This Island Hinckley

Well, I'm back from Eastercon, the 56th British National Science Fiction Convention. I wasn't there for too long (the convention lasts from Friday to Monday; I popped in for the Saturday and Sunday). It was certainly an enthusiastic gathering. Science fiction fans are a breed apart; they engage with their interests and enjoy the opportunity to speak to the writers and the other artists associated with sci-fi. The events ranged from a James Bond-style casino to a live screening of Dr Who to an audience-participation staging of Shakespeare's Richard III -

Audience: "When is the winter of our discontent!?"

Richard: "Now is the winter of our discontent..."

If this doesn't make any sense, consult the guide.

In addition to the hustle and bustle, there was some some hobbing and nobbing. I bumped into Ken MacLeod (the splendid author who provided me with an equally splendid review of Déjà Vu way back when) and engaged him in a conversation that involved a lot of blithering on my part. Ken told me about some of his upcoming books. Judging by his descriptions, and his past efforts, they should be ones to look out for. Also bumped into Charlie Stross, Cheryl Morgan and M J Simpson. Mike Rennie and Lucy Zinkiewicz (thanks again, guys; particularly Lucy for letting me crash) introduced me to bewildering number of people, each of home asked me a bit about my book. Of the ten or so copies of Déjà Vu I took with me, I managed to get eight of them into circulation. But the trip was more than just business. It was nice to put names to faces and say hello to people. Very nice they were too.

And, if that wasn't all splendid enough, I managed to pick up a mug (from ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha's sign-up table) reading 'Something that tastes almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea'.

Another positive review of Déjà Vu

Tregolwyn Book Reviews have just uploaded a flattering review of Déjà Vu to their website. Here's a snippet:

This is a science fiction novel. This is a chase novel. This is a multi-stranded, complicated novel that defies understanding at times, but is still fully involving and provides a very clever and satisfying denouement.

And another:

This novel works. The writer's style is consistent with his content and the story fair speeds along. It is confusing at times, but that is only because we are not given all the facts at once. This means that when we do find out what has been going on, we can happily exclaim, "Of course!"

Science fiction does not work for everyone and this book, with its sentient computers, nano-technology, brain-wipes and that other thing I won't mention, will not be to all tastes. It was to mine though and, if you're that way inclined, I confidently predict it will be to yours too.

Thanks to Tregolwyn Book Reviews and to reviewer Chris Williams.

Words o' knowin'

There are two things I'd love to share with the world this week. Alas, they are also the two things I must not, because they haven't yet been confirmed.

Hmm. Perhaps I can offer a hint or two. The first is a possible review (positive; I've had a sneak at the draft) in a large-circulation glossy sciffy magazine. The second offers an opportunity to be published as a 'new voice' (despite last night's drinking)

Anywho, this promises to be a busy weekend. I've got AllExperts grammar work to do, plus stuff goyn on over at SOSIG to which I must attend. Not to mention a slew (they always come in slews; don't ask me why) of Open University assignments for to mark.

Today's niggle:

I read a piece in the Guardian Review today that described the science fiction component of David Mitchell's superb Cloud Atlas as, quote

[what] you might call...science-fiction, but his most influential model is something much older.

Reading between the lines (that is, I note that this piece is not condemning the genre, but takes the perspective of an historical analysis of 'ungrammatical voices'), why do people hesitate to apply the term 'science fiction' to something they like? Here's a better example, from David Langford's Ansible:

Andrew Motion, Poet Laureate, made a traditional Nice Distinction when defining `Landscapes of the Mind' on BBC Radio 4's A Map of British Poetry (6 Mar): `I don't mean science fiction poems. I mean poems which establish a manifestly invented world in order to advance recognisable truths about human nature.' Not like science fiction at all, then. [HS]

If it's science fiction, call it that. I've heard the work of Verne, Wells and Wyndham described as 'not really science fiction because it's good'. Hello? Science fiction does not mean ray-guns and zero character development (though I don't have too much of a problem when it does mean this, as long as the ideas themselves make good characters); it can mean anything within the realm of 'What if?' as far as I'm concerned. If you're scratching your head, thinking, 'Half a mo, doesn't that describe all fiction?' then I agree with you. It's more grist to the mill: leave the genre labelling to bookshops, who are the only ones can usefully employ such categorisations as a way of channeling customers. This year I've been reading Faulkner, Tolstory, Grimwood, Ken MacLeod, Hemmingway, and McEwan. Do Grimwood and MacLeod stick out because they're sciffy? Only in terms of what they want to do; but are good writers producing good books. If they're representative of contemporary science fiction, I'm sure Mitchell would be proud to be counted among the number of science fiction authors. And why not?

I'm not worthy

Well, top man Joe Gordon, who once worked for Waterstone's but who now works for Forbidden Planet, has blogged Déjà Vu in lovely fashion and added it to the Forbidden Planet bookshop. Cheers, Joe!

Here's a snippet:

Ian’s name and that of the independent UKA press who are publishing him may not be overly familiar to many folk yet, but the reviews he’s picked up from people such as top author Jon Courtenay Grimwood and Andy Sawyer of the Science Fiction Foundation and Alien Online point to a new voice in Brit SF that we should all be taking an interest in.

Or read the whole thing.

New voice? Moi? Oh...continue.

Eastercon

Well, I'm all signed up for Eastercon, the 56th British National Science Fiction Convention. It looks like it should be fun, though, I must say, some of the activities - filking among them - might be altogether too much fun (while these activities take place, I may well be in the bar keeping my fluids up).

Naturally enough, I'll be taking along copies of Déjà Vu (though not in silver briefcase Britta suggested; I have my dignity). The Guardian Review (will I ever stop banging on about that?) has helped generate some interest in the book, which might lead to more reviews as a result of rampant hobnobbing.

On a related topic, it looks like there will be a new 'edition' of Déjà Vu complete with review snippets (or 'blurb'). Don't worry if you've ordered one of the older copies - it just means that yours is a first edition, to treasure and hand down from generation to generation until the sun finally burns itself out and consumes the Earth in the last dawn of fire. So things aren't so bad.

Ups and Downs

I have a rule with this blog: I don't write it when I'm annoyed. But here I am, demonstrably annoyed (see below for demonstration), typing away like a good 'un.

First, the good news. A person whose opinion I hold in high regard, Andy Sawyer (librarian of science fiction at the University of Liverpool), has written a positive review of Déjà Vu for the Alien Online. Judging by previous reviews, Andy isn't afraid to point out the flaws in a work when he sees them, so his kind words come as a mixture of pleasure and relief. Here are some edited highlights:

An interesting debut novel that successfully blends cyberpunk and technothriller and presents a few good sci-fi ideas along the way. ...The scenes set inside the digital world developed by Proctor and his partner Bruce Shimoda are particularly impressive.

...Well worth reading, and suggests that Hocking (whose first novel this is) can create interesting scenarios. There are some inventive and witty AI conceits, and Hocking's near-future world is neatly extrapolated from ours.'

I also came across a review in a local arts/new publication, The Exeter Flying Post, penned by Richard Anthony. It's a well-written review and quite insightful. Here are a couple of snippets:

It's written with screen adaption in mind...

Er, no it isn't. (Though I do enjoy the odd film.)

...short chapters, rapidly cutting between different strands of the story; lots of action; some violence; plenty of clues and motifs hinting at what is to come, but enough suspense to keep you turning the page.

Mr...

Er, Dr, while you're there.

...Hocking has an interest in determinism. Even after reading this book, though, I'm not sure where he stands on the issue. This story, however, wriggles out of the problem in a way that somewhat undermines the climax. But I think the author is too good a writer to get trapped in the pgieonhole (black hole?) of hack SF, however well it might pay.

*cough* *splutter* *wipes tea from monitor*

Richard goes on to engage with some of the issues contained within the work, chiefly the determinism, which is gratifying. It certainly speaks to one of the motivations behind my writing: making the reader ponder stuff.

So some aspects of this week have been good. (And let us not forget a nice article about me and my book published in Monday's Express and Echo.)

But the bad aspects are bundled up in this 'goodness'. With the reviews tumbling in - first from the Guardian, then the Alien Online, and with a possible review lined up in the biggest-selling scifi mag in the UK - I'm still butting my head senseless against the wall that national book chains have erected to keep out the independent publishers who lack the money to play the 'big boys' game' of the country-wide publishers.

This Saturday morning, a good friend of mine walked into a branch of Waterstone's in Exeter, which has agreed to stock Déjà Vu (thanks again to Stephen Palmer, Waterstone's employee and author, who has worked on my behalf to get the ball rolling). My friend found no copies on the shelves. She then queued up for a bit, spoke to an employee, and was told that Déjà Vu doesn't exist.

That's right. This book, reviewed in the Guardian, doesn't exist. It also doesn't exist on Amazon, Baclkwell's Online, Play.com, and least of all does it exist on the website of my publisher, the UKA Press, who are a figment of my well-used imagination.

As you can see, I'm not speechless with anger (or perhaps I am; perhaps just my fingers are moving). But I am quite grumpy. I have spent literally hours trudging around Exeter, Truro and other places with a copy of my book. One bookshop in Truro - remains nameless - decided to stock one book after I visited and phoned them several times. One book! When I told the manager my book had been well reviewed in the Guardian that very morning, she laughed and shrugged, as if to say "It's a crazy, mixed-up world, ain't it?"

Now, I'm obviously not saying that one review means the world should reward me with the fame and swimming pool of gold bullion I deserve, but I didn't spend four years writing Déjà Vu to not care what happens to it. With every single additional reader that picks up a copy, writing the book gets a tiny increment more worthwhile. I'm obviously not saying I'm unlucky, either, because (1) getting published required stumbling across a publisher prepared to read the entire manuscript; (2) I was allocated an excellent editor; (3) the improbability of getting Déjà Vu reviewed in the Guardian makes me queasy when I look back upon it - at any one point, things might have fallen through. So I'm not bitter and I'm not feeling cheated. In fact, I'm better off than most people would be in my position. I'll hold that thought and attempt to improve my mood by shooting people on my Playstation.