Proofs

Proofs of The Heroes have arrived:

Have some of that.  Aren’t they beautiful?  Chunky, though.  Don’t know if it’s the paper, or the way they’ve been set, but it’s way the heaviest proof I’ve produced even though the book is actually one of my shortest (well, 202,000 words, it’s not short by any estimation, but it’s about 12% shorter than the last couple).

For those of you unfamiliar with the workings of the industry, bound proofs, ARCs or galleys (basically different words for the same thing) are the rough versions sent out to booksellers, publishers, and reviewers prior to release in order to build excitement, stimulate orders, and ensure review coverage at the time of release.  The text is the vast majority of the way there, though it hasn’t yet been proof-read or, in this case, copy edited.  Sometimes proofs will be bound in anonymous brown paper, sometimes will have rough versions of the covers though usually without any specials (things like embossing, texture, and foil that will be found on the final edition).  Typically they will have various persuasive stretchings of the truth on the back cover to entice would-be buyers.  Things like, in the case of this proof: “Abercrombie has a unique, smart, wry voice and an ability to make fantasy cliches his own.” or “The Heroes is his best novel to date: a stunning war novel, impeccably written, with superb characterisation.” “One for fans of George RR Martin and Bernard Cornwell alike!”  Actually those are all true.  Understatements, really.

Now, oftentimes proofs will be sent out to reviewers straight away, but I suspect in this case we might hold off for a month or two to prevent a spate of reviews sweeping the interpipes in early september followed by three months of stony silence prior to release.  Still, folks at my publisher, at other publishers, and key booksellers around the place may well already be reading it.  Not to mention my wife.  That gives me a bit of a shiver, I must confess (people reading the book, not mention of my wife).  I mean, obviously, the book is objectively ace, I have never doubted that for an instant.  My publisher’s carefully wordered marketing spiel on the back of the proof prooves it and my mum agrees, or at least says she does.  But will the fickle readers realise its aceness?  Or will, as has occasionally happened with my other books, the sheer onslaught of aceness, the crackling electricity of quality, overload the aceness recognition centres of the brains of some readers (possibly rendered over-sensitive by years of reading dross), causing them to come away with the badly mistaken, if not to say sadly deceived, impression that the book is actually quite poor.  Only time will tell…

Naturally, I will be scouring the internet for any early opinions, and will report back as and when they should appear in all their gory glory.  Unless they’re negative opinions, clearly caused by neurochemical imbalance.  In which case I will treat them with the contempt they deserve.

Scott Pilgrim vs The World

Yeah, yeah, good fun all round.  Hopeless nerd Scott Pilgrim falls for the cool new girl in town, only to discover he must battle her seven evil exes in order to win her heart, the whole a kind of kung-fu comic book manga video game beat ’em up pastiche.  Kind of Tekken vs Ninja Scroll vs Juno.  Very neatly done, cleverly put together, nicely acted.  Likable, touching, funny, at times very funny, perhaps particularly for those of us who’ve spent more than a minute or two in an arcade in our lives.  The first half really was excellent, with a deft touch on the characterisation, but they couldn’t quite sustain it.  Perhaps it’s a strange criticism to make of a film that revelled in its own silliness right from the outset, but it got a bit silly towards the end.  Or perhaps it stayed equally silly and got less funny.  Or perhaps the silliness started to pall somewhat.  Or perhaps it lost its way narratively a little, or didn’t know where exactly it wanted to go, and started to replace the inventiveness, the light touch, and the emotion with a little too much schlocky kung fu special-effect-i-fication.  If the first of your battles is crazily outrageous and over the top, you do give yourself that old anime problem of where to go once you’ve already dialled it to 11.  You either have to dial back, or stick on 11 knowing that you’ll get diminishing returns.  After a while, 11 starts to seem like 6 or 7.

But yeah.  Good fun, no doubt.

V Festival 2010

I was at the V Festival over the weekend, working in my old job as a video editor – something I did for some seven or eight years before I started writing, but that I’ve been doing less and less over the last few years as the writing has gradually become my main employment.  Basically I sat in a porter cabin for two days straight eating donuts and trying to listen to one band through a set of headphones while the bass of whoever was on the main stage made the soles of my muddy trainers vibrate.  This particular job is a great laugh, though, as the same team of editors, assistants and producers have been doing it for years and everyone knows exactly what they’re doing – it’s a smoothly oiled machine with rarely a mistake or a cross word.  It’s a big event, there are about a dozen in the editing team but maybe two or three hundred involved in the TV side of it altogether, and probably thousands in the event as a whole.  My role is to check over the music pieces, fix any mistakes (shots of the cameraman’s shoes and so on) and sometimes tidy up the edits a little if I have the time, which I rarely do.  Another editor is cutting interviews and links with the presenters, a third is stitching these bits together into six parts with break bumpers, graphics and all the other bits that make a finished show.

Bands are on throughout each day and the show goes out at night so, unlike with most of the jobs I used to do which would go on over weeks or months, there is serious time pressure and it gets more and more pressured as darkness falls.  By the time the headliners are on you might only have minutes to check things over before they need to be stitched into the show, played out and transmitted.  You’re nearly always still working on the last part when the first is on TV.  Once the first bands come off stage, twelve hours rarely passes so quickly.  You look up and it’s one in the morning.  There’s a breathless energy about the event, and a feeling of team spirit and involvement in a group that is pretty much the absolute antithesis of writing.  Exhausting, but exhilarating.  Which is kind of the reason that I still do it, and I hope I’ll be asked to do it again next year.  It’s nice to get out of your own head once in a while, and participate in something larger.  Larger than my head?  Yes, it is possible…

Curnden Craw Week

This week I have mostly been revising the sections of the story featuring what is, probably, the closest thing to a central character The Heroes has.

Curnden Craw is a Named Man, advanced in years, whose knees and nerves are giving out after years of weather and war.  He was once Second to Rudd Threetrees, and still tries to do things the old way – stand by your Chief, stand by your crew, try to keep everyone alive, at least on your side.  When Threetrees lost his duel with the Bloody-Nine, he took a place with Bethod and eventually became close in his confidence.  When Bethod was killed, he found a place with Black Dow, and has been leading a dozen (never quite twelve men) for Dow ever since, among them the famed hero Whirrun of Bligh, wielder of the Father of Swords, who was foretold, for some reason, that Craw would show him his destiny.  He’s long been dreaming of retirement, going back to being a carpenter and smoking his pipe on his porch while the sun goes down, but he never quite seems to find the right moment to hang up his sword…

Craw, Whirrun of Bligh, and indeed several other characters from Craw’s dozen are currently appearing in a short story in Lou Anders and Jonathan Strahan’s Swords and Dark Magic anthology, as it goes, of which there is a nice review by Martin Lewis over at SFSite, in which he says, “Swords & Dark Magic is probably the single best original fantasy anthology I’ve read. More please.”  Well you most certainly can have more, at least of my story.  You’ll just have to wait until The Heroes is published in January…

Six characters done, surely the character pass is at an end?  Well, not quite, as we will see in due course…

Prince Calder, and an Extract

Editing on The Heroes over the last week or so has centred on Prince Calder, one of the main characters on the Northern side of the issue.  The sharp-minded among you may remember him turning up near the start of The Blade Itself.  But things have changed a little for him since then, and not for the better.

In the North, they like their men tough, strong, honest, and loyal.  Prince Calder is none of those things.  He’s more thinker than doer and more lover than fighter, and that, and his habit of acting like a lying prick, have mad him a lot of enemies.  He could cope with enemies when his father, Bethod, was the all-powerful King of the Northmen.  But since his father was killed, Calder has been lurching from one near-fatal disaster to another.

He would very, very, very much like to reclaim his father’s throne.  There are just a few tiny problems to be overcome.  Firstly, Black Dow, the most feared man in the North, is sitting in it, and doesn’t want to be moved.  Secondly, Calder has a tough, strong, honest, loyal older brother with a pea for a brain before him in line.  Thirdly, he is widely mistrusted and despised.  Fourthly, well, there’s this war with the Union going on and, despite his best efforts, it’s looking increasingly unlikely he’s going to be able to keep himself entirely free of it…

We’ve also had a side-order of Beck, a more minor point-of-view character on the Northern side - a young lad obsessed with tales of heroism, and desperate for the chance to fight and win himself a name on the battlefield, and a high place in the songs.  Just like his father, Shama Heartless, a famous champion killed in a duel with the Bloody-Nine.  Knowing how my stuff goes, I’m sure that will all turn out exactly as planned.

Finally, a little treat for y’all, in case the saliva is not sufficiently flowing.  I’ll be posting a more substantial extract in due course, but for now my dark masters at Gollancz have decided, in their infinite wisdom, to post a not insignificant extract from The Heroes on their blog.  Why, tis the first chapter involving that military reprobate, Corporal Tunny…

Inception

Man, it’s a long time since I talked about a film.  You know why?  It’s a long time since I managed to get to the cinema.  Kids and books and building projects and all that other, you know, LIFE, can do that to you.  So imagine my delight when I chiselled free an afternoon to go and watch Inception.  The reviews had led me to expect Matrix meets Memento, trippy crazy action with mind-bending twisty plotting.  I could not WAIT.

Now imagine my disappointment when I left the cinema.  Inception ain’t a bad film, really, but it seemed to me a rather mediocre one.

Fundamentally, Inception is a con film.  A con film that takes place in people’s dreams rather than in faked realities, but a con film nonetheless.  Now usually, in such a story (I guess the Sting would be the classic example), there’s a superficial con being played on the target, but there are also tricks and cons being practiced among the con men themselves, which are gradually revealed.  In the best ones, there’s usually a final trick being perpetrated on the audience as well, and we all slap our thighs as the credits roll at the ingenuity of the way it’s all been put together.  There’s at least one good twist, in other words.

Now I’d been told Inception was ingenious, so I kept waiting for the twist.  For one of the team to pull their masterful triple-cross, for their mysterious employer to reveal his sinister hand, for the target of the sting to turn the tables and show the elaborate deception.  It never happened.  Elaborate, undoubtedly, but deception there was none.  No one really, at any point, did anything unexpected.  It did exactly what it said on the tin, even if the tin had a very long, confusing label.  It made me think of a bad orator using lots of complicated language to disguise the fact he’s got nothing much to say.  A bad comic trying to make up for having no punchline by making his joke really long and complicated.  REALLY long and complicated.  But when it comes to the long con in nested realities I can think of holodeck-based episodes of Star Trek that did more surprising things, and that investigated the whole concept of false reality and are we-aren’t we dreaming more effectively and elegantly.

The lack of any real guile in the plot might not have been so bad, if the film hadn’t disappointed in other ways.  There was much heavy-handed exposition, but key concepts were left largely unexplained or came suddenly out of nowhere, and others seemed inconsistent or were ignored whenever it suited.  The rules on which the whole thing functioned just didn’t feel concrete.  There was one good action sequence in zero gravity (though by no means for me the kind of game changer that the Matrix featured when it first appeared), but mostly the action was really very poor.  Loads of automatic gunfire endlessly ping-panging from car doors and that.  About as adrenaline pumping and dangerous as Roger Moore era James Bond.  There was no real enemy to fight, even, no mastermind to outwit, just anonymous baddies drawn from the target’s subconscious.  OK, maybe it’s all supposed to be a dream but – why such a naff one?  On the trippy reality-bending it really fell flat for me as well, in the end.  In preparation they were folding space and stepping through mirrors and all, and we were promised as they passed from one dream to another things would become “unstable”, collapse, go wild.  I was ready for MC Escher on acid and I got, erm, a rainy city, a fancy hotel, and a concrete fort in a blizzard.

I’m being harsh, I know.  Inception ain’t a bad film, really.  It was interesting, diverting, had some good performances (as well as a lot of forgettable ones), some great visuals, and the end packed a surprising emotional punch.  But it was too little too late.  I’d been promised clever, and maybe it all went over my head, but my mind came out of it decidedly unbent.  Everyone else seems to love it.  Perhaps a team of slick-back conmen had broken into my mind the previous night and predictably implanted the idea that the film just wasn’t all that good…