Sunday, 27 July 2008

Metal Gear Solid 4

Everything these days seems to be a sequel, and moreso than ever in the world of video games. Only look at some of the releases I've been looking forward to this past year or two:

Grand Theft Auto IV, Civilisation IV, Resident Evil 5, Neverwinter Nights 2 (though let's not forget that Neverwinter Nights 1 was a sequel to Baldur's Gate II), Gothic 3, Oblivion (The Elder Scrolls 4), Final Fantasy XIII (13, for fox sakes?). Those that don't have numbers have colons. Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Command and Conquer: Tiberium Sun. Some even have colons and numbers. Ghost Recon: Advanced Warfighter 2, anyone?

You know what you'll get with sequels - old friends, familiar gameplay, better graphics, in jokes, plots that are incomprehensible unless you played the other twelve installments, and perhaps even then. And few sequels are quite as sequel-y as the keenly anticipated game I've just been playing - Metal Gear Solid 4, one of (and there would seem to be a dwindling number) the few good reasons to have a Playstation 3 (itself the third in the series, lest we forget).

Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots (yes, it has a colon too) describes itself as Tactical Espionage Action. It's one of those sneak-em-ups we get these days, where the emphasis is on slipping unnoticed like the breeze through war-torn warzones where wars are happening. Warrily. If you want you can go all rambo-styley, flinging grenades with wild abandon and blazing away with an M60, but the rewards tend to be higher for sneaky, sneaky, with occasional use of non-lethal force involving gas traps, silenced anaesthetic pistols, tapping on the walls to distract attention of guards, and perhaps the occasional use of a sleeper hold or good old punch in the nuts. Make sure you hide that corpse somewhere shady, though!

The only other entry in the series I'd played was the first, which I was slightly disappointed by, feeling the majority of the slightly hokey top-down gameplay let down its huge and often impressive ambitions to be something truly revolutionary. I guess this game finally fulfils the promise of manga-inspired tactical espionage action, and though perhaps a bit too late to be totally revolutionary, it's still a beautifully slick and immersive experience.

The masterstroke is that the hero, Solid Snake, while still being an unstoppable special forces death machine, is now, due to accelerated aging, also a grumpy old chain-smoking duffer with a bad back, a dodgy 'tache, and a voice like a washing machine full of gravel. Yesterday's hero, out of his place and his depth in an age of nano-machines and remote control war robots, back to save the world one more time before he inevitably kneels at the grave of his fallen comrades and eats his own .45. That is just sweeeet, and with every mission he's more of a coughing, oxygen mask using, drug injecting, hideously burned, physically and emotionally tortured mess, haunted by the piercing memories of dead friends and old failures. Why don't we have more cynical old dying duffer heroes, I'd like to know?

The gameplay sometimes feels a touch clunky compared to free-flowing stuff like Prince of Persia (Just climb over the crates, Snake! Why can't you climb over the crates?) or full-on shooters like Gears of War (He's right next to you, Snake, turn and shoot you old bastard! Turn and shoot! Snaaaaaaaaake!!!!!!!) but the sneaking around is ace - the chameleon suit which blends into whatever you press yourself against is particularly cool. The enemy AI is ace - watching two man teams direct each other around searching for you gets the hairs standing up. The bossfights are pretty ace - surreal battles with octopus, raven, and wolf themed crazies that produce a genuine sense of drama. Above all, that indefinable something, the feel of the game, the world it creates, the sense of immersion, dare one even say emotion, is pretty damn ace.

The FMV sections are kind of ace, and kind of ludicrously overlong and self-indulgent. I mean, they look beautiful, the characters are well-voiced and acted and all that jazz, they just go on for half an hour. And I'm not kidding. You frequently find yourself watching the game more than playing it. Several times I'd think - ok, just a quick hour of Metal Gear before bed, then find myself still up at 2.00 in the morning waiting for the next absurd string of overly detailed waffle sequences to get done. Can you all stop talking so I can go to bed now, please? Granted I haven't played the previous two games, and maybe that'd help, but the level of exposition seemed uttery unnecessary/incomprehensible at times, and left me with the feeling that I, the player, didn't really have that much to contribute.

The ludicrous arsenal of weapons is pretty damn impressive, though the way in which each one is customisable, examinable, and lovingly rendered in superbly detailed 3d does seem slightly at odds with the ham-fisted anti-war messages frequently delivered with all the subtlety of, well, a combat shotgun blast to the face. "WAR IS WRONG!" the game seems to say. "Man, war is so wrong. Especially war conducted by sexy women in skin-tight camo-suits, with more figure-hugging webbing than seems decent, wielding maybe a P90 submachine gun in a really cool way, you know, the one lovingly moulded from low-weight ballistic polymer using NATO's new standard five-seven round with the high muzzle velocity offering an excellent mixture of firepower and penetration, probably also fitted with laser sight, flashlight for low light conditions and suppressor for wet work. Holds fifty in the clip providing high rate of fire for point or suppression with minimal reloading. Holy shit, but that's a nice gun! Oh. But war is so WRONG."

Sneaking around the warzones, pursued by mercenaries and revolutionaries alike while they also spectacularly battle each other is very, very cool. But as the game goes on it seems to insist on showing off its more interesting game modes, kind of like Russel Crowe proving to the audience that he's more than just an angry actor. Sneaking around irritating robots you can't kill. Manning a gun on a jeep, or a bike, or etc. Controlling a giant robot. A lot of these feel a bit tagged on, and sometimes leave you wondering whether what you do with the pad makes any difference. They're slightly, for want of a better word, rubbish. I just kept thinking, let's be done with this nonsense so I can hide behind a crate, sneak up behind some guy and snap his neck like a twig again. Please. I was enjoying that.

Still, in the end, depite the meanderings, the self indulgence, the creaky philosophy, the weird sense of humour, and the occasional tedium, this game is overall a brilliant experience. A moving experience, even. The design, the way things look and feel, the music, the way the FMVs bleed into the action and back - it all builds to some truly memorable moments, and creates some truly memorable characters. Can't say fairer than that.

So long, Snake, you grumpy old bastard. For you the war is over. Now you can blow your brains out in peace.

9/10

Labels: games

Wednesday, 23 July 2008

Am I Genre Enough?

By heavens, the entire blog-o-verse has been ON FIRE with discussion of my reading habits and I didn't even realise until just now!

Well, perhaps I'm being a touch over-dramatic (what, me?) Not the entire blog-o-verse, just a couple of bits of it. And not really on fire, just smouldering very slightly. And not really MY reading habits, David Bilsborough's.

But my name has been mentioned, and it's been a while since I offended anyone with my ignorance on genre issues, so I thought I'd try and flog a few more copies of my books for kindling. There are a few discussions around relating to the question of - "should writers of fantasy also be readers of fantasy? Or perhaps even fans of fantasy?" The story so far...

BILSBOROUGH, I WILL DESTROY YOU!!!!

You sure about all that?

Let's all think carefully about this, shall we?

Here's what we think.

And us.

Fair enough, but BILSBOROUGH, I WILL STILL DESTROY YOU!!!!

I think we can agree that if David Bilsborough's aim was to win friends in the internet fantasy community then his comments were misjudged. I have a feeling that might not have been his aim. I actually have a kind of wierd respect for his loopy honesty. A bit like the respect one might feel watching a man set his head on fire for a laugh. Anyway, for better or worse, I am one of these writers of fantasy who say they don't really read much fantasy (these days, at least), and so can't help feeling implicated in the debate. I thought I'd take a run at explaining what I've read, why I don't read fantasy now, and why, furthermore, I don't think it's that important that I should. I'm not offended. I'm not on some kind of self-justifying rant. That's just so not me. I'm just exploring the issues. Some background then...

Am I a fantasy fan? I guess it all depends on your definition. Certainly, as a kid I was hugely into Tolkien and read the Lord of the Rings every year. I loved Wizard of Earthsea too, some Lloyd Alexander, some Michael Moorcock. As well as a whole load of other fiction, poetry, and blah, blah, blah. I was massively into dice-based RPGs as a boy and a pasty youth with dodgy hair, read White Dwarf a lot, devoured vast quantities of supplements for such games, wrote a few adventures of my own - D&D, MERP, and Warhammer mostly (still rate the Warhammer world and campaigns very highly). I read a lot of fantasy in the 80s as well, though now I realise it was mostly of a pretty commercial epic-fantasy-series type: Eddings, Dragonlance, Guy Gavriel Kay's Summer Tree, Michael Scott Rohan's Winter of the World, and many more I've forgotten, I'm sure, as well as a fair bit of classic sci-fi from my Dad's collection with the groovy 70s covers. But more literary stuff like Vance, Leiber, Gene Wolfe and so on I was totally unaware of the existence of, if I'm honest. I don't feel I was part of fandom, as it were, no community, to speak of, to turn me on to things, apart from the five or six guys I played RPGs with, who were about as clueless of the broad field of fantasy as me, I guess.

Some time around 20 I pretty much stopped reading fantasy. Moved away from home and the old RPG group went their separate ways. No huge decision to cast it aside in disgust - in fact I never stopped turning over some of my own ideas for an epic fantasy that would eventually become the germs of The First Law - but I just got into other things. Street Fighter II, mainly. In the seven or eight years following, up to the point I started seriously trying to write my own stuff, the only fantasy I read was Martin's Song of Ice and Fire (the first three books, at that time), which had a pretty strong effect on me, as I've mentioned before. I got much more into reading non-fiction, history in particular, as well as still a whole range of general fiction from classics to contemporary stuff.

Now, once I was getting near finishing a first draft of my first book, it did occur to me that it might be a good idea to get a vague sense of the state of the market. So I asked, in one of those bookshops they used to have, about what was big in fantasy these days, and I got given: Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time (read the first three, nice enough, but my world was not rocked), R.A. Salvatore's The Demon Awakens (didn't work for me), and Steven Erikson's Memories of Ice (realised it was half way through a series, resolved to get the first one, got totally sidetracked as always). I must confess that, when going through the process of gathering rejections, I did worry that my stuff might be a bit too dark, a bit too off-beat, a bit too violent and sweary for the market. Unbeknownst to me, since Martin the market had shifted to leave me firmly in the commercial middle ground. Since being published, I have of course taken some interest in what else is out there. I've read a few things my publisher have passed my way. I've peered into a fair few others to get a notion of the kind of styles some folks are writing in, but it's a fact I can't deny that I don't read much fantasy these days. I'm not proud of it, that's true, but I'm not ashamed either.

I guess the bottom line is that I'm relatively well-versed in fantasy of a certain rather limited type and a certain rather limited era, but I'm by no means steeped in the broad sweep of the genre. I'm sure some fantasy readers would look at the influences I've spoken of and say, "wow, that stuff's all really old and, like, kinda ... hokey." To that I can only shrug my shoulders and say, "well, the proof's in the pudding, and my pudding is FRAKKING ACE" [warning - depends on who you ask, actual pudding may differ from pudding advertised].

Or perhaps I would shrug my shoulders and say, "well, the genre may be packed with interesting, adult work of the last dozen years and, indeed, before. But one can't pretend that it isn't still bestrid by Tolkien in the popular consciousness, more than ever since the films. Plus everyone's still well aware of all that old stuff even if they're pretending no one does it any more, and on the borders of the genre and beyond, popular culture is still riddled with a slightly cheesy impression of fantasy involving elves, dwarves, magic swords, and etc. which is further reinforced by millions and millions and millions of people playing fantasy MMORPGs which (often) are based on a slightly cheesy impression of fantasy."

Or I might shrug and say, "there's still loads of folks for whom fantasy stopped in 1989 and just want David Eddings with much bitchier characters occasionally shitting themselves. I fill that hole." So am I fan of fantasy? Certainly there's a lot I love about the genre, and it all depends on your definition, but there seems to be a bit of an implication of unquestioning love about the word 'fan', of blindness to any shortcoming or chance of development, maybe? I recently read a bit of an interview with Jacqueline Carey that I could literally have written myself, if I was a better writer:

"For my part, I grew up reading fantasy and loving the sheer escapism and the sense of wonder it evoked; and yet, as I grew older, I found myself craving fantasy that was a little more grounded in plausible reality, a little more visceral, possessed of a bit more intellectual substance and an adult emotional sensibility. I wanted work that made me think and feel in addition to entertaining me. I suspect that's true of others, too. Like many writers, I write the books I want to read. Thankfully, it seems there's a large audience that feels the same way that we do."

It certainly do. Where was I? Ah, yes.

Part of the problem I have with the whole notion of being "a fan of the genre," or having "contempt for the genre," or "a rejection of the genre itself," is that implicit in the phrases seems to be the idea that fantasy is a huge homogenous blob that you're either for or against, and that there's a sharp line between us, defending fortress fantasy to the death, and them, in the dangerous mainstream. "Do not cross the fence after dark, my boy, there be dragons. They hate us out there beyond the fence. Stay here in the village, and marry your sister. Stay here forever." I'm grandstanding of course, but, you know, is this your first time here? I see that there's sometimes a value in simplifying, saying a reader, or a writer, or a book is one thing or the other, but I'm just not sure the world is really like that. I would imagine that pretty much everyone who reads at all will have read some fantasy at some point - Tolkien or Lewis, Rowling or Pullman, if we can count those last two as fantasy since things are much hazier in YA land. Similarly there will be many readers who dip into the fantastic here or there, or did at one time but have got out of the habit, or never used to but do now. Not fans, per se, just, you know, readers. Furthermore, even those (I think relatively few) who would consider themselves die-hard fans and read little else will all have different tastes and profiles of reading. Some might dig new wierd. Some might hate it but love epic with a passion. Some might like the paranormal romance, with the crop tops and the back tattoos. Or ye olde schoole classicks of ye genre. Pass me another Dunsany, my boy, this one's gone out. My point is, there's no fixed profile for what qualifies you as in or out, as knowing enough or not. No one's read everything. For my part as a writer, I'll take every reader I can get without prejudice. Die hard epic fantasy fan? You're in. Read Dragonlance once? You're in too. I'm here by mistake, can't read? Pull up a chair.

Where was I again? Ah yes.

So why don't I read much fantasy now? Well, you may be horrified to learn that I don't read that much at all these days, and what I do read is mostly non-fiction, because a lot of the time I used to spend reading - train journeys, morning commutes and so on - I now spend writing, or at least revising my own work. I find reading fiction can be a bit distracting from the writing, and that's especially true of my own genre - other people's work draws me in a certain direction, dilutes my own voice a bit, and since I've constantly got deadlines I don't want to miss I lack downtime where I might catch up with this or that. Purely my personal experience. But mostly I don't read fantasy just because, well, I kind of like what I've produced with the ingredients I've already got, and don't particularly feel the need to change the formula. Maybe in time I will, but at the moment, for why? It's also worth noting that there are all kinds of places you can find ideas outside of books. TV and film are full of great writing. Computer games less so, but plenty of ideas still. And then there's, you know, life. Nothing wrong with adding a sprinkling of newer, edgier stuff from outside a genre or even a given medium to the tried and tested classics within it to produce the familiar with a twist. In fact I'd argue that approach can lead to some of the most impressive work. Not mine, of course. But Unforgiven, anyone? James Ellroy? Tarantino?

Ultimately, there are as many approaches to writing fantasy (or anything else) as there are authors. Everyone's going to have their own balance of influences, books and otherwise, their own styles and voices, themes and concerns. Many writers of fantasy are most definitely big fans - GRRM and Scott Lynch spring to mind from my own experience - but still very clearly have their own approach. Others aren't necessarily fans. My perception is that Richard Morgan, for example, has an approach to fantasy not dissimilar to mine - a range of fantasy influences from way back when accompanied by a whole battery of his own concerns and style refined in writing SF. It hasn't stopped him writing what I think is a very original and interesting fantasy novel. I guess my point is you can be a fan and write derivative shit or brilliantly original magic with a unique voice. You can be more of an outsider and effortlessly fuse the familiar with ingenious outside influences, or, again, write derivative shit. To be fair, that's what most people polled seem to say on this issue. The proof is all in the pudding. I guess my feeling would be similar to the one I have towards worldbuilding. My taste, as a writer, is toward a light hand on the world, but this being (supposedly) the genre of infinite ideas, there is ample room for other approaches, and god bless those who do the opposite well.

There does seem to be a frequently expressed opinion that you need to read a certain amount within the genre so you know the form, and avoid repeating the already overdone, and I can see where they're coming from, but to me that seems to miss the fundamental point that the first feature of a good writer is that they should have some individuality of voice, style, approach that is unique to them, and that renders any character or situation, be they ne'er so hackneyed, new and interesting (at least for some readers, nothing works for everyone, you know). Others seem to feel a more personal sense of slight, that not reading their genre somehow constitutes an offence. Perhaps I'm straw-manning now, but as far as somehow having contempt for the genre goes, the implication that by not reading it religiously you're somehow standing sneering to one side or whining at the letterbox of the mainstream to be let in, well, if I hated epic fantasies it would have been a pretty strange decision to spend three years of my life writing one with no guarantee I'd ever make a single penny out of it.

Take that, you straw bastard! Now who's tough?

Labels: influences, opinion

Monday, 21 July 2008

TV Heaven - Firefly

Following my self-indulgent ramblings on Battlestar Galactica I was advised by various posters to give Firefly a go. I'd heard good things about it in the past, have always been a cautious admirer of Joss Whedon's approach to TV, and I'd watched the film adapted from the series, Serenity, and found it OK but been a bit nonplussed. Probably I'd been reluctant to watch the series just because I knew there was only the one, and somehow when you know there's a limited quantity of something it does spoil your enjoyment. And after all, if it got canned after a season it can't be that great, right? But I got round to it over the last few weeks and I must say, it really is very, very good indeed. Or might have become so, perhaps. What a shame there is no more.

It's sparky, it's funny, it's original, it's very well made and occasionally really quite clever, has a much darker edge than you expect when it needs one, and has some really great dialogue with a western twist. The surprising achievement for me is that it truly hits the ground running, even in this first season the characters - and the relationships between them - feel exceptionally well worked out and acted, like a cast that's been working together and getting familiar with their roles for years. The Captain is at the axle of the show, holding it all together, and a great character he is, barn-stormingly performed by Nathan Fillion, who totally nails the loveable rogue trying to live by a code in a world without one. He's one of the last nice guys left, but he ain't that nice, and I like that a lot. He'll shove a guy in an engine without blinking if it has to be done.

In fact all the characters have their surprises, their moments of unexpected compassion or unexpected effectiveness, their treacherous sides or their dark pasts. All of them can be heroes or, well, real shits on occasion. Stupid, treacherous thug Jayne with a wallful of guns behind a sheet in his bedroom is a particular delight. It can be light, but it never really feels soft-centred. Usually in these shows not every character fires on all cylinders. A good number, if not most, end up being rubbish, in fact, with episodes focusing on them a tiresome interruption. Yes, Counsellor Troi, I'm looking at you. In Firefly the central cast are all watchable, all have their roles to play. It's quite the achievement.

For me it's much the most consistent Whedon offering I've seen - Buffy and Angel could be great on occasion, but they could also be ... not great. Firefly feels much more polished, much more grown up, some episodes are better than others, of course, but there were no howlers. It has the tongue firmly in its cheek but never so hard that its cheek is ripped open and its face explodes. If you see what I mean. There are laughs at the expense of the genre itself, and genuinely funny ones at that, it don't take itself too seriously, but at the same time it doesn't take the piss out of itself or the viewers, there can still be emotional moments, affecting moments, even surprisingly deep and thoughtful moments. The balance between funny and serious, between light and heavy, is pretty much spot-on, in fact, for my taste, and it doesn't veer uncomfortably from one extreme to another as shows are sometimes prone to do, especially in a first season, being usually po-faced with occasional unconvincing humorous episodes based around a light relief character.

It's also an interesting approach to sci-fi tv in which the sci is dialled down to the absolutely strictest minimum, then wierdly fused with a whole load of western conventions. I mean, it's more western than sci-fi once you remove the surface dressing of, well, space ships and that. Shows like Star Trek, and most sci-fi tv since, seem to work with huge and, for me, rather misplaced earnestness to appropriate at least the trappings of science. Inverting the polarity. Quantum singularities. Phased tachyon pulses. When Data would spend whole episodes of Next Generation reciting this blather, the rest of the crew would nod sagely as though it all made perfect sense. Patrick Stewart, obviously, has the most majestic and convincing nod of any man alive, but still. "Ah, yes, invert the polarity of the phased tachyon pulse, I see what you mean, make it so." A sparkly red beam will turn blue, and the universe will be saved. One was invited to suppose that it all made rational sense, that this was indeed hard sf, in spite of appearances. Firefly surely is the polar opposite of hard sf, and makes no apologies. No real attempt is made to explain how the universe works (its one huge solar-system, but with loads of habitable planets?). Such questions are barely asked, let alone answered. The ship on which the series is set is decidedly lo-tech and knackered at that, with few if any problems solved through technical gizmo-ry. Most of the characters wouldn't know which end of a communicator to hold, let alone a tricorder. Problems are more likely solved with fast talk, lying, threats, or hitting someone in the face. People familiar with my own approach to worldbuilding will know that I'm a big fan of this type of thing. Characters, action, and plot are foregrounded, worldbuilding is barely touched on. Sweet for me.

I'm really at a loss as to why this series wasn't a crashing success. Perhaps it was too sci-fi for the mainstream audiences that maybe hooked on to Buffy, but too mainstream for the sci-fi audiences that love Star Trek. Perhaps it was too witty for those who wanted brutality and too brutal for those after the wit. Or perhaps it was just a ball-fumbling over support, marketing, timing and all those other issues.

Ultimately, the only significant criticism of the show I have is that it's all over far too soon. I was just really getting into it, and suddenly you're in the special features. I guess some shows start well and lose their way, so there are no guarantees that Firefly would have continued to improve and become something really great, but judging by its first series it was a very strong possibility. It felt that in the characters and settings they had some rich seams of great material they'd barely started to mine. It's a great shame that there isn't even a decent double-episode to end on, or anything. It just stops, leaving one pondering on what might have been, and on what to watch next.

Truly, life is not fair...

Labels: film and tv

Monday, 14 July 2008

Advice for Budding Fantasists

Some among you may find this hard to believe, but I do on occasion get emails from folks either wanting to have a stab at writing some fantasy of their own, or who've written some and want some advice on how to go about getting it published. So I thought I'd collect some thoughts together here so I can refer folks to them if required...

I regret that I won't read stuff myself - I honestly don't have the time. If I found something I liked there's nothing I could do with it besides pass it on to my editor or agent for them to make their own decision. Far more likely I wouldn't like it, and I'd then spend hours trying to think of the best way to express myself in an email. Sorry to say I just can't get into it.

I'd offer two pieces of general advice, though, for anyone who is interested, one for the writing and one for the selling.

The best piece of advice I had as far as writing goes came (like all the best advice) from my Mum. She has (and my father and my brother have) always read my stuff pretty much as I've completed a batch of chapters and given her honest and extremely well-read opinion. Invaluable criticism. On one occasion, early on, she read a chapter of mine in which I'd used some particularly trite expression (I forget what, now, there are plenty of contenders), and she drew my attention to it and said, you have to try to be honest. In every area of your writing. When you use a metaphor to describe something, you have to ask the question, 'does that thing really look the way you're describing it?' or are you reaching for an easy cliche, for any old words to fill the space? When you write dialogue, you have to ask the question, 'would this character really say these words in this situation?' Everything that seems dishonest, that seems unconvincing, that seems untrue, weakens the effect. If you keep honest, you can't go too far wrong.

As far as selling goes, there are some simple steps to follow that will give you the best chance (though your chances are always small with any individual submission, so prepare for rejections, possibly a lot of them). Finish a book, first of all, because no one's going to buy anything without reading the whole thing. Find out who you're sending material to, and ensure it's a suitable book for them, then send them exactly what they ask for, in the format they ask for. Usually this will mean the first couple of chapters, or fifty pages of material. Err on the side of less, because they'll probably know within a paragraph whether they are interested or not, and they'll surely ask for more if they want to see more. Put a covering letter with your work that explains what is so special about it, why it's something they need to have, and can sell. Spend plenty of time making sure the letter is good, because it may well be more important than the extract - if your letter is rubbish they might get no further. Remember that, even if to you this is your wonderful baby, to them it will always be, to some degree, a product. They may fall in love with it, but they still need to sell it.

But hell, I'm no expert. Why listen to me when you can listen to professionals? Lately the awesomely talented folks at my own publisher Gollancz have been talking to SFX about the business of writing in the genre, both creatively and commercially. Firstly a Q&A with evil arch hype-sorceror Simon of Spanton and my own editor Gillian Redfearn (she found me, she's got to know what she's talking about, right?) and secondly with their esteemed colleague Jo Fletcher. Still have questions? You could check out the advice of genre doyen John Jarrold, long-time editor and now successful agent, who runs a message board over at the Chronicles Network. You could even sign up there and ask him a question or two. There's nothing about selling fantasy books that man don't know.

Lastly, if anyone thinks they have some wonderful advice, or is in need of some particular answer I might conceivably be able to help with, by all means comment below...

Labels: advice

Monday, 7 July 2008

Innovative-ni-ness

As though Publisher's Weekly's review had burst an internet dam, or were a necromancer invoking the restless corpses of the web community, or were a great king of yore calling his shining cohorts to battle (work with me here), a spate of First Law-related activity this past week.

Like Sergio Leone, whom I try to imitate in all things, let us begin with the good, and work our way steadily towards the ugly, though this time, alas, without the comic talents of Eli Wallach. A review of Last Argument of Kings from Paul at the rather nicely designed and fearsomely titled Blood of the muse (I like it, literary, but violent):

"Last Argument of Kings is the best fantasy novel released so far in 2008 ... Abercrombie brings the trilogy to a rousing and very satisfying conclusion, peppering the novel with incredible battles, grim humor, and many unforeseen twists ... the characters become even more nuanced and complex, fighting hard against the reader's expectations of them. It is as though a new light has been shined upon them, making for stunning transformations."

He awards me 94 out of 100. Have at you now! It's like 94 fingers in the eye for the doubters. John D. Borra has also been reading LAoK at Flowers from the Rubble, and he thought:

"The concluding book of The First Law trilogy could not have been more exhilaratingly, subversively, compulsively delightful. A tired old genre, populated either by the doddering remnants of formerly great writers, or sadly bereft of truly inspired creators, is suddenly fresh again."

Fresh, inspired, and delightful? Oh, don't! Oh, stop! I'm blushing! My face is on fire! Alright, carry on. What do you think of when you picture readers of epic fantasy? My guess is that would vary, but it is extremely unlikely to be this. At all. But the world is jam-packed with surprises, folks, because vintage pin-up model Fleur de Guerre (nom de plume?) has apparently been tearing through the filth, betrayal and carnage that is Last Argument of Kings. No, really, I'm not making this up. My imagination is nothing like that powerful:

"Anyway, suffice to say it is an absolutely cracking read. It's a fantastically well-written series, and the characters are so ... full of character! They have both good and bad sides, and unlike some books, there were no character chapters that I wanted to (or *gasp* did!) skip through. The battle scenes were particularly epic, and suitably bloody. My only niggle is the ending!"

Bah! Dah! We'll forget that last sentence ever happened, shall we? Ably assisted by an overview of the entire trilogy from Australian webzine The Specusphere (although does it have a nationality if it's on the web? A question for another day...):

"In The First Law, UK fantasy writer Joe Abercrombie has produced one of the most impressive first trilogies ever to hit the market. It is remarkable not only because of its brilliantly complex plot and characters, but also because of its fearless investigation of the dark labyrinths of the human condition. Here be no dragons, and hardly a mage or a McGuffin is in sight, either. Instead, we have a blood, sweat and tears tale of the first water ... If you like your fantasy harsh and gritty, can stand a great deal of death and destruction, and if you don't want everything tied up in neat packages with "happy ever after" stamped on them, you must read this trilogy."

See? See? They liked the ending! "But Joe!" I hear you cry, "if your admirers span the entire gamut of persons from vintage pin-ups to ... Australians, from where oh where will the dodgy reviews that we all love so much appear?" Ah, from none other than sometime-absent but long-established internet reviewer Gabe Chouinard, who has some thought-provoking issues with the level of originality displayed in The Blade Itself:

"For all the talk of innovation, The Blade Itself is still generic epic fantasy. While it is a rousing good read, for me it is also a disposable read; the genre equivalent of a few hours spent watching television."

As disposable as time spent watching The Wire, Deadwood, The Sopranos or Battlestar Galactica? Wasted hours indeed, I hang my head in shame...

"In hindsight, I find it difficult to distinguish Abercrombie's characters from other generic epic fantasy characters. Logen Ninefingers could as easily have been the equally-reluctant berserker Barek from David Eddings' Belgariad sequence. Bayaz could just as easily have been any number of mysterious mage figures; making him bald and sarcastic does not make him unique."

Now Gabe's only read the first book, and I'd be interested to see what he made of the whole series. I think if The First Law has any insights to offer it's as a whole. The Blade Itself was always intended to introduce the characters, to set the scene, but also to firmly anchor the trilogy as being part of a familiar brand of epic fantasy in which readers might think they could guess all the outcomes, such that, as the series then later ingeniously flips those notions on their heads and reveals the characters to be other than expected, readers are double shocked and amazed, squealing with delight at the cleverness of the merry dance on which they have been so entertainingly led.

Or perhaps not. It don't work for everyone, that's for sure. But I'd argue the number of people disappointed, dismayed, or even utterly crushed by the ending would seem to support the idea that it's not entirely formulaic. Still, having been underwhelmed by book one, Gabe might well not have the patience for two more doorstoppers. That's fine. And even if he did, he might well consider the whole approach ill-advised, ineffective, or even mildly ham-fisted. Certainly he found the first book 'entirely undistinctive', and is forced to meditate on the shortcomings of the critical community these days:

"And so I wonder... what is it that compels reviewers to laud The Blade Itself as innovative, ground-breaking, and all the rest? I believe reviewers are responding to the surface gloss of The Blade Itself, which is foolhardy. Bloody fights, sarcasm, the "gritty" addition of a few fucks and shits and damns... these are a mere veneer of coolness, not signs of real innovation. And so, when some reviewers use books like Abercrombie's to suggest that epic fantasy has, at last, "grown up", I find myself cringing in dismay."

Exactly what people respond to or not in a book is an area of some fascination for me, as you can imagine. I think the single biggest lesson I've learned since getting into the game (writing, not prostitution) is that the difference in the ways different readers look at a text, the differences in what they expect, what they want, what they value, in every area, are unimaginably vast. But my impression is, when people do respond well to my stuff (the aforementioned John D. Borra above being not untypical), what they find original is the relatively small twists on the familiar, though growing as the series progresses, the sense of humour with which it's delivered, the relatively unpretentious style from the extremely pretentious author, the vivid characters and the emphasis on those characters rather than the world. What you might call relatively basic virtues, really.

I disagree that those things constitute surface gloss, necessarily, that all depends what you're looking for. I disagree also that something needs to be wildly innovative in order to offer something that a lot of readers will find fresh and interesting. Honestly, I think unique-ness can sometimes be a bit over-rated. Much beloved of critics, but perhaps not so much of the great body of readers. You can be unique and still be, for want of a better word, shit. A man with an arse for a face is unique, but I don't know that I'd want to be him. To write an appealing story, I think you need to balance the original with the familiar, and for me, quite small nuances of style and approach can be enough to make some familiar components fascinating all over again, especially if they're components much beloved of the readers in question. Familiarity might repel some readers, but I think it draws far more in, providing you don't get stodgy and boring (don't you dare even think it), creates expectations and allows you to pull tricks that would be impossible on much less familiar ground.

So I'm not sure I'd ever claim that my stuff is particularly groundbreaking, beyond being my own particular take on the classic fantasy trilogy, emphasising my own concerns and trying to be as honest and realistic as possible. To quote myself from an interview, which you'll be surprised to hear I kind of love doing:

"I'd like to think of what I'm doing as standing in relation to Lord of the Rings (and the classic epic fantasy that's been strongly influenced by Tolkien) in the same way as - if I can use a cumbersome extended metaphor - Unforgiven stands in relation to High Noon. A slantwise look at the cliches of the form from a more modern, cynical, realistic perspective, perhaps even a bit of a satirical riff on the form at times, but first and foremost a strong example of the form. I hope that I've got something to say about the ways that good and evil, power and violence are traditionally represented in fantasy, but at the same time I hope that above all what I've written is a cracking fantasy tale, and can be enjoyed purely on that level."

Man, that Abercrombie can turn a phrase. And so when Gabe says, in order to sweeten the bitter pill of criticism:

"Abercrombie has a slick, active style that aids in propelling the reader along. Everything about The Blade Itself is crisp; the dialogue is excellent, the pacing is excellent, the characterization is excellent. In truth, while reading The Blade Itself I enjoyed myself."

I think I probably find most of the praise I'd ever want. In the end, if given the choice, I much prefer things that are good, to things that are original. Both would be best, for sure, but hey...

Either one's something.

Labels: opinion, reviews

Sunday, 6 July 2008

Readers will Mourn

Yes, they will, but not in the way you're thinking, you sarcastic bastards. Publisher's Weekly, organ of the US book trade, has spoken on the subject of Last Argument of Kings. Or will speak, come September:

"The sword & sorcery trilogy that began with The Blade Itself (2007) and Before They Are Hanged (2008) comes to a violent, sardonic and brilliant conclusion. The shaky Union, menaced simultaneously by rampaging Northmen and by Gurkish invaders from the south, now must contend with intrigue and treachery in its capital, Adua. Summoned to play parts in a devastating confrontation between magical forces, conscience-ridden berserker Logen Ninefingers and honest, weary Union commander Colonel West come down from the north to meet painfully self-aware torturer Glokta, revenge-obsessed female warrior Ferro, pliable young adventurer Jezal and scheming, unscrupulous mage Bayaz. All these people are believable, especially as they dabble in grimly convincing magic and struggle to hear their consciences through the roar of carnage and betrayal. Abercrombie is a fresh new talent, presenting a dark view of life with wit and zest, and readers will mourn the end of this vivid story arc."

Dab away your tears, though, friends. There's more darkness, wit and zest where that came from...

Labels: reviews

Wednesday, 2 July 2008

Elizabeth - The Golden Age

Not good. Really, really not good.

I liked the first film, quite a lot.

I did not like this. At all. It had the feel of one of those tele-movie cash in sequels that have none of the original cast. Except with the original cast. It looked cheap, though it obviously wasn't. Locations that looked like sets, small and cramped, as if everything was done on a sound stage. The director seemed obsessed with tracking shots peeping around pillars, or focus pulls through filligree screens. Maybe they spent all the money on pillars and screens, and wanted to use them to best effect.

Plotting that was neither historically accurate nor telling a convincing story, darted around all over the place, never settling on one thing but at the same time constantly outstaying its welcome. Totally unconvincing behaviour from everyone concerned. During the thrilling battle with the Spanish Armada, I went away to check my email I was that irritated.

Dull, silly, pointless dialogue. An object lesson in how to make a great cast (and Clive Owen) look rubbish. I mean, you have to work real hard to make Geoffrey Rush look wooden. But they managed it.

The positives? Splendid costumes. Er...

It was not a golden age for me. No sir.

2/10

I feel nostalgic for I am Legend.

Labels: film and tv