The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 2
I shouldn’t be focussing on the fall from grace of a certain British fantasy writer given the events looming this coming Monday in Washington, but hey, any distraction from the imminent end of all things is welcome.
The report in this week’s New York magazine on his alleged coercive and abusive behaviour is, of course, pretty bloody horrible—I couldn’t finish the article. The inevitable half-hearted mea culpa and denial has been issued from the Tower Of Dreams, to general eye-rolling and declarations of boycotts.
However things happened, and even if events didn’t roll out as reported (gentle reminder to all that at Excuses And Half Truths we always believe the women), the writer in question has suffered pretty irreparable reputational damage. I’m sure His Nibs will take this whole things as a fine excuse to comfortably retire, crying himself to sleep on a mattress stuffed with cash.
But why should we be bothered? Artists have always been notoriously revolting. I don’t recall seeing the cancel notice on Lord Byron getting much traction, despite the crap he put his lovers through. Ted Hughes was a fucking monster. Francis Bacon? Don’t get me started. I believe in separating the art from the artist, but then I don’t have Sandman-themed sleeve tattoos that probably look a bit silly now.
As Annie Craton put it on Bluesky this week—
In further evidence of his utter arseholery, it seems that yer man lifted a lot of the inspiration for his best-known work from fellow British author Tanith Lee, as pointed out on Threads:
Look, it’s your call. Base your response to this whole sordid affair on which elements of reportage you choose to believe. If you feel you can’t read his books anymore, that’s completely fine. I’d offer a caveat—his comics are collaborative works, the product of hard graft from a cohort of incredibly talented people. And that universe continues, guided by other equally gifted writers who don’t deserve to be caught in the blowback.
In conclusion—read more Tanith Lee.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Close To Death by Anthony Horowitz. I thought I’d give it a go as I’d thoroughly enjoyed the TV adaptations of Magpie and Moonflower Murders. This one—not so much. Following a pair of murders in a gated community near Richmond, it has all the worst elements of the detective genre with none of the redeeming features. The solution is wildly implausible, the final twist utterly absurd. The worst crime—Horowitz tries to make up for a bland and uninteresting sleuth by inserting himself into the action. Deeply frustrating. Avoid.
Rob is watching…
A classic of British post-war animation. Strangely prescient, and I think anyone who’s been stuck on Reading’s IDR at rush hour will find it familiar.
Rob is listening…
to The Beaches. Girl-fuelled power pop is having a moment and it’s about dang time.
Rob is eating…
I made a (not quite) one-pot pasta dish this week which tried to avoid boiling a bathtub full of water for two plates of dinner. The trick—use a wide, flat sauté pan.
I started by cooking off mushrooms, tomatoes and garlic in a little butter and oil until fragrant. Once soft and golden I removed them to a bowl (hence the not-quite one pot advisory) and briefly toasted 160g of cavatappi in the leavings. A couple of minutes, then a half-litre of boiling water from the kettle went over. I added salt, cooked for ten minutes, checking for doneness. Pretty much all the water disappeared. I stayed vigilant—scorched pasta wouldn’t go down well with TLC. Once the pasta was cooked, I returned the veg to the pan to warm back through. I finished with a couple of teaspoons of pesto, the same of crème fraiche, a tin of tuna for heft and a flourish of parm. Creamy, decadent and highly satisfying.
You should be able to use any tubular pasta for this—rigatoni, penne, fusilli, whatever you fancy. You can try it with the spaghetti types, but you’ll need to be more vigilant about making sure the pasta stays underwater. Stick to the weight/water volume ratio and you should be fine.
Switch out the protein for chicken or maybe even crumbled tofu, swap the cream for passata if you like. This serves two amply, and I couldn’t tell you if it’ll scale up. If you do, let know how you get on. For a weeknight dinner with minimal clean-up it’s not bad at all.
Rob’s Low-Key Obsession Of The Week…
Strong clicky ASMR vibes here. Headphones on, enjoy the nerdery.
It’s easy to be a writer as long as money is not the object. If you want to make a living out of it—aye, there’s the twist. Daniel Lavery offers advice on the hardest part of the discipline.
Some Useful Writing Advice Which Has Nothing To Do With Writing
Good food writing is never just about the recipe. Melek Erdal tucks a tale of community, family and identity into a history of a particular kind of Kurdish stuffed dumpling. You’ll need to subscribe to Vittles to get the recipe but honestly, that part is almost beside the point.
A work nickname of mine, which seems to have followed me from facility to facility, is Roberto. No idea where it came from or why it keeps occurring, but I bear it with grace. Turns out, it’s also the name for a soup, which pleases me more.
This is sheer joy from start to finish. Metal drummer Mike Portnoy has made a thing from creating new drum parts for songs he hasn’t heard before. He’s clearly having a blast and I hope Tay-Tay got to hear this sick beat.
Last week’s Outro might have confused younger members of The Readership, who may not have heard of a band called REM. They were, are and remain a great musical constant in my life. In retiring so gracefully and completely, they have almost completely disappeared from public view. In a way that saddens me, but it’s also kind of cool. Once, that quirky band from Athens, Georgia were my little secret. It looks like they will be again.
Life is tough, there’s lots going on and never enough time or mental energy to get it done. The trick, as writer Lena Norms confides is not to sweat the details, embrace the short-cuts and, well, look, shout out the link like Scary Spice.
In memoriam. Thanks for all the strangeness and charm, David. I hope the coffee is damn fine in The White Lodge.
Image by Javier Mayoral.Anyone peckish? Let’s talk cherry pie. Bracingly tart last line on this one.
One last thing.
It’s likely I’ve linked to the GA-20 version of this track before—it’s a solid bop. It popped up on the car feed on Monday and sent me off down the rabbit hole to track down the source. The riff has been putting the bounce in my stride ever since. Crank it up and shake whatcha got.
See you in seven, fellow travellers.
