In the presence of the Prophet

Two weeks ago, I talked about the thirtieth anniversary of William Gibson’s debut novel Neuromancer, the importance of it and his subsequent works on modern science-fiction literature. I also mentioned that on November 25th, 2014, I was going to get to meet the man himself. That was yesterday. I was tempted to write this blog straight away last night, but decided I needed a day to chill and let the giddy fan-boy squealing bleed off first.

To my somewhat credit, I did manage to contain a lot of my squealing. I only tripped over once sentence when I met the man himself, when I expressed a strange sense of joy and affinity with a fellow left-handed writer as Gibson signed the pile of books I brought out of my Chatsubo Bar messenger bag. At the sight of the stack he said, “I don’t remember writing all of those.”

When I first heard words escape his mouth, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I know he’s American, residing in Canada, but the accent threw me for a second. Before I realised that the ever-so-slight twang was from his native South Carolina. The realisation was swiftly swept away by the awe of hearing the man speak. I was in a room with one of my absolute heroes. I may have to make that point two or three times before I shut up.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one in the room star-struck in the presence of the Noir Prophet himself. I’m fairly certain everyone was. The young chap from Topping and Company who introduced him expressed similar feelings of awe during the introduction. During the Q&A session after he read an extract from his new novel, The Peripheral, the audience quizzed him on matters of the future. Here was our oracle, the prophet of the future gods, and we mere mortals dared to ply him for predictions of what will happen next. He answered with clarity and grace, with the ease of one used to being tapped for perceived prescient knowledge as so many of his novels have hooked onto trends in our society before they even emerged.

A year ago, I had the pleasure of meeting fantasy authorPeter V. Brett. I hold in him in very high regard, giving him the title “DUDE”. In capital letters because that’s how much of an awesome DUDE he is. Last night, William Gibson proved himself to a quieter, but no less utterly awesome DUDE. Once again though, this is not my story, but a story of a friend.

Last night, I attended the William Gibson event with my friend Jester, who has a good few years worth of experience on me and has read further and wider than I have. But it all started when one of his friends lent him a copy of Neuromancer. That was the first sci-fi that Jester read and was the beginning of a long and voracious love affair that remains passionate to this day. Jester had Gibson dedicate the book to his friend and explained that this friend introduced him to not only Gibson, but sci-fi literature. And Gibson said, “The next time you speak to your friend, tell him thank you.”

Such a subtle, small phrase, but boy does it carry weight. When Jester told me the story...I was in further awe. William Gibson says thank you. If a friend of mine called me and told me that, I would no doubt squeal so loud the Martians would be yelling at us to keep the noise down. Holy frak, what a dude.

Now I say that I managed to contain most of my giddy fan-boy squealing (something Jester was VERY glad about), but I did have a moment of what I would characterise as total fan-boy-ness. When Gibson had finished signing all twelve books I brought with me, I sheepishly produced one last item. The essay, “Wisdom of the Noir Prophet: Arguing for the inclusion of William Gibson in the literary canon”. I explained that I wrote in my final year of university and asked if he would sign it. He did. I then scooped up my pile of books and scurried on so other people could have their moment with one of the greatest minds in modern science-fiction.

Last night, I basked in the presence of the Prophet. My life is the richer for it and this world richer for containing his works.

Curled Up Next to the Fire: The Painted Man

It's been a little while since I've done my "literary" segment and I've managed to read a couple of books since tackling the epic tome that was Great North Road. Of course, true to personal style, my scatty writing habits mean I skipped over the last two books I read but not for this one. You see, this is one is by a man I regard as an absolute dude, Mr Peter V. Brett.

Fantasy is a genre that I'm still...getting into, in the context of books anyway. I've always enjoyed it, but the collection of fantasy in my library has always been a bit lacking. The acquisition of The Painted Man was mostly due to going to see Peter V. Brett in person and naturally wanting a book that could be signed by the man himself, but  also a further effort in expanding my fantasy collection.

So, to the metaphorical meat of this particular meal, The Painted Man.

We are introduced to a world where demons of various kinds come out at night to terrorise the poor unfortunate humans. The only protection for these humans are magical wards that, if arranged in the proper way, keep the demons from breaching protective barriers. Legend tells of a time where humans also had not only defensive wards, but offensive wards that allowed them to wage war on demons. But three hundred years have passed and the wards have fallen into antiquity. Humans are now clustered in a handful of settlements - a few small hamlets dotted on the roads between the five major cities: Fort Miln, Fort Angiers, Fort Rizon, Fort Lakton and Fort Krasia.

There are three major characters in The Painted Man. The first is Arlen Bales, a young boy from a hamlet called Tibbet's Brook. He has a talent for painting wards (even though not formally trained as a Warder) and a curiosity for how to fight demons - a thing that no one but the fanatical inhabitants of Fort Krasia ever attempt. During his formative years in Tibbet's Brook, Arlen becomes fascinated by the lifestyle of the Messengers, men who travel from city to city (via the hamlets) trading valuable goods and bringing letters to the people. This fascination with the Messenger lifestyle, coupled with an incident that we shan't go into here, leads Arlen to leave Tibbet's Brook and seek out the life of a Messenger in Fort Miln.

Next up in our selection of major characters is Leesha, from the small hamlet of Cutter's Hollow, near Fort Angiers. Her arc sees her finding a talent for being an Herb Gatherer, a profession seemingly only occupied by women and can be described as essentially being a doctor. Previously, Leesha had been "promised" (i.e. engaged) to a boy in Cutter's Hollow, but when he spreads lies about her virtue she shuns the life her overbearing mother wants for her and takes up the life of Herb Gathering, eventually finding her way to the (metaphorical) bright lights of Fort Angiers.

Finally, there's Rojer. Hailing from Riverbridge, this settlement is destroyed in a demon attack when we met Rojer, who at the time is merely a toddler. He his rescued by Arrick Sweetsong, a Jongleur (a profession that appears to be similar to a court jester) working directly for the Duke of Angiers. However, after the destruction of Riverbridge, Arrick loses his commission with the Duke and finds himself with the burden of raising a child. As befits the situation, he trains Rojer in his own profession, though the demon attack did leave Rojer without two of his fingers which means the juggling part of being a Jongleur is a little tricky for him. He does, however, have a significant talent for playing the fiddle.

Through the various arcs of these characters, we are shown the majority of the length and breadth of the world they inhabit, known (very infrequently in the text) as Thesa. We are introduced to the various forms of demon (fire, wind, rock and wood to name the most frequently seen) and the scattered legends and stories of the "Age of Science" that led to the return of the demons from "the Core". Peter Brett uses a narrative style I'm rather fond of and have used myself - multiple major characters, each with their own piece of the puzzle, wandering through the world until a major event brings them together. And what I love about this style is watching these seemingly unrelated people, knowing that they'll be drawn together and watching how far away they get from each other before the inexplicable fates drag them all to the same place.

Okay, so this is the awkward phase of things. The honest opinion moment. I cannot deny that I enjoyed this book. I really did. Just not...overwhelmingly. Which confuses me, because as I mentioned on several occasions in my post about meeting Peter Brett, the man is a frakkin' dude. I guess, if I had to give it a rating out of ten (this will not become a tradition!) I'd mark it as a seven. This book is definitely worth reading. It's a good book. I just feel bad that I wasn't as wowed by it as I was by the man. BUT. And this is in capital letters because it's real important. The Painted Man is but the first in a series. And the finale definitely picked up the pace and opens some very interesting doors. I look forward to going through the doors when I reach The Desert Spear, book two, as I trudge through my ever growing list of books to read. Honestly. Went out and bought seven more books the other day. It's something of an addiction I suspect.

Until then...I hope you do read this book, in spite of my apparent underwhelmed reaction. It is really rather good and the man who writes these books is really rather awesome and I would like for people to keep him in business.

Curled Up Next to the Fire: The Nano Flower

As usual, there's been a slightly lengthy period of silence between my last bout of squeeing (my gushings on the legend that is Peter V. Brett), but it can be argued that this entry is very tangentially linked to that event. For this is, as the title suggests, the literary segment. And this entry in the literary segment concerns the third book in the Greg Mandel Series, authored by Peter F. Hamilton. In addition to sharing the same first name, I had the pleasure to meet both men at the same bookshop.

Anyway, enough random blabbering. Time to get on with the literary critique babbling.

I have previously rambled about the Greg Mandel Series here, talking about the second book, A Quantum Murder. Given that A Quantum Murder took place not too long after the first instalment, Mindstar Rising, I was expecting a similar length of time between the second and third books. To my pleasant surprise, The Nano Flower takes place some seventeen years after the events of A Quantum Murder, placing it circa 2061.

So, some in-universe context. Julia Evans is no longer a tempestuous yet shrewd teenager at the helm of one of the largest companies on the planet. She is a shrewd, level-headed mother of two, whose husband mysteriously disappeared eight months previously. Greg Mandel has long since retired from the private detective game and has four kids of his own, with number five on the way. Now a humble orange farmer, he and his wife Eleanor are quite happy to stay out of Julia's complicated world of corporate espionage.

Until Julia's errant husband manages to have a strange flower delivered to his wife. In the space of one strange delivery, Greg finds himself dragged back into the world he had hoped to have left behind.

Classic premise for the trilogy finale, eh? The quest to follow the breadcrumbs left by Julia's husband bring the old team back together for one last glorious fling, in which they chase down not only the errant husband, but also an astounding new technology that could change the face of humanity's future.

By far, The Nano Flower has the largest scale of all the Greg Mandel novels. It finds our erstwhile hero jetting around the world and even out of this world, to the Crown Colony of New London - an asteroid painstakingly placed in Earth's orbit by Julia's company, Event Horizon. And compared to the previous two books, The Nano Flower is a lot grander in scope. It knows it's the finale and it's pulling out all the stops. For one thing, tekmercs. It's a phrase that had been bandied about since Mindstar Rising and I'll be brutally honest, it had never been fully explained to my satisfaction until the third book, when one of the main characters, Suzi (a friend of Greg Mandel's from his years fighting PSP oppression in Peterborough), turns out to be a tekmerc. Through her and her encounters with rival tekmercs, we finally get a neatly rounded picture of who these people are and what they do.

We also get to see Greg pull off a lot more stunts with his psi abilities. At least I'm fairly certain we were never introduced to the use of eidolonics in Mindstar Rising. Either way, The Nano Flower was the big finish. Even if I hadn't known it was the last of the Greg Mandels, even if I had read at the time of its first release in 1995 (when I was six and so could not have had any hope of grasping a single one of the novel's concepts), the feel of it screams the last hoorah before the curtain drops. And it's a very enjoyable and quite satisfying end to the series. There's no obvious doors being left open, it feels pretty much solidly, 100% resolved. In part this is also reflected by my pet favourite subject of novels, setting. The United Kingdom of the Greg Mandel Series is a broken tropical country, recovering from the brutality of a classically misguided socialist government. And now, circa 2061, it feels more...together. Even with a political backdrop of Welsh secessionism, it feels that Great Britain has adjusted to the effects of the Warming. They've recovered from the PSP and they're dealing with the fact that they're a tropical country. As well as being the big finish, The Nano Flower leaves the reader with the distinct impression that this future Britain, once so battered and fractured, is a whole nation again. And as a wise maiden said in the movie A Knight's Tale, all things should end with hope.

So there we have it. Final verdict summation - The Nano Flower is an enjoyable and satisfying, albeit on occasion a tad outlandish, conclusion to the Greg Mandel Series. The next Peter F. Hamilton offerings in my reading list are Great North Road and The Reality Dysfunction. Two daunting looking tomes. Might take me a good few months to get through them. You'll all just have to stay tuned, dear readers.

Do you mind if Joe Abercrombie sits next to you?

I'll just point out that the title was not directly spoken to me, as Joe Abercrombie was actually sitting in front of me. But these were the first words I heard uttered by Peter V. Brett, American fantasy author and after hearing him talk last night, all round general DUDE. It is somewhat shameful to admit, but I have not read his books yet, but the first one is sitting in my bookcase, all manner of signed, awaiting its turn in my neat little stack of books I have to read.

Now for some time-honoured context.

My dearest friend Oracle is a huge fan of Peter V. Brett. In fact, we reasoned she was the biggest fan in the room last night. So when I discovered that he was going to be in Bath doing a book signing, I had to tell her. She had to get tickets. And thus, by the curious quirk of temporal mechanics, the uninitiated found himself sitting next to the biggest (self-confessed) fangirl in the room. I'd like to clarify, absolutely nothing wrong with that. And then, when the aforementioned Mr Brett walks into the room, it just so happens that British fantasy author Joe Abercrombie is in the building too. And takes the seat in front of me. Fun fact, this is the second time I've been at an author talk/signing event with Joe Abercrombie in the audience. The first time was when the GRRM Reaper himself, George R.R. Martin was in Bath nearly a year ago. Since I titled the blog post following that event with a direct quotation from the GRRM Reaper, this blog comes with the words of Peter V. Brett.

As I have admitted to my shame, I've not yet read his work. And he was coming out of the tail end of a cold, so intermittent coughing precluded the notion of a dramatic reading from his latest book, The Daylight War. Which is actually no big deal, because he jumped straight into the Q&A session and...he's a very interesting guy and what he had to say about his books and his writing processes hooked me enough that I am exceptionally confident that I will enjoy his first book, The Painted Man. Which is, as aforementioned, patiently waiting on my book shelf.

The biggest thing for me, though, is not the effect he had on me, but the effect I learned he had on my friend's life. Which I won't go into, but it is incredible. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting Peter Brett, but last night was her night. I had mine when I met George R.R. Martin and in the same night met Thief, who I continue to foolishly blunder about with and make a complete ass of myself. And she hasn't gotten rid of me yet. Must be doing something right.

So he had this profound impact on my friend and when she tentatively revealed this...I don't think I've seen a man looked more touched in my life. It is one of those moments that will forever be etched into my mind. Let's face it, a part of every writer dreams of being able to make a difference to someone's life, to know that their writing, their characters have empowered someone or helped them through something. It's strange. Something doesn't have to happen to you to have a profound impact. Watching my friend meet her hero and the deep and touching moment that followed...that one's staying with me for a good long while.

Now I mentioned that Peter Brett is a general, all round DUDE. Allow me to elaborate on this point. I said that he was coming down from a cold. He admitted this, he apologised for the lack of a reading and let's face it, he was persevering with a book tour regardless of a physical ailment. That's dudish factor number one. Number two came from what I can only describe as a rather belligerent, self-entitled member of the audience who hadn't read his books at all and seemed to only be there because it was a book reading and thus a society event worthy of his time. And while this man pretty demanded a reading from Peter Brett, he held his own, kept his cool and politely explained that a reading wasn't something that could come under the heading of "winging it". Since he didn't have one prepared and had the highlighted cough, he declined. Now I'm in the service industry. I deal with far, far too many people like this self-entitled gentleman. So I can relate to and respect how he kept his cool and stood his ground. And kept very good humour about it. Add this to the deep and profound impact he had on my friend, it all equals an absolute DUDE who, even without have read his writing, I respect and think is utterly brilliant.

So there we have it. If we take nothing else from this, take this - Peter V. Brett is a dude. On that basis alone, go out and buy The Painted Man. Read it. Enjoy it. Buy the other two books in the Demon Cycle series. It's what I'm going to do. Right after I plough through my ever-growing pile of books to read...