That was over on Livejournal (remember that, kids?), where I racked up quite a lot of posts. Now some of those are cross-posted from here, but I reckon a good 90% were unique to LJ.
Now the bit I miss most is the comments – LJ felt like a real community where you’d check in a couple of times a day to see what was going on around the world, or to chew the fat in the comments section on a post, often diverting wildly from the original topic.
Bit like twitter really. Twitter has kind of taken over from LJ in that regard, for me at least.
I’ve made a huge number of friends from blogging over the years, and it makes me a little sad to think that I might never actually meet most of them in person. A while back I sent out a small moleskine notebook on a trip around the world and my LJ friends – one person would get it, write something (anything) in there, then when they were done we’d look for a couple of volunteers and send it on its way again. I got it back a few years ago and it’s full (well, half-full) of wonderful things, memories and thoughts and general musings from people I know but might never meet. It even got as far as the White House, just after Obama’s inauguration!
So, happy blogging birthday to me.
Espresso coco, on the other hand, celebrates *its* birthday at the end of the month. 🙂
Do you have a blog? How long have you been blogging? Drop me a link in the comments!
It’s not often I veer off the path of reviews, but something caught my notice this morning and after a mini-rant with a fellow blogger.
It’s all to do with likes.
I often wander through my WordPress reader or my fellow bookbloggers’ blogs looking for something interesting to read. And if I find a review that I like, I click on the little star and, erm, like it.
Often if I’ve liked something, I’ll share it too. Because if I liked it, then chances are other people might like it too. Share the joy.
There are some bloggers who I know well, who are posting reviews of books that I’ve read and liked, and I may click retweet *then* go and read their posts, but you can count that list on the fingers of one hand.
And, from time to time, people stumble across *this* little slice of the internet, and click the like button and share the post. And for that I am eternally grateful, and I really do appreciate every like and share.
They mean a lot. Like, totally a lot. When you’ve put your time and effort into crafting a review (yes, I do craft them, there’s no need for that), it’s nice to see that someone has, you know, liked it.
Then you stumble across a blog which has HUNDREDS of likes. Much like (sorry) the one above. Over three hundred likes.
But… I do wonder with some of these blogs whether it’s a mutual you follow me/I follow you thing, with people autoclicking the like button.
I know of some bloggers who seem to go through and retweet a bucketload of blogposts. It’s entirely possible that they’re reading them all and genuinely liking/sharing, but the sceptic in me wonders if they’re just going down the list in WordPress reader and liking/sharing.
Now me, I’d love the likes, but would far rather someone retweet/like a post because they’ve actually *read* it and liked it.
Well, yes, books. Obviously there are books. Lots of books.
But I look at this and see something else.
As a book blogger I’m hugely fortunate enough to be sent books to review from publishers. And I’m grateful for every single one of them, believe me. But some days I feel a creeping sense of guilt about those books.
Each one is a microcosm of an author’s hard work, months (if not years) of hard effort, rejections upon rejections until the joy of getting a book deal. Then there’s the work of the editors, proofreaders, cover designers, publishers and PR folk who send these books out into the wild.
Then they land on my shelf. Sometimes they’ve been preceded with an email asking if I’d like to take a look at the book. Sometimes they turn up unannounced, in large brown padded envelopes addressed to “Dave Espresso Coco”, with a press release tucked in the the pages. Occasionally they turn up with little tchotchkes, gift wrapped in fancy string or ribbon, with chocolate or, in a couple of instances, little miniatures of booze (I like those ones!)
But there are also the other books on those shelves. Books that I’ve bought myself, bought despite knowing exactly how big my TBR pile is, books that I’ve thought sound too fabulous to resist, or by authors whose earlier books I’ve read and loved, but now their books sit nestled amongst the others, vying for my attention at the point where I finish a book and sit back to ponder what’s next?
What will catch my eye? Will it be the book that I agreed to read three months ago for the blog tour that’s due next week (*cough* two days’ time)? Will it be the book that turned up yesterday that just looks *so* good? Will it be one of the many, many bought books? Or one which sounded so interesting from the PR’s excited email that I just couldn’t resist saying yes to?
I look at these shelves every time I go up and down the stairs. I look at the set of shelves next to this one, which is similarly stacked high with books. Or the pile of books on the dining room table that arrived this week.
And that’s not counting the virtual pile of books on my kindle, or the NetGalley copies which, despite my self-imposed NetGalley ban in an effort to get my read/reviewed ratio up, seem to be breeding.
So many books. So little time.
So much guilt.
I’ve started to say no to some of the blog tours – reading to order and to deadline was starting to add unnecessary stress, especially after hitting a couple of books which didn’t really do it for me. I should probably start saying no to more of the ‘Dear blogger, would you be interested in [AWESOME BOOK]?’
The hot summer has been fairly quiet for Detective Superintendent Tom Harper and his squad, until a daring burglary occurs at an expensive Leeds address. Then his friend and former colleague, Inspector Billy Reed, asks for his help. Billy’s brother, Charlie, a shopkeeper, has committed suicide. Going through Charlie’s papers, Billy discovers crippling rent rises demanded by his new landlord. Could these have driven him to his death? As Harper investigates, he uncovers a web of intimidation and corruption that leads back to the mysterious North Leeds Company. Who is pulling the strings behind the scenes and bringing a new kind of misery and violence to the people of Leeds? Harper is determined to unmask the culprits, but how much blood will be shed as he tries?
The Leaden Heart is the seventh of Chris Nickson’s Tom Harper Mysteries, but the first I’ve read. Set in Leeds in 1899, we find Detective Superintendent Tom Harper sweltering in the long, hot summer. Harper’s old friend and colleague, Billy Reed, comes back to Leeds from Whitby for the funeral of his brother, only to discover that it was suicide. The two friends dig into the mysterious circumstances of his death to discover there’s a lot more to it than meets the eye, and some powerful men do not want him uncovering the truth.
I really enjoyed The Leaden Heart. I read a lot of contemporary crime fiction so it was a breath of fresh air to delve back into my adopted city’s past and see it through a different lens. Familiar streets and places brought to life through Nickson’s evident extensive research and love of the city gave the story an extra edge for me. It may be the seventh book in the series, but could easily be read as a standalone as I did. That said, I’d be interested to go back and find out more about Harper and his investigations.
It’s a great story too, full of political intrigue and corruption. Harper is a fascinating character, a solid, no-nonsense old school copper with a determination to get to the bottom of what’s going on, no matter the consequences to his reputation. There’s an interesting subplot too featuring Harper’s wife Annabelle, a Poor Law Guardian investigating the deaths of two young girls and trying to change the minds of the men who make the rules but have no time or desire to listen to her.
I’ve not read much historical fiction, but on the strength of The Leaden Heart, perhaps I ought to add a few more to my reading list!
The Leaden Heart by Chris Nickson is published by Severn House at the end of March 2019. Many thanks to the publisher and author for the advance copy for review. You can find Chris Nickson on twitter @ChrisNickson2 or at his website www.chrisnickson.co.uk
For centuries, the kingdom of Iraden has been protected by the god known as the Raven. He watches over his territory from atop a tower in the powerful port of Vastai. His will is enacted through the Raven’s Lease, a human ruler chosen by the god himself. His magic is sustained via the blood sacrifice that every Lease must offer. And under the Raven’s watch, the city flourishes.
But the power of the Raven is weakening. A usurper has claimed the throne. The kingdom borders are tested by invaders who long for the prosperity that Vastai boasts. And they have made their own alliances with other gods.
It is into this unrest that the warrior Eolo–aide to Mawat, the true Lease–arrives. And in seeking to help Mawat reclaim his city, Eolo discovers that the Raven’s Tower holds a secret. Its foundations conceal a dark history that has been waiting to reveal itself…and to set in motion a chain of events that could destroy Iraden forever.
Well now. At face value The Raven Tower checks all the regular classic fantasy boxes. A son returns home from afar to take up his father’s post as ruler, only to find that his position has already been filled by his scheming uncle. A kingdom under threat. Mysterious machinations at court. Gods making alliances with mortals.
You know, standard fantasy stuff.
But Ann Leckie takes those standards and twists and pulls them into something new, something different, something quite unique.
It took me a little while to settle into the style of The Raven Tower, as large parts of it are told by a mysterious other, who appears to be talking to Eolo, warrior aide to the true heir to the Raven’s Lease, Mawat. You are doing this, it says. You are thinking that. You go here and see things.
It takes a little getting used to. For this mysterious narrator (don’t worry, all does become clear but you know, spoilers) knows an awful lot about a lot of things, and appears to be almost relating the tale to Eolo from after the fact, pausing only to drift off into stories of what once was, setting the scene for present day tensions against the tapestry of long ago.
And there is a lot of this tapestry of history to read, making the scope of The Raven Tower utterly vast, from the dawn of this land up to present, all told through the eyes of this almost omniscient narrator. The characters are fascinating and well written – I was particularly interested in the power structures in play here, from the enigmatic Raven god, to its Lease and the assembled that made up the court.
So yes, it’s a story of gods and power and what people will do to gain the latter and the price they’re willing to pay to do so. But Ann Leckie does this with such a deft hand that you’re left marvelling at how it’s all constructed. The way she plays with character and language and structure reminded me not a little of the skillful hand of Claire North, and whilst they tell very different stories, they both show a similar joy at playing with expectations.
It’s really hard to say more without spoiling the experience, and I can only urge you to discover the secrets of The Raven Tower for yourself.
The Raven Tower by Ann Leckie is published by Orbit Books and is out now in hardback and ebook.
Huge thanks to Nazia Khatun and Orbit Books for the review copy.
Delighted to be taking part in the cover launch for Stewart Hotston’s new book, Tangle’s Game.
Nowhere to run.
Nowhere to hide.
Yesterday, Amanda Back’s life was flawless: the perfect social credit score, the perfect job, the perfect home. Today, Amanda is a target, an enemy of the system holding information dangerous enough to disrupt the world’s all-consuming tech – a fugitive on the run. But in a world where an un-hackable blockchain links everyone and everything, there is nowhere to run…
Stewart Hotston lives in Reading, UK. He loves pretty
much all fiction. Stewart spends his days working in
high finance and, in a completely unrelated subject,
he read for a PhD in Theoretical Physics, taking
great interest in philosophy, theology and economics
(some of those even involving additional academic
qualifications). He has previously been published
across more than a dozen different publishers of short
stories and his first two novels were published by
Alternative Realities. When Stewart is not writing or
working he’s also a world ranked swordsman in both
Rapier and Sidesword – for his troubles, he’s a senior
instructor at The School of the Sword.
We live our lives in the daylight. Our stories take place under the sun: bright, clear, unafraid. This is not a book of those stories. These are the stories of people who live at night; under neon and starlight, and never the light of day. These are the stories of poets and police; writers and waiters; gamers and goddesses; tourists and traders; the hidden and the forbidden; the lonely and the lovers. These are their lives. These are their stories. And this is their time: The Outcast Hours.
Ah, welcome traveller. You’ve come a long way and the night is drawing in. Can I offer you a little something to ease you through the night? For these are the Outcast Hours, filled with stories from the darkness.
We have a veritable smörgåsbord on offer for you. Perhaps we can tempt you with the tale of a book that will come when you need it, but be verycareful what you wish for.
Or a babysitter with a certain unique set of skills. A secret show that you’ll never find on your own, but if you buy the right girl a coffee and a slice of pie, maybe she’ll take you there. A man delivering a case containing something, and heaven help you if you try to get in his way.
Or there’s Berezov the chemist, and what happens when a rival comes to set up in the same town. A ghost story about wallpaper. A collector of toys. A dog sitter with her puppers on the night shift. A rogue tooth fairy. A hike through the mountains at night. Just whatever you do, don’t look back.
All interspersed with microfiction from China Miéville, king of the new weird.
The Outcast Hours reminded me of just how good a short story can be, how it can get under your skin and leave you thinking about it days later. How, with an almost effortless turn of phrase, perceptions are given a nudge, revealing a new viewpoint on what you’ve just read.
The Outcast Hours is a fantastic, diverse collection of fantastically diverse short fiction. There are some authors I recognise and love – the fabulous Lauren Beukes and China Miéville are two writers whose books I adore. But there’s a huge host of other talent on display here which stands shoulder to shoulder with them, and which I’ll be keeping a very close eye on in future.
The Outcast Hours, edited by Mahvesh Murad & Jared Shurin is published by Solaris. Many thanks to Tracy Fenton for inviting me to take part in the blog tour, and to Remy Njambi from Rebellion Publishing for the review copy of the book.
The Outcast Hours features stories by Marina Warner, China Miéville, Frances Hardinge, Will Hill, Sally Partridge, Jesse Bullington, Jeffrey Alan Love, Kuzhali Manickavel, Amira Salah-Ahmed, Cecilia Ekbäck, Celeste Baker, Karen Onojaife, Daniel Polansky, Genevieve Valentine, Indrapramit Das, Leah Moore, Sam Beckbessinger, Sami Shah, Lauren Beukes, Dale Halvorsen, Yukimi Ogawa, Lavie Tidhar, Silvia Moreno Garcia, Genevieve Valentine, Maha Khan Phillips, William Boyle, S.L. Grey, M. Suddain, and Omar Robert Hamilton.