Kevin Crokesmith and his assistant, stood patiently in the reception area. The Crematorium people slid about with subdued faces in a monotony of black. “Well, Wendy are we early or are the girls late. She’ll be arriving soon.” His face was a slightly pinker version of the grey of his shirt and his too-wide black tie made him look like a lollypop. Wendy Boilings gave him a nod as she watched the Crokesmith girls tumble through the door, the taller one breathless the rounder one even more so. “The hearse is just coming.”
It isn’t keeping his job or not that matters, but what happens next for Donald Trump. A divorce filing is coming closer, the date likely to be nearer to the 20th January than not, when eyes will have shifted to the incoming president. His third divorce after a fifteen year marriage to Melania will be an expensive business for Mr Trump. How expensive depends on the terms of the prenuptial agreement Mrs Trump will have signed.
When he woke up Curly was extremely cold, much colder than he had ever been before. Alone and on the edge of being able to move he was afraid. But he could feel the rising sun warming the wall of the hive and slowly he found he could move a little bit, then more asContinue reading “The Three Bees Chapter 8 – And then the cold came”
Prologue “What do you mean?” Hotpot stopped chewing for a moment to consider what he meant but he couldn’t remember. “She’s the one who knows” said Hotpot staring out of the field shelter at the gate where a middle-aged woman was fiddling with the latch. “And the others, the one she calls William and thoseContinue reading “The Sheep & The Grey Horse”
Looked up at the squeak. The door opened: grey eyes brimming soft as she said: “Have you got everything then?” Stuffing socks in corners, books between the layers, a muddle of colours in the frame of bluegrey and we two looked together at the open jaws waiting gently to close and shut the things away.Continue reading “Short Story (1982)”
Getting through the publishing process, or not? It’s taken weeks to get over the trauma of the structural edit of the Draftsman. And in between then and now, life and the outside world have weaseled their ways into brain and heart to make it even harder to think fiction.
It’s only a pony, but only a pony is so much more.
Trepidations aside I did really enjoy this book. It helps that technology plays a big part and although there were a few holes, for the most part the technical stuff’s convincing. More significantly this book exploits everything it’s possible to do with digital technology for page layout, composition and printing. Hughes uses typography and exploits the precision of inkjet digital printing to convey the characters’ experiences, often in ways not possible in the pre-digital imaging age.
It’s rare that a novel, especially a first novel, transports the reader so completely and so persistently into another space. Djinn Patrol on the Purple Line by Deepa Anappara is set om a large but unspecified Indian city. Young children have started to disappear from a local basti, a slum. The eponymous Djinn Patrol is a small group of children led by nine year old Jai, a little boy who along with his friends lives in the basti. Obsessed with television cop programmes and keen to become a detective, Jai decides to investigate.
I have heard that when starting out as a novelist, getting your manuscript finished is the easy bit. I always thought that a little bit silly, because you’ve sweat blood over the thing, spent months or even years on it. But I’m beginning to see there is some sense to this. For a start there’s all the additional prep, the formating and understanding the process. Then there’s the cover design and blurb to sort, both of which are easy and exciting. But then comes the structural edit. This is not nearly so easy or as exciting, and sweating blood plays no part.