Where do you edit? Confessions of a serial editor!!

Editing.

Oh editing!

I could write a lot about editing: how it sometimes makes sense, where other times it doesn't, how it gives and takes, highlighting your mistakes one minute, underlining the quality of your work the next, but where would we be without it?

When I reread some of the things I've written in the past, they make me laugh, some even have me squirming; some make me wonder what illegal substance I must have consumed when writing them, because from a literary point of view, they make such little sense, but, getting your work down, scribbling those notes whilst on the train in the morning, during your lunch hour, adding a memo on your phone, or taking a photograph that will jog your memory later, are all so, so important, because a novel, a poem, the short story or novella that you are nursing, isn't going to write itself.

So, where should you edit?
For me, it's in the backroom, the lounge, kitchen or bedroom, the car, the common, or in a field. It's at work, on holiday or in the dead of night and because we all lead such busy lives, (some more so than others), I find those little moments wherever I can, so when people ask me how I find the time to write, (after all, ninety thousand words don't just fall onto the page), I can tell them.
I confess that I don't watch the television much, that I'm able to spend most of my lunchtimes undisturbed, and if you add in a few hours here and there, on a Sunday or a day off, it all adds up.
It's not as much as I would like, (will it ever?) but I take what I can get, and I'd encourage you all to do the same, 'cause once it's on the page, set down for you to see, you can start the real writing . . . the editing.
Good Luck.

No Country for Old Men, book review. (Cormac McCarthy)

Have you ever been punched in the face by a book?

It's a simple question, and up until now I can't honestly say that I have.

I've been wooed by books, romanced, charmed and frightened by them, I've even been brought to tears, be them happy or sad, but never in my many years and hundreds of books, have I ever been punched in the face, (although Fight Club was like a good slap), but I have now.

The simplicity of the writing that annoyed me so in, The Road, is here, as is the non-existent grammar, but with a relentless madman on the loose, (Chigurh), several trucks full of dead Mexicans, a missing case of money, and a Sheriff who's not as stupid as you might think, the action and sheer pace of this book make you forgive it those annoyances.

When Llewelyn Moss discovers a drug deal gone wrong, and figures out where the money might be at, his life expectancy takes a turn for the worse.

The relentless pursuit of Llewelyn and the money across the barren Texas landscape, through towns, hotels and even across the border to Mexico, is punishing, sad and thrilling in equal measure. The innocent suffer, as do some of the criminals, but the stand out character has to be, Anton Chigurh. Never have I come across such an empty shell of a man, someone so devoid of emotion; he's just so convincing it sends shivers down your spine.

You may all have seen the film, it's a very good representation of the book, so maybe y'all know what to expect if you read this, but for me, there's nothin' like discoverin characters for yourself.

The deep, deep, sadness that this book left me with, might not be y'all cup o’ tea, nor might the violence, but it's not a long book, so I say give it a go, especially if y'all like a good punch in the face!

So the non-existent grammar didn't bother me as much, the southern Texas drawl was beyond convincing, probably the most convincing dialect I have yet read, (I'm not brave enough to read Trainspotting yet), but due in part to the books brevity, and what I thought was a rather pointless conversation between Sheriff Bell and the old man at the end, I'm gonna have ta knock a half star off.

So, four and half stars for, No Country for Old Men then.

Bloody fantastic!

Let the Right One In, book review. (John Ajvide Lindqvist)

I wanted to like this book, I wanted to love it because it looked intriguing, but it wasn't all plain sailing.

This book is about friendship, where one can't exist, love where there is none, and fear, fear of the unknown.

It has the sort of atmosphere I've begun to crave recently, fabulous characters, against a cold, distant, almost characterless setting, which make Oskar and Eli stand out even more, like Technicolor people against a monochromatic backdrop.

Oskar is bullied at school and this is handled well, the swimming pool scene in particular deserves merit, and his anxiety is believable and heartfelt. Eli, is both beautifully, weird and frightening, in equal measure.

Hakan, Eli's father/guardian, is a bit weak, he has lots of money but lives like a tramp, and I definitely think he should have died when he fell from the hospital window. (I know this is fiction, vampire fiction, but still, I thought it would have been more realistic if he'd died from the fall).

I thought the sex with the young boy at the beginning was too graphic. I understand that it sets up Hakan's character and what he is capable of, but still, it was a little unnecessary.

Also, I have the first edition in English, and I think a few things might have been lost in the translation.

At one point, Oskar is in his apartment, (having stashed Eli's money in the basement), contemplating how the bullies at school get him to squeal like a pig for their amusement, but then, the next minute, he's at the school, setting fire to his tormentors desks. I thought this was a dream at first, that he'd fallen asleep, because it seemed to jump, but in hindsight, I think there was a page-break missing, and it's not the only time this happened, which was somewhat frustrating.

All told, this book hits the spot in some areas, and is well worth a read, particularly if you like to be chilled and made to feel slightly uncomfortable, and on that basis alone I would have given this book four stars, but there's one thing I just can't forgive: why, in spite of the atmosphere, some truly excellent characters, the swimming pool scene and more, did the author chose to reveal that Eli was a boy!!! Maybe he thought it would be a cool twist? A curve ball? Whatever the reason, for me, it let the book down.

Call me conventional, call me boring, but I liked Eli as a girl. As soon as I found out her/his secret, I sort of stopped caring, which is the last thing an author would want, but, there it is.

Three stars.

Broken Homes, book review. (Ben Aaronovitch)

This is part four of Ben Aaronovitch’s magical journey with the Met Police, and it’s a good one.

There are strange things happening in London, especially south of the river.

Why would a normal man, run a red light and crash into another car? Why did that same man kill a woman and leave her body in a shallow grave? Why would someone leave a tube station, only to walk back down to the platform and jump in front of a train? And why was a very rare and expensive, magical book, pawned at a bookshop of the Charring Cross road, having been stolen from an ex-practitioner's house in leafy Hampstead?

With some diligence, a bit of luck and a hell of a lot of help, Peter Grant and Lesley May manage to advance their magic, whilst: trying to track down the faceless man, avoid being killed by a homicidal Russian, Varvara Sidorovna, police the Spring Court for the God and Goddess of the Thames, protect the monstrosity that is the grade two listed tower at Skygarden, (an ugly concrete sky scrapper built by an eminent architect who designed the building to harness large quantities of magic), and walk the dog.

Sky, the wood nymph, dies when her trees are attacked. Abigail is taken on as an ad hoc apprentice. Molly works her way through one of Jamie Oliver’s cook books. The book thief is discovered at his house, cooked from the inside! Nightingale rescues Peter and Lesley from certain death and the Skygarden tower blow up with Peter standing on the roof.

Quite a lot happens then, and all wrapped up in a little over three hundred and fifty pages.

Well, this book is worth reading for the farm scene alone; it is one of the best scenes so far in this entire series. Nightingale steams into an already tense situation, where Peter and Lesley have been overpowered, and are about to die a very uncomfortable death at the hands of the not so friendly Varvara, but with much magic and trickery, Nightingale manages to wreck the barn, destroy a bungalow, capture the villains, and . . .

No, I’m not going to spoil it for you. I’m not even going to tell you why Lesley shots Peter in the back at the end. I’ll just let you read it for yourselves.

Four and half well deserved stars for this one then. On to book five: Foxglove Summer.

My Cousin Rachel, book review. (Daphne du Maurier)

I purchased this book from the charity shop (nothing out of the ordinary there then) about five years ago, and there it languished, on the 'to-read' shelf in the wardrobe: constantly overlooked, constantly put aside for something else, something more modern, more exciting, faster paced, more edgy.

That's sixty months, sixty! Or to put it another way, one thousand, eight hundred and twenty-six days I wasted, before reading My Cousin Rachel.

What an idiot, what a fool.

If only someone had told me. If only someone had written a review or a blog post, explaining how stupid I was being, telling me how I should have read this the day I bought it - hell, telling me I should have gone and bought it sooner, read it years earlier; well, now there is.

I implore you all, fellow book bloggers, bibliophiles, bookaholics, all those lovely people around the world that might read this post, all those that might have done as I have, and left this book to gather dust, read it now.

Du Maurier's incredible writing comes to the fore here, such believable characters, such eloquent prose, such beauty in her portrayal of Cornwall, (where the book is mainly set), and such suspense.
When Ambrose goes to Florence for the winter, to enjoy the warmer climes of Italy, his cousin and ward, Philip, thinks nothing of it, but when he marries and his letters become increasingly erratic, Philip starts to worry, so much so that he heads over to Italy himself.
On his arrival, he finds that Ambrose, who had looked after him since he was a small child, has died, and his wife, the mysterious cousin Rachel, has vanished.
Shortly after Philip's return to England, Rachel appears, but his anger, the betrayal he felt, evaporates. He is under her spell, captivated by her, but all is not plain sailing. One minute, there's delightful frivolity between Rachel and Philip, the next, it turns on a sixpence and one is shrouded in doubt.

Is Rachel all she is supposing to be? A grieving widow? Penniless? Did her first husband really die in a duel? Who is the mysterious Signor Rainaldi, friend or foe? And what of the hidden letters from Ambrose, talking of deceit, poison?

Du Maurier weaves such a web of doubt and intrigue here, that you just can't help but continue to read. You stay up late, you get up early, you skip lunch, avoid going out, and you put aside the chores, until you've reached the fabulous climax.

With the film released on June 9th (in England at least), I implore you to read this before seeing the screen adaptation, you will not be disappointed.

Five great big giant gold stars for this book then, and the best book I've read so far this year.

The Vanishing, book review. (Tim Krabbe)

This book is a tiny thin sliver of excellence.

Told in the third person but from just two perspectives - the victim's boyfriend’s and the perpetrator’s - it is simple, short, but shocking in equal measure.

I haven't seen the film or films - apparently there are two - so I didn't have any spoilers to deal with, and whizzed through it in just a few hours; yes, it is that short.

I've read quite a few books by European authors recently, and have liked them all, Tim Krabbe's being no exception, but ultimately, this book is too short; a novella really.

The story starts with Rex and Saskia driving through France, they are going on holiday, but before they reach their destination, they decide to stop for fuel and sustenance.

Before continuing their journey, Saskia returns to the shop for drinks and vanishes.

Cut to Frenchman, Raymond Lemorne, a married high school teacher, who dives into a canal and saves a young girl from drowning, and then, after his act of valour, he wonders: is he's capable of doing something equally vicious?

He'd saved the life of a random stranger, but can he now take one, and in the cruellest possible way?

Skip forward eight years: Rex has sort of moved on, but he still thinks about Saskia everyday, and then, out of nowhere, a stranger leaves him a message.
Raymond has found him and admit that it was he, that took Saskia, but before he will tell Rex what happened, he must agree to go through what Saskia went through; he must drink from the cup he is offered, and only then will Raymond reveal all.

Will Rex take the bait? Is it a trick? What became of Saskia? 

I won't spoil it for anyone here, you'll have to read the book, it is after all, only a hundred pages or so, so no excuses, but what I will tell you, is that it's definitely worth finding out.
Could have been a five star book this one, but it's just too short, so four stars.

Oranges are not the Only Fruit, book review. (Jeanette Winterson)

This book had passed me by for too long. So long ago in fact, did I watch the BBC dramatisation, that the only thing I remember about it, was the excellent portrayal of Jeanette, by the much missed, Charlotte Coleman, (who most of you will know from her role in Four Weddings & A Funeral).

Set in the north of England, the story charts our heroine's journey through her adolescence, arguing with her mother, beavering away in the church and questioning her sexuality, only to fall in love . . . with a girl!

The shock, the anger, the ostracisation from her community, builds to a point where Jeanette’s mother and fellow members of her church - the church where Jeanette once believed she would become a missionary - perform an exorcism.

She feels alienated, has nowhere to go, no-one to turn to, and suddenly, no lover, no future, nothing.

I like this book a lot, it's short but packs a punch, and has great atmosphere. You get the sense that Jeanette's mother and friends, truly believe that evil has taken her, that her being gay can actually be cured, as if she's caught a cold, or has the flu!

I also agree with one of the author’s quotes I found on the internet, if it be true:

"I've never understood why straight fiction is supposed to be for everyone, but anything with a gay character or that includes gay experience is only for queers”

. . . because this book is a love story, pure and simple, and like hundreds of other love stories, there are hurdles to jump and hills to climb, but gay or not, this is a book for everyone. Enjoy.
Four well deserved stars.

Conclave, book review. (Robert Harris)

Ooooooohhhhh!

Now that's going to cause a stir!

In Conclave, we find ourselves deeply embroiled in a quest for power, the ultimate power, the Pontiff.

For over a billion men women and children around the word, the Pope is their vessel, their voice, their most direct connection to God, and deep down, men, cardinals from around the world, sin with ambition as they covert that ultimate accolade.

Set entirely within the walls of Vatican City and the glorious Sistine chapel, (I have had the honour of having sat beneath Michelangelo's famous ceiling and gazed in wonder at the towering fresco that is The Last Judgement), this novel took me back there and some.

The Pope is dead: one hundred and eighteen cardinals from all across the globe descend on Vatican City, and must decide who amongst them, is a worthy successor.

Some relish that prospect, some live in hope; some have a very realistic chance, whilst others will use underhanded ways to further their lust for top.

Told over the few days and the eight ballots it takes for those cardinals to search their souls, reach out to their God and find their new Pontiff, Robert Harris manages to add a great deal of intrigue to this ancient ritual.

Jacopo Lomeli, is the Dean of the college of cardinals and is the calm, pious benchmark figure, that some will later rally to. There's Adeyemi, an African with a big booming voice, but with a dark secret in his past. Tremblay, who has reputedly been discharged by the outgoing Pope, stripped of all of his titles, but for much of the book is a front runner. Will his secret be discovered in time?

Tedesco, another front runner, but with maybe too much ambition, Bellini, an Italian and a favourite of the Deans, and there's Benitez, there most recent addition, a cardinal from Baghdad of all places, a cardinal that no-one except the recently deceased Pope, knew existed!

Deliciously researches, as usual, and eloquently narrated, Robert Harris's latest book is right up there with his best. It reads like historic fiction, but suffers nothing for it.

A solid four stars then; not quite as good as, An Office and a Spy, but still very good all the same.

The Children Act, book review. (Ian McEwan)

As is the norm with this eminent authors' books, we have a relatively short novel that centres around a single main character; in this instance, a high court judge by the name of Fiona Maye, but as is also the norm, we find ourselves unable to put the book down until we've read to the end.

How a mundane trip in a car, or a relatively boring night, sifting through paperwork, keeps one enticed, is still beyond me, but it does, and before we know it, we’re in a courtroom, we’re by the bedside of a dying teenager, we’re reeling from the absurdity of her husband’s proposal of an open marriage, and we’re biting your nails in anticipation of her ruling.

After several rulings - on whether parents have the rights to decide their children's fate or not - we reach the core of the book, the central plot.

Her ward, a young boy of seventeen, is refusing treatment on religious grounds, and also has the backing of his parents and the elders in the community, but needs urgent medical attention if he is to live.

Will she go against his wishes? Will the law allow it? If he survives, what will become of him? Will he be ostracised, or welcomed home with open arms?

This book doesn't quite have the grit and verve that I found in Sweet Tooth and it doesn't have the explosive ending of Saturday, but it does have superb characters, with a depth of emotion that renders them very believable.

Ian McEwan is fast becoming a firm favourite with me; long may he continue writing genuinely interesting books, about everyday life but with a twist. 

On a personal note, I like a long book as much as I like a short one, so please, please, please Mr McEwan can we have something around the five hundred page mark next time? Go on, you know you want to!

Three and a half star for this one then, and the bonus that it will only take a few days to read.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, book review. (Ken Kesey)

I'm not going to lie to you; I found the first half of this book hard going. (Hence the Whisky!) I don't know what it is about classic American literature, but I always seem to struggle with it, be it F Scott Fitzgerald, Steinbeck or Salinger, there just seems to be a disconnect.

Many of you will have seen the film with Jack Nicholson, and therefore know the basic story - McMurphy is a wise cracking, gambler, who has avoided gaol (jail) for what he thinks is going to be a few easy months in a mental hospital, and he brings turmoil and discord to what was once a peaceful, psychiatric ward.

From what I remember, the film was really quite good, but I saw it too long ago to make any meaningful connection with the book; which I felt dragged, to the point where I had to put it to one side and read something else, before coming back to it.

I suppose, being told in the first person by an American Indian, who pretends to be deaf and dumb, is regularly drugged and resides in a mental institute, may have had something to do with that, but it's not until a fishing trip, (about half way through the book) that I felt it really started to get interesting.

There are flashes of greatness here, some of the group therapy sessions are tense and leave you guessing. McMurphy's ability to talk everyone around to his way of thinking, are intriguing but soon grow tiresome; the Chief's flashbacks of home are convincing and come with a hint of sadness, but his visions of a hidden world, a world where everything is controlled by the Combine, are lacklustre.

I think perseverance is the key with this book. I'm glad I stuck with it, and in the end I can see why some of you might like it, but for me, I can't recommend it.

Just scrapes three stars for those flashes of excellence then, the fishing trip being the one true highlight, but without that scene, it really don't think it would have been worth my while.