Samit Basu's Blog: Newsletter!, page 8
June 9, 2013
May 26, 2013
Local Monsters cover
Almost-totally-finished Local Monsters cover. The book should be out in July. Until then, please read the completely honest quotes on the back cover.
Tagged: comics, coming soon, local monsters
April 25, 2013
Work update/Cover galleries
Local Monsters is finished! Barring the cover and a few art edits, that is. But essential art and lettering are thankfully over, and I’ll update again as soon as I know when it’s out.
Turbulence US proofs are here! It’s out in the US in July.
Here are links to mostly complete cover galleries on Facebook and Pinterest
Resistance is 2/3rds done, hoping to finish by May.
Also signed up for some new projects recently. More soon.
March 23, 2013
LitforLife video
March 9, 2013
Local Monsters update
So, about 20 pages of art left to do on Local Monsters. Was just looking at all the lettered pages done so far, and I’m most excited about how it’s looking. The book should be out this year. Here’s a random sample page (uncoloured, this is inks and letters) featuring two of the cast you haven’t seen before:
January 9, 2013
Books of the year 2012 mentions
Just thought I’d do a little roundup of the ‘Best Books of 2012′ lists Turbulence has been on:
Wired (Geekdad Goldenbot Award: do I get to call myself award winning now?)
December 11, 2012
November 13, 2012
Next Big Thing: Resistance
Danie Ware very kindly tagged me for the Nov 14 round of the Next Big Thing meme, so here goes.
1) What is the working title of your next book?
Resistance. Though I find naming a file Resistance somehow makes it more difficult to type in it, so after consulting experts I’m naming the work-in-progress file Enthusiasm
2) Where did the idea come from for the book?
It’s the follow-up book to Turbulence, my superhero novel that was published in India in 2010, in the UK this year, and is out in the US next year. I’m trying to make it as standalone as possible, though a lot of the characters from Turbulence will be in it, of course.
3) What genre does your book fall under?
It’s a superhero novel, so I don’t know. SF, I guess. Fantasy? Urban fantasy? Good books?
4) What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?
I’ve spent a fair while trying to get a Bollywood adaptation done, with hilarious results. As of now, no one’s said no, but nothing’s moved forward. The script is with a large number of Bollywood superstars who claim to be reading it. So I guess the answer to this is ‘whoever’s reading-enabled friend reads it first and likes it.’
5) What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
I’m pretending this question never happened. Broadly speaking, when I was starting out my plan was that if Turbulence was the Superman book, about the world being rearranged by the arrival of a new kind of human, then Resistance would be the Batman book, about ordinary people rising above themselves to face the challenges of a changed world. So I’ve told my characters this, but synopses and so on can only really be attempted after a book’s finished.
6) Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
John Parker at Zeno agency. Titan Books in the UK and US. Haven’t signed up for the Indian edition yet, but Turbulence was published by Hachette India.
7) How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?
Still on it. I laugh bitterly.
8) What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
I don’t really know. Moving across to comics, I think Turbulence owed a fair bit to the X-Men, Watchmen, Powers and The Authority.
9) Who or what inspired you to write this book?
Turbulence was written as an exploration of two questions: What would you do if you were given the power to change the world? How would you feel if you got what you really wanted?
Resistance is an exploration of how the world would react to a lot of people finding these answers.
10) What else about the book might pique the reader’s interest?
Buying the book when it comes out will improve your sex life and cause you to lose weight if you want to.
Spreading the love now, I’m tagging Ben Aaronovitch, Sidin Vadukut and Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan
November 9, 2012
October 19, 2012
Pandal food
(The Pujas are here, and this is a very short story I wrote a few years ago for a Puja special issue of I forget which newspaper. I think you might have to be from Calcutta to get this, but give it a shot anyway)
Three in the morning. We’re sitting around, four of us, in an empty field dotted with tacky plastic chairs. To my left, the pandal is asleep, empty except for a sleeping security guard. It’s quiet, though the field seems to throb with the echoes of the day’s chaos. The city is aglow, the sky grey and yellow, a dull wave of noise washing over us every now and then.
‘Anyone hungry?’ I ask.
‘I’ve eaten,’ says Purab, a cloud of smoke drifting from his nostrils, the orange glow of his cigarette reflected in his large, round eyes.
‘What did you eat?’
‘Usual. Pandal food. This and that. Just got in from Maddox.’
‘Good crowd?’
‘Lovely. Before you ask me what the pandal looks like, don’t; I don’t think I even looked at it. The girls just get hotter every year. Such fit, firm bodies they have now, and not afraid to show them! There was this one chick, my god…she was like a goddess herself. But why do you ask? You’ve not eaten?’
‘No. I think I’m going to go find dinner now, in fact. Want to come?’
‘Not if you’re going South-side. Won’t find transport back at this hour, and I have to be at work in the morning.’
‘We all have to be at work. Come on!’
‘Sorry.’ Purab gestures towards Alok and Subir. ‘You want to go with him?’
‘Depends where you’re going,’ Alok grins. ‘I’m not hungry, but I’m up for some fun. Where will the good girls be, this time of night? Subir? You up for some romance? There’s no point just hanging around with us guys, you know.’
Subir doesn’t say anything. This is because he’s very drunk. But he glares at Alok, and we all laugh, though this is a jibe that gets repeated every year at every possible occasion. Subir rises and burps, indicating his willingness to leave. So we bid our goodbyes to Purab and get into my car.
As I drive off, I see Purab, shaking his head, walk into the pandal, fading into the shadows cast by the lamps in front of the idols, until he’s just a suggestion of a moving shape, grey-green in the light from a huge glowing ad hoarding across the street proclaiming the virtues of some antiseptic or other. We turn the corner and drive on. Alok’s next to me, smiling a secret smile to himself as he scans the streets, marvelling at the new, flashing lights and bright colours of the city we watched change before our eyes. We’re from the north, of course, and we’re all old enough to remember when everything was different; when you could smell the earth and the river, when the pujas, while still a huge carnival, were about people not things, when the lights on the street, the decorations, were wonders to gaze in awe at. When the pujas were a source of faith and mystery. Ah well, we were younger ourselves, then, and you feel things more deeply when you’re young.
‘I want to tell you something,’ says Subir suddenly. ‘I’m gay.’
If he expects us to be shocked, he’s in for a disappointment. ‘We know,’ says Alok. ‘And we’ve always felt bad for you during the pujas – Calcutta’s not really a good hunting ground for attractive men, is it? Still, at least some of them have a little muscle now. If they’d only stop wearing net-vests at pandals, you’d be ok.’ Subir grumbles, and is silent.
Enough conversation. It’s time to eat.
At Ekdalia, we find what we’re looking for – an attractive young couple wandering around in a little winding lane near the pandal. We get out of the car. They don’t even notice us until we’re right next to them. It’s over quickly, without much of a struggle. Subir eats the boy, I eat the girl, and Alok watches, smiling, snacking on a hand. She’s very tasty, though her strange foreign perfume leaves an acid taste in my mouth. Give me old-fashioned sweat any day.
It’s almost dawn now. Time to go to work. Subir and Alok head off towards their home pandals, waving goodbye. I drive to mine, and walk inside, to the divine family and their lion. I assume my position, below the Devi’s spear, in front of the lion’s mouth. I stretch my face into a mask of anger and fear, my fangs glistening in the lamp-light, my body green, strong, well-fed. I freeze.
Soon the day will be here, and so will I. Waiting. Maybe you’ll come visit me, laugh at the silly asur. And I’ll be watching you. Maybe I’ll like you. Maybe you’ll look good.
Good enough to eat.
Tagged: calcutta, puja, short story
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