I need to see this film.
Hello
- John Conway
- To steal something from a better writer than myself, I'm a drunk homosexual with low moral fibre.
Saturday 22 November 2008
Friday 21 November 2008
Mince Pies.
As I'm off work today and have the house to myself I've decided to have a gay baking day. Just made the pastry for my mince pies.
To be honest this is probably going to be the highlight of my weekend.
To be honest this is probably going to be the highlight of my weekend.
Tuesday 18 November 2008
The divine Septimus Hodge is still absent from our screens.
Considering some works which do manage to get the big screen treatment, when the hell is Arcadia going to get something?
Or The Pillow Man for that matter?
Come on, even a BBC drama would do.
Or The Pillow Man for that matter?
Come on, even a BBC drama would do.
Went to see my dentist on Monday.
That man is far too handy with his drilly thing, a little mercy for my tortured gums please.
I've spent the past four and a half day with an agonising pain in my mouth that is quite clearly my teeth being attacked by dark forces (possibly a Sith). All I can say is thank the Dark Lord for Solpadine, when it comes to the end of each four hours all I can think of is my next hit.
Picked up the penicillin today, start it tomorrow, I'd better be still able to drink.
I've spent the past four and a half day with an agonising pain in my mouth that is quite clearly my teeth being attacked by dark forces (possibly a Sith). All I can say is thank the Dark Lord for Solpadine, when it comes to the end of each four hours all I can think of is my next hit.
Picked up the penicillin today, start it tomorrow, I'd better be still able to drink.
Northern Lights from space (and a scary Clinton / Palin alliance).
I like this, a lot.
This also rocks my world.
This also rocks my world.
Sunday 16 November 2008
I'm in that position.
The position where I don't know if the exciting new idea I've had is going to be A: something that actually works out as a tangible story or B: another aborted piece of shit written overly influenced by something I've just read / watched / heard / seen (in this case the BBC adaption of Smiley's People).
I like the start though.
I like the start though.
Friday 14 November 2008
Interview.
Writing that little pageant to The Winter King reminded me of this, an article I wrote back in 2005 for The (pathetic excuse for a student newspaper) Northumbria Student. I blagged an interview with Cornwell (on top of a lot of other things) when I went to the Hay festival that year and to be blunt I was cacking myself. I've still got the interview somewhere, which will be dug out another day.
==========
Waiting to interview one of your favourite authors is unnerving, I am possibly about to make a fool of myself, worse he could turn out not to be very likable. Hardly the best of thoughts as I’m waiting to meet Bernard Cornwell, scarily successful author of the Sharpe books (among others). I should have been less worried of course, I was delighted to find Cornwell was easy going, self depreciating, humorous, talented and with a clear love of what he does. All I had to do was not make a tit of myself.
Although Cornwell isn’t specifically promoting The Last Kingdom, the first work in a series set during the Danish invasions of our own Northumbria, it is fair to say it was the prominent point of the interview. I had just finished reading the work, enthralled at a tale set in places I’ve grown up around, particularly the beautiful Bamburgh Castle. Told from the perspective of the Northumbrian Uhtred, based roughly on Cornwell’s ancestor, embroiled not only in a family struggle for rulership, but also in the war between the Danes and King Alfred.
“I knew sod all about the Vikings,” says Cornwell, talking of the inspiration for the work, “the cause that started me off on it was meeting for the first time my real father three years ago. And discovering that the family had come from Northumberland and in fact they had once called themselves the Kings.”
He goes on to tell how he became fascinated with the history of his family, stressing this account is purely fictional, with so little known of the Dark Ages historical accuracy is impossible.
"That’s wonderful for novelists,” he adds with a smile, “if they don’t know, then I can make it up.”
The work is a tale of a roguish man who is our eyes to the famous figures and events of the day, from Uhtred’s perspective we see Alfred the Great, envisaged controversially as a devious and clever politician.
“I think that before he was a warrior he was a thinker, a scholar and a churchman.” says Cornwell, who has extensively researched Alfred, of his unsympathetic portrayal. “It doesn’t add up to the picture of a great warlord, it adds up to the picture of a very clever man.”
Similarly Cornwell’s dislike of religious puritanism, something he links to his religious stepparents, shines clear. It is fair to say the spreading Christianity comes across as downright inferior to the Pagan cultures of the Danes and Northumbria.
“It’s a more attractive culture isn’t it? That’s partly because I’m obviously attracted to the roguish nature of the Danes and I’m not particularly attracted to the piety of Alfred’s Wessex.” He isn’t kidding, in lifestyle, thoughts and actions Wessex and other devout Christians seem positively pathetic compared to the fiery, passionate Danes.
“Denmark now has to be one of the dullest countries on God’s earth. Yet back then they were tearing a swathe through Anglo-Saxon England, tearing up all the regulations and that makes them fascinating and abhorrent and interesting and awful.”
Cornwell refers to the French poet André de Chénier, who accused Robespierre of wishing to issue a certificate for correct thinking. “Puritans are those who make the rules and try and force the rest of us to obey. And it’s not just rules like we should all drive on the left of the road, which is quite sensible, but it’s rules about how you think.”
Similarly, some may find the portrayal of the ideals of the time controversial. Uhtred and his fellow characters act as Dark Age Northumbrian’s would, and events of a sometimes horrific natures are presented as a normal part of life. Not only war and violent slaughter, but such spectacles as human sacrifice, for which Cornwell is unapologetic.
“Simply put you can’t be Sharpe, or Uhtred, or Derfel... and be squeamish, I’m squeamish but they’re not.”
Copyright John Conway - 2005 - john.charles.conway@googlemail.com
==========
Waiting to interview one of your favourite authors is unnerving, I am possibly about to make a fool of myself, worse he could turn out not to be very likable. Hardly the best of thoughts as I’m waiting to meet Bernard Cornwell, scarily successful author of the Sharpe books (among others). I should have been less worried of course, I was delighted to find Cornwell was easy going, self depreciating, humorous, talented and with a clear love of what he does. All I had to do was not make a tit of myself.
Although Cornwell isn’t specifically promoting The Last Kingdom, the first work in a series set during the Danish invasions of our own Northumbria, it is fair to say it was the prominent point of the interview. I had just finished reading the work, enthralled at a tale set in places I’ve grown up around, particularly the beautiful Bamburgh Castle. Told from the perspective of the Northumbrian Uhtred, based roughly on Cornwell’s ancestor, embroiled not only in a family struggle for rulership, but also in the war between the Danes and King Alfred.
“I knew sod all about the Vikings,” says Cornwell, talking of the inspiration for the work, “the cause that started me off on it was meeting for the first time my real father three years ago. And discovering that the family had come from Northumberland and in fact they had once called themselves the Kings.”
He goes on to tell how he became fascinated with the history of his family, stressing this account is purely fictional, with so little known of the Dark Ages historical accuracy is impossible.
"That’s wonderful for novelists,” he adds with a smile, “if they don’t know, then I can make it up.”
The work is a tale of a roguish man who is our eyes to the famous figures and events of the day, from Uhtred’s perspective we see Alfred the Great, envisaged controversially as a devious and clever politician.
“I think that before he was a warrior he was a thinker, a scholar and a churchman.” says Cornwell, who has extensively researched Alfred, of his unsympathetic portrayal. “It doesn’t add up to the picture of a great warlord, it adds up to the picture of a very clever man.”
Similarly Cornwell’s dislike of religious puritanism, something he links to his religious stepparents, shines clear. It is fair to say the spreading Christianity comes across as downright inferior to the Pagan cultures of the Danes and Northumbria.
“It’s a more attractive culture isn’t it? That’s partly because I’m obviously attracted to the roguish nature of the Danes and I’m not particularly attracted to the piety of Alfred’s Wessex.” He isn’t kidding, in lifestyle, thoughts and actions Wessex and other devout Christians seem positively pathetic compared to the fiery, passionate Danes.
“Denmark now has to be one of the dullest countries on God’s earth. Yet back then they were tearing a swathe through Anglo-Saxon England, tearing up all the regulations and that makes them fascinating and abhorrent and interesting and awful.”
Cornwell refers to the French poet André de Chénier, who accused Robespierre of wishing to issue a certificate for correct thinking. “Puritans are those who make the rules and try and force the rest of us to obey. And it’s not just rules like we should all drive on the left of the road, which is quite sensible, but it’s rules about how you think.”
Similarly, some may find the portrayal of the ideals of the time controversial. Uhtred and his fellow characters act as Dark Age Northumbrian’s would, and events of a sometimes horrific natures are presented as a normal part of life. Not only war and violent slaughter, but such spectacles as human sacrifice, for which Cornwell is unapologetic.
“Simply put you can’t be Sharpe, or Uhtred, or Derfel... and be squeamish, I’m squeamish but they’re not.”
Copyright John Conway - 2005 - john.charles.conway@googlemail.com
Holy Island.
A trip to Lindisfarne is in order soon I think, for research if nothing else. You introduce a murder of crows and a mid ninteenth century psychopath notorious for his metal fingers and flying-squirrel like jumping ability and you wind up in all sorts of places.
Going to have to get someone to come with me though, seems such a wasted trip otherwise. I wonder if everybody else feels so weird travelling alone?
Going to have to get someone to come with me though, seems such a wasted trip otherwise. I wonder if everybody else feels so weird travelling alone?
Thursday 13 November 2008
The Winter King.
Oof, looking down recent entries there's far too many Youtube clips. I’m (trying to be) a writer God-dammit, so lets talk about books. Or rather, a book.
I'm nearly finished ploughing through The Winter King, first book of Bernard Cornwell's stab at the King Arthur folklore. A book I only picked up because the BBC's current Merlin series is so hit and miss that it's left me longing. The hole has been filled, this book has me avidly reading at half six in the morning on my way to work, and at that time the best I can usually manage is to listen to fabulous eighties music.
Cornwell's writes historical fiction, and this - despite the limited knowledge retained of the dark ages - is a historical book. The fantasy element is gone, mostly, and what magic there is more resembles tricks as seen by a sceptical narrator. An Arthur that bares any resemblance to this, or any other, of the famous portrayals (no matter how old) of course could never have existed. The brilliance of this book (and hopefully the successors, which I have yet to read) is it makes you believe it could have.
Arthurian Britain, in all of it's savage, dangerous, beguiling nature is opened up for us behind the plot and mythical names. We see a country desperately trying to recover from the Roman withdrawal and the subsequent vacuum; old and new religions and powers are vying for dominance in a place with no firm boundaries of country or nationality. I once saw Bernard Cornwell in conversation with the late George MacDonald Fraser (a public one, I'm not a stalker yet) and Fraser was spot on when he said you want to know about a period, then read Cornwell's book of it. (It's been three years, paraphrasing is a necessity, but he did say it.) He's right too, very right. Sharpe can make you an expert on the Peninsula wars, Uhtred on the Danish invasions, and Derfel on the post Roman turmoil and Saxon wars.
As ever in Cornwell's books we see great and famous events / people from the point of view of an everyman. The Saxon immigrant Derfel has that same feel of Richard Sharpe (a good if coarse man whose position is raised by a gumbo of skill, intelligence and sheer luck) and others. The famous figures are held back, allowing the myriad of others (not to mention the narrator) to establish themselves before being overwhelmed by Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, Galahad and of course Merlin. Only the lesser known such as Nimue and Uther Pendragon loiter in the early chapters (and they themselves rear mightily from the page).
I’ve loved Cornwell’s books, ever since a youthful crush on Sean Bean drew me away from the fantasy books in Heddon library and towards the stories of Richard Sharpe (with Bean smouldering on the green covers). Because they’re exciting, because they feel as close to how it was as you can feasibly get with written fiction, because morality is as blurred as life and because they satisfy a very boyish desire for action, romance and adventure.
I can’t believe I didn’t read it sooner to be honest.
I'm nearly finished ploughing through The Winter King, first book of Bernard Cornwell's stab at the King Arthur folklore. A book I only picked up because the BBC's current Merlin series is so hit and miss that it's left me longing. The hole has been filled, this book has me avidly reading at half six in the morning on my way to work, and at that time the best I can usually manage is to listen to fabulous eighties music.
Cornwell's writes historical fiction, and this - despite the limited knowledge retained of the dark ages - is a historical book. The fantasy element is gone, mostly, and what magic there is more resembles tricks as seen by a sceptical narrator. An Arthur that bares any resemblance to this, or any other, of the famous portrayals (no matter how old) of course could never have existed. The brilliance of this book (and hopefully the successors, which I have yet to read) is it makes you believe it could have.
Arthurian Britain, in all of it's savage, dangerous, beguiling nature is opened up for us behind the plot and mythical names. We see a country desperately trying to recover from the Roman withdrawal and the subsequent vacuum; old and new religions and powers are vying for dominance in a place with no firm boundaries of country or nationality. I once saw Bernard Cornwell in conversation with the late George MacDonald Fraser (a public one, I'm not a stalker yet) and Fraser was spot on when he said you want to know about a period, then read Cornwell's book of it. (It's been three years, paraphrasing is a necessity, but he did say it.) He's right too, very right. Sharpe can make you an expert on the Peninsula wars, Uhtred on the Danish invasions, and Derfel on the post Roman turmoil and Saxon wars.
As ever in Cornwell's books we see great and famous events / people from the point of view of an everyman. The Saxon immigrant Derfel has that same feel of Richard Sharpe (a good if coarse man whose position is raised by a gumbo of skill, intelligence and sheer luck) and others. The famous figures are held back, allowing the myriad of others (not to mention the narrator) to establish themselves before being overwhelmed by Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, Galahad and of course Merlin. Only the lesser known such as Nimue and Uther Pendragon loiter in the early chapters (and they themselves rear mightily from the page).
I’ve loved Cornwell’s books, ever since a youthful crush on Sean Bean drew me away from the fantasy books in Heddon library and towards the stories of Richard Sharpe (with Bean smouldering on the green covers). Because they’re exciting, because they feel as close to how it was as you can feasibly get with written fiction, because morality is as blurred as life and because they satisfy a very boyish desire for action, romance and adventure.
I can’t believe I didn’t read it sooner to be honest.
Short Story (card) - Lady Death.
This didn't win (mind, having seen some of the winners, I'm not overly sure I'm that bothered) and was a touch rushed, but here's my entry into that Waterstone's story card competition some time back.
Copyright John Conway - 2008 - john.charles.conway@googlemail.com
Copyright John Conway - 2008 - john.charles.conway@googlemail.com
The Law of Diminishing Returns.
Twenty years since Watermark, well, I suppose you can't reinvent the wheel twice. On the other hand Enya lives in a castle and I don't, so she wins.
Actually, if I'm honest, I rather liked the single.
Actually, if I'm honest, I rather liked the single.
Tuesday 11 November 2008
A Study in Emerald ebook.
Monday 10 November 2008
I'm shocked.
George Smiley just went into a sex club, pure filth.
For other filth I went to see Russell Howard last night, he was of course ace (and a little bit sexy), and I have been been thoroughly entertained (over and over) by this...
For other filth I went to see Russell Howard last night, he was of course ace (and a little bit sexy), and I have been been thoroughly entertained (over and over) by this...
Sunday 9 November 2008
The Alpha/Beta Key to Unlocking Success in Gay Relationships
If ever there was a reason to make gay men shudder at changes in the world, then this book is it.
Friday 7 November 2008
The Greenest Republican.
My favourite line in the papers today, courtesy of The Guardian.
The speculation resurfaced this week in the Wall Street Journal in a piece by Keith Johnson, lead writer for the paper's environment blog, who cited the California governor's impressive record on green policy, from support for renewable energy to running one of his Hummers on biofuel.
The speculation resurfaced this week in the Wall Street Journal in a piece by Keith Johnson, lead writer for the paper's environment blog, who cited the California governor's impressive record on green policy, from support for renewable energy to running one of his Hummers on biofuel.
Thursday 6 November 2008
Beautiful People Is Over. Dammit.
I'm sad this show's finished (lets hear it for series 2), I'm even sadder it didn't go out on a stronger episode. Olivia Coleman is of course brilliant, and Aidan McArdle is just gorgeous.
Edit - I've just been informed (by the internet, since nobody I know will see sense and watch this brilliant show) that the actress who played Tameka (also called Tameka in real life, which make me happy) is the same actress who was easily the best thing in the (admittedly overrated) A Beautiful Thing, the Mama Cass obsessed Leah.
Sadly Youtube has failed me, and the hundreds of Leah clips I expected turned out to be the (only) one below.
Edit - I've just been informed (by the internet, since nobody I know will see sense and watch this brilliant show) that the actress who played Tameka (also called Tameka in real life, which make me happy) is the same actress who was easily the best thing in the (admittedly overrated) A Beautiful Thing, the Mama Cass obsessed Leah.
Sadly Youtube has failed me, and the hundreds of Leah clips I expected turned out to be the (only) one below.
Wednesday 5 November 2008
Obama Wins.
Brilliantly.
But...
It's really starting to get on my tits that (what feels like) most of the people I know have gone from (repeatedly) stating that a black man could never become US president to (repeatedly) stating with the same certainty that he'll be shot. Well go you experts, if only we all got our knowledge of America from repeats of Louis Theroux and Top Gear.
But...
It's really starting to get on my tits that (what feels like) most of the people I know have gone from (repeatedly) stating that a black man could never become US president to (repeatedly) stating with the same certainty that he'll be shot. Well go you experts, if only we all got our knowledge of America from repeats of Louis Theroux and Top Gear.
Monday 3 November 2008
Halloween weekend.
A rather quiet patch recently has been happily broken by Halloween weekend in London. A very busy one, but all the more fun for it. It started with the new Bond on Friday morning (it's only real flaw if I'm honest - on one viewing - is the rather gaping hole where the plot should be), followed by a train to London infested by middle class bratlings, and then straight to the London School of Economics (of all places) to see Neil Gaiman do a reading and a signing.
It was an interesting event, made more interesting by the fact he seemed to be in a bit of a bad mood. He did a reading from The Graveyard Book - the complete chapter 5 happily which was where I had reached on the train - then answered some questions. The girl I sat next too was a little irritating mind, making sure she laughed extra hard at the joke or two aimed at readers of his blog. We all get it love, move on.
It was pleasant to see Gaiman himself, he's better looking than I expected (God, how fickle am I?), and had a delightful reading voice. Attributes immaterial to his actual profession of course, in particular when he writes so beautifully, but handy for promotional work. I finished The Graveyard Book on the train home last night and it's astonishing. I think I fell a little bit in love with Silas, and I’d imagine I’m not the only one. Afterwards I queued for the signing, and given the numbers present I should have expected a long wait. And it was a long wait, made more frustrating knowing a party was waiting for me. But I stayed, and by the time I finally reached him I was quite zoned out, I didn't really say anything (though I suppose by that point Gaiman must have preferred it that way, and I can't say I blame him) and the woman who offered to take our picture together on my camera couldn't use it. Still, I now have a version of Good Omens signed by both authors, and I immensely enjoyed the night.
It being Halloween I spent much of the rest of the weekend with friends, dressed as a Ghostbuster. Two parties happened, plenty of friends. There were some drunken disgraces, thankfully not me, none moreso than the weird Irish guy from next door who tried to pretend somebody had died in order the speak to one of the girls he liked.
Am back home now, and tonight’s planned early bedtime has been totally ruined by the return of a certain Richard Sharpe last night - which was startlingly good (I had been anticipating a mediocre show at best, given the general output of much of ITV’s current output). Sean Bean smouldered, ooh, it’s made me go all tingly.
It was an interesting event, made more interesting by the fact he seemed to be in a bit of a bad mood. He did a reading from The Graveyard Book - the complete chapter 5 happily which was where I had reached on the train - then answered some questions. The girl I sat next too was a little irritating mind, making sure she laughed extra hard at the joke or two aimed at readers of his blog. We all get it love, move on.
It was pleasant to see Gaiman himself, he's better looking than I expected (God, how fickle am I?), and had a delightful reading voice. Attributes immaterial to his actual profession of course, in particular when he writes so beautifully, but handy for promotional work. I finished The Graveyard Book on the train home last night and it's astonishing. I think I fell a little bit in love with Silas, and I’d imagine I’m not the only one. Afterwards I queued for the signing, and given the numbers present I should have expected a long wait. And it was a long wait, made more frustrating knowing a party was waiting for me. But I stayed, and by the time I finally reached him I was quite zoned out, I didn't really say anything (though I suppose by that point Gaiman must have preferred it that way, and I can't say I blame him) and the woman who offered to take our picture together on my camera couldn't use it. Still, I now have a version of Good Omens signed by both authors, and I immensely enjoyed the night.
It being Halloween I spent much of the rest of the weekend with friends, dressed as a Ghostbuster. Two parties happened, plenty of friends. There were some drunken disgraces, thankfully not me, none moreso than the weird Irish guy from next door who tried to pretend somebody had died in order the speak to one of the girls he liked.
Am back home now, and tonight’s planned early bedtime has been totally ruined by the return of a certain Richard Sharpe last night - which was startlingly good (I had been anticipating a mediocre show at best, given the general output of much of ITV’s current output). Sean Bean smouldered, ooh, it’s made me go all tingly.
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