F.R. Jameson's Blog, page 32

The Sentries by Ed McBain

[image error]

THE SENTRIES is about angry white men who are frightened by what they see as the drift of America and construct a drastic plan to put it back on track.

It’s a book which, when read in 2017, manages the strange trick of feeling both timely and incredibly dated. Obviously, these angry white men are still out there, they are still coming up with scarily crazy plans and they still have the utter commitment that their path is the only true one. Except, the angry white men aren’t at the fringes of society anymore, they have the White House and seem determined to smash all that’s good out of the pulpy flesh of Western Society.

At its best, this feels like one of those Stephen King stories where a bunch of disparate people come together to face some dreadful external threat. King however generally has a better grip on the various strands than McBain manages here. There are too many extraneous characters, people who could be completely omitted from the plot with no dent on the narrative whatsoever (including one female character whose motivations are utterly impenetrable). In the plus column, the slow and patient unveiling of the villain’s scheme is masterful, while the villain himself – the darkly charismatic, Jason Tench – is a superbly, menacing presence. But, for all that’s good, it builds to an ironically anticlimactic ending, which is annoyingly frustrating.

It’s not a bad book by any means, at points it’s an incredibly tense and scary thriller. But maybe, read in 2017, THE SENTRIES was always going to disappoint. It’s not the book’s fault, but nothing in it now feels as frightening as real life.

Classic Doctors, New Monsters – Volume 2

 

[image error]

A thoroughly entertaining box set; continuing to run with the clever idea that since numerous monsters have been introduced into the new TV show which The Doctor has claimed prior knowledge of, here’s how he got his prior knowledge.

Apparently, the idea for this series was Steven Moffat’s. If in the many years ahead when he probably won’t be writing for the TV show anymore, he wants to scratch his DOCTOR WHO itch by giving interesting notions to Big Finish, I’d say more power to him.

I listened to them in order over the last couple of weeks. Here’s my thoughts on each. Although, be warned, the below is quite spoiler heavy:

[image error]

A story set in a deserted amusement park always has problems for me. Obviously there’s the cliché of Scooby Doo, but even beyond the obvious stumbling block of building something scary and gripping on top of a cartoon, there’s the fact it’s been done so many times before.

Having said all that, Night of the Vashta Nerada isn’t bad at all.

Undoubtedly it’s helped by the fact that it wears its setting lightly – there are a few skeletons, a few Douglas Adams-esque robots, but it in no way falls into the trap of resting on the setting rather than a decent plot. Certainly – and thankfully –  there’s no conclusion on a giant rollercoaster.

What really makes this tale though is The Fourth Doctor at full gusto. I’ve been critical in the past of Fourth Doctor stories, as the Tom Baker of today doesn’t really sound like the Tom Baker of 1974 or 1981. Yet here – through whatever means – he does. It’s great as rather than being jarred from the story by the sound of an obviously older man pretending to be young, one can really engage.

It’s The Doctor’s first encounter with the piranhas of the air. A good yarn, with maybe one too many characters and an oddly tragic conclusion.

[image error]

Empire of the Racnoss feels like the stereotypical Fifth Doctor story. There are two warring factions, The Fifth Doctor finds himself caught in the middle of them, and despite his best efforts, the two sides end up killing each other. The Doctor is left to once again rue that he’s lost less badly than all the others.

There has to be a better way, but this Doctor has the hardest time finding it.

If I’m honest, the thought of listening to an hour of Racnosses hissing away didn’t fill me with any kind of glee. They seemed pantomime and over the top for even a DOCTOR WHO Christmas special, but actually the story works surprisingly well.  It helps for the main part that the focus tends to only be on one Racnoss at a time, as prolonged dialogue scenes between them would be absolutely insufferable.

Holding it down though is Peter Davison who gives a great performance of dynamic desperation, trying with all his might to find a compromise, a route to peace, but failing each time.

[image error]

I’ll be honest, this was the one villain whose name I didn’t recognise as I scanned through this box set’s contents. Not that I have anything against The Shakespeare Code, I just didn’t recall that that they were called The Carrionites. Which is odd in a way as this is a villain who derives their power from the sound of their name and from the vagaries of language. As such this is the perfect meeting between Doctor and villain as Old Sixy’s perspicacity is the perfect foil for them. More than any of the others so far this is a sequel to what was shown on the TV. Or maybe a prequel, as The Doctor is earlier in its timeline, but facing what seem to be exactly the same Carrionites who showed up on the TV episode.

Oddly though this is the third story in a row where the doctor ends with not quite a defeat, but not a win either.

[image error]

Even though Night of the Vastra Nerada was the one set in the amusement park, this is the one that bears more of the hallmarks of JURASSIC PARK. There’s the genetic manipulation, the repeated line that “Nature finds a way” and the Wayne Knight equivalent character – i.e. the one whose greed causes the chaos to happen – is here called Dendry as opposed to Nedry.

Listening to it, I was struck what a great TV episode it would make. That’s not always the case with Big Finish, which I don’t mean in any way unkindly, more in the sense that after all their years doing this they have the audio format down pat. Here though with The Doctor and the diminishing crew under threat from all sides, writer Matt Fritton plays arounds with the nature of these creatures: from a huge Vastra Nerada to Vastra Nerada who exist in the light rather than dark. This is a visual and suspenseful adventure which I really wish could be seen rather than heard.

Jacquline Pearce’s Cardinal Ollistra is a welcome guest from John Hurt’s WAR DOCTOR series, but once again this is a story where The Doctor loses as much as he wins. It almost feels like this is meant to build up to something, but this is the last tale in the series and surely any new volume would be months away, by which time all impetus will be lost.

Yes, these are all villains The Doctor will fight again and so if each tale ended with them utterly vanquished from the universe that would be a tad odd. But then, The Doctor has claimed final victory over The Daleks (as the most obvious example) numerous times and they’ve always come back – why not give him at least one moment of triumph now?

It’s all most curious.

Me, Writing on holiday, in 2017

Myself and the family have been on holiday to Ireland this week. It was a productive break for me though, as I made sure I worked on the novella each and every day.

Normal service will be resumed next week, but as I’m still in holiday mood, here are some photos of my various writing perches this past week.

The End of Mr Y by Scarlett Thomas

[image error]

There are some books you read where you know incredibly swiftly that you absolutely LOVE them. You get about a quarter of the way through and find yourself totally entranced by just how much you’re enjoying every single page, but it’s an entrancement mixed with a kind of niggling dread where you whisper to the book: “Please don’t let me down! Please don’t let me down!”

You sit there reading and desperately praying: “Please don’t be this good and then tumble away to crap! Don’t do an Icarus and crash to Earth, your second half being a pale shadow of your brilliant early self. Please don’t! Please don’t!”

That was my experience on reading THE END OF MR Y.

And fortunately it really, really didn’t let me down.

There are some books that you just connect with. You get them and they get you. I am genetically pre-programmed to enjoy reading about a young, mixed up, red-headed academic and her quest for meaning in life. But more than that, the unashamed bibliophile part of me was always going to be excited when that quest led to her tracking down the last copy of a seemingly cursed book.

It goes almost without saying that I was always going to love a book packed with such wonderful sentences like: “Monday morning, and the sky is the colour of sad weddings.”

While even when this novel swerves into fantasy – which at other points in my life I’d have found a turn off – it hit me in the perfect place. My mind receptive to every turn. In short this is a book which felt written specifically for me.

Okay, even though I loved it, I can’t imagine that it’s going to be a perfect match for everyone, it certainly won’t fit like a literary glove to everybody’s tastes – but if you are on the right wavelength, this is a truly beautiful, fantastical, intelligent and amazing piece of work.

The Revenge of Frankenstein (1958)

[image error]

One really needs to acknowledge just how good Peter Cushing is in these films. I always feel like he’s slightly underrated compared to the sexier, knighted, longer lived, Christoper Lee. But unlike Lee, you never see him in a movie where he really and genuinely cannot be bothered. Cushing always shows up, always gives his best. And as Baron Frankenstein – certainly in this film, and if memory serves the others as well – gives a portrayal that’s brimming with scary intensity. A dedication to a warped cause, which only has charm and a large vocabulary to hide away just how psychotic he is.

A more accurate title for THE REVENGE OF FRANKENSTEIN (where revenge is mentioned, but nothing is said to show what measures of revenge Frankenstein might be taking) would be THE TRAGEDY OF KARL. Karl is the Hammer version of Igor, the man who rescued the Baron from the execution he seemingly suffered at end of the last film, and now wants Frankenstein to put his brain into a new, more perfect body. Obviously it’s going to go wrong, quite evidently it’s going to end badly. But the fact that we know this adds a frisson of cruel fate which makes for a gripping and affecting piece.

On the gore front a mild film, certainly more so than that poster above suggests. (I think if you go and see it alone, you’ll probably be okay.) But even though this is the kind of film they can now easily show on Zone Horror pre-watershed, it’s a first rate horror nonetheless.

Kitty Peck and the Music Hall Murders by Kate Griffin

[image error]

Well, cor blimey – ain’t that a turn up! When I were a lad back in Bermondsey, I used to go up Limehouse n’ take a gander at Kitty Peck, the so-called ‘Limehouse Linnet’. She was hung high in a cage night after night in the old music halls, pirouetting on a swing all while wearing a little slip of an outfit. Right fancy piece she was, with a figure on display that would make yer ole ma blush. And she used to sing this song – well, that would make yer ole ma blush and send yer gran straight to apoplexy. She really were the talk of the town, with the proper newspapers and the fancy nobs all giving their time to her. But it turns out that when she was up there on that swing, showing her stuff, she was actually investigating the disappearance of a load of girls who’d vanished from around the halls. Blackmail it was for poor Kitty. The old cow who ran the halls blackmailed with threats of what happened to Kitty’s brother. Poor thing, I do ‘ate to see a girl taken advantage of, ‘specially when they’re as fancy as Kitty were!

This here then is Kitty’s story, written by her, telling us just what it were like when she was the star of the stage and at the same time on a murderer’s trail – and right entertaining it is too! She and her scar-faced itie friend, Lucca, hunting down some dirty old fiend who were carving his way through these pretty young things – much like old Jack did a few years later, though with a bit more finesse than our Jack had, even down to the kind of notes he sent. It’s your proper tale of peril, with loadsa right dangerous situations that’d make even the most doddery old codger’s heart beat faster. If I’m honest, I guessed who bleedin’ did it way before Kitty did – which made me feel; like a smart ‘un actually. But then since I learned how to read, I’ve read a lot of this kinda penny dreadful type tale n’ I can tell you that though this ain’t the best one you’ll ever pick up, it’s distinctive – to use a three guinea word – and properly gripping.

Me, Writing, in 2017

[image error]

The tweet I sent out Tuesday night read:

“Just finished the first typed draft of my new novel. I think that deserves a line of Dairy Milk if anything does.”

After less than six months I’ve gone from idly scribbling in a notepad to a full typed up draft. It still needs work, both in a plot and character sense. Plus I need to rewrite a lot of the dialogue, and the sentences too. All that sounds like I have miles to go, and that’s true, but I’m getting there.

It’s been years now since I even got close to finishing anything, so to even get to the end of a stage of writing just feels like an accomplishment right now. To have done it so fast, and with a clear idea of what needs to be done next just makes me so happy.

I don’t aim to publish it until next year, by which point I hope to have a sequel written as well, but I am charging on and I am loving it.

The very next lunchtime though, I was back at my writing station at the local Pret. 

[image error]

As an indie author, there’s always more to do.

Doctor Who Reviews (Extra) – The Shining Man by Cavan Scott

[image error]

THE SHINING MAN is the best of this trio of Nu-Who spin-off novels; taking horror, fantasy and fairy tale and spinning them together to a coherent whole of the kind only the DOCTOR WHO format can really pull off.

Rather brilliantly, in the idea of shining men appearing suddenly at street corners to scare all kinds of hell out of the unsuspecting populous, Scott evokes the killer crown craze which hit the other year. That of course brings immediately to mind Stephen King’s IT which, despite its flaws, stands as the template of how to make the most of your creeping, lurking menace.

But in having the newly created shining men rather than clowns, Scott gives us creatures with their own set of rules, and it isn’t long before he’s lurching the narrative from Stephen King to Ben Aaronovitch (who back in the day used to write DOCTOR WHO, and always references the programme in his books) and giving us a tale of faeries and the veil between our world and theirs.

Undoubtedly there are going to be those who won’t join with the book as it leaps from one type of story to another. Readers who, having invested in the horror parts, are decidedly turned off by the fantasy parts (even though the fantasy parts have some distinctly horrible ideas). I’m not one of them though. It carried me along, gave me a set of interesting faux companions to care about and made me remember again just how much I’m missing hanging out with The Doctor and Bill each Saturday evening.

So, where I stand now, there is only one more brand new Capaldi for me to experience. With Whittaker not starting for another fourteen months, I am starting to feel bereft.

Foliage – Free Today!!!

[image error]

My short story, FOLIAGE is available FREE today. If you get chance, please do download it (UK, USA, Canada, Australia, India). All reviews, good or bad, most appreciated.

Here’s the introduction I wrote for FOLIAGE when it was published earlier this year:

I can probably pinpoint exactly where in my psyche FOLIAGE comes from. It’s me poking away at the emotional scars caused by seeing bits of the BBC’s adaptation of THE DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS in 1981.

It wasn’t from reading the book. I didn’t read the book until much later. To be honest, since I was only six in 1981 when this adaptation aired, I’m not entirely sure how I got to see any of the TV series (my parents were relaxed with policing my viewing habits, but they surely weren’t that relaxed). But I saw it and I saw the title creatures and I was left with a deep seated dread that there were plants out there who would happily hurt me.

These childhood fears weren’t alleviated by the fact that we had a number of large plants in and around the house. There was a giant Mother-in Law’s tongue just inside our lounge which towered over me and always seemed to be on the point of reaching out its sharp leaves and impaling me; there was a honeysuckle around our front door, the kind of thing which would get out of hand in a fairy tale and seal us in forever; while around our back and front garden was a hedge of conifers that an imaginative little boy could easily imagine upping roots and marching towards the house to do terrible things to me and my family.

In short I didn’t have the mentality of the green fingered. Green fingers were surely what happened when the evil sap of the enemy plants got into our bloodstream.

I was scared of plants and I had the BBC’s 1981 version of THE DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS to thank for it.

What makes this so absurd is if you look at that adaptation now, the effects and the realisation of the Triffids is ludicrously poor. The monsters are clunky, cumbersome and obviously made out of rubber. Even for the time period they seem ridiculously unconvincing. So bad are they that one can imagine the contemporaneous FX guy on DOCTOR WHO shaking his head with disappointment and pity for his poor inept colleague. How it could have created such a reaction in me is unfathomable.

But rewatching it and being amazed was for the future. The 1981 Triffids got into my mind like few other things and the notion of plants not being oxygen producing friends, but instead monsters the equivalent of werewolves and vampires was made part of my DNA.

FOLIAGE is my response to that. A short sci-fi/horror story that I started writing in my childhood nightmares.

I hope you enjoy.

Me, Challenged Myself, in 2017

[image error]

My challenge to myself is to write a new novella and have it published by Christmas.

This will involve not only writing it, but also reworking it, rewriting it, getting it to the stage where I’m happy with it, having it properly edited and then working with the editor to polish it some more.

All of it done by the twenty-fifth of December.

That is the challenge I have set myself.

And it scares me as much as it thrills me.

I’ve never written that fast before, never given myself such a daunting deadline, but I think it’s a deadline I can meet. (Unlike – say – trying to write a whole novel by week Thursday. That fast I’m never going to be.)

It raises all kinds of interesting quandaries about how I can shave time from the process, while not losing any of the quality. The important and most crucial rule here is, of course, that I don’t do a shoddy job. In the end, I need to finish up with a story which – no matter how quickly or slowly I wrote it – I am intensely proud of.

But if – as I move fully into the indie realm – I want to write more and publish more, then the simple fact is that I’ve to get faster.

Already this year, I have made swifter progress writing a novel than I ever have before. But I need to be swifter again. Maximise my time, make sure that when I do have time to write, not a second is wasted.

I started on the novella on Monday, and so far, it’s all progressed well. I could say ‘fingers crossed’ that that continues, but then it’s all within my power. I just have to make sure I get it done!