Alex Bell – fantasy author

‘Everything should taste like bacon.’

It’s hard to argue with that, I feel. But, as a vegetarian, this obviously presents me with something of a dilemma. Imagine my delight, therefore, when I received this for Christmas:

It is bacon flavoured mayonnaise! Why was this not invented before? You can smother it on anything! I have eaten it with jacket potatoes, pizza, veggie sausages, sandwiches . . . in fact, so far, I haven’t found anything that is not improved by Baconnaise. Although not advertised as a vegetarian product – for this would, no doubt, massively put off the hard core meat eaters – Baconnaise is vegetarian. I wouldn’t say this product was the highlight of my Christmas (because that would, possibly, be a little pathetic) but it was certainly one of the highlights. Baconnaise has brought joy to my life. Rather like when I first discovered a vegetarian red wine after five years, and took to carrying the bottle around the house with me, which concerned visitors for it made me look like one of those depressed, alcoholic writers which, of course, I am not! Aha ha. I suppose eventually I will stop carrying the Baconnaise around with me but, honestly, I could eat it straight from the jar with a spoon, it tastes that good. 

But anyway – hello 2010. No doubt, like all the other years, there will be both good stuff and bad stuff. Mostly I am looking forward to Lex Trent coming out in February, as I wrote the first draft of that book when I was twenty years old – three long years ago, although it seems like much longer – and, really, I have had to wait an indecent amount of time to see it on the bookshelves. But I know that this year, my work will be duly universally recognised as the genius that it really is. Or else, people will just say with a haughty sniff: ‘But it’s not Terry Pratchett, is it?’ in much the same way that one might sneer at Daniel Craig because he is not Sean Connery. No one is Sean Connery. Probably not even Mr Connery himself. I think my favourite James Bond is Pierce Brosnan but there it is, we all have different tastes. To me, Baconnaise is the nectar of the Gods – to others it might be some foul spread that no one in their right minds would willingly eat.

Now I’m off to write my traditional long list of New Year’s resolutions, about half of which I might actually keep.

It’s good to be home. I like going on holiday but towards the end I start to suffer from intense cravings for two things: meat (of the vegetarian variety, obviously), and my animals.

On our last night in Las Vegas, we stayed in the Luxor. Nowhere near as nice as the Mirage, and we were all having a bit of a whinge about it, and saying we should have stuck with the first hotel. But then we went into breakfast and there, on the menu, was a side order of vegetarian sausages. Vegetarian sausages! I wouldn’t go so far as to say I actually wept with delight but . . . well, it was a near thing. There’s only so much lettuce a person can take, after all. Now I won’t hear a bad word said against the Luxor.

I was probably suffering from meat cravings even more than usual at that point because of the white water rafting we’d just done in Colorado. This involved a night of camping. And, believe me, there is nothing more painful than watching bacon sizzling away on a campfire, smelling all tasty and delicious, when you know you can’t have any of it. Later on they got the marshmallows out but these ones had gelatine in them, so I couldn’t have any of those either. By this time I could feel the cold sweat starting to prickle the back of my neck. Given all this, can I really be blamed for feeling so profoundly delighted by the veggie sausages at the Luxor? 

Anyway, the bacon aside, the white water rafting was fantastic. What I loved most about it was that my brother fell out of the raft about five minutes after we set off down the river. Much amusement was had at his expense, but we dragged him back in eventually. I did not fall out at any time during the two days. At one point, however, I did neglect to jump in quickly enough. We got to this bank in the middle of the river and were carrying the raft across to the other side. Everyone else seemed to leap in nimbly enough. I slipped, or something, and ended up clinging to the side of the raft as it started to move on down the river. The problem with this is that when the water is moving faster than the raft, you have to hang onto the side tight in order to avoid being dragged underneath it. I had horrible images of being, effectively, keel-hauled beneath the raft. So I clung to the rope like a limpet, all the while shrieking, ‘Pull me in! Pull me in! Stop laughing and help me!’ Finally, my brother and his other half managed to drag me in between them. It was quite undignified though. I ended up sort of sprawled on the floor of the raft like a landed fish. 

Anyway, now all that adventuring is behind me and I am back home with the menagerie. Moose has outgrown her car seatbelt whilst we’ve been away. She’ll outgrow my car soon too. My Siamese cat gave me the cold shoulder for the first few hours after I got back. But, since making her displeasure known, she has spent virtually the whole time glued to my lap. If there was any animal I missed more than Moose, it was Suki. That little cat is the absolute apple of my eye. Nothing she does ever irritates me. Not even when she shits on my bed. I mean, obviously, I’m irritated that there is shit on the bed, but I’m not irritated with Suki. She is a Siamese, after all, she can’t help being neurotic. Here is a photo of her:

I have been told she looks evil in this picture, but I just think she looks ridiculously cute. Something between a kangaroo and a gremlin. It makes me want to kiss her feet. In fact, I’m gonna go do that right now.

Yippee, the momentous day has finally arrived! Almost, anyway. Technically Jasmyn comes out on Thursday but I have a feeling it’s out on some bookshelves already. Besides, I’m going on holiday at the end of the week and might run out of time, so I’ve decided to blog about it now.

Look at the cover. Is it not perfect? Is it not the most beautiful, gorgeous cover you ever saw in your life? Hats off to Kustaa Saksi – that man sure can create. Seriously, the book is worth buying for the cover alone. I am so flippin’ chuffed that of all the artists I might have got, I got Mr Saksi. He. Is. Da. Best. If we are ever in the same country, let alone the same bar, I will positively ply him with beer (or any other alcoholic beverage he would care to name).

Anyway – I’m very excited about this book. Although I dearly love The Ninth Circle, Jasmyn is more the sort of thing I would like to repeat. It’s also the sort of book I would seek out to read. It’s much more me, if you will. I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. In fact, this book came to me much easier than most. Perhaps because I knew exactly what was going to happen almost from the outset. The thing practically wrote itself and, for that reason, only took three months to do. I’ve had a smug little gloat over the good reviews, and turned my nose up in disgust at the only (so far – but give it time) bad review I’ve seen.

Although all authors are probably influenced to some extent by other books they’ve read, I’m not usually consciously aware of this when I write. Jasmyn is different because I am very much aware of the books/authors that in some way inspired or influenced me when I was writing this book. The main one is Peter O’Donnell writing as Madeleine Brent. The Madeleine Brent books are historical romantic suspense, whereas Jasmyn is more of a supernatural romantic suspense, but in terms of characterisation and plot twists, I think Jasmyn is a definite product of the love I have for those books. Of all the ones on my bookshelves, they are the ones I’ve read over and over again, even if they are a bit of a guilty pleasure.

The other influence, so far as the initial set up goes, is Cecelia Ahern with P.S. I Love You. Jasmyn, too, starts with a woman who has been unexpectedly widowed. But then the spooky stuff starts.

Margeret Mitchell and Alexandra Ripley (authors of Gone With The Wind and Scarlett), and Deanna Raybourn with her fantastic Silent series were also influences at the back of my mind, but probably not to the extent that you can see it in the book.

Most of the books I’ve mentioned are romances, of course, and I wouldn’t class Jasmyn as a romance. But having enjoyed the aforementioned books, I wanted to do something that had a romantic element but was also a supernatural mystery. That’s what I set out to do with Jasmyn, and I was really pleased with how it turned out in the end.

But the best thing about Jasmyn being published? It’s not the legions of screaming fans I expect to turn up at my doorstep at any moment, nor the worldwide renown that will surely be mine in the not too distant future. It is having an excuse to buy these for the second book party I will be having next month:

Not only are these shoes ridiculously beautiful, but they are entirely vegan. It’s almost too good to be true. No animal bled to death for them or anything. Seriously, If I had known about these shoes in advance (never mind the matching dress I bought in America), I would have written this book sooner. Jasmyn – thank you very much for the shoes. And for the party I will be having as soon as I return from Las Vegas (unless I come back broke and destitute, in which case, er . . . the party’s off.).

There, I said it. Ah, the sweet relief to finally be blogging about something that some people may disagree with. But I just couldn’t keep it in any longer. Seriously, there would have been a nosebleed or something soon.

I went vegetarian sixteen years ago. And, goodness, I’m not dead yet! So I guess that debunks the whole “you need meat to survive” theory. That is utter nonsense. You don’t need meat to survive (duh!). You need food to survive. I have not been living on wild berries and mud for the last sixteen years. I’ve been eating solid food, just like a real life, normal person!

Today’s fashions and attitudes are, in the main, overwhelmingly against animal rights activists. Every time animal rights comes up on a TV series, I groan inwardly because I know the one-sidedly negative portrayal that’s surely coming. Quite frankly, I find this offensive. It’s like portraying any Muslim character as a religious fanatic. This sort of stereotyping is simplistic, insulting and – let’s face it – blatant prejudice in a particularly insidious and ugly form. Grey’s Anatomy is the first show I’ve seen in a very long time to portray the animal rights issue intelligently. They were on dodgy ground for me with the pigs at the start, but they redeemed themselves with Izzy’s speech at the end (go Izzy!). They handled the subject sensitively, and they showed both sides of the argument (and clearly there are two sides to this thing).

But, usually, animal rights activists on TV shows are always portrayed the same way – basically, as mad terrorists. For the record, I would like to say that we are not all mad terrorists. I’ve been a staunch proponent of animal rights all my life and I have never yet blown anyone up. I have never vandalised property, or committed arson or armed robbery, or whatever else it is that people think all animal rights activists do. I have given out leaflets on occasion, and now I am clearly ranting (or lecturing people, as the critics would say) here on my blog. But that is the extent of it. I’ve never even thrown a brick through someone’s window. Indeed, I like to think of myself as a fairly balanced, sane sort of person. I favour peaceful re-education as a method of change because I believe – or at least try to – that many people hurt animals unwittingly. That they are simply not aware of the suffering an animal goes through before it ends up a sausage on their plate, or before that animal-tested shampoo ends up in their basket. I’d like to think that if people were better informed about the issues, then cruelty to animals would not be so disgracefully deep-rooted and widespread. The car bombing activists are the ones who give the rest of us a bad name. They harm the cause far more than they help it. But they are only a very small percentage – a definite minority. Most of us do not have bombs in our pockets – honest.

If animal rights activists aren’t portrayed as terrorists then we’re usually portrayed as wimpy, wet do-gooders. It’s interesting to note that abolitionists in the nineteenth century faced similar charges from slave owners. Fortunately, that didn’t stop them from opposing slavery. The problem is that genuine compassion just ain’t cool, whereas an affected disinterest very often is. Fortunately, I have never been very cool. Indeed, I was hopelessly uncool and unpopular at school. But if being cool means that you can’t care about the welfare of animals, then it suits me just fine to remain this way. Personally, though, I believe that you can be an animal rights activist, and, like Izzy Stevens, still be an intelligent, balanced, peaceful, beautiful person. You can, in short, be very cool indeed.

With the exception of my grandmother (who is a wizard cook, by the way), no one else in my family is a vegetarian. Practically all of my loved ones are, therefore, meat eaters. I am in the minority in my views at home, as well as in general life. I accept that other people eat meat. I do not generally run amok at family gatherings seething with outrage about the dead animals that everyone else is consuming (although I admit I’m not above the odd cutting remark if provoked). People differ in what they believe to be ethical, and I try hard to respect that. What I cannot condone, however, and have no patience for, is when meat eaters refuse to minimise suffering where they can. This means that they should always – but always - buy organic meat, and free range eggs. I do not believe there can be any justification whatsoever for buying battery eggs and meat. I wish the supermarkets would refuse to stock these things altogether. I also do not believe that people should eat babies. Even during the brief period that I was a meat eater, I was horrified and appalled by the very idea of eating lamb. For anyone who is unaware of what a living lamb looks like, here is a picture:

Er . . . am I missing something here? I mean, honestly, could you cut this lamb’s throat? Blood gushing out everywhere, all over the straw etc? If the answer is no then, I’m sorry, but you have no business eating lamb. These are babies that have not even had the chance to live. So I repeat what I said before – if you really must eat meat, then it ought to be free range and organic.

But, please, whatever else you do, don’t eat the lambs.

(For anyone who’s interested, there’s more info at http://www.savethesheep.com, although this deals more with the horrors of mulesing and the wool industry.)

I know, I know – they sound disgusting. Like their tagline should be something along the lines of:

Hot Wasabi Peas – They make you sick like nothing else can!

But they are, in fact, completely delicious. They’re a Japanese snack but I first came across them in America. They’re another Sam-I-Am, actually, because my Dad found them, and when he produced them from out of his bag, I screwed my nose up like everyone else. I mean they’re crunchy, hot peas, right? That’s just plain wrong.

‘Just try one, Al,’ Dad said. ‘You might like it.’

Well, when Dad says that, I almost always do like it. So I tentatively put this shrivelled up pea in my mouth and . . . it was one of the most delicious things I have ever tasted. Hard to believe, I know. Not only that, but they are unbelievably addictive. It’s quite impossible to eat just one pea. Quite, quite impossible. Even better, they’re very low in calories. It works out as something silly, like half a calorie per pea. I mean you could stuff your face with them from morning till night, and not get fat!

The only problem was that we brought just two pots back with us from America. Since then I’ve been trying not to eat too many of them because all my family like them, so it’s not fair to scoff the lot all by myself. Mostly this has just resulted in me lying awake at night thinking and thinking about the peas in the cupboard downstairs until, finally, I just can’t take it any more, and I sneak down there and start guzzling them like there’s no tomorrow. I’ve been feeling quite guilty about this as the peas are almost all gone now so I Googled them yesterday and, to my delight, found that you can order them online. I promptly did so.

So – now that a great big stash of Wasabi Peas are on their way, I finally feel free to confess: yes, it was me. I did it. I ate all the peas.

Hot Wasabi Peas – They Don’t Make You Sick!