Authors Electric

Another from (soft) science writing? Liminality : I stared at this word, wondering whether I’d seen it before, and what it meant. Was it actually a mistake, for something I could imagine: ‘luminality’ ? Luminality made sense of a kind: the writer probably meant whatever possessed this quality in spades — it illumined, or lit, things, rooms, extremely well. I then returned to my normal self and understood: liminality was the name of an Easter art exhibition which I’d recently contributed to, about the ‘liminal’ or in-between time between, for example, career or job changes, between taking exams and receiving your degree results, and in this particular case — this Easter exhibition — the Saturday between Good Friday, the Crucifixion, and Easter Sunday, the Resurrection… ‘Liminal’ — a somewhat poetic word — has entered popular use rather recently (it was 11 times more frequent in 2019 than in 1980). What I was reading used its ‘ality’ noun ‘liminality’ (10 times more frequent in 2019 than...

A haunting atmosphere doesn't cover gaping plotholes. Chatting to a friend about books over Christmas, I mentioned that I rarely read modern literary fiction anymore. Not because I don’t love fiction – of course I do, I write it for children! – but because it’s nearly always a disappointing experience. There’s something about beautiful writing – the chief characteristic of literary fiction – that seems to give the writers a pass when it comes to plot structure. Or even believable characters.  Instead, finely crafted, often poetic prose and the power to conjure up a haunting atmosphere propel many a slim, pastel-teared-jacketed volume up the prize shortlists, with nobody seemingly noticing the gaping plotholes in the story. Or not caring about them if they do.  But I care. If I can’t completely trust the world the author has created, what’s the point of reading on? If the letdown comes right at the end of the book, as it so often does, I’m left with a dispiriting sense of being...

As I’m writing this, it’s Easter weekend in the UK. A strange one, it must be said, owing to the unusual times we’re living in, but rather than dwell on the world of today, I thought I would delve back into past blog posts and past centuries. (That latter is something I’m finding increasingly soothing at the moment…) The following is an adapted post from a couple of years ago – with a link to a reading by myself of a snippet of my novel describing the Easter celebrations mentioned. (One of the things I have been doing in lockdown is trying to post readings of my work – though I’ve been let down by one IT device after another, until this slightly wobbly early attempt is the best I could manage before the relevant season disappeared into the past!) (Image from Wikipedia) Good Friday followed by Easter Sunday marks the end of Lent, the most solemn ‘festival’ in the Christian calendar, the 40 days leading up to when Jesus died on the cross and then is believed to have come ...

I suppose it’s inevitable that on this glorious day of chocolate scoffing, of succumbing to all the temptations resisted (well, by some of us anyway) during the last few weeks, my mind should wander – or perhaps waddle – back to the role of delicious food in books.  But not in the nurturing, life-enhancing way I looked at last month ; just the opposite. And while this works as a literary and moral device, it can be pretty cruel to your characters. All downhill from here To begin at the beginning… How does the serpent corrupt Eve in the Garden of Eden? With a crisp, juicy apple, thus setting in motion 2,000 years of imagery in which the poor apple takes the brunt of all the evil in the world. Interestingly the idea of fruit being a catalyst for trouble isn’t just a Judeo-Christian one: think of the six pomegranate seeds swallowed by Persephone when kidnapped by Hades, which bind her to the Underworld for half the year. Golden Apple of Discord Or the gold...