BFPO 2003

Before I got into this blogging lark I used to stick posts up on my website Neal Asher Space and now, since I’m going to do some work there I though it might be an idea to move my BFPO (Battlefront Post Office) posts over here. Unfortunately, you’ll find that some of the links here no longer function.

Early February 2003
When I handed in the initial draft of Gridlinked, I was told I needed to lose the scooby-dooish ending — that there should be no need for explanation. I’ve since found that there’s plenty of people who want that explanation, so, if you press this link, you’ll see that ending. But don’t press it unless you’ve read the book!
Just had to put this somewhere: “In the film business, as probably in everything else, the best and most approachable people are those who are confident in their own abilities.” – Barry Norman.
My story The Thrake will be appearing in Hadrosaur Tales sometime soon.
Tor books have now signed up for Gridlinked and The Skinner. God Bless America!
New contract signed with Pan Macmillan for the three books listed below:
Cowl. Cowl awaits at the Nexus where he is attempting to poison the protoseas of Earth. He drags people back using organic time machines, the tors, which are in turn scales from the back of the torbeast: the Eater of Worlds. From the far future they are fighting him, as best they can, but even with the sun tap they do not have the power to reach that far back. Jane, dragged back, finds a freeloader in the piece of military tech she wears: the Muse 184. And Tack, the vat grown programmable killer who is after her, is given a mission important to the survival of the human race.
Brass Man. This is the sequel to Gridlinked and The Line of Polity, and I don’t really want to tell you much more than that, though some will guess certain elements of the story from the title!
The Voyage of the Sable Keech. This sequel to The Skinner takes place on Spatterjay, and who can guess what’s going to happen in that nightmare place. Possibly a borderline psychotic war drone called Sniper might put in an appearance, perhaps Sable Keech himself is around, and maybe a Prador adolescent survived its encounter with a Molly Carp. You never can tell.
3rd Feb. Over Christmas I received the dust jacket for the Tor (America) edition of Gridlinked, which will be coming out as a hardback in August.
Recently received an offer for Snow in the Desert as published in Spectrum SF 8 (check novellas page) to be reprinted in Year’s Best Science Fiction #8.
14th Feb. The forum is now operating on the Tor UK website. Come and have a chat!
W H Smiths will be doing some sort of promotion with The Skinner (pb) so it will be released early – next week in fact. (28/2/03)
10th April. Tor (UK), Macmillan’s new SF imprint can be found here www.toruk.com . Ah, and there’s a message board up for me on the TTA website here www.ttapress.com/discus
I’ve now added a gallery to this site in which to pin up any pictures of interest. There’s some from the Tor UK launch party, a picture of the American cover … I’ll add other stuff later.
I’m now also up on the Nightshade forum http://www.nightshadebooks.com/cgi-bin/discus/discus.cgi and if this continues I won’t find time to write any books.
22nd April. Book marks and note paper added to the gallery, and thumbnail pictures. Hope it all works.
24th April.
I’m told there’ll be a review of The Line of Polity in this Saturday’s Guardian by Jon Courtenay Grimwood. I’m also told that the first print run has nearly gone, so hang onto those first editions.
Now here’s something else of interest: the number you see on the copyright page 135798642 tells you what edition the book is. What I didn’t know, until it was explained to me by Rog Peyton (Andromeda), was how or why. Apparently it costs quite a bit to make alterations after the first printing, so the lowest digit in that number tells you the edition. When they do the second edition, they just delete the 1 so the lowest digit is 2, and so on. The number is arranged so you count 123456789 inwards from the outside, so that with each deletion it remains central on the page. Well there you go.
14th May. Ah, twas the Saturday after. There’s also been an excellent review by Peter Tennant in issue 34 of TTA. And while I’m on the subject, also in SFX by Saxon Bullock, and Starburst, and Dreamwatch. No doubt when I get a bad one I’ll implode.
120,000 words into Brass Man now.
I’ve removed the bookmarks and notepaper from the gallery as couldn’t get them to work properly. Stuck a couple of pictures up there instead.
16th June. Okay, it’s been a little while since I’ve written in here, and now is a good a time as any.
An excellent review by Russell Letson of The Line of Polity has appeared in the latest Locus; I’ve just recieved two wonderful hard back copies of Gridlinked from Tor in America (it’ll go on general sale next month); and of The Skinner, Tanith Lee says: ‘…absolute solid gold genius’ so overall I’m feeling pretty happy and sure I must be doing something right!
I’ve now finished the first draft of Brass Man. It weighs in at 145,000 words. I’m now leaving it alone and trying to forget it, so I can take a fresh look in a few months.
The Tanjen version of The Engineer being a bit of a rarity, and it seeming that this is a book some people would like to obtain, I approached Sean Wallace at Cosmos Books about doing a re-release. I thought first about calling it The Engineer Reloaded, but maybe that’s taking the piss. How about The Engineer Reconditioned? It will consist of the original novella and stories, but with introductions, and some extra stories. I’m presently working through it all again and cringing at the mistakes. I guess that when I stop doing that it’ll be time to give up writing.
At the end of this week I’m off on holiday to Scotland, but taking a detour to speak to the Hull SF group on Saturday 19th.
9th Aug. Precisely on the day Gridlinked was released in America I received an email from Gardner Dozois letting me know that he wants to publish two of my stories: The Veteran and the first Mason’s Rats story. The timing could not have been more perfect. I’ve also been sent an uncorrected proof copy of a book from Tor in America in the hope that I’ll offer some sort of quote. Does this mean I’m not the new boy anymore?
21st Aug. Major revamp here with the addition of anthology and magazine pages and a redistribution of everything else. I’ve just received copies of Year’s Best SF 8, and Terror Tales issue one, both of which you can see in the anthologies section. Erm, what else? I’m 28,000 words into The Voyage of the Sable Keech and they haven’t even built the ship yet…
5th Sept. A few items: I see that Cowl is now up on Amazon for pre-orders, as is the hardback American version of The Skinner, which is to be released next April. You can now also find the list of my top ten fantasy books on the Guardian website at: http://books.guardian.co.uk/top10s/top10/0,6109,1033620,00.html And I’m now 43,000 words into Sable (which incidentally won’t see the light of day for over two and a half years).
22nd Sept. The French rights to The Skinner and Gridlinked will be licensed to Pocket/Fleuve Noir (part of Universpoche – one of the largest publishers in France). It’s likely that they’ll start with The Skinner within the next 18 months and will then publish Gridlinked at a later date. Gardner Dozois at Asimov’s has now also accepted Strood for publication. And it looks as if Cowl will be coming out in hardcover next March.
28th Sept. I’ve come across (or been led to) a couple of interesting message boards: Malazan Empire & Dead Cities. The picture of the The Skinner dust jacket is up on Amazon, and now here. Sable is at about 70,000 and getting steadily more complicated and bloody. Gardner Dozois at Asimov’s has taken another short story: Strood.
6th Oct. Night Watch by Terry Pratchett should be required reading for so very many people. Here’s one sample: “Confiscate all weapons and crime would go down. … Amazingly, quite a few weapons were handed in. The flaw, was one that had somehow escaped Swing, and it was this: criminals don’t obey the law. It’s more or less a requirement for the job. They had no particular interest in making the streets safer for anyone except themselves. And they couldn’t believe what was happening. It was like Hogswatch every day.”
I’ve just received the cover picture for Cowl and it is now up in books.
A lot is being said about whether university tuition fees are fair. Not enough is being said about what is taught. Universities educate the people we need for the future. Perhaps we should subsidize the subjects that usefully educate our youngsters and charge for those that provide us with parasites and non-producers. This way we might end up with fewer law, sociology, psychology, media studies and political science graduates and more engineers, biologists, physicists and doctors. (pub. Mail on Sunday 19/10/03)
14th Oct. “Everybody against the war. People talking openly. How can a country go into a major war with a population so dead set against it?” was what William L Shirer (writer of The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich) penned in his dairy about Berlin’s inhabitants, the day before Hitler’s forces invaded Poland. The next relevant quote has to be George Satayana: “Those who fail to learn the lessons of history are doomed to repeat it.” I guess this is to be expected from a government that shows as much contempt for its own country’s history as did Hitler for his…
9th Nov. ‘ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS OF ADVENTURE SF presently working anywhere, Neal Asher also creates the most horrific and wonderful monsters in the genre since the publication of Harry Harrison’s Deathworld. His novel The Skinner uses a wonderful device, in the heading to each chapter, of an ever-more-dreadful monster discovering that it is not the top of the food chain. Each of his Human Polity novels has more dash and brio than a handful of finely-crafted literary fictions, and their characters fizz off the page. The Line of Polity is Neal’s most recent novel, published this Spring.’ — John Jarrold writing in SFX (10 authors to watch) Thanks John.
10th Nov. In the hope that I might make some positive quotes, Simon & Schuster have just sent me a copy of The Darkness That Comes Before by R Scott Bakker. As Bakker was one of the ten authors mentioned in the SFX article below, I’ll certainly give it a go.
11th Nov. Just seen Matrix Revolutions. While Matrix Reloaded was about 70% crap, I have to say the Watchowski brothers have now managed to deliver the pure product. A triumph of special effects over content, with a cast from the plank school of acting: pure unadulterated crap. In a particular scene I was nearly overwhelmed by the urge to shout, “Give it one while it’s still warm!” but luckily, at about that point, my large intestine crawled up my spine and tried to throttle my brain.
8th Dec. The Turner prize has been won by a man in a frock displaying a pot decorated with mediocre pictures said to represent child-abuse. Much controversy surrounds the last-minute removal from the pot, by the winner, of the dry-cured turd wrapped up in a ribbon. Apparently it was a close-run thing because of the entry, by a Muslim lesbian, of a simnel cake decorated with a dead dog with a cucumber thrust up its bottom – said to represent the anger of vegetarian activists at the failure of Labour to ban fox-hunting. Judges of the prize said the entry of an ash-tray filled with tumours was risible and unsubtle, and that the competitor concerned had not truly learnt the art, taught in art colleges over many decades, of talking complete bollocks to justify crap to a bunch a pseuds. Rumours that there are people being taught how to draw, paint and create sculptures have been dismissed as highly unlikely. Who would come to view the products of such antiquated skills?
16th Dec. A lot has happened over the last month. Another crap Turner prize has passed into history and now the Hobbit has been found in Iraq. They checked him for weapons of mass destruction but only found a ring.
The Skinner has now been taken for translation by a Czechoslovakian publisher, and Gridlinked by a Spanish one, so things advance apace there. I’ve handed in Brass Man and the reaction seems good thus far, and am now continuing with Sable. Gardner Dozois has now accepted another story for Asimov’s. Softly Spoke the Gabbleduck he felt pretty sure he was going to reject because, although well-crafted, it covered much the same ground as half a dozen other stories. It was apparently saved by the gabbleduck. ‘I couldn’t not run a story with a creature as interesting and weirdly menacing as a gabbleduck in it.’
What else? Spending Christmas in Chester with one of my brothers and his family. Then it’ll be nose to the grindstone in the new year, and a long rest for my liver.

Prador Moon Review

Nice review of Prador Moon here at NextRead:

Prador Moon is my second piece of Neal Asher and it’s a nice slice too. Actually it’s more than a slice. More like a thick chunk being 222 pages long. The story revolves around The Polity Collective’s first contact with an alien species – The Prador. This is a special occasion and one that doesn’t go well. The crab-like carnivore Prador make their intentions quite clear in the first meeting where they also discover quite quickly that they also like human flesh.

Red Wine and Cigarettes

Now I know why I enjoy both of them together!

For the study, Chao’s group collected data on 84,170 men who participated in the California Men’s Health Study. Among these men, the researchers identified 210 cases of lung cancer. The researchers found that there was, on average, a 2 percent lower risk of lung cancer associated with each glass of red wine consumed per month. The greatest reduction was among men who smoked and drank one to two glasses of red wine a day. These men lowered their risk for lung cancer by 60 percent, Chao’s group found.Of course this won’t be publicised by nanny government or its lickspittle BBC. And it definitely won’t be something temperance politicians in Scotland will be talking about.

The Crow Road

The first Iain Banks book I read, as opposed to Iain M Banks, was The Wasp Factory, which I thought was brilliant and which I must buy myself a copy of and read again. Later reads of his non-SF books I found disappointing so didn’t bother any more. However, when I saw this in a local charity shop, and remembered catching and enjoying some of the TV production, I thought ‘what the hell, I’ll give it a try’.

The Crow Road is an amiable right of passage and light murder mystery which rambles through some interesting insights into life North of the Border, and it is packed with the likable, the tragic and sometimes the annoying. Surprisingly less annoying to me is the utter adherence to the line: ‘Thatcher is from hell and all Tories are evil – socialism and a swing to the left will save us all!’. Ah, ‘uni’ students, don’t you just love ‘em? All this stuff is almost a cultural history, the toxic results of which are presently running our country. I just wonder if the righteous faith of such people – that they are on the side of the angels – has been ‘challenged’ by the last 12 years in Britain.

The protagonist, Prentice McHoan, is a 22 year old history student taking his first steps on the road of life and, as the blurb tells us, ‘he is deeply preoccupied: mainly with death, sex, drink, God and illegal substances’. You want to know what happens to Prentice, but he’s also a character you often feel the need to slap, especially concerning his relationship with his female friend Ashley. But then, who wasn’t so blind at that age? Starting with the sentence ‘It was the day my Grandmother exploded’ this is a book I didn’t want to put down, for despite its ambling pace the whole thing was thoroughly engaging, and despite their foibles I enjoyed the characters and wanted to know where Banks would leave them.

The murder mystery kicked in very slowly and was only one facet of the main concern here, The Crow Road, Death, but I feel it tied in perfectly at the end with that final image of Rory. Some quite beautiful writing here but, of course, no surprise about the politics of the villain of the piece, I’m just surprised he wasn’t shown whipping peasants from horseback. Ah well.

Philip Pullman Article in Full.

Are such things done on Albion’s shore?

The image of this nation that haunts me most powerfully is that of the sleeping giant Albion in William Blake’s prophetic books. Sleep, profound and inveterate slumber: that is the condition of Britain today.

We do not know what is happening to us. In the world outside, great events take place, great figures move and act, great matters unfold, and this nation of Albion murmurs and stirs while malevolent voices whisper in the darkness – the voices of the new laws that are silently strangling the old freedoms the nation still dreams it enjoys.

We are so fast asleep that we don’t know who we are any more. Are we English? Scottish? Welsh? British? More than one of them? One but not another? Are we a Christian nation – after all we have an Established Church – or are we something post-Christian? Are we a secular state? Are we a multifaith state? Are we anything we can all agree on and feel proud of?

The new laws whisper:

You don’t know who you are

You’re mistaken about yourself

We know better than you do what you consist of, what labels apply to you, which facts about you are important and which are worthless

We do not believe you can be trusted to know these things, so we shall know them for you

And if we take against you, we shall remove from your possession the only proof we shall allow to be recognised

The sleeping nation dreams it has the freedom to speak its mind. It fantasizes about making tyrants cringe with the bluff bold vigour of its ancient right to express its opinions in the street. This is what the new laws say about that:

Expressing an opinion is a dangerous activity

Whatever your opinions are, we don’t want to hear them

So if you threaten us or our friends with your opinions we shall treat you like the rabble you are

And we do not want to hear you arguing about it

So hold your tongue and forget about protesting

What we want from you is acquiescence

The nation dreams it is a democratic state where the laws were made by freely elected representatives who were answerable to the people. It used to be such a nation once, it dreams, so it must be that nation still. It is a sweet dream.

You are not to be trusted with laws

So we shall put ourselves out of your reach

We shall put ourselves beyond your amendment or abolition

You do not need to argue about any changes we make, or to debate them, or to send your representatives to vote against them

You do not need to hold us to account

You think you will get what you want from an inquiry?

Who do you think you are?

What sort of fools do you think we are?

The nation’s dreams are troubled, sometimes; dim rumours reach our sleeping ears, rumours that all is not well in the administration of justice; but an ancient spell murmurs through our somnolence, and we remember that the courts are bound to seek the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and we turn over and sleep soundly again.

And the new laws whisper:

We do not want to hear you talking about truth

Truth is a friend of yours, not a friend of ours

We have a better friend called hearsay, who is a witness we can always rely on

We do not want to hear you talking about innocence

Innocent means guilty of things not yet done

We do not want to hear you talking about the right to silence

You need to be told what silence means: it means guilt

We do not want to hear you talking about justice

Justice is whatever we want to do to you

And nothing else

Are we conscious of being watched, as we sleep? Are we aware of an ever-open eye at the corner of every street, of a watching presence in the very keyboards we type our messages on? The new laws don’t mind if we are. They don’t think we care about it.

We want to watch you day and night

We think you are abject enough to feel safe when we watch you

We can see you have lost all sense of what is proper to a free people

We can see you have abandoned modesty

Some of our friends have seen to that

They have arranged for you to find modesty contemptible

In a thousand ways they have led you to think that whoever does not want to be watched must have something shameful to hide

We want you to feel that solitude is frightening and unnatural

We want you to feel that being watched is the natural state of things

One of the pleasant fantasies that consoles us in our sleep is that we are a sovereign nation, and safe within our borders. This is what the new laws say about that:

We know who our friends are

And when our friends want to have words with one of you

We shall make it easy for them to take you away to a country where you will learn that you have more fingernails than you need

It will be no use bleating that you know of no offence you have committed under British law

It is for us to know what your offence is

Angering our friends is an offence

It is inconceivable to me that a waking nation in the full consciousness of its freedom would have allowed its government to pass such laws as the Protection from Harassment Act (1997), the Crime and Disorder Act (1998), the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act (2000), the Terrorism Act (2000), the Criminal Justice and Police Act (2001), the Anti-Terrorism, Crime and Security Act (2001), the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Extension Act (2002), the Criminal Justice Act (2003), the Extradition Act (2003), the Anti-Social Behaviour Act (2003), the Domestic Violence, Crime and Victims Act (2004), the Civil Contingencies Act (2004), the Prevention of Terrorism Act (2005), the Inquiries Act (2005), the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act (2005), not to mention a host of pending legislation such as the Identity Cards Bill, the Coroners and Justice Bill, and the Legislative and Regulatory Reform Bill.

Inconceivable.

And those laws say:

Sleep, you stinking cowards

Sweating as you dream of rights and freedoms

Freedom is too hard for you

We shall decide what freedom is

Sleep, you vermin

Sleep, you scum.

Philip Pullman will deliver a keynote speech at the Convention on Modern Liberty at the Institute of Education in London tomorrow

Nice One Mat

Yep, by the end of the show I thought he was the one who most deserved to win it, and whilst I’m glad he did, I do feel for the other two contestants who were bloody good too. But then they’re ten or more years younger than him and have plenty of time to pursue their dreams. Mat, it appears, won’t be pursuing his just yet, since right now is perhaps not the best of economic times to gamble your livelihood on starting up a restaurant.
His winning menu on the last show consisted of a starter of trio of wild rabbit, a main course of spider crab with hand-cut chips and sea vegetables.

This was followed by an exotic dessert of lavender mousse with hokey pokey honeycomb and a blackberry sauce.

Philip Pullman Article

Thanks to Phil Edwards for pointing this out to me on boingboing, the original article at The Times Online. Here we have Philip Pullman talking about how our freedoms are being destroyed:

The image of this nation that haunts me most powerfully is that of the sleeping giant Albion in William Blake’s prophetic books. Sleep, profound and inveterate slumber: that is the condition of Britain today. We do not know what is happening to us. In the world outside, great events take place, great figures move and act, great matters unfold, and this nation of Albion murmurs and stirs while malevolent voices whisper in the darkness – the voices of the new laws that are silently strangling the old freedoms the nation still dreams it enjoys.
Go and read the whole thing.

Alcohol Units

You know, I’d really like to cut down on my drinking, but I’ve been having a few problems lately. I blame television. Every evening I keep seeing this government sponsored advert for booze. It displays nice frothy pints of beer all ready to guzzle, it shows a lovely glass of chilled white wine, the glass all dewy and its contents utterly tempting. I’m not entirely sure what the numbers written into the dew on the glasses is all about, but never mind. There is a health warning near the end of this wonderfully alluring display of alcohol, but by then it’s too late because I’ve already cracked open a bottle.