Who?

Doctor Who, a BBC science fiction series that ran between 1963 and 1998, and restarted a couple of years back, is quite dear to my heart. The first novel-length books I read as a child were Doctor Who novelisations, and I guess first impressions last; these days, when I write, I'm still haunted by the need to recreate that sense of desperately wanting to know what happens next.

So, did tonight's first episode, featuring a new companion, Martha Jones, measure up? More or less. This was a Russell T Davies script (Queer as Folk), and it contains elements diagnostic of his approach: cultural references, children's TV atmosphere, corridor running, fairly unoriginal aliens; but this guy can blister through a story with a speed normally associated with montages. The science is wonky as ever - that troubles me more these days than it used to - and it still feels rushed, but the overall product is entertaining. It focuses on the relationship between the Doctor and his new companion, and has set the scene for an interesting journey.

So, yeah, I want to know what happens next.

Rocky Robin

I don't need to tell you - O, fashion-conscious reader - about the raging memetic bushfire that is Twitter. (Though I'll just mention that it is a service constantly asking 'What are you doing?') You can now see what I'm up to in the 'What is Hocking up to?' section on the left of the page. Thanks to Debra for helping me get the script sorted out. Happy Twttering.

This trick and that trick

The Illusionist is a film in the genus of The Prestige and Scoop - a thriller set in the world of stage magic. Quite why these films are like buses at the moment, I don't know, but a brief trip to the cinema was called for last night, and off we when to see The Illusionist.

Based on a short story (always a good start), the film is set in fin de siecle Vienna and concerns our hero, a talented magician called Eisenheim, as he returns to the city of his youth in the hope of wooing his once-sweetheart, Countess Sophie von Teschen from the dastardly Crown Prince Leopold.

This is one of those films that, ultimately, did not work for me, but bursts with enough sincerity and talent to make the movie-going experience a rewarding one. Eisenheim is brilliantly played by Edward Norton. His opponent's factor, the Chief Inspector, is given life by a wonderful performance from Paul Giamitti. But both these are blown off the screen by Rufus Sewell's Crown Prince Leopold - he chews the decor, spits it out, and stamps on the pieces. He even manages to 'twist his moustache in villainy'. Wonderfully filmed too, by Dick Pope, and Philip Glass supplies the usual 'skipping needle' score.

Anyway, just a quick review to share this with you. If you get a chance to see it, you might like it. Not a lot. But you might like it.

EDIT: My girlfriend has got terribly confused by that last link. Just to be clear - and ruin the mystery - 'not a lot' is the catchphrase of Paul Daniels, Britain's answer to David Copperfield. He was a regular fixture on Saturday night telly in the 1980s, and I remember getting the Paul Daniels magic box for Christmas in 1989 or so. On a related note, can anyone explain to me the point of that bit of rope where one end was stiff? Tim, I'm looking at you.

Shutdown Day

Well, I didn't shut down my computer deliberately (I was on holiday), but I bloody love this video. Via Girl Friday.

That difficult first novel - tell me about it

Still somewhat dizzy from the night ferry twix'd Brittany and Devon - I'll bore you with snaps in a later post - I've been perusing the books section of the Observer Review. The old chestnut of 'the tricky first novel' has been placed on the open fire of journalistic regard, and the author of the article, Kate Kellaway, makes some interesting points.

Some of this, of course, we know already. We know that publishers will either pay a first author a sum that reflects the real-world takings of a first novel (rarely more than a few grand, a fraction of the minimum wage when counted) or a stonking sum that reflects outlandish hope and 'confidence' that the publisher has bagged an author of golden-egg-shitting proportions. We know that wheelie-bin loads of books are published each year, and publishers have the devil's own time spotting the one that will make them money.

We know that the emphasis is on 'placeable' - a marketing term. As such, it is on speaking terms with literary quality, but frequently makes the beast with two backs with celebrity endorsements (cf. Jordan's upcoming literary efforts). I once heard Mark Kermode shout at someone that the point of movie trailers is emphatically NOT to advertise the film per se, but to provide enough of the film to convince the sheep-brained viewer that he or she has ALREADY SEEN IT (Mark's emphasis, though I've wiped away the spittle). So, on choosing a film, we think, 'Ah, that Jarhead film looks almost exactly like Full Metal Jacket, which I saw when I was younger and adventurous, and I'd quite like to see it again, so - one adult please, and mind you liberally drizzle my nachos with that cheese-inspired chemical.' Placeability is key.

Somewhat typically, Kate Kellaway goes on to talk to several new authors, and rather than highlight (because remember, folks, this will work as a marketing piece) those who take the greatest and bravest risk on first-time authors - i.e. small publishers - she has chosen to highlight two from Faber, two from Doubleday, and one from Harvill Secker (a Random House imprint). No mention was made of, pff, The UKA Press, or The Friday Project, or Long Barn Books. It's her article, of course, not mine, but I thought this was a shame.

The article finishes with some interesting factoids, compiled by Anny Shaw:

• Around 70,000 titles are published a year in Britain, of which 6,000 are novels
• Any large UK publisher will receive 2,000 unsolicited novel manuscripts in a year
• The average sale of a hardback book by a first-time writer is 400 copies
• Many publishers use this rule of thumb to work out advances: they pay 50 per cent of the royalty earnings expected from the first print run
• According to the latest edition of Private Eye, first novel The Thirteenth Tale by ex-teacher Diane Setterfield (author's advance £800,000) has sold 13,487 copies to date. Only 516,129 to go and the book's paid for itself...

To which I can only add: Bloody good for you, Diane. If a publisher has judged her worth to be 800,000 green ones, then let us - gasp - see what she manages to produce over the course of a career, rather than pronouncing our smug judgement on her debut. I only hope she makes it that far.

I'm literally off to Brittany. Au revoir!

My girlfriend has been busy in the School of Psychology for Red Nose Day (for non-Brits, this is a bi-annual charity event organised by the UK comedy establishment). She helped raise over three hundred pounds by forcing the rest of the staff to compete in a 'silly olympics' and dodgeball tournament. Have you donated? Hmm? Anyway, here are some piccies.

First, driving-safety expert Dr Cris Burgess swapped his trademark pony tail for pig tails. For visibility in poor lighting - and to make him look even sillier - fluorescent tape was added.

Secretarial staff dressed up as doctors and nurses to better administer returned essays and expense claims.

Follicely-challenged challenged Dr Alan Slater, a world-leader in research on infant cognitive and perceptual development (he edited the textbook you see on the lefthand sidebar), decided to wear an Afro wig all day. Turned out to be a good place to keep lecture notes.

Dr Jacob Jolij's visual perception class got the High School Musical treatment, which helped him illustrate how retinal ganglion firing rates go all the way up to eleven.

Rock on, dudes.

Thinking and Blogging

Dude, I've been, like, totally nominated by Debra Hamel - cyber-puzzlo-uber-maven, and book reviewer - for the Thinking Blogger Awards, which is a brainchild (God, I love that word) of the Thinking Blog. Yes, really. Anyway, the first rule of nomination is this: YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT NOMINATION. No, hang on, I've got that wrong. The first rule is: Nominate five more blogs.

Hmm.

Hang tough while I fire up the ol' Newsfire. Bearing in mind that Debra's already been nominated (and I don't want her to have to produce five more) and I'm leaving her out, the nominations, in no particular order, are:

Quantum Storytelling: The Probabilities of Storytelling: This is a great little blog run by Eric von Rothkirch that rely gets into the nitty gritty of the writing process. Sampler entry: What's your favourite writing music? Hocking's ha'penny worth: Totally sweet blog.

Neurophilosophy blog: This blog is run by a London-based neuroscientist and science writer. It comprises entries on many aspects of neuroscience, from neuroethology, cognitive evolution, philosophy of mind and the application of nanotechnology to the biomedical sciences. You don't have to be a brain geek to enjoy this. Sampler entry: Is this a sentient machine? (Part 2) - which I disagree with, but I reckon the world is big enough for the both of us. Hocking's ha'penny worth: May blow your mind.

Petrona: Thinking and linking about books, reading, writing, publishing, the web and more: Does this woman ever stop? She's a one-woman blogging machine, and, what's more, her entries are thoughtful and carefully selected. Sampler: Check out this meta snippet on Nature's X-Files - the truth, like the rhythm, is going to get you. Hocking's ha'penny worth: I still don't know what Petrona means.

Me and My Big Mouth: Step right this way for magical mystery tour that is Scott Pack's life - a heady mixture of bizarre Czech cartoons, troubles with his ivy (apparently, it's cleared up, but that's the trouble), and his regular feature, 'Is it just me or are all journalists shit?' Mr Pack is the Commercial Director of The Friday Project, a publisher specialising in bringing promising fiction from the web, through the computer screen, dripping and squealing all over the keyboard. I interviewed Scott here, by the way. Sampler entry: It's official. Nick Cohen gives people nightmares. Hocking's ha'penny worth: "A bull-necked, shaven-headed former pop music salesman," avers the New Statesman. What are you waiting for?

Language Blog: Once upon a time, I was considered somewhat expert on linguistics. I hope I've dispelled that idiot notion via this blog. However, I like to keep up with my dangling modifiers, central-embedded constructions, and the very real need to bludgeon people who can't tell the difference between restrictive and non-restrictive relative pronouns. I mean, wake up people. Away, do check out the Language Log. Sampler: Gendered generics: A NYTBR article that [not which, damn you all!] contained a singular generic pronoun. I couldn't believe it either. Hocking's ha'penny worth: Eats, shoots, leaves a death's-head moth in the corpse's mouth.

'Tis a sad day on the Good Ship Interweb, me hearties. It looks like POD Girl is taking down the mainsail. Who her? She be a lovely, altruistic writer who set herself the task of reviewing POD titles (small publisher and self-published books) in the hope of bring the good ones to greater attention. She had several kind words to say about my book, and many more. This from her last post:

But mostly, I am simply burned out. I mean, have you ever looked at my stats? C'mon, 1,600 books in a year? And some literary agencies don't get 5,000 queries in a year. It's too much work for one person. Frankly, it's just too much work, period. It has been a super experiment, and perhaps the greatest result of it is the list of 65 books on the right-hand side that might never have seen the light of day.

Good job, POD Girl, whoever you are.

This month's Internet Review of Science Fiction is out. Quite an interesting publication, is this. You'll get articles with an odd academic twist and some insightful reviews. I see that the editorial talks about a book called 'The Science in Science Fiction', which I'll be discussing in a upcoming issue of Concatenation: To what extent should science fiction be about science, and to what extent fiction? Are these elements necessarily antagonistic?

A la Lifehacker for academics, we've now got Academic Productivity. Academics, of course, put in more overtime than any other profession in the UK (according to a recent poll), and this is probably down to work contracts that prohibit overtime but require it, for free. I see - from the snippet of an interview with the academic Dan Navarro - that contempt for administration is alive and well. Apparently, he got seven papers out into the open literature (whatever that means) in January. He'll be getting an early Christmas card from his Vice Chancellor.

Via PsychSplash.

While we're on the subject of podcasts, I just came across a new one created by Paul Ayres, a m'learned colleague at Intute. The Intute service provides an online database of academic resources, and is part-funded by the JISC and the ESRC. Paul chats about recently-added resources, upcoming events, and provides the odd interview or two. Go, Paul! (I apologise on his behalf for the dodginess of the jingles...)

Now then. Have I got a treat for you. David Mitchell is the author of Ghostwritten (winner of the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize, shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award), number9dream and Cloud Atlas (both shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize). He was on the 2003 list of Granta's Best of Young British novelists. His latest novel, a pre-coming-of-age tale set in England, 1982, is called Black Swan Green and is about to be released in paperback. Bizarrely, I managed to blag an interview with him. I'm still not sure how. Let me think back.

A step-by-step guide to getting an interview with David Mitchell:

1. Email his publicist on the off chance that Mr Mitchell might answer a question or two via email - a kind of 'fire and forget' mechanism that requires little effort and permits intra-sentence tea breaks willy nilly.
2. Receive follow up email that reads 'Yes, Mr Mitchell will talk to you. Call him at 2pm on Thursday (he's in Japan) and speak slowly and clearly because he has a cold.'
3. Realise you'll actually have to talk to your favourite writer.
4. Share a look of disbelief with the nearest gerbil and say 'Fuck'.
5. Realise you have only two days to come up with brilliantly erudite questions about Borges, Kafka and that Murakami bloke.
6. Realise you can't.
7. Share another look with gerbil.
8. Say to girlfriend: 'Yes, *that* David Mitchell. Yes, I know I'm always banging on about him. No, I don't write shorthand. Yes, I'll have to record it. How? I don't know.'
9. Enter a fugue state.

Well, the interview came and went. Despite staggeringly inane questions (the first one will get an honorary mention in the Muppet Hall of Fame), David (or D', as I call him) remained absolutely polite and even asked me a question or two about my own writing. Listen out for my pointlessly detailed description of time travel in Déjà Vu, which you'll be amazed to hear that I attempted without a stunt double.

Was I nervous? Slightly. In an interview (with me) back in January 2005, I wrote:

Well, if you tap your foot at me, I might offer David Mitchell’s work as the crest of today’s wave. I still dream about characters from ‘Cloud Atlas’. Mitchell underlines, for me, the necessity of invention and mastery of the forms of storytelling.

And this from another interview in 2006:

If I read someone like David Mitchell, I’m partly depressed and partly elated that he’s set the bar so high. Writing as well as him is certainly something to aim

In other words, the chances that I'd be able to keep my wits about me in the presence of the writer I regard as perhaps the most interesting, original and intelligent scrivener around, are small indeed. To see how small, click either of these links:

My interview - which I still can't quite believe really happened - with David Mitchell (high quality M4P, iTunes-friendly [17 MB]) or medium quality MP3 [16.5 MB]. (Note: I used Skype to record this call, hence the lag and my tendency to talk over the top of Mr Mitchell like some boorish ninny.)

I will now have a lie down.