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?
Hello
- John Conway
- To steal something from a better writer than myself, I'm a drunk homosexual with low moral fibre.
Friday, 14 November 2008
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.
Monday, 14 April 2008
SFX poll.
Haven't read this magazine in years, but was sent a link to a poll to vote for
the greatest SF or fantasy authors of all time through their website.
I decided to make my list before I read through other peoples, glad I did, though when I read through after many names cropped up I would have liked to say too. Five is too small a number of course. I liked the logic of some of the choices, especially the person who voted for Oscar Wilde on the basis that The Picture of Dorian Gray is a fantasy book (which of course it very much is).
Anyway, my choices...
1. Neil Gaiman - first came across him thanks to Pratchett (Good Omens, incredible book) but it was Sandman and Anansi Boys really got me hooked.
2. Ursula le Guin - A Wizard of Earthsea is one of the most beautiful books I've ever come across. Despite the succinct nature of it and its language every sentence every sentence carries so much meaning, this book is poetry as fiction.
3. Terry Pratchett - everything about this man is brilliant, it was his Witches books I came to first, I loved the way he made Fantasy stare face to face with feminism. And Death, you just want to give him a hug.
4. JRR Tolkien - I know I'm going for all the obvious here, but The Lord of the Rings changed my life, I still have dreams where Gandalf is my Grandad.
5. Jenny Nimmo - I nearly put Mervyn Peake or Susannah Clarke here, but when I think back I can't forget the Snow Spider. Until Tolkien came into my world it was my favourite book ever, when I read it now I still get a tingle down my neck whenever Arianwen appears. When I was a boy I very much wanted to be a wizard, and I very definitely wanted my own snow spider.
So many others I would liked to have included - J K Rowling, Susanna Clarke, Mervyn Peake, Douglas Adams, Frank Herbert, Orson Scott Card (if you haven't read Capitol you really need to) and of course Philip Pullman & Alan Moore.
One person I expected to see mentioned more was CS Lewis, I'm not that bothered as I do think he's overrated, but the backlash against him is getting a bit extreme. At the very least The Magician's Nephew and Prince Caspian are ace.
EDIT: Cannot believe I forgot to mention John Wyndham. The Chrsalids is possibly my favourite book ever!
the greatest SF or fantasy authors of all time through their website.
I decided to make my list before I read through other peoples, glad I did, though when I read through after many names cropped up I would have liked to say too. Five is too small a number of course. I liked the logic of some of the choices, especially the person who voted for Oscar Wilde on the basis that The Picture of Dorian Gray is a fantasy book (which of course it very much is).
Anyway, my choices...
1. Neil Gaiman - first came across him thanks to Pratchett (Good Omens, incredible book) but it was Sandman and Anansi Boys really got me hooked.
2. Ursula le Guin - A Wizard of Earthsea is one of the most beautiful books I've ever come across. Despite the succinct nature of it and its language every sentence every sentence carries so much meaning, this book is poetry as fiction.
3. Terry Pratchett - everything about this man is brilliant, it was his Witches books I came to first, I loved the way he made Fantasy stare face to face with feminism. And Death, you just want to give him a hug.
4. JRR Tolkien - I know I'm going for all the obvious here, but The Lord of the Rings changed my life, I still have dreams where Gandalf is my Grandad.
5. Jenny Nimmo - I nearly put Mervyn Peake or Susannah Clarke here, but when I think back I can't forget the Snow Spider. Until Tolkien came into my world it was my favourite book ever, when I read it now I still get a tingle down my neck whenever Arianwen appears. When I was a boy I very much wanted to be a wizard, and I very definitely wanted my own snow spider.
So many others I would liked to have included - J K Rowling, Susanna Clarke, Mervyn Peake, Douglas Adams, Frank Herbert, Orson Scott Card (if you haven't read Capitol you really need to) and of course Philip Pullman & Alan Moore.
One person I expected to see mentioned more was CS Lewis, I'm not that bothered as I do think he's overrated, but the backlash against him is getting a bit extreme. At the very least The Magician's Nephew and Prince Caspian are ace.
EDIT: Cannot believe I forgot to mention John Wyndham. The Chrsalids is possibly my favourite book ever!
Wednesday, 5 March 2008
Been away.
Thailand, Cambodia and Malaysia, what a trip! But now I'm tired, and busy, and jet-lagged, and depressed. Rubbish to be back, rubbish!
First of all you can see my snaps, they're dead sexy and that.
First of all you can see my snaps, they're dead sexy and that.
Thailand & Malaysia.
Cambodia 1.
Cambodia 2.
Cambodia 3.
Cambodia 4.
Monday, 4 February 2008
I'm finding more and more
That I'm beginning to narrate my life in my head in the style (and a little bit disturbingly the voice) of David Mitchell. This is a bit odd.
Wednesday, 9 January 2008
Meetings.
You know what the best feeling in the world is? When you’ve set yourself up with a potentially hot date. You know, the Gaydar route, your profile ever so witty, your pictures showing you at your best.
You know what’s even better than that? Meeting them several hours early, by complete accident, in the checkout que at the Supermarket, straight from work. Not exactly looking your best, and having a basket containing a loaf of Co-op own brand bread and a reduced to clear Microwaveable Christmas Puddings with a large, bright 'Only 99p!' sticker attached. That's what.
You know what’s even better than that? Meeting them several hours early, by complete accident, in the checkout que at the Supermarket, straight from work. Not exactly looking your best, and having a basket containing a loaf of Co-op own brand bread and a reduced to clear Microwaveable Christmas Puddings with a large, bright 'Only 99p!' sticker attached. That's what.
Saturday, 5 January 2008
So I found out what my daemon is.
Philip Pullman style, Potter fans can of course substitute a patronus.
It's a tiger.
I did the quiz, so I guess I can't complain at the results, especially as Tiger's are (y'know) rock. Things is, I've always been sure my daemon would be a bird...
It's a tiger.
I did the quiz, so I guess I can't complain at the results, especially as Tiger's are (y'know) rock. Things is, I've always been sure my daemon would be a bird...
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