Jessica Rydill's Blog, page 24
January 3, 2013
Malarat: The Cover Art part III
Just before Christmas, I produced a new version of the Malarat ebook cover, thanks to help and advice from the likes of Guy LeCharles Gonzales and other friends.
So here it is - not necessarily the final version but the one I like best so far. I'm also sure there are people in my flist who could do a lot better!
Unfortunately, I don't own the copyright to the artwork for my first two books, Children of the Shaman and The Glass Mountain. So when I do reissue them, they will need new covers.
This one uses the silhouette format of the previous one, but I have modified the figures so that they appear in historic costume. Once again, all and any suggestions are much appreciated!
So here it is - not necessarily the final version but the one I like best so far. I'm also sure there are people in my flist who could do a lot better!
Unfortunately, I don't own the copyright to the artwork for my first two books, Children of the Shaman and The Glass Mountain. So when I do reissue them, they will need new covers.
This one uses the silhouette format of the previous one, but I have modified the figures so that they appear in historic costume. Once again, all and any suggestions are much appreciated!

Published on January 03, 2013 18:03
December 10, 2012
Malarat: The cover art part II
After posting my three draft covers for Malarat on Google+, I was delighted by the response! A comment from one of my friends made me rethink the project and try to produce something in the spirit of the original covers. Using copyright free images from GeekPhilosopher.com, I produced a new, high-res version of the cover art. It is quite different to my first attempts (various) and more like the covers of the paperbacks published by Orbit in 2001 and 2002. I will have to produce my own, new covers once we are ready to self-publish the first two novels as ebooks, and will try to evoke the spirit of the original rather than just copying them.
The images for this cover have been...photoshopped (?) using the Gimp, which is an open-source image-editing program. It was immense fun to do.
So, without more ado, here it is: the next attempt at designing a cover for Malarat!
The images for this cover have been...photoshopped (?) using the Gimp, which is an open-source image-editing program. It was immense fun to do.
So, without more ado, here it is: the next attempt at designing a cover for Malarat!

Published on December 10, 2012 11:55
December 9, 2012
Malarat - the cover art?
See it here on my blog...
http://livinginthemaniototo.blogspot.co.uk/
http://livinginthemaniototo.blogspot.co.uk/
Published on December 09, 2012 06:42
Malarat - the cover art!
Before you get too excited, the cover art is by me. I've had a lot of fun doing it, but it is obviously not the same as a professionally drawn cover. I've used free images and will be giving credit to Public Domain Images at Karen's Whimsy.
Anyway, here they are - though the finished result may be completely different!
My favourite is the middle one. I'm also displaying hubris (or delusions of grandeur) by inviting comparisons to War and Peace.
Anyway, here they are - though the finished result may be completely different!



My favourite is the middle one. I'm also displaying hubris (or delusions of grandeur) by inviting comparisons to War and Peace.
Published on December 09, 2012 06:07
November 6, 2012
The Portal by Patrice Chaplin

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This is the second book of two by Patrice Chaplin relating to her experiences in Girona as an adolescent, and linking them to the well know mystery of Berenger Sauniere and Rennes le Chateau. Originally adumbrated by a Chronicle programme presented by Henry Lincoln in 1970, this story has continued to tantalise until one of its premises suddenly reached a global audience through Dan Brown's 'The Da Vinci Code' which was based on the premise, set out in 'Hold Blood, Holy Grail' by Michael Baigent and Henry Lincoln, that Sauniere had stumbled on a secret concerning the descendants of Jesus and Mary Magdalene, which formed a holy (and secret) bloodline in France.
Chaplin explores an alternative and equally seductive theory that Sauniere was an initiate of a group of mystics who had preserved and carried on the tradition of Kabbalah in Catalonia. The members of the society gathered to perform a ritual that raised their consciousness to a higher plane, but also opened a portal into another world.
In this second book, Chaplin describes her own journey as a somewhat reluctant initiate, pursuing a journey that is both physical and spiritual. As a long-standing fan of the mystery of Rennes le Chateau, I found the story completely compelling. The sceptic in me believes that it must be a load of old cobblers, but something about this mystery remains seductive, and Chaplin's story carries much greater credibility than the rather laboured account of the holy bloodline (apologies to Baigent and Lincoln, whose book I enjoyed immensely).
Chaplin is an accomplished writer and the book makes fascinating reading whether or not one believes the central premise of the story. I would love to visit Girona and to attempt the journey which she describes. It is interesting to note that apparently many people walk the Camino del Santiago who are not remotely religious. This not only the story of a walk, under the tutelage of an inspiring and infuriating instructor, but also of the writer's own attempt to come to terms with her past, until she is ready to face the final, fearsome encounter with Mt Canigou itself.
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Published on November 06, 2012 14:01
Book review - Living with Ghosts by Kari Sperring

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I read this book second, though it is Sperring's first, and it knocked my socks off. It has some wonderful characters, of whom I grew very fond, and was hugely dismayed when some of them didn't make it (no spoilers). The bad guys were well drawn too and really horrible!
The eerie atmosphere builds steadily, and things become very dark, so one cannot imagine how the situation will be happily resolved.
I am very much looking forward to reading more by this author. I think I will be re-reading this book, as well as 'The Grass King's Concubine', which is a stand-alone book set in the same 'verse.
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Published on November 06, 2012 13:19
September 4, 2012
Boneland by Alan Garner - review
(This is an amplified version of a review that I posted on Goodreads).
I am going to have to re-read this. I thought it was amazing, but I don't think I understand it. Like Red Shift, a book for young adults by Garner that I read a long time ago, it plays with ideas of time and space, and is short on narrative closure. It is the antithesis of the first two books in the series, The Weirdstone of Brisingamen and The Moon of Gomrath, which I read as a child and have re-read many times. Anyone expecting the same rich story-telling and traditional narrative structure will have been disappointed.
On Goodreads, I've only given it four stars when maybe it deserves five because I found the lack of transparency frustrating. It reminds me of The Waste Land, a literary work that needed extreme erudition or plenty of footnotes to understand. Though I persisted to the end, there were times when I longed for the clarity of Garner's early work. It does make me want to visit Alderley Edge to see if I can find the places described in the book; I also want to talk to other people who have read it to see whether I was in any way close to understanding what it meant.
I don't want to offer too many spoilers, but the hero, Professor Colin Whisterfield, is a cosmologist who works at Jodrell Bank. He was one of the two children in the original book but has no memory of the magical events he experienced. His sister vanished many years ago, it seems not long after the end of The Moon of Gomrath. Colin is suffering what seems like a serious mental illness, exacerbated by his amnesia and his subsequent inability to forget anything. He is sent to see a therapist, Meg Massey, who will prove to be possibly not what she seems; and he continues the quest for his lost sister.
The parallel narrative concerns a man in the Stone Age who may not be human at all - rather a hominid. I found his story quite moving and in some ways it contrasted with that of Colin, the alienated modern professor, whose point of view was occasionally irritating. It is harder to work out what is happening in this part of the book because of the elliptical and poetic style, and I will have to return to it.
It gradually becomes clear that what is happening in the far past intertwines with the events of the present, and the fact that Colin works at an establishment with a radio-telescope is not a coincidence. This seems to be a Garnerish joke with a serious purpose; hinting perhaps that where the laws of physics can be so extreme and strange and time far from linear, except as we perceive it, magic may not be impossible after all.
I did enjoy the book and do want to read it again, but part of me longed for a return to the old-fashioned story.
Bluesilver, Baby!
I am going to have to re-read this. I thought it was amazing, but I don't think I understand it. Like Red Shift, a book for young adults by Garner that I read a long time ago, it plays with ideas of time and space, and is short on narrative closure. It is the antithesis of the first two books in the series, The Weirdstone of Brisingamen and The Moon of Gomrath, which I read as a child and have re-read many times. Anyone expecting the same rich story-telling and traditional narrative structure will have been disappointed.
On Goodreads, I've only given it four stars when maybe it deserves five because I found the lack of transparency frustrating. It reminds me of The Waste Land, a literary work that needed extreme erudition or plenty of footnotes to understand. Though I persisted to the end, there were times when I longed for the clarity of Garner's early work. It does make me want to visit Alderley Edge to see if I can find the places described in the book; I also want to talk to other people who have read it to see whether I was in any way close to understanding what it meant.
I don't want to offer too many spoilers, but the hero, Professor Colin Whisterfield, is a cosmologist who works at Jodrell Bank. He was one of the two children in the original book but has no memory of the magical events he experienced. His sister vanished many years ago, it seems not long after the end of The Moon of Gomrath. Colin is suffering what seems like a serious mental illness, exacerbated by his amnesia and his subsequent inability to forget anything. He is sent to see a therapist, Meg Massey, who will prove to be possibly not what she seems; and he continues the quest for his lost sister.
The parallel narrative concerns a man in the Stone Age who may not be human at all - rather a hominid. I found his story quite moving and in some ways it contrasted with that of Colin, the alienated modern professor, whose point of view was occasionally irritating. It is harder to work out what is happening in this part of the book because of the elliptical and poetic style, and I will have to return to it.
It gradually becomes clear that what is happening in the far past intertwines with the events of the present, and the fact that Colin works at an establishment with a radio-telescope is not a coincidence. This seems to be a Garnerish joke with a serious purpose; hinting perhaps that where the laws of physics can be so extreme and strange and time far from linear, except as we perceive it, magic may not be impossible after all.
I did enjoy the book and do want to read it again, but part of me longed for a return to the old-fashioned story.
Bluesilver, Baby!
Published on September 04, 2012 17:41
August 18, 2012
Review - The Grass King's Concubine by Kari Sperring

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
This is a rather wonderful book. The heroine, Aude, rebelling against the arranged marriage prepared for her by her uncle, goes on a journey to seek her origins and a magical world (WorldBelow) that no-one in her own world quite believes in any more. Aude is a convincing and likeable character, fierce and honest; her companion, the guard Jehan, is subtly drawn, a decent and courageous man obliged to defend the elite of a decadent and unjust state and forced to choose between obedience and his conscience.
Though this is the main thread, a beguiling sub-plot concerns the longing of twins Yelena and Julana, ferrets who can assume human shape, to return to their own world. They are convincingly ferrety and not at all anthropomorphic in character. It is her feeling for the natural and magical worlds that Sperring has created which give her work its distinct flavour; they are observed and evoked in vivid detail and in an original way, particularly when the point of view is not that of a human character.
At the end, I wished it had continued a little further. Perhaps there will be a sequel; I hope so! Sperring has created an unusual world that surprises at every turn, giving the pleasures of high fantasy whilst avoiding the worn-out tropes. Some of my favourite elements, apart from the ferret women, who turn out to be very much not what they seem, are the erudition, the love of learning and libraries, and the idea of technology as a force which can either enhance the natural and magical world, or destroy it.
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Published on August 18, 2012 18:09
April 11, 2012
The trouble with Dawkins
The problem, if there is one, is about Death. Please excuse the significant capital letters, I'll try not to litter the piece with them. I think it traces back to conversations I had with my father when I was a child. I think when he explained that he was going to die, and that one day I would die too, I had a major shock from which I've never recovered.
So when I saw some of Woody Allen's films and discovered that he (as a young man) was also obsessed with death and dying, I realised I was not alone (to say the least). These days, I feel I'm rather troubled by the spirit of Dawkins - Richard Dawkins, that is.
My father was, I think, a lifelong atheist. He did not believe in God, though he did like to identify with secular Jews (my mother was Jewish). Having said that, he was not at all keen on Richard Dawkins. From a Darwinian point of view, he always preferred Steve Jones, the author of books such as 'Very like a whale' which is a reflection on Darwin's 'Origin of Species'. We often used to talk about religion - we talked about everything. In fact, it's those sort of conversations that I particularly miss.
My mother was Jewish, and never stopped believing in her faith. She just didn't discuss it. Dad was an engineer, a naval architect in fact, and he had a scientific and rational approach to such things, while loving poetry and plays. It was his belief that when someone died, that was the end of their life - they were snuffed out like a candle.
When I was young, I used to share this belief without much difficulty. But later in life, after I encountered some major setbacks, I started to find it less easy to tolerate. I have started to oscillate, if that is the word, between believing that what you see is what you get, death is the end, and there is no God - and wishing rather powerfully that the reverse was true.
The trouble with Richard Dawkins, as he prates on about the wonders of science - which is wonderful indeed - is that he can probably face the possibility of personal extinction with some equanimity, because he has achieved a lot in his lifetime. It's less easy to do when your life has been rather rocky and you have done things that you seriously regret.
I know that Dawkins is prone to crossing swords with fundamentalists of various stripes. I'm not really talking about them. That's almost a different issue, and conversation becomes impossible. The difficulty for me is reconciling how I feel about the death of people I love - such as my parents - with a confident atheism. I don't think Dawkins can appreciate how extraordinarily difficult it is to imagine all the people who have simply disappeared - the citizens of Pompeii, the faces of the Fayum Mummy portraits, millions of small unrecorded deaths here and there.
What stops me from seizing a religious belief is that I can't let go of my scepticism. I watch a lot of Horizon programmes on the BBC, and when they show the workings of the human brain, it seems a very material thing. Not being a Cartesian Dualist (?!) I'm not sure whether I can envisage something, some irreducible essence, leaving the body at the moment of death and going somewhere else.
On the other hand, after my father died, a few odd things happened. I suspect that we were deluding or consoling ourselves and that the things were not significant, but the events were pronounced enough for my husband to joke about it. He is more sanguine than I am and says that we haven't plumbed the depths of the universe by a long way. That there is much more that we don't understand yet.
I feel I should support Richard Dawkins and Professor Brian Cox, but they make me cross. There seems to be something a bit smug about the way they promote science and atheism, as if they are certain that everyone else has got it wrong and only they know the truth.
I want there to be more. I know that I am an animal, and finite. But I also find it difficult to tolerate the 'thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to'. It's an argument that seems to cut both ways - Hamlet was thinking about suicide, but the soliloquy raised lots of other questions, such as how one can live, believing that extinction will be the fate of all mankind.
(cross-posted from LJ)
So when I saw some of Woody Allen's films and discovered that he (as a young man) was also obsessed with death and dying, I realised I was not alone (to say the least). These days, I feel I'm rather troubled by the spirit of Dawkins - Richard Dawkins, that is.
My father was, I think, a lifelong atheist. He did not believe in God, though he did like to identify with secular Jews (my mother was Jewish). Having said that, he was not at all keen on Richard Dawkins. From a Darwinian point of view, he always preferred Steve Jones, the author of books such as 'Very like a whale' which is a reflection on Darwin's 'Origin of Species'. We often used to talk about religion - we talked about everything. In fact, it's those sort of conversations that I particularly miss.
My mother was Jewish, and never stopped believing in her faith. She just didn't discuss it. Dad was an engineer, a naval architect in fact, and he had a scientific and rational approach to such things, while loving poetry and plays. It was his belief that when someone died, that was the end of their life - they were snuffed out like a candle.
When I was young, I used to share this belief without much difficulty. But later in life, after I encountered some major setbacks, I started to find it less easy to tolerate. I have started to oscillate, if that is the word, between believing that what you see is what you get, death is the end, and there is no God - and wishing rather powerfully that the reverse was true.
The trouble with Richard Dawkins, as he prates on about the wonders of science - which is wonderful indeed - is that he can probably face the possibility of personal extinction with some equanimity, because he has achieved a lot in his lifetime. It's less easy to do when your life has been rather rocky and you have done things that you seriously regret.
I know that Dawkins is prone to crossing swords with fundamentalists of various stripes. I'm not really talking about them. That's almost a different issue, and conversation becomes impossible. The difficulty for me is reconciling how I feel about the death of people I love - such as my parents - with a confident atheism. I don't think Dawkins can appreciate how extraordinarily difficult it is to imagine all the people who have simply disappeared - the citizens of Pompeii, the faces of the Fayum Mummy portraits, millions of small unrecorded deaths here and there.
What stops me from seizing a religious belief is that I can't let go of my scepticism. I watch a lot of Horizon programmes on the BBC, and when they show the workings of the human brain, it seems a very material thing. Not being a Cartesian Dualist (?!) I'm not sure whether I can envisage something, some irreducible essence, leaving the body at the moment of death and going somewhere else.
On the other hand, after my father died, a few odd things happened. I suspect that we were deluding or consoling ourselves and that the things were not significant, but the events were pronounced enough for my husband to joke about it. He is more sanguine than I am and says that we haven't plumbed the depths of the universe by a long way. That there is much more that we don't understand yet.
I feel I should support Richard Dawkins and Professor Brian Cox, but they make me cross. There seems to be something a bit smug about the way they promote science and atheism, as if they are certain that everyone else has got it wrong and only they know the truth.
I want there to be more. I know that I am an animal, and finite. But I also find it difficult to tolerate the 'thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to'. It's an argument that seems to cut both ways - Hamlet was thinking about suicide, but the soliloquy raised lots of other questions, such as how one can live, believing that extinction will be the fate of all mankind.
(cross-posted from LJ)
Published on April 11, 2012 19:19