Catching Up with Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

Count Dalek-ula says
"Catching Up with Favorite Authors is Fun!"

Chelsea Quinn Yarbro's contributions to the Horror genre have been honored in numerous ways. In 2003, she was awarded the status of Grand Master at the World Horror Convention. Two years later, the International Horror Guild named her a living legend. Last year, the World Fantasy Convention gave her a Life Achievement award. 

My previous reading experience with her was minimal, just one novel that I read thirty-five years ago. In False Dawn, two protagonists trek across a post-apocalyptic northern California, in search of a refuge, a sanctuary where they can begin again. Back in those Cold War days, all of us lived with the possibility of a nuclear war. That future seemed imminent, unavoidable. So those of us who loved Science Fiction stories looked past that, and imagined what the future might hold for humanity, once the superpowers had done their best to bomb all of us out of existence. I had fallen in love with the movie "Logan's Run," found stories like Roger Zelazny's "Damnation Alley," and was hungry for more of the same. Her novel made a strong impression on me, and led me to read it again recently.

I found False Dawn every bit as powerful as I remembered.

Yarbro's muse seemed to take her in other directions after that, most notably in Horror. Her most famous creation is the Saint Germaine cycle. These novels fuse two genres, historical and vampire stories, into one. As I've recently grown interested in learning about ancient Rome, I viewed A Flame in Byzantium as an opportunity to catch up with Chelsea Quinn Yarbro. This novel, the first in a trilogy devoted to vampire heroine Atta Olivia Clemens, follows Olivia's move from Rome to Constantinople, the center of the other great civilization of her era. I found it an enjoyable novel, rich in historical detail and character development, if a little slow (at times) in pace. The novel gave me a chance to see what Yarbro had been up to during all those years we had walked separate paths (she as author, me as reader), and why the Horror community loved her so much.

But then, it's always nice to catch up with a writer whom you've not read for a long time. Even if she writes (primarily) about vampires.

Dragon Dave

Oh, the People I've Met: Peter F Hamilton

I've never met Robert B. Parker, but I have met Peter F. Hamilton. Hamilton's a hero of mine, as he wrote the mammoth Night's Dawn trilogy. (The first novel in the trilogy is one of my all-time favorite books, The Reality Dysfunction). The trilogy was published in the United States as six hefty paperbacks. 

The pages are filled with well-rounded characters, richly developed societies, spectacular space battles, and all of it backed up by incredibly speculative science. The saga easily holds its own against recent Marvel galactic events such as Infinity and The Black Vortex. It was a pleasure to meet the author of such an accomplished literary masterwork, and I was able to do so in Brighton, at the 2013 World Science Fiction Convention. 

It takes a strong, forceful author to envision, write, complete, and push through publication such a mammoth story. But Peter F Hamilton did it. For me, the Night's Dawn trilogy is right up there with Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, or Kim Stanley Robinson's Mars trilogy, or Frank Herbert's Dune saga. I'm so glad I met him.

Now, for the hard part. To emulate him.

Dragon Dave

Uplifted by Terry Pratchett's Magic

This week, I've been struggling to write. Anything. Somehow, I've just felt blocked. Writing seemed purposeless. My willpower lagged, sagged, and waved the white flag. So I took the time to reorganize my comic book collection, no easy feat as it seems to be growing by leaps and bounds. As I did so, it struck me that comics are like chapters in a novel. Sometimes they stand alone. Others rely on your knowledge of what came before, and end on a cliffhanger, demanding you seek out the next installment. But all look to the past, belong to an overarching story and tradition, and pave the way for new comics, of any type, to be written.

Yesterday morning, as I sat down to organize, a bag of comics caught my eye. It was an adaptation of Terry Pratchett's novel The Color of Magic. 

This was the novel with which he introduced us to Discworld, that amazing world that sits on four giant elephants, who ride through space on the back of an immense star-spanning turtle. I had not yet read these four comics, and so instead of moving comics from box to box, I picked up the first issue and met a young tourist who disembarks from a ship in the harbor of Ankh Morpork.

He doesn't speak the local language, but with the use of his guidebook, and by showing off his gold coins, he soon makes his intentions clear.

After being escorted to a tavern, he meets Rincewind, an apprentice wizard who was thrown out of Unseen University not because he learned a spell, but because a spell somehow learned him. It seeped inside him, and when he gets agitated or anxious, it tends to work its magic through him, beyond his conscious control.

You know, kind of like the Hulk.

Rincewind sets himself up as guide, and Twoflower naively gives him four days' pay in advance. When Rincewind uses the money to escape the city, the Patrician of Ankh Morpork has him escorted to the palace. He explains to Rincewind that Twoflower hails from the counterweight continent, the home of the Agatean Empire. It's a government so rich in mineral wealth that it wields tremendous power. Although its citizens rarely travel, Twoflower has taken it into his head to see the world.

The Patrician wants Rincewind to understand how grateful he will be to Rincewind for keeping a protective eye upon their foreign visitor. 

He also explains the unfortunate consequences Rincewind would face, should any harm befall Twoflower.

Soon Rincewind and Twoflower are hitting the streets. Twoflower wants to see everything. He has a little box that makes little pictures of what he sees in extraordinary detail. Rincewind is amazed how friendly and accommodating even the most unfriendly and unaccomodating people can be, when the little box is pointed their way, and a little gold is pressed into their hands. He wonders what kind of magic the box channels to make these fantastic little pictures.

Then, at one point, the top of the box opens, a little imp crawls out, and announces that he's running low on pink paint. Ah, that's how.

Just as the Patrician feared, some people in Ankh Morpork aren't satisfied with the few gold coins that Twoflower would willingly give them. They also wonder how much they could gain by capturing his luggage, a chest made entirely from sapient pear wood. Pear wood is incredibly expensive in Ankh Morpork, and even the richest wizards can only afford the smallest pieces. So obviously, it must be worth an unimaginable sum.

These villains kidnap Twoflower, but Rincewind and the luggage escape. When Rincewind flees, the luggage stops him and insists that Rincewind rescue its master. So it's up to the anxious (failed) apprentice wizard to concoct a plan to free Twoflower, and in the luggage he finds a powerful ally.

When I put down the first issue, I felt more inclined to write than I had felt previously this week. So I headed off to my desk, and after reading the chapter of another novel, set my own pen to my own pad of paper. When my wife called me at lunch time, I had written several pages, and felt inspired to write more.

Then my wife told me of a news story she had just read online. Terry Pratchett, aged 66, had passed away in his home in England.

As some of you may remember, I had the honor of seeing Terry Pratchett at the World Fantasy Convention in Brighton England back in 2013. Despite the disease he suffered from, he was able to talk a little. Sitting across a cold crowded room from him, I was warmed by the presence of this master storyteller. He wrote over seventy books in his life, and I read a lot of them. More significantly, I derived a great deal of pleasure from nearly every one I read. No doubt others felt the same, as the room was more crowded for him than for anyone else who spoke at the convention. 

All authors create characters and worlds. But some authors' creations dwarf their creator, and dwarf most other authors creations. Terry Pratchett's Discworld is one such creation. It builds on the great fantasy literature of the past, and moves forward, presenting a world with such richness and depth that readers hunger for the next installment. I imagine that Discworld will go on, that other authors will take up their pens and, as with other literary icons like Jane Austen and Arthur Conan Doyle, write future stories set in Terry Pratchett's Discworld. But even if they don't, even if Pratchett's heirs don't allow that, his books are like the comic books in my collection, building upon the rich tradition of comics, and inspiring others to write even better, richer, more diverse stories than they read while growing up. 

I'm one of those authors who were caught up in Terry Pratchett's magic, who was inspired to take up my own pen as a result of Terry Pratchett writing. His stories will live on through others, and hopefully, through me as well. His magic inspired me to write yesterday morning, and all afternoon as well. And if I ever achieve my goal of publication, if ever I contribute a few chapters or issues to the great, overarching story that is Fantasy literature, some of the credit must go to Terry Pratchett. His magic infuses me, uplifts me, and lives inside me. And because of that, I write.

Dragon Dave

Happy Birthday Peter F Hamilton!

The first time I saw author Peter F Hamilton was at a panel discussion at the 2013 World Fantasy Convention in Brighton, England. He sat between two other distinguished authors, Kathleen Ann Goonan and William T Nolan, and didn't say a lot. But then, he was moderating the panel, so instead of talking, he tended to sum up the others contributions, and steer the conversation when he felt it drifting off course. I thought how great it was to attend the same convention with him, and hoped that I would get the chance to actually talk with him.

Later, I was able to sit down with him, and found him to be a laid-back, affable guy. I also enjoyed a reading he did. In addition to writing several posts about that experience, I also bought two books of his last year, and read one of them, a collection of his short stories (which I also wrote a few posts on). As a voracious reader, it's always nice to meet authors. Somehow, most don't match up to the image you've built up of them in your mind. So it's special when you meet someone whose works you've not only enjoyed, but have proven over time to mean more to you than the average story, and then find out that they seem every bit the person you imagined them to be. That's what my experience of meeting Peter F Hamilton was like: totally, completely positive, in every way.

If you'd like to read those other posts about him, you'll find some of them listed below. (You can find the rest by typing his name into the Search This Blog feature on the left, or clicking on his name from the Labels list also on your left). And if you're reading this, Peter F Hamilton, thanks again for making my time at the 2013 World Fantasy Convention extra special. I wish you a really happy Birthday: you're a great guy!

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries
Meeting Peter F Hamilton
Peter F Hamilton: The Reality Dysfunction
Peter F Hamilton on Authors & Mutant Worms

Happy Birthday Mary Robinette Kowal

At the World Fantasy Convention held in Brighton, England in November 2013, I had the opportunity to attend a reading by Mary Robinette Kowal. She imbued her reading from her upcoming novel with personality and flair, giving each character his or her own unique voice. This novel was from a series written in the style of Jane Austen, and set in a Regency era England in which women can manipulate glamour to enhance their lives. 

As an unexpected bonus, she revealed that she was not only a fan of the TV show Doctor Who, but she inserted a cameo of the Doctor in each novel. While she didn't identify the character as such, she would typically have a scene involving a medical doctor in each book, and she would mold his speech and mannerisms around one of the incarnations of the famous Time Lord. She read us these sections of each novel, and awarded a copy of the book to the first listener to correctly identify the Doctor she was portraying. 

When she's not writing, she's making costumes, or hanging out with her friends who love dressing up in old English attire. Or she's using her old typewriters, of which she has a substantial collections. Or there's her day job, which is building puppets or holding performances. She gave us an example of her puppeteering skills with a short selection from a famous play, using a stage and figures she fashioned from the most inexpensive of materials. She held the audience in stitches, and left us wanting to read her books. (Or reread them, especially the sections that included a cameo of the Doctor).

Last Sunday was her birthday, so Happy Belated Birthday, Mary Robinette Kowal! May you continue writing, puppeteering, and entertaining us for a long time to come!

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries
Pride and Prejudice and Magic
Pride and Prejudice and Puppets
Pride and Prejudice and Propriety
Pride and Prejudice and Plays
Pride and Prejudice and Passion

Terry Pratchett on the Rise of Science

The train station in Falmer, England,
built in 1846 to service trains propelled by steam.

In the beginning, there was magic. Or at least magic seemed to dominate in Terry Pratchett's early Discworld novels. Those adventures often featured wizards like Ponder Stibbons, the Head of Inadvisably Applied Magic at Unseen University. Or we met witches like Granny Weatherwax, with her temperamental magic broom, who fashions spells or potions in her little cottage in the woods. Whenever such character traveled anywhere, they might pack their belongings in an enchanted chest. Fashioned from sapient wood, these pieces of luggage walked or raced along on little wooden legs, and fiercely defended their owners.

But as time went on, and book followed book, science crept into Discworld. This evolution of technology was not an easy process, as magic proved reluctant to cede its territory to a new master. This battle for control of Discworld revealed itself in small ways, such as when a character opened a device to find tiny imps working switches and gears. But at least there were switches and gears, not simply a device performing fantastical functions via a magical spell.

Perhaps the invention of a steam engine on Discworld initially fell into "The Pit" Terry Pratchett described last year at the World Fantasy Convention in Brighton. The Pit was not the hotel where the convention took place, but a folder stored in his office. The Pit holds any ideas he toyed with while writing, but then extracted before completing those stories. As an avid lover of trains, he wanted to see trains chugging across Discworld earlier in his career. Ultimately, he realized that Discworld needed to discover other inventions first, so that the various peoples, cities, and societies would be ready to capitalize on steam power when it arrived.

In his latest novel, Raising Steam, Terry Pratchett introduces us to a determined young man named Dick Simnel, who was ten years old when "his father simply disappeared in a cloud of furnace parts and flying metal, all enveloped in a pink steam. On that very day young Dick Simnel vowed to whatever was left of his father in that boiling steam that he would make steam his servant." His mother has other ideas: she doesn't want to see him follow in his father's footsteps and become the village blacksmith. Nor does she want him to conduct dangerous experiments in the family barn. So she moved back to where she had grown up, and gave her son a good education.

Ironically, her desire to give her son a better life via education backfires, so to speak, when Dick discovers the riches of the library. There he reads the "weird stuff dreamed up by the philosophers" and grounds himself so well in arithmetic that at the age of twenty, he decides he's ready to pursue his father's dream. He assures his frightened mother that one device in particular will prevent him from suffering his father's fate. He pulls it out of his jacket; for all she knows it could be a magic wand. "This will keep me safe, Mother! I've the knowing of the Sliding Rule! I can tell the sine what to do, and the cosine likewise, and work out the tangent of t'quaderatics! Come on, Mother, stop fretting and come with me now to t'barn."

If his mother was a witch like Granny Weatherwax, she could have cast a spell to make her son forget all about steam power. But science is on the rise, and so she finds herself powerless to protect her son, or anyone else on Discworld, from all that Dick's discovery will unleash. 

To be continued...

Dragon Dave

Terry Pratchett On Defending The Defenseless

St. Stephen's Church in Brighton, England,
currently used as a homeless shelter.

Terry Pratchett loves to write. As he told fans at last year's World Fantasy Convention in Brighton, England, while other authors may take a break after completing a story, he sees his reward for finishing one book in that he gets to do another one. Then, like his beloved character, copper Sam Vimes, he "starts simple, and proceeds slowly." He may not bother himself to plan too far ahead, instead trusting his storytelling instincts. Should he get into his story, and realize he's followed a false trail, he may end up chucking that story, a portion of it, or the idea underlying it into "The Pit," as he calls it. But he doesn't mind. He can always pull something out of The Pit later, right? In the meantime, he starts off on the writing again, which for him, "goes a lot with impetus and ease."

In his recent novel Snuff, Sam Vimes tries to get out of his holiday in the country. He clearly doesn't want to leave his beloved city of Ankh-Morpork, the place where he feels he belongs. So once he's reached his grand estate, and endured stifled conversations over meals and tea parties with other members of the landed gentry, he seeks respite in the nearby village. For some reason, the locals seem suspicious of him. Why should a member of the aristocracy be visiting a poor man's public house? Why is Commander Vimes of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch sniffing around their village? Their suspicion makes Sam Vimes wonder what, if anything, the locals may have to hide.

Given his reluctance to leave Ankh-Morpork, the time needed to familiarize himself with the running of his estate, and the opportunities he takes to spend time with his son, it takes Vimes awhile to discover his first clue as to the locals' suspicion. Readers may wonder exactly where Pratchett is going with the novel, aside from enjoying the commander's discomfort over having to endure his holiday. But then, a hundred pages in, a note from the blacksmith's son leads Vimes to a hill in the dead of night, where he discovers a blood-soaked rag, and a Goblin's severed hand. Given the amount of blood, he realizes that this Goblin must have been killed.

Murdered.

The thing is, no one cares about Goblins. They exist outside the law, not partaking of life in towns or cities, but eking out their existence in caves. Even Feeney Upshot, the village policeman, who has taken an oath to obey the local magistrate's interpretation of the law, finds Vimes' interest in one Goblin's death a little extreme. As Vimes discovers when he visits the chief constable's office, located in a room inside his mother's house, the young man currently has a Goblin chained up outside for stealing pigswill. Feeney has been brought up to believe certain things about Goblins, such as that they are born thieves, they carry horrible diseases, they eat their own babies, and perhaps worst of all, they stink. Or, as Vimes muses: "It wasn't so much a stink as a sensation. the sensation in fact that your dental enamel was being evaporated and any armor you might have was rusting at some speed."

Vimes takes the young Chief Constable to task on a number of issues, chief among them that the purpose of the law is to protect everyone, including the most defenseless of its citizens. The problem is that, in the eyes of the law, Goblins don't officially exist, and therefore have no legal rights. Vimes refuses to accept this. He doesn't know much about Goblins, so he visits those holed up in nearby caves, who have learned to fear and distrust Humans. He takes on the local aristocracy, and defies the village magistrate, as he investigates how Goblins have been torn from their families, and shipped off down the river. He pursues a trail of greed and corruption, all the while arguing with young Feeney, who exhibits a thorough understanding of the letter of the law, but knows little of its soul. To save the Goblins from the injustice perpetrated upon them--from the way Humans have treated them so inhumanely--Vimes risks his social status, his career, and ultimately his life. But for Vimes, that's his duty, his calling in life: to defend the defenseless. He can no more shirk his duty, and turn a blind eye to injustice and cruelty, even if the law currently protects the perpetrators and sanctions their actions.

At four hundred pages in length, Snuff is a long novel by Terry Pratchett's standards. It takes Vimes a long time to uncover a crime, which can make it difficult for the reader to immerse himself in the story. It delves into more serious themes and issues than Pratchett's fans may have expected, such as slavery and the destructive aspects of illegal drugs. Yet it offers moments of action and excitement, including a climactic rescue-effort and river-battle in which Sam Vimes takes on not just the evildoers, but the very forces of nature. Along the way, he discovers some glorious aspects of Goblin-life to counter the rumors and folklore surrounding them. Once those are made public, they will forever change the way Goblins are viewed. As in our world, such sweeping social change on Discworld starts with one person's refusal to accept a perceived injustice. It's a character with whom Terry Pratchett identifies, who seems to hold his ear* at the moment, who talks to him and tantalizes him with ideas for humorous, exciting, and insightful stories. 

His name is Vimes: Commander Samuel Vimes.

Dragon Dave

*See the previous entry. (It's a doozy).

Terry Pratchett On A Copper's Instincts

A Police Station in Brighton, England

Author Terry Pratchett has been writing Science Fiction and Fantasy stories since the early 1970s. The bulk of them (forty novels and counting) take place on Discworld, a disk-shaped world that floats through space atop four giant elephants. (These elephants, in turn, ride on the back of an even larger turtle). His books have been translated into thirty-seven languages, and are beloved by readers all over the world. Yet he seems somewhat amused by his fame. As he told fans in Brighton at last year's World Fantasy Convention, "I just make things up." 

When he starts a new novel, he grasps those ideas foremost in his mind. He describes these as "low-hanging fruit," the ones easiest to pick. Once he's selected an idea, he just has to figure out what the story will be about. Anyone who has ever attempted to write a novel knows how challenging it can be to explore an idea in fiction. Terry Pratchett makes his job easier by following up on his inquisitiveness about our rapidly evolving world. He studies subjects that interest him, such as real-world technologies and systems. With time and study, his knowledge grows, and these subjects mature into the low-hanging fruit he mentioned. Then, with the hard work of research already done, he begins his story. 

Readers reap the benefits of Terry Pratchett's natural inquisitiveness. Over the years, we have seen Discworld's largely medieval society evolve with the introduction of the printing press and newspapers, a post office system, banking, and the rapid expansion of clacks towers, which transmit the equivalent of telegrams using a shutter-semaphore system. While these concepts are sketched out more simply in his stories, we nonetheless finish his novels with an enhanced appreciation for the inventions and processes that run contemporary society.

One of Terry Pratchett's most popular Discworld characters is Samuel Vimes, who has risen through police ranks to become the Commander of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch. A copper's instincts flow through his veins, and he can sense when something in his city is going (or about to go) amiss. He's been such a successful police officer that he's impressed the rich and powerful, eventually even marrying into the aristocracy. He's become part of the landed gentry, and has more money than he could ever figure out how to spend. Still, he's happiest when he's solving problems in his fair city. So what does Sam Vimes do in Terry Pratchett's recent novel Snuff, when his wife insists they take a vacation at one of their country houses? Or perhaps I should ask: What does he do after the city's ruler, Lord Vetinari, assures Vimes that no urgent crisis in Ankh-Morport require his attention? Well, he can't help but poke his nose into what's going on in community life surrounding his country estate, can he?

If Samuel Vimes has won over readers, he seems even closer to his creator's heart. Perhaps it's the character's natural inquisitiveness, the way he knows every street in Ankh-Morpork, and every aspect of city life, that allows him to sense when something is amiss. Perhaps, when he was a boy, the author considered a career as a policeman. Whatever the reason, if he's ever in trouble with a story set on Discworld, Terry Pratchett knows who he can turn to for assistance. "If a story involves Sam Vimes, I know he'll provide me with a lot of dialogue," he told his readers last year in Brighton. 

As all characters relate in some way to their creator, Pratchett must identify with some aspect of Vimes' psyche. As Vimes is forever interested in the forces underlying life in Ankh-Morpork, perhaps the link is Pratchett's constant fascination with the systems and technologies that drive our modern societies. It's also nice to see an author of Terry Pratchett's stature giving himself the freedom to explore his own interests, and to pursue his own hobbies without worrying immediately when they'll pay off in his fiction. Or even if they will. Of course, it's also nice when he finds a way to share his interests with us. I imagine that's one of the reasons we find his Discworld novels such a joy to read, because the ideas behind them spring from his own joy of discovery. 

Given how Sam Vimes seems to hold Terry Pratchett's ear at the moment*, I imagine he'll continue to play a vital role in future Discworld novels. But then, I could be wrong. After all, I don't have a Copper's instincts. 

Dragon Dave

* Yes, I agree with you. Police officers should not grab people by the ear. Especially not nice people like Terry Pratchett.

Peter F Hamilton on Authors & Mutant Worms

A robot dog gazes across the Thames
at prestigious Chelsea

This blog entry continues from Monday's entry "Peter F Hamilton on Elves & Illegal Cloning."

Although his scheduled time had expired, and he had fulfilled his commitment to the World Fantasy Convention, author Peter F Hamilton returned to the table where he had sat before his reading. At first, he seemed confused as to how to proceed, and offered one of us a copy of the manuscript to pass around. Thankfully, after a little encouragement, he kindly finished the story he had begun toward the end of his scheduled reading.

In "The Return of the Mutant Worms," Peter F Hamilton introduces us to a writer who lives in a portion of London called Chelsea, in a plush flat along the Thames River. This author has labored hard over the years to build up a strong, popular mainstream following, and regards the novel he's just finished as the pinnacle of his career. So when he receives a package in the mail, he tears into it, eagerly anticipating the contract for his forthcoming book.  Instead, he finds a publication contract for a short story titled "Mutant Worms" that he wrote twenty-one years ago. The publication of this story can only detract from his upcoming publicity tour, as mainstream readers will wonder how the writer they associate with such sophisticated and polished literary fiction once wrote a crass genre story about mutant worms having sex with Human females.

The author phones his former publisher, and explains there must be some mistake. The publisher informs the writer that he's made no mistake. Although he thought the story terrible twenty-one years ago, he paid the author a nominal sum for it, then locked it away. Yes, he understands that the publication of "Mutant Worms" might offend and appall the cultured sensitivities of the author's present readership. Yes, he knows that even hearing about this story might discourage readers from buying his new book, or indeed, any novels he might write in the future. So what? He decided to purchase the story as an investment twenty-one years ago. Now it's time to collect the dividends. 

But hey, he's a big-time author now, right? Shouldn't he be willing to share some of his wealth with his former publisher, who helped him in the formative phase of his career? No, he has no interest in selling the story back, for any amount of money. Still, he could be persuaded, for the right price, to not publish it. At least, not right now... 

I smiled and laughed along with my fellow readers as Hamilton read "The Return of the Mutant Worms." I suspect most of them noticed how the fictional writer's story gently mocked Hamilton's extraordinary storytelling achievement of The Night's Dawn trilogy. If my summary of the story has piqued your interest, you can find it in Solaris Rising, an anthology edited by Ian Whates. Along with Hamilton's delightful story, you'll also discover stories by other big name Science Fiction authors. I'm glad that I got to hear Hamilton read his story, and thankful that he was willing (and circumstances allowed him) to finish it. 

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries
An introduction to Peter F. Hamilton's The Night's Dawn trilogy

Peter F Hamilton on Elves & Illegal Cloning

Last year, I attended a reading with Peter F Hamilton at the World Fantasy Convention in Brighton, England. I arrived early, and found the author seated at a table outside the scheduled conference room. He seemed relaxed, and chatted easily with those around him. I joined the group, enjoyed seeing him interact with others, and spoke with him when the conversation allowed. Then it was time for his reading. 

Firstly, he read a scene from a new novel called The Abyss Beyond Dreams, due to be released in the United States on October 21, 2014. The story is set in his Commonwealth series, which includes novels such as Judas Unchained and the Void trilogy. Hamilton's soft-spoken voice flowed smoothly, soaking into us like warm honey on a slice of freshly baked bread, and his phrasing seemed more rhythmic and poetic than what I remembered from The Night's Dawn trilogy set in his Confederation universe. The scene introduced us to Darren and Alicia, two young sweethearts enjoying the simple pleasures of small town life. Yet, by the end of the scene, Alicia's life lay in tatters, as she has learned that Peter is three hundred years old, and only looks twenty due to his bionic enhancements. Through illegal cloning, he has brought her back to life again and again, each time romancing her beginning at age seventeen, until something inevitably goes wrong, and their romance falls apart. As with his Confederation novels, and the short stories in Manhattan In Reverse, Hamilton entranced us with the possibilities of the future. Yet it was his characters, with all their hopes, dreams, and frailties, that drew us in, and breathed life into his story.

The second story he read from was The Queen of Dreams, a children's novel he wrote to entertain his children. It involves Princesses, Skylords, and Elves. These Elves are not like the ones from Middle Earth in J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. They remind me of Punk Rock Elves, or the blue-skinned Na'vi in James Cameron's epic movie "Avatar." They stand seven-feet tall, have no hair on the sides of their heads, and plume-like mohawks that resemble avian plumage. Plus, they've got tails! The story stars Taggie and Jemima, two Human children who acquire magical powers after an encounter with a squirrel wearing glasses. The novel has yet to find a publisher in the United States, but is available in hardcover and digital formats from English booksellers. Hamilton's reading tantalized us with an Elf who surfed on rainbows rather than water, and rode a silver mirror shield instead of a Human surfboard. The story reminds me of Jane Johnson's novel The Secret Country (Volume One of her Eidolon Chronicles) or one of the seven novels in C. S. Lewis' series The Chronicles of Narnia. Given the inventiveness Hamilton builds into his Science Fiction novels, I'd say children of all ages should have fun with this story, as well as the illustrations in the book. After writing so many Science Fiction stories for adults, it's nice to see Hamilton stretching his wings, and trying his hand at a children's Fantasy. Let's hope his book sells well in England, and someone decides to publish it in the United States.

If not, I'll have to pick up a copy on my next visit to England. 

Although his allotted time had nearly expired, the next scheduled author had yet to arrive, so Hamilton pulled out one of his short stories. We all sat forward in our seats as Hamilton started off on a short story he had written for a few years previously. The story, set in London's Chelsea region, introduced us to an author looking forward to the publication of a book he views as his masterpiece. With its characterization, drama, and touches of humor, Peter F. Hamilton had us on the edges of our seats. But then the next scheduled author arrived, and we had to vacate the room.

To be continued...

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries
Jane Johnson's novel The Secret Country

Meeting Peter F. Hamilton

Travel Thursday

A highlight of last year's World Fantasy Convention in Brighton, England was meeting author Peter F. Hamilton.  His Night's Dawn trilogy is a monumental saga of literary Science Fiction.  The novels boast a cast list several pages in length, dozens of worlds, governments and ideologies, thoroughly alien races, and exciting adventures that would rival those of Star Wars (should a filmmaker ever adapt the novels for the big screen).  

I found him eminently approachable, courteous, and far more interested in quiet conversation that being the life of the party.  He seemed interested in how I, as a reader, had responded to his books, and perhaps even a little surprised by my enthusiasm for them. This gave me hope that my passion for his trilogy might inspire him one day to write a sequel, or perhaps even another trilogy set in that story universe.

If you enjoy space operas featuring memorable characters, intergalactic battles, and inventive speculation about mankind's expansion to the stars, check out his Night's Dawn saga.  And what will I be doing, you ask?  Why, I'll be seeking out more novels by Peter F. Hamilton, of course!

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries
Peter F. Hamilton: The Reality Dysfunction
Peter F. Hamilton on Life, Death, & Purgatory
The Madness of Peter F. Hamilton

Peter Crowther: Americanophile

“Somewhere on the windswept east coast of Yorkshire there’s a mind so steeped in the idioms and lore of American pop culture that it all but constitutes a 51^st state.  The mind belongs to Peter Crowther, and at the heart of its multifarious, ever-churning swirl are the picket-fence stylings of Rockwell, the folksy profanity of King, the deadpan gravitas of Serling, and the madcap irreverence of Bunny (Bugs).”

--James Lovegrove

Remember that movie “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles”?  We utilized all three during this year's trip to England.  All those trips proved enjoyable in their own way, but our ride on the tube from Heathrow Airport to Victoria Station proved particularly memorable.  For my wife and I fell into conversation with a English gentleman from London who, it seemed, was as fascinated by American culture as we are by his own.  He shared with us his experiences during his recent trip to New York, and expressed a desire to drive Route 66, see Los Angeles and Silicon Valley, and visit “Big Sewer.”  

After a few repetitions of the latter term, we finally realized that he meant “Big Sur," a scenic spot along the California coast, just a little south of Monterey and Carmel.  

We shared with him about our trip last year to Yorkshire, and when we mentioned Holmfirth, he didn’t recognize the town. But when we mentioned that it was where “Last of the Summer Wine” was filmed, he nodded in recognition.  Of course, he knew of the show, as it’s the longest-running comedy series in British TV history (if not the world).  But try as he might, he had just never gotten the humor of the show.  For him, the series employed a form of Northern humor which he simply didn’t understand, and he found it interesting that we, not being British, and much farther removed from Yorkshire, should understand it and enjoy it, when he himself could not.

At the World Fantasy Convention in Brighton, I compared the membership list with the authors of the books we received at registration, and took the books that matched to the mass signing evening event.  For some reason, I missed Peter Crowther’s name on the list, or perhaps our copy of Darkness, Darkness hid somewhere in our room during the process.  But, along with the books I had for the attending authors to sign, we also took our convention book, which had an autographs page.  After waiting in line for several authors whose books we had read, I suddenly found myself standing near Peter Crowther.  

No one stood before him at that moment.  Peter Crowther looked at me. I looked at him.  Of course, I recognized his name.  Feeling somewhat guilty, as I had not read any of his stories to that point, I sheepishly asked if he would sign my book.  He did so.  Somehow, in that brief moment, I glimpsed a little of myself in him, or at least qualities I admire.  Quiet repose.  Satisfaction with his place in the world, without the need to trumpet his triumphs.  Generosity of spirit.  Kindness.  And, dare I say it?  He just seemed like a proper English gentleman. 

It’s dangerous to attribute qualities to a person you don’t know, but somehow, that brief moment in his company made me want to read something he had written.  I saw him several times over the course of the weekend, usually in the restaurant at breakfast, and each time, my observations only reinforced my initial assessment of his character.  So imagine my surprise when I later realized that I had received one of his books.  Imagine my delight at realizing that I possessed a book by someone who had impressed me.

Darkness, Darkness is worthy of the all the praise heaped upon it by other noteworthy authors at the beginning of the book.  Not only have readers found Peter Crowther's books enjoyable, but many of his stories have been adapted to TV.  He’s also noteworthy as a publisher, having started PS Publishing fifteen years ago, a firm which now publishes 30-40 books annually.  I’m glad I finally got around to reading one of his stories, and meeting a man who has become a driving force in the British Science Fiction and Fantasy genre.  It was also nice to meet someone, even briefly, who appears to be as fascinated by American culture as I am by his own. 

Darkness, Darkness is heaped with aspects of American culture that sucked me into the story, from the Marlboros the characters smoke, the Juicy Fruit gum they chew, the DeSoto trucks they drive and the Cameros that fly (Yes, fly!), to the names of the musicians the radio DJ Melanie plays, such as Perry Como, Frank Sinatra, and Andy Williams.  Now, if only Crowther had set his story along Route 66.  Or better yet, somewhere near “Big Sewer.”  (Or, if you prefer, “Big Sur”).   I can think of another English gentleman who might have enjoyed reading it, even if it was written by a Northerner.

Dragon Dave

Related Internet Links

Peter Crowther’s website

Peter Crowther Lures Me Into Darkness

The World Fantasy Convention is typically held each year in late October or early November.  You know, when it’s cold outside.  This means, when it’s held in places higher up the globe from me like Canada or England, that it’s really cold outside.  (Or at least colder than I'm used to).  Yet one of the things I like about the World Fantasy Convention is that they give you free books.  When you arrive at registration, and pick up your convention badge, they also hand you a bag of free books.  That’s a bag of books that, most likely, you might never otherwise read.  That’s not to say that the authors aren’t noteworthy, or the prose isn’t well written.  It’s just a fact of life that one can never read all the books, or for that matter all the authors, that one would like to.  So when someone places a stack of books in your hands, books that the publishers feel deserve a wider audience, it’s an open invitation to discover new authors.  It's like the publishers are saying, "These stories are so great that you really need to read them." Sure, some of them may not be to your liking, but you never know.  Who’s to say you won’t discover a new favorite author?

The organizers of the 2013 World Fantasy Convention continued this great book-giving tradition, and one of the novels I took up the challenge of reading was Darkness, Darkness by Peter Crowther.  It’s a well-printed hardcover, with attractive cover art, and at 127 pages, promised to be an easy read.  It’s a horror novel set in Jesman’s Bend, “affectionately known locally as the one-horse town to end them all.”  There we meet Rick, a young man who, months ago, was involved in a fatal auto accident.  While it wasn’t his fault, he’s still haunted by the crash, and hasn’t been able to drive since.  Rick holds down the night shift at a local radio station, managed by his brother Geoff.  His sister-in-law Melanie is the DJ.   One day, around three a.m., Rick awakens from another nightmare involving the auto accident to discover that everyone else in the world seems to have disappeared.  Or at least, everyone outside the radio station. 

For a while, Melanie continues to play her music, an eclectic mix of easy listening.  But no one calls in for requests, or just to talk with her, as per usual.  Rick and Geoff make phone calls, but no one answers.  Eventually, they go into town to investigate.  They find crashed cars and half-eaten dinners, but no people.  That evening, they load up on canned goods and lock down their radio station.  They don’t know what’s happened, but they know it can’t be good.

Early the next morning, signs of life appear.  A crashed car drives away.  Those who disappeared are seen working on their cars.  And yet, everything is different too.  The vehicles drive without their lights on, even though it’s still pitch black outside.  People they know walk around with sunglasses on, and their movements are slow and wooden, as if they are no longer familiar with their bodies.  When the men go to town to investigate, their friends and neighbors attack them with slow, purposeful, and emotionless violence. 

These people may sound like zombies, but they’re not mindless.  As they pursue Rick and his brother, they gradually gain familiarity with how their limbs should move, and learn how to respond better to attack.  And some of the cars they’ve worked on are now able to fly.  When their dark glasses get knocked off, their eyes glow red, suggesting that they now see by infrared light.  However, like zombies, these people seem intent on killing the living, which means that the men must flee back to the radio station, where Melanie awaits.  Can they reach her alive, and before the townspeople arrive?  And will they be safe inside its walls?  These are the questions that drive the latter half of the novel.

Darkness, Darkness is a slim volume, and Crowther doesn’t answer all the questions he raises.  But he creates an imaginative world, and populates it with vivid characters and fantastic (if horrific) situations.  While it's too early to declare that I’ve found a new favorite author, I can say that I enjoyed reading his novel.  Crowther packs his story with such a terrific punch that I might just have to seek out the second book in the series to learn what happens next.  I’m glad I had a chance to read one of his stories.  That happy experience might never have happened had I not attended this year’s World Fantasy Convention in Brighton, and had the organizers not continued the practice of including books in the price of membership. 

Now, if only they could hold the convention earlier in the year.  You know, when it’s warmer.

Dragon Dave