Alex Bell – fantasy author

Regular readers of my blog will know that about once a year I grudgingly praise another writer’s work. I do not like to do it too often because I am greedy and grasping, and I despise the thought of people out there spending hard-earned money on books that were not penned by me. But every now and then, I enjoy reading a book so much that it enables me to rise above my natural, in-built pettiness.

So, up next is Tome of the Undergates – from the Next Big Thing ™, Mister Sam Sykes:

I think we can all agree that this cover is wicked, and the man on it is sexy as anything, and the water is . . . well . . . sort of mesmerising. It’s also a very big book (600 pages plus), and, as Amanda at Floor to Ceiling Books has already pointed out, if you were so inclined, you could, feasibly, beat a man to death with this thing. I don’t like to put it too close to any of my books because it makes me feel insecure, and I start wondering whether my efforts are just novellas, rather than actual novels . . .

Anyway, there are, basically, three main reasons why I love Tome:

1. The monsters. Heretofore (eek! I just said ‘heretofore’! The ol’ legal training creeps in when you least expect it!) – heretofore, I would have said that the estimable Chris Wooding was the undisputed king of fantasy monsters, but now I would have to say that Chris and Sam are pretty much on a level with each other on this, for there are several really cracking monsters in Tome. I don’t want to give any juicy details away, but the highlight for me were the Omens – these creepy monsters with bodies of birds, and heads of old women who parrot the words of dying men.
2. I have a special soft spot for characters who are at least a little bit mad/unstable/unhinged etc. Anyone who’s read The Ninth Circle will know this to be true (see what I did there? Sneakily got the post back onto my books, ah ha). And Lenk, who is the leader (in the loosest sense) of the mismatched band of adventurers in Tome, is haunted by a voice inside his head that only he can hear. More often than not, this urges him on to greater bloodshed and so on. It’s not clear where this voice comes from, or what its purpose is, but I’m an absolute sucker for this sort of internal conflict.
3. The similes. I know it seems a bit of an odd thing to highlight, but they really jumped out at me all the way through the book. From now on, I might have to refer to Sam as the King of Similes (he is, after all, yet to be christened by me with an appropriate nickname). I’ve never complimented an author on similes before – that’s how freakin’ great they are.

In addition, I think I would probably enjoy any adventure story that involved a rich fantasy world; a band of companions who are constantly at each other’s throats; and a heck of a lot of blood and gore. It’s true: I like my fantasy novels to be just a little bit filthy (hence my gushing love for anything written by Mr Abercrombie).

So for anyone looking for a thoroughly entertaining read, I would whole-heartedly recommend Tome. Sam is also an active Twitterer (is this a word?), but please don’t follow him because he already has more Twitter followers than me, despite having been around for only a fraction of the time, and that just isn’t right. Perhaps if I made my tweets a bit angrier, I would get a sudden influx of followers . . . ?

Finally, and most vitally, I must add that whilst Mr Sykes may write books that practically eclipse mine in size, my dog could eat his dog in one bite, because Moose is a Great Dane, and Sam is the owner of a teensy-tiny, ludicrously adorable pug by the name of Otis who, I believe, is soon to feature on the shiny new Gollancz blog.

Tome is released in the UK on 15th April, available in all good bookstores, etc etc.

Right, I’m really going to have to stop reading books, I think, because amazing ones keep coming to my attention and then I feel compelled to write about them and then my blog starts becoming about other talented people rather than all about me. First it was the resplendent Deanna Raybourn, and now this.

So, here it is, Amazing Book, Part 2:

Eagle Rising, by David Devereux:

This is the second of David’s books featuring Jack – magician by profession and bastard by disposition. As well as being a mate of mine, Dave is one of the funnest (yeah, I know it’s not a real word – I am hereby creating it) guys I have ever had the pleasure of meeting – and he stays up until the early hours at the author parties with me, rather than going to bed early like all those other wimpy Gollancz peeps (although having office jobs/small children on the side may have something to do with that, I suppose).

Anyway – whilst reading Dave’s book I tried to put aside the fact that I know him to be a Multi-Talented Genius Party Man so that I could judge the book objectively. But even then I still thought it was awesome.

I don’t want to give away any of the juicy bits (and believe me, there are juicy bits), but I can certainly say that there are very few books that make me both laugh and gasp (in the oh-my-God that sounds painful sort of way).

I even took this book to the spa with me (and sort of dropped it in the Jacuzzi, which explains why the pages are now crinkly and scented – unless Gollancz actually scent them?? In which case why don’t my books smell of vanilla too?!). I’m afraid I may even have snapped quite viciously at the schmoozy couple in the Jacuzzi who asked me to press the button to get the bubbles going again but – in my defence – I was in the middle of the eyeball removing scene, and it’s really not one in which you want to get interrupted because of something to do with bubbles. 

Another thing I particularly love about this book is all the Neo-Nazi, Hitler stuff. I studied Nazi Germany at both GCSE and AS level and it’s a historical period that I’m particularly fascinated by. The scene where the crazy fanatics are trying to bring Hitler back from Hell was one of the most spine-tingling I’ve ever read. I had goose bumps and everything.

I fully intended to save this book for my trip to Florida in two weeks (tomorrow and counting!), but then I read the first page, and then the first chapter, and it all went downhill from there and now it’s all finished and I wish I’d had more self-restraint. So I am putting my request in now to Dave/Simon/Gollancz Inc./whoever, that Dave’s next book must come out the exact day before I go away on holiday in order that I may keep myself thoroughly entertained on the plane instead of irritating the hell out of everybody around me by complaining that I’m cramped, bored and unreasonably paranoid about the possibility that the stewardess might give someone else my pre-booked vegetarian meal by mistake, thereby condemning me to nothing but over-salted peanuts for the next seven hours.

Yes, indeed, it seems that there are some amazing books out there that were not written by me (I know it’s hard to believe). I don’t intend to point these books out too often here because this is my blog and, really, it should be perpetuating the myth that I am the centre of the universe.

 But this book is so fantastic that I am making a special exception for it.

 The book in question is: Silent In The Grave, by Deanna Raybourn:

I picked this up in an airport Waterstones on my way to Washington even though I already had with me a suitcase stuffed full of books. First, I was attracted by the unusual front cover – it is very turquoise. But what really clinched it for me was the way the book begins. It’s the best opening I have ever read and it goes like this:

   “To say I met Nicholas Brisbane over my husband’s dead body is not entirely accurate. Edward, it should be noted, was still twitching upon the floor.”

 Seriously – how can you not want to read on from that?

The book is a historical murder mystery type story but what really made it for me was the generous dash of quirkiness. That and the fact that I want to marry Nicholas Brisbane. And bear his beautiful, brooding, mysterious children. Seriously, though, it seems to be a rare thing nowadays to get a genuinely charismatic, intelligent, sexy, mysterious male lead. They all seem to be one-dimensional cheap Darcy imitations rippling with muscles and oil in a way that makes me feel slightly sick. A leading man should have intelligence and, preferably, a neck that isn’t thicker than his head. This is definitely the case with Nicholas Brisbane.

All in all, the murder mystery works, the romantic tension between Brisbane and Julia Grey works, the humour works and the setting works. Murder, poison, intrigue, a genuinely charasmatic male lead and gypsy curses . . . what’s not to like? It ticked all the right boxes. I also really enjoyed the sequel – Silent In The Sanctuary, and have pre-ordered the third book – Silent On The Moor. I hardly ever do this. The only other books I’ve ever preordered have been Harry Potters but I’m looking forward to it so much that I stuck it in my basket on Amazon even though it’s not even out yet. If the publication date is correct, it should be delivered just before I go on holiday to Las Vegas. Which means that I might have to snap quite viciously at anyone who interrupts me during that flight.