jim was reading from his poetry and entertained us all with his sly humour, keen observation, and insight into human nature.

Afterward we got to enjoy that fabulous afternoon tea put on by the Friends of the Library and chat with the library supporters. I think anyone experiencing the lovely Hurunui Memorial Library will see what a great job of supporting reading and literacy they’re doing within their community.

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My Next Event: is another Friends of the Library event, this time in Christchurch at the South Library on Tuesday 18 October.

On Tuesday 23 August, as editor on the Tuesday Poem Hub, I featured Rhian Gallagher’s poem, Butterfly, from her new collection Shift, which is being published by both Auckland University Press, here in NZ, and Enitharmon in the UK.

You can read Butterfly here.

Yesterday, I received my own copy of Shift in the post—and am very much looking forward to getting in amongst this new collection of Rhian Gallagher’s poetry. I hope to tell you more about it soon, but in the meantime, here’s what the back cover says:

“Rhian Gallagher’s second collection encompasses a departure from London, where she lived for eighteen years, and a return to the pines and paddocks of the South Island. This mid-life shift involves acts of retrieval, confrontations with loss and movements towards renewal: ‘Belonging was always touch / touch and go.’ At the heart of the book is an intimate testament to a relationship – sensual, direct, contradictory – celebrating the evolution of deep connection between two women. Meditative, at times urgent, this evocative collection will earn Rhian Gallagher a well-deserved place in the New Zealand poetic landscape.”

In addition to Butterfly, you can read another poem from Shift,  Lagoon, on Helen Heath’s blog, here.

It’s been quite some time—December 19, in fact—since I said that I had The Passage on my To Be Read table, mainly because I’ve been so flat out writing and then editing The Gathering of the Lost, dealing with earthquakes and their aftermaths, and reading all the Hugo Award fiction finalists ,that everything else has pretty much taken a back seat.

Also, I had heard so much buzz about The Passage that I wanted to allow myself the time to do it justice. This feeling was underscored when I dipped into the first fifty-odd pages and gained the impression that it was definitely a “big” book.

Now that I have finally read it, I can say that while I enjoyed the book overall, I am not quite sure what I really think about it.

Just to give you an idea of the basic story, The Passage is post-apocalyptic, speculative  fiction, of the kind that has been getting some traction with mainstream readers over recent years, eg Cormac McCarthy’s The Road and Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Creyke. In this case, the apocalypse is brought about by a vampire virus, nurtured by military biological weapons’ researchers, that (literally) “breaks out” of the lab. In terms of the basic premise, therefore, I found The Passage similar to both Max Brooks’ World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War and more recently, Mira Grant’s Feed. There were also, I thought, a few nods to Joss Whedon’s long-running Buffy the Vampire Slayer TV series: e.g. the Initiative (Series 4), the Anointed child vampire (Series 1 and early 2), and a young woman “watcher” (militia-style soldier) later in the book who has definite “Slayer-esque” qualities.

The time span of The Passage is longer than either World War Z or Feed, being around 90 years, and so the exploration of the effects on society–or in fact, several societies—takes that into account. And there’s a lot of good stuff in that exploration and in the characters that the story follows, as well as the fact that you would definitely not term any of these vampires “sparkly.”  The story being told was definitely interesting as well: no question, this book kept me turning the pages all the way through.

So why do I say that I am not quite sure what I think? Mainly, I suspect, this is because I have so many quibbles that other aspects of the book don’t fully over-ride.  These include early characters who seem important to the unfolding story, and yet simply drop out of the later stages of the book. I particularly note the proto-vampires, Fanning (Zero) and Carter in this respect. There were also elements in the plot that didn’t seem to fit together. For example, in the early stages of the story, Fanning was the Zero, but toward the end the term appeared to refer to Amy. And I was never really clear as to exactly “what” Amy was, as her powers and unqiue character appeared to predate her infection with the vampire virus—but the how/what of that was never addressed. I also had some reservations around character development in the later stages of the book: somehow they just did not seem as convincing or real as in the first, pre-apocalypse section. When, as a reader, I am not sure why characters like/are attracted to each other, and yet they are major point-of-view characters, this detracts from enjoyment of the story, no matter how action packed it may be.

So at the end, I was definitely left with the feeling that this story was unfinished—that there must be another book in the wings that would further explore and develop a lot of these confusing/unfinished elements. And perhaps some of the remaining characters as well.

As appeal to the great oracle of “te web” has indicated that The Passage is indeed the first instalment of an intended trilogy, I can definitely say that I will be reading the forthcoming instalment. Perhaps with a slight sense of reservation and wanting to be convinced still, on some points—but nonetheless, looking forward to the opportunity to read on.

And perhaps the most telling point—despite quibbles and reservations, ever since I finally closed the back cover, I have been thinking about the story and the characters. The Passage, it seems, has staked a claim on the territory of my imagination.

Yes indeed, roll up, roll up—for the last call for tomorrow’s Writers’ Tea Party, to commence 2 pm at  the Hurunui Memorial Library in Amberley, just north of Christchurch.

I understand I’ll be first up to talk a little bit about my writing and read from both Thornspell and The Heir of Night. My fellow authors James Norcliffe and Joanna Orwin will also be speaking and reading from their work—and afterward there’ll be tea, ‘cucumber sandwiches’, and maybe a little book signing, too … 😉

So if you’re in the vicinity or feel like a Sunday afternoon drive northward, do consider coming along!

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And I should be back with a “What I’m Reading Post” a little later today.

You may recall that Kind van de Nacht, the Dutch edition of The Heir of Night, was published in The Netherlands on 18 July by Luitingh Fantasy—and yesterday I received my author’s editions in the post.

I know I said earlier how much I love the treatment Luitingh have given the blue USA cover. But now I have to add that I love the treatment they have given to the book itself. It’s hardcover, which I’m old fashioned enough to think is classy, and the inside cover is this gorgeous red, with corrugated paper.

And then there’s the title page, and the map with all the place names translated into Dutch—all very cool.

One of the people I will be making a point of showing this book to, and giving her a copy if she would like one, is a lady called Ria, who is both the mother of a friend, and as someone raised in The Netherlands, one of the few people I know who can actually read Dutch! 😉

While I am not sure if Kind van de Nacht’s style of epic fantasy is the kind of story Ria enjoys, a reason I would like to share the Dutch translation is because one of her stories—from her childhood memories of Holland during the German occupation of World War 2, and of her father hiding between the ivy and the roof when forced labour drives were going house to house—informs an incident that occurs in The Gathering of the Lost.

So there is a kind of symmetry in the first translation of The Wall of Night series being into Dutch, since there is a Dutch influence on an aspect of the story—well, I think so anyway!