Michelle Paver's Blog, page 46

Massive Acclaim For DARK MATTER!

Michelle's hotly-anticipated ghost story, DARK MATTER, has been published in the UK to massive critical acclaim.

"Dark Matter is brilliant" enthuses bestselling novelist Jeffery Deaver.  "Imagine Jack London meets Stephen King. The novel virtually defines a new genre: literary creepy. I loved it."

"Compelling… direct… relentless" writes Helen Rumbelow in The Times.  "Dark Matter is terrific. It is a ghost story, but it is also a metaphysical meditation on what lies beneath our little lives."

"It's a spellbinding read" agrees Eric Brown in The Guardian.  "The kind of subtly unsettling, understated ghost story MR James might have written had he visited the Arctic."

"The ultimate test of a good ghost story is, surely, whether you feel panicked reading it in bed at midnight" writes Emma John in The Observer. "Two-thirds through, I found myself suddenly afraid to look out of the windows, so I'll call it a success!"

"This is a blood-curdling ghost story" agrees Victoria Moore in the Daily Mail, "evocative not just of icy northern wastes but of a mind as, trapped, it turns in on itself."

"Paver has created a tale of terror and beauty and wonder" writes Suzi Feay in the Financial Times.  "Mission accomplished: at last, a story that makes you check you've locked all the doors, and leaves you very thankful indeed for the electric light. In a world of CGI-induced chills, a good old-fashioned ghost story can still clutch at the heart!"

"Jack becomes sure that an evil presence is trying to drive him away from Gruhuken" Joan Smith writes in the Sunday Times.  "Paver records his terror with compassion, convincing the reader that he believes everything he records while leaving open the possibility that his isolation – and the class barrier he feels so acutely – has made him peculiarly susceptible to emotional disturbance. The novel ends in tragedy that is as haunting as anything else in this deeply affecting tale of mental and physical isolation."

"Paver is the mistress of suspense" agrees Amanda Craig in her review of children's books for Halloween in The Times. "The strangeness that humans can suffer from when exposed to the Arctic wilderness is brilliantly exploited in this period piece."

DARK MATTER deals with an expedition to the Arctic that goes badly wrong.  By a strange quirk of fate, the publisher's promotional video for the book is eerily similar to film of another (real life) polar expedition that is premiered on the day of DARK MATTER's launch.  The two videos are shown below.

Read about the writing of DARK MATTER here.

Massive Acclaim For DARK MATTER!

Michelle’s hotly-anticipated ghost story, DARK MATTER, has been published in the UK to massive critical acclaim.

“Dark Matter is brilliant” enthuses bestselling novelist Jeffery Deaver.  “Imagine Jack London meets Stephen King. The novel virtually defines a new genre: literary creepy. I loved it.”

“Compelling… direct… relentless” writes Helen Rumbelow in The Times.  “Dark Matter is terrific. It is a ghost story, but it is also a metaphysical meditation on what lies beneath our little lives.”

“It’s a spellbinding read” agrees Eric Brown in The Guardian.  “The kind of subtly unsettling, understated ghost story MR James might have written had he visited the Arctic.”

“The ultimate test of a good ghost story is, surely, whether you feel panicked reading it in bed at midnight” writes Emma John in The Observer. “Two-thirds through, I found myself suddenly afraid to look out of the windows, so I’ll call it a success!”

“This is a blood-curdling ghost story” agrees Victoria Moore in the Daily Mail, “evocative not just of icy northern wastes but of a mind as, trapped, it turns in on itself.”

“Paver has created a tale of terror and beauty and wonder” writes Suzi Feay in the Financial Times.  “Mission accomplished: at last, a story that makes you check you’ve locked all the doors, and leaves you very thankful indeed for the electric light. In a world of CGI-induced chills, a good old-fashioned ghost story can still clutch at the heart!”

“Jack becomes sure that an evil presence is trying to drive him away from Gruhuken” Joan Smith writes in the Sunday Times.  “Paver records his terror with compassion, convincing the reader that he believes everything he records while leaving open the possibility that his isolation – and the class barrier he feels so acutely – has made him peculiarly susceptible to emotional disturbance. The novel ends in tragedy that is as haunting as anything else in this deeply affecting tale of mental and physical isolation.”

“Paver is the mistress of suspense” agrees Amanda Craig in her review of children’s books for Halloween in The Times. “The strangeness that humans can suffer from when exposed to the Arctic wilderness is brilliantly exploited in this period piece.”

DARK MATTER deals with an expedition to the Arctic that goes badly wrong.  By a strange quirk of fate, the publisher’s promotional video for the book is eerily similar to film of another (real life) polar expedition that is premiered on the day of DARK MATTER’s launch.  The two videos are shown below.

Read about the writing of DARK MATTER here.

Michelle Wins the Guardian Children's Fiction Prize

Michelle Paver today won Britain's most prestigious writing prize for children's fiction, The Guardian Children's Fiction Prize.  The award has been given annually since 1967, and is decided by a panel of authors and the reviews editor for The Guardian's children's books section.  It is similar in status to the American Newbery Medal.  She joins a distinguished line of past winners including Ted Hughes, Jacqueline Wilson, Anne Fine and Philip Pullman.

The Guardian Children's Fiction Prize was founded in 1967 and is unique in that it is judged by children's authors themselves, and no-one can win it more than once.  This year's panellists were Linda Buckley-Archer, Jenny Downham, and last year's winner Mal Peet.  The judging process was shadowed by young critics, who described Ghost Hunter as "a thrilling story of love, friendship and terrifying evil" and "the perfect book for anyone who likes adventure, prehistory and survival".

Chair of judges, Julia Eccleshare, said: "It's relatively rare for a book late in a series to win a major prize, but the Chronicles of Ancient Darkness is such a towering achievement, as a whole as well as in terms of the individual books, that it was our unanimous choice."

Researching Dark Matter

A few years ago, I spent a fortnight travelling by ship around the entire Spitsbergen archipelago, and although I wasn't then thinking about ghosts, I was so struck by the beauty and the desolation that I knew I would at some stage write a story about it.  I went in summer, at the time of the midnight sun, and Jack's experiences on first seeing Spitsbergen are mine: the sinister, black-faced polar bear who'd been eating the walrus from the inside; the abandoned guillemot chick; Jack's solo walk to the small, cold lake; and those brief but desperate moments when he thinks he's lost… All this is what I've seen and experienced myself.

While I was writing DARK MATTER, I needed to get the feel of the polar night at first hand, so I went back to Spitsbergen in winter.  I went snowshoeing in the dark (with and without a headlamp), and climbed a glacier in driving snow and zero visibility. It was the time of the full moon, and because I was living Jack's story in my head, I realized how paranoid he would be about the least shred of cloud drifting across the moon.

Also, I discovered a curious thing while I was out hiking.  Whenever I lagged behind a little, I kept hearing this strange "echo" effect: as if someone else in snowshoes were following me.  Doubtless it was no more than the echo of my own snowshoes, but it was distinctly unsettling.

"I got a sense of the unease you'd feel on entering a small, freezing cabin in the dark…"

One of the most striking things I gained from my winter trip to Spitsbergen was the sense it gave me of what the cabin would be like.  I got a sense of the unease you'd feel on entering a small, freezing cabin in the dark.  Even when you've got that first paraffin lamp safely lit, the unease remains, because you can't see much of what's outside, and the cabin itself is full of shadows.  What's waiting for you, just beyond the edge of the light?

As far as the huskies are concerned, I'd been dog-sledding before, in the Canadian Arctic, Greenland, and Arctic Finland, and I did some more on my trip to Spitsbergen in the winter.  I also spent some time looking after the dogs: harnessing them, feeding them, and generally getting ideas for the characters of the dogs in the story.  Isaak is based on two in particular, to whom I got very attached: a young one called Borealis, who, like Isaak, was very enthusiastic and vocal; and a slightly more experienced dog called Mirak, who padded along with us on a snowshoe hike, and acted as a sort of canine early warning system for polar bears.

"The dead stillness of the dark months; the feeling of menace… I've felt this feeling too…"

I've modelled the details of Jack's expedition on several real ones that took place in northern Spitsbergen in the 1920s and 30s, in particular on the Oxford University Arctic Expedition 1935-6.  This was a year-long expedition involving ten men and twenty-three huskies.  Much of the day-to-day details – the journeys to and from Tromsø, the gear, the provisions, meteorology, wirelessing, dogsledging and hunting – are based on this.  They really did set off armed with Crown Derby crockery and cutlery from Mappin & Webb, along with fur motoring rugs and bottles of Heidsick Champagne for Christmas.  But they were tough, too, putting up with temperatures of minus thirty below, dressed in little more than waterproofs and Jaeger wool.

In addition to this expedition, two other sources proved invaluable: the first was "A WOMAN IN THE POLAR NIGHT", an account by a redoubtable trapper's wife, Christiane Ritter, of her winter in northern Spitsbergen.  The second was "THE DIARY OF THORLEIF BJERTNES", an even tougher Norwegian trapper who overwintered with two companions in 1934-5.

It's remarkable that in all these accounts – the Oxford Expedition, Ritter, Bjertnes – there's repeated mention of the uncanny effect of overwintering in Spitsbergen.  They talk of the dead stillness of the dark months; the feeling of menace; and the sense of otherworldliness and creeping unease.  I've felt this feeling too.  It's the feeling you get when you're far from camp, and not quite sure how to find your way back.  When the mountains loom suddenly large, and you get the uneasy sense that you're being watched; when your mind creates images you'd rather not confront.  It's this feeling that prompted me to write DARK MATTER.

Michelle Wins the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize

Michelle Paver today won Britain’s most prestigious writing prize for children’s fiction, The Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize.  The award has been given annually since 1967, and is decided by a panel of authors and the reviews editor for The Guardian’s children’s books section.  It is similar in status to the American Newbery Medal.  She joins a distinguished line of past winners including Ted Hughes, Jacqueline Wilson, Anne Fine and Philip Pullman.

The Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize was founded in 1967 and is unique in that it is judged by children’s authors themselves, and no-one can win it more than once.  This year’s panellists were Linda Buckley-Archer, Jenny Downham, and last year’s winner Mal Peet.  The judging process was shadowed by young critics, who described Ghost Hunter as “a thrilling story of love, friendship and terrifying evil” and “the perfect book for anyone who likes adventure, prehistory and survival”.

Chair of judges, Julia Eccleshare, said: “It’s relatively rare for a book late in a series to win a major prize, but the Chronicles of Ancient Darkness is such a towering achievement, as a whole as well as in terms of the individual books, that it was our unanimous choice.”

Researching Dark Matter

A few years ago, I spent a fortnight travelling by ship around the entire Spitsbergen archipelago, and although I wasn’t then thinking about ghosts, I was so struck by the beauty and the desolation that I knew I would at some stage write a story about it.  I went in summer, at the time of the midnight sun, and Jack’s experiences on first seeing Spitsbergen are mine: the sinister, black-faced polar bear who’d been eating the walrus from the inside; the abandoned guillemot chick; Jack’s solo walk to the small, cold lake; and those brief but desperate moments when he thinks he’s lost… All this is what I’ve seen and experienced myself.

The stunning Northern Lights – the Inuit believe they are the spirits of the animals they hunt

While I was writing DARK MATTER, I needed to get the feel of the polar night at first hand, so I went back to Spitsbergen in winter.  I went snowshoeing in the dark (with and without a headlamp), and climbed a glacier in driving snow and zero visibility. It was the time of the full moon, and because I was living Jack’s story in my head, I realized how paranoid he would be about the least shred of cloud drifting across the moon.

Also, I discovered a curious thing while I was out hiking.  Whenever I lagged behind a little, I kept hearing this strange “echo” effect: as if someone else in snowshoes were following me.  Doubtless it was no more than the echo of my own snowshoes, but it was distinctly unsettling.

“I got a sense of the unease you’d feel on entering a small, freezing cabin in the dark…”

One of the most striking things I gained from my winter trip to Spitsbergen was the sense it gave me of what the cabin would be like.  I got a sense of the unease you’d feel on entering a small, freezing cabin in the dark.  Even when you’ve got that first paraffin lamp safely lit, the unease remains, because you can’t see much of what’s outside, and the cabin itself is full of shadows.  What’s waiting for you, just beyond the edge of the light?

As far as the huskies are concerned, I’d been dog-sledding before, in the Canadian Arctic, Greenland, and Arctic Finland, and I did some more on my trip to Spitsbergen in the winter.  I also spent some time looking after the dogs: harnessing them, feeding them, and generally getting ideas for the characters of the dogs in the story.  Isaak is based on two in particular, to whom I got very attached: a young one called Borealis, who, like Isaak, was very enthusiastic and vocal; and a slightly more experienced dog called Mirak, who padded along with us on a snowshoe hike, and acted as a sort of canine early warning system for polar bears.

“The dead stillness of the dark months; the feeling of menace… I’ve felt this feeling too…”

I’ve modelled the details of Jack’s expedition on several real ones that took place in northern Spitsbergen in the 1920s and 30s, in particular on the Oxford University Arctic Expedition 1935-6.  This was a year-long expedition involving ten men and twenty-three huskies.  Much of the day-to-day details – the journeys to and from Tromsø, the gear, the provisions, meteorology, wirelessing, dogsledging and hunting – are based on this.  They really did set off armed with Crown Derby crockery and cutlery from Mappin & Webb, along with fur motoring rugs and bottles of Heidsick Champagne for Christmas.  But they were tough, too, putting up with temperatures of minus thirty below, dressed in little more than waterproofs and Jaeger wool.

In addition to this expedition, two other sources proved invaluable: the first was “A WOMAN IN THE POLAR NIGHT”, an account by a redoubtable trapper’s wife, Christiane Ritter, of her winter in northern Spitsbergen.  The second was “THE DIARY OF THORLEIF BJERTNES”, an even tougher Norwegian trapper who overwintered with two companions in 1934-5.

It’s remarkable that in all these accounts – the Oxford Expedition, Ritter, Bjertnes – there’s repeated mention of the uncanny effect of overwintering in Spitsbergen.  They talk of the dead stillness of the dark months; the feeling of menace; and the sense of otherworldliness and creeping unease.  I’ve felt this feeling too.  It’s the feeling you get when you’re far from camp, and not quite sure how to find your way back.  When the mountains loom suddenly large, and you get the uneasy sense that you’re being watched; when your mind creates images you’d rather not confront.  It’s this feeling that prompted me to write DARK MATTER.

Creating A Stone Age World

Torak's world is the world of six thousand years ago: after the Ice Age, and before farming reached his part of north-west Europe.  The land is one vast Forest, peopled by small clans of hunter-gatherers.  They have no writing, no metals, and no wheel.  They don't need them.  They're superb survivors.  They know every tree and herb in the Forest.  They know how to make beautiful, deadly weapons from flint and bone.  They know the animals they hunt and they respect them, because without them they wouldn't survive.

We know so little about the world of the Mesolithic hunter-gatherers.  What weapons did they use?  What shelters did they build?  For their material culture, I've studied archaeology, but to fill in the numerous gaps, I've taken ideas from the ways of life of more recent traditional people, such as certain Inuit and American Indian peoples, the San of Africa, the Ainu of Japan, the Sami of Lapland, and certain central and south American tribes.

The term `hunter-gatherer' can be misleading, evoking a picture of someone casually spotting a clump of berries and saying, `Oh, good, I think I'll gather some of those'.  In fact, hunter-gatherers had to be experts about their world.  They had to know precisely when particular plants bore fruit or nuts; when the bark of different trees was at its best for making rope, where such trees could be found, and so on.  They had to be unbelievably skilled.  It's as far from The Flintstones as you could possibly imagine.

But Torak's world is about more than tracking prey and scraping hides.  How did they think?  Again, I've learnt from more modern hunter-gatherers, and at the outset I was struck by key differences in attitude between them and farming or pastoral societies:-

As hunter-gatherers travel often, they don't tend to value possessions as much as we do.

They often don't have a concept of owning land.  This means they attach less importance to inheriting property, so there's less emphasis on marriage, and women tend to play a more equal role in society.

They value the qualities you need for hunting: patience, resilience, and the ability to listen (hence Torak being  "The Listener" in WOLF BROTHER).

Often they treat their weapon as a valued `hunting partner', not just as an object (hence Renn and her bow).

But that's just the bare bones of a society.  What did they believe about life and death, and where they came from?  The challenge has been to create an entire belief system for the clans.  Again, I've borrowed from the beliefs of more recent hunter-gatherers, then used my imagination to adapt them for the stories.  For instance:-

When Torak tracks his first kill in WOLF BROTHER, I've based this on how the San (Bushmen) of the Kalahari track their prey, identifying so closely with it that in their imagination they become the animal they are tracking.

To show how Torak perceives his world, I've used the rather eerie Sami idea that everything – including rocks, rivers and trees – is alive and has a spirit; not all of them can talk, but all can hear and think.

In the books, when a hunter kills an animal, he feels honour-bound to use every part of that animal (whether it's for food, clothing, weapons, or shelter).  This is because of "The Pact": the clans' belief in an ancient bargain between themselves and the World Spirit, to the effect that they must treat the prey with respect, and in return, the World Spirit will send more prey.  I based this on the beliefs of the Nunamiut Eskmimos of northern Canada.  Similar beliefs are held by many hunter-gatherer peoples.

Torak's antagonists in the books, the evil Soul-Eaters, were inspired by reading about shamanism.  In most hunter-gatherer cultures, there's one member of the clan who is in touch with the spirit world, and who goes into a trance to visit it: to cure sickness, foretell the future, and so on.  Such people are often called shamans or witch-doctors.  Mostly they do good; but it occurred to me that as they're very powerful people, if they did ever band together to do evil, they'd be a force to be reckoned with.  That's the idea behind the Soul-Eaters.  (As an aside, what I find really alarming about the Soul-Eaters is that they don't believe they are doing evil; they're just utterly convinced that they're right.)

I've also drawn on shamanism, and particularly on the experiences of Inuit and American Indian shamans, for Torak's "spirit walking" – that is, when two of his souls leave his body and enter the body of another creature, so that, while remaining Torak, he experiences life as they do.

Many readers have found the most frightening creatures in the stories to be the tokoroths, the evil children possessed by demons.  I based this idea on certain African beliefs about monstrous creatures believed to have been created by witch-doctors, using children abducted in infancy and brought up in darkness, in an atmosphere of deep evil.  In Malawi, where I was born, these are called tokoloshe.  I simply changed the name a bit and added a demon or two.

I've tried hard to make Torak's world accurate, and I've been delighted that the stories have met with favour in archaeological circles.  A few years ago, I was asked to open a special WOLF BROTHER display case at the Cambridge University Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology.  The Museum had taken excerpts from the book, and exhibited them alongside real archaeological artefacts mentioned in the story, such as flint blades, red ochre, etc.  I was delighted that the book has been so honoured, and I've since been back to enjoy the Museum's subsequent display cases for later books in the series.

Ten Things You Didn't Know About Torak's World

Each clan believes that it is descended from its clan-creature. This is why, in OUTCAST, when Renn thanks the ravens Rip and Rek for helping Torak, she addresses them as "little grandfathers".  (At this point, of course, Renn doesn't yet know that Rek is female.)
Wolf loves lingonberries because his creator does. Lingonberries are sweet red berries that grow on low bushes in Scandinavian forests.  They look a bit like cranberries, but taste a lot nicer, and I love them.  And since wolves generally like all sorts of berries, so it's natural, too, that Wolf should like lingonberries.
When Renn induces a trance by rubbing two stone together in OUTCAST, she's using a method which has actually been used in the past – for instance, by Inuit shamans ("angakkoq"), who used "smoothing-stones" for this purpose.  Some smoothing-stones still exist, and are many generations old.
The idea for Torak's medicine horn came from a small black medicine horn which my aunt sent me from South Africa when I was ten.  It lives on my desk, and I sketched it for the artist Geoff Taylor, who then drew the picture of it for the beginning of Chapter 38 of OATH BREAKER.
Tokoroths are not made up.  I based the idea on certain African beliefs and customs about monsters created from children brought up alone and in darkness.  In the country where I was born, Malawi, they are called "tokoloshe".
The clans believe that tree-blood is golden because it's where fire lives.
Thiazzi the Oak Mage let his hair grow long because he believed that it held part of his strength.  In the past, shamans and witch-doctors have also held this belief, to prevent their power from draining away.  Thiazzi's belief ultimately proves his undoing.
The Hidden People are based on an Icelandic belief in people who inhabit rocks and boulders: a belief, moreover, which is still held by some people today.
There is not, and never was, a Bear Clan.  This is because the bear is the strongest creature in the Forest, and it would have given a clan too great an advantage over the others to be descended from such a creature, so the World Spirit forbade it.
The clans believe that the strongest shape of all is a circle.  This is because the Moon and Sun are round, and the wind whirls, the Sea ebbs and flows, the seasons follow each other in a circle, and so does the cycle of life and death.  This is why many amulets are spiral, and Death Marks, too, are circles.

Creating A Stone Age World

Torak’s world is the world of six thousand years ago: after the Ice Age, and before farming reached his part of north-west Europe.  The land is one vast Forest, peopled by small clans of hunter-gatherers.  They have no writing, no metals, and no wheel.  They don’t need them.  They’re superb survivors.  They know every tree and herb in the Forest.  They know how to make beautiful, deadly weapons from flint and bone.  They know the animals they hunt and they respect them, because without them they wouldn’t survive.

We know so little about the world of the Mesolithic hunter-gatherers.  What weapons did they use?  What shelters did they build?  For their material culture, I’ve studied archaeology, but to fill in the numerous gaps, I’ve taken ideas from the ways of life of more recent traditional people, such as certain Inuit and American Indian peoples, the San of Africa, the Ainu of Japan, the Sami of Lapland, and certain central and south American tribes.

The term `hunter-gatherer’ can be misleading, evoking a picture of someone casually spotting a clump of berries and saying, `Oh, good, I think I’ll gather some of those’.  In fact, hunter-gatherers had to be experts about their world.  They had to know precisely when particular plants bore fruit or nuts; when the bark of different trees was at its best for making rope, where such trees could be found, and so on.  They had to be unbelievably skilled.  It’s as far from The Flintstones as you could possibly imagine.

But Torak’s world is about more than tracking prey and scraping hides.  How did they think?  Again, I’ve learnt from more modern hunter-gatherers, and at the outset I was struck by key differences in attitude between them and farming or pastoral societies:-

As hunter-gatherers travel often, they don’t tend to value possessions as much as we do.

They often don’t have a concept of owning land.  This means they attach less importance to inheriting property, so there’s less emphasis on marriage, and women tend to play a more equal role in society.

They value the qualities you need for hunting: patience, resilience, and the ability to listen (hence Torak being  “The Listener” in WOLF BROTHER).

Often they treat their weapon as a valued `hunting partner’, not just as an object (hence Renn and her bow).

But that’s just the bare bones of a society.  What did they believe about life and death, and where they came from?  The challenge has been to create an entire belief system for the clans.  Again, I’ve borrowed from the beliefs of more recent hunter-gatherers, then used my imagination to adapt them for the stories.  For instance:-

When Torak tracks his first kill in WOLF BROTHER, I’ve based this on how the San (Bushmen) of the Kalahari track their prey, identifying so closely with it that in their imagination they become the animal they are tracking.

To show how Torak perceives his world, I’ve used the rather eerie Sami idea that everything – including rocks, rivers and trees – is alive and has a spirit; not all of them can talk, but all can hear and think.

In the books, when a hunter kills an animal, he feels honour-bound to use every part of that animal (whether it’s for food, clothing, weapons, or shelter).  This is because of “The Pact”: the clans’ belief in an ancient bargain between themselves and the World Spirit, to the effect that they must treat the prey with respect, and in return, the World Spirit will send more prey.  I based this on the beliefs of the Nunamiut Eskmimos of northern Canada.  Similar beliefs are held by many hunter-gatherer peoples.

Torak’s antagonists in the books, the evil Soul-Eaters, were inspired by reading about shamanism.  In most hunter-gatherer cultures, there’s one member of the clan who is in touch with the spirit world, and who goes into a trance to visit it: to cure sickness, foretell the future, and so on.  Such people are often called shamans or witch-doctors.  Mostly they do good; but it occurred to me that as they’re very powerful people, if they did ever band together to do evil, they’d be a force to be reckoned with.  That’s the idea behind the Soul-Eaters.  (As an aside, what I find really alarming about the Soul-Eaters is that they don’t believe they are doing evil; they’re just utterly convinced that they’re right.)

I’ve also drawn on shamanism, and particularly on the experiences of Inuit and American Indian shamans, for Torak’s “spirit walking” – that is, when two of his souls leave his body and enter the body of another creature, so that, while remaining Torak, he experiences life as they do.

Many readers have found the most frightening creatures in the stories to be the tokoroths, the evil children possessed by demons.  I based this idea on certain African beliefs about monstrous creatures believed to have been created by witch-doctors, using children abducted in infancy and brought up in darkness, in an atmosphere of deep evil.  In Malawi, where I was born, these are called tokoloshe.  I simply changed the name a bit and added a demon or two.

I’ve tried hard to make Torak’s world accurate, and I’ve been delighted that the stories have met with favour in archaeological circles.  A few years ago, I was asked to open a special WOLF BROTHER display case at the Cambridge University Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology.  The Museum had taken excerpts from the book, and exhibited them alongside real archaeological artefacts mentioned in the story, such as flint blades, red ochre, etc.  I was delighted that the book has been so honoured, and I’ve since been back to enjoy the Museum’s subsequent display cases for later books in the series.

Ten Things You Didn’t Know About Torak’s World

Each clan believes that it is descended from its clan-creature. This is why, in OUTCAST, when Renn thanks the ravens Rip and Rek for helping Torak, she addresses them as “little grandfathers”.  (At this point, of course, Renn doesn’t yet know that Rek is female.)
Wolf loves lingonberries because his creator does. Lingonberries are sweet red berries that grow on low bushes in Scandinavian forests.  They look a bit like cranberries, but taste a lot nicer, and I love them.  And since wolves generally like all sorts of berries, so it’s natural, too, that Wolf should like lingonberries.
When Renn induces a trance by rubbing two stone together in OUTCAST, she’s using a method which has actually been used in the past – for instance, by Inuit shamans (“angakkoq”), who used “smoothing-stones” for this purpose.  Some smoothing-stones still exist, and are many generations old.
The idea for Torak’s medicine horn came from a small black medicine horn which my aunt sent me from South Africa when I was ten.  It lives on my desk, and I sketched it for the artist Geoff Taylor, who then drew the picture of it for the beginning of Chapter 38 of OATH BREAKER.
Tokoroths are not made up.  I based the idea on certain African beliefs and customs about monsters created from children brought up alone and in darkness.  In the country where I was born, Malawi, they are called “tokoloshe”.
The clans believe that tree-blood is golden because it’s where fire lives.
Thiazzi the Oak Mage let his hair grow long because he believed that it held part of his strength.  In the past, shamans and witch-doctors have also held this belief, to prevent their power from draining away.  Thiazzi’s belief ultimately proves his undoing.
The Hidden People are based on an Icelandic belief in people who inhabit rocks and boulders: a belief, moreover, which is still held by some people today.
There is not, and never was, a Bear Clan.  This is because the bear is the strongest creature in the Forest, and it would have given a clan too great an advantage over the others to be descended from such a creature, so the World Spirit forbade it.
The clans believe that the strongest shape of all is a circle.  This is because the Moon and Sun are round, and the wind whirls, the Sea ebbs and flows, the seasons follow each other in a circle, and so does the cycle of life and death.  This is why many amulets are spiral, and Death Marks, too, are circles.