April 2008 Archives

Reviews are starting to appear for my new book, including the first Amazon reader.  There was already that nice one in The Independent, and this past weekend there was a new one in the Financial Times.

Is this insecurity?  Am I trying to convince you I'm a real writer?  Is that what I'm doing?  Here, then, let me do it some more.  For my Irish reader, ahem, readers, there was a good one in The Irish World, and I've also got nice support from some good websites, too, including Betty Bookmark and best of all, a review on Simply Book Recommends by an actual teen reviewer (I think).

Ah, hell, let the self-promotion continue:  A reminder that I'm appearing at the Brighton Festival on 9 May at 7.30pm at an event called So You Want To Write For Children?  There we go, self-promoted into oblivion.  Let me just go wash my hands...

Not the show (though I do occasionally watch) and not the scary end-of-the-world-Christ-is-coming song I used to have to sing in children's church when I was growing up (as in, I'm not making this up, "10 and 9, 8 and 7, 6 and 5 and 4, the countdown's getting lower every day".  Seriously!  It's practically abuse!).

No, it's countdown to launch of my new book.  Have I mentioned the title?  Yes, I have.  Here it is again with the amazon link.  The Knife of Never Letting Go, it's called.  I've just finalised the podcasts this week (more info when it's available), and there's a major campaign in the summer, which I can't talk about yet.  The book itself comes out 5 May, here and in Ireland, Australia and New Zealand.

Okay, enough pimping myself.  I'm swamped in work, though I did manage to squeeze in Small Change at the Donmar.  Excellent acting, but I did often feel like I was being read to.  On Monday, it's Vanessa Redgrave in The Year of Magical Thinking, where I expect to be radicalised about death.

Turns out there are exactly seven songs that begin with "Seven" on my iPod.  What does it mean?  Nothing, except these particular ones are atypical enough to make me seem like one of those 55-year-old men who still wears blue jeans every day.  Sting?  I mean, Sting?  Am I publicly admitting to Sting?

Seven Days by Sting (not even the one by Craig David, which in a way would be more embarrassing)

Seven Deadly Sins by Bryan Ferry (see previous entry for feelings on Bryan Ferry and his twit of a son)

Seven Joys of Mary by Kate and Anna McGarrigle (at last, something cool, with Martha and Rufus singing along)

Seven More Days by Terence Trent D'Ardy (all coolness now hereby obviated, but this was a good album!  Remember?  For about four minutes, we all thought he was the new Prince.  We were wrong.)

Seven Seas by Echo and the Bunnymen (this, I can live with)

Seven Seas of Rhye by Queen (try as the surviving members might to ruin the already dubious Queen legacy (We Will Rock You the musical, physics doctorates, Roger Taylor...), there's still never been anyone like Freddie Mercury)

Seven Stories Underground by The Gutter Twins (and a 2008 entry at last, possibly too late to save my reputation; Mark Lanegan of Screaming Trees and Greg Dulli of Afghan Whigs make a Seattle grunge supergroup, and it's surprisingly soulful and moving).

I've got 3647 songs on my iPod, and this perhaps is not the most representative list.  Yet, what can I pledge to you but honesty and openness and the fact that I downloaded The Last Shadow Puppets just this morning?

Yes, I know, I'm not updating very often, but give me a break!  I'm moving house, trying to write a third draft, doing all attendant publicity on my new book coming out, and - in my spare time - planning a launch party and writing this diary.  What have YOU done this week?

One of the things I've been doing is recording a podcast for The Knife of Never Letting Go.  I did an interview for podcast one, and then for podcasts 2 through 4, a very fab actor called Michael Jenn will be reading excerpts from the book that you'll be able to download from iTunes.  Which is pretty cool, eh?

It's not leaving me much time to go through my tax receipts for the year, though (currently falling out of an overstuffed Gap bag onto my office floor).  Faced with all these things to do today, I did what anybody would:  I watched a rerun of Scrubs while eating a cookie.

Beg, borrow or steal to get a ticket to The Last Days of Judas Iscariot at the Almeida.  Fantastic play, the ultimate thesis of which is that there is no hell but that which we create for ourselves.  Hear, hear.  It's tremendously funny, completely absorbing, and I've never had three hours pass so quickly.  Go, what are you still reading for, go!

I also saw The 39 Steps in the West End (also playing Broadway, it seems).  Saw it with my dad and brother, both of whom loved it.  It's very funny, goes a bit amiss in the second act, but a great family play.  There was a kid sitting behind me who seemed to have a blast.

But go see Judas.  Support the Almeida.  Go on, I'll wait.

What a week.  I put 820 miles on my little car in the past 7 days, driving my dad and brother around the tourist attractions of southern England.  We had a lovely day at Dover Castle, an attraction everyone in England should see, and a very nice sunny day at Stonehenge, the remarkably beautiful Salisbury Cathedral, and even made it up to the standing stones of Avebury.

And then we had three inches of snow, so we stayed in and had roast beef.

In the middle of it all, I was whisked away for a day to the International Children's Book Fair in Bologna.  My first time in Italy, pity I was only there for 20 hours.  I had dinner with some of my foreign publishers and found out the exciting news that the Italian translation is done (with a beautiful new cover) and will be out in September, the same time as the American edition.  My first translation ever, so that ought to be something.

I also found out I unexpectedly have to move house by the end of May, so the house-buying business is accelerated.  We've found a nice place, though, so no complaints there.  But GOD I hate to move house, so we'd better bloody stay in the new place for years to come.

AND I had a review of Adam Mars-Jones' Pilcrow in the Guardian on Saturday, which has caused more mentions of it to me than any other thing I'd written.  Not what I intended, I was only reviewing the book as given.  I just happened to not like it.  Very much.  At all.

So very busy, so much to write about (went to Bologna for a day for the International Children's Book Fair, seeing the sights of southern England with dad and brother, suddenly having to move house...) and no time to write about it yet.

I do, however, have a spare 30 seconds to point you to a very nice review of my new book The Knife of Never Letting Go in today's Independent.  I'm the two paragraphs at the bottom.

Now, off to Stonehenge!  (seriously)