Tag Archives: Stephen Booth

As has become clear over the Bloody Scotland weekend, there are series everywhere.  Not only do the long – and medium – established writers have series.  The debut authors are also planning several books.  Even the unpublished ones pitching their first novel, spoke of series. 

If you are free to read whatever you like, whenever you can, with no blog commitments, you can probably keep up with lots of series. 

I no longer know what to do.  I tend to wait and see what happens.  Because I can’t actually make the decision.  It has to be made for me.  I will – temporarily – abandon a series of books I love, if there is something else, equally loveable out there.  Maybe something that is noisier when looking for attention. 

And that first abandoning was never intentional.  It just happened.  It’s not you; it’s me. 

In the last maybe fifteen years I have read and thoroughly enjoyed the crime novels by Kate Ellis and Stephen Booth.  I read every one up to a certain point.  I read about Mma Ramotswe.  I read these usually in the right order, moving backwards to catch the odd earlier book, and then waited in real time for the next one to be published.  It seemed like a long wait, until it wasn’t so bad, and then until the next two books were here and I didn’t know how to fit them in. 

I discovered Sara Paretsky, whose books I still read when a new one comes along, and slowly reading the older ones. 

Among my new people, as you know, are James Oswald and Vaseem Khan.  I don’t know how long I can keep going.  I want to.  But I wanted to with the others as well. 

With Sophie Hannah I grew too scared to continue, so that was an easier decison to make.  And thankfully we have the new Poirots. 

Or there is Harry Potter, but we knew how many books to expect.  Knew there would be an end.  As we did with Skulduggery Pleasant, at least until Derek Landy decided to keep going a bit longer.  With Lockwood you might not have known for certain, but unless something changed, the characters would eventually be unable to do what they did because of their [lack of] years. 

Which books do you keep?  Will I ever reread the abandoned series?  Will I restart one day?  Which ones will I regret once I have ditched my copies?  When we moved, we parted with about half our Dorothy Sayers.  That seemed OK.  Many of Agatha Christie’s books I’ve never owned as I borrowed them from the library. 

And then I looked at my shelves for inspiration, and considered Margery Allingham and Ngaio Marsh.  Those books I read slowly over a long time, and I don’t claim to have read all.  But the thought that I might get rid of the books made me want to cry.  They are staying.  Campion is like a crazy older brother, and Alleyn some benevolent uncle.  Yes, I know I have now bypassed them in age, as far as most of the stories are concerned. 

So what to do about those just starting out?  Not read at all, just in case?  Read one and be hooked?  Have nervous breakdown? 

I read in the paper that Swedish is one of the biggest sources for books translated into English.  That’s good, but I also like for books to travel the other way.  And generally I feel it’s not that unusual, as Swedes like their Anglo-Saxon fiction, and authors like Stephen Booth find that their first translation is into Swedish. 

But then there are the books by people I love who don’t get to make the move and it irritates me.  I’m quite good at griping about it.  Sometimes it helps, but generally not.  The one I go on about the most is Adrian McKinty.  Not only are his books terrific, but I reckon that his Sean Duffy series especially would appeal greatly to Swedes. 

So I was pleased to get a comment on Swedish Bookwitch a week or so ago, on an old post about my interview with Adrian.  It was from Nils Larsson, a translator, who told me he was about to start work on the first Duffy book.  I looked him up, and he has translated a lot of crime, lots of big names, for thirty years or so.  That sounds like recommendation enough. 

The publisher is Modernista, and I looked them up too, as I’d never heard of them.  That was more interesting than I’d expected.  The first links you come to are all about how they annoy everyone else in the business by buying the translation rights to books they don’t have the publication rights for. 

That sounded odd, and I don’t lay claim to understanding it, except it seems strange, bordering on the dodgy.  They say it’s perfectly all right and that they are very helpful, while their opponents say the opposite.  As they would. 

Hopefully they are nice and normal most of the time, and simply publish books like anyone else.  I had a look at their list and found another favourite of mine; James Oswald.  They have three of his books out now, and by sheer coincidence James posted a photo of his latest Swedish translation on Facebook just as I had discovered this new-to-me publisher.  James told me that he’d had some contact with his Swedish translator about various timeline inconsistencies that no one else had noticed.  He says we are very literal-minded… Bödelns Sång is published this week. 

Adrian McKinty’s Kall, Kall Jord won’t be out until October, but anything that good is worth waiting for. 

It would have been Mother-of-witch’s 90th birthday today.  It’s not something I go round thinking about, but I happened to notice the date and I realised it was an ‘even’ year.  The neighbour downstairs from the temporary Bookwitch Towers celebrated his 99th yesterday and I stood in the window and looked at the cake from a distance. 

I suppose it put me in a celebratory, cake-y kind of mood. 

No time to bake right now, but there is nothing wrong with offering a photo of Stephen Booth’s cat Barnaby.  Apparently fans object if Stephen doesn’t have a new picture of Barnaby in every newsletter.  It’s understandable.  What’s a new book, when you can look at a cat? 

I admire Stephen for managing to get Barnaby to pose with the new book like this. ( Between you and me I reckon Barnaby feels tricked.  It wasn’t meant to happen like this.) 

And as it’s a birthday, how about you try and win a book?  Or something else? 

—

“There are lots of prizes on offer this month, including several signed hardback 1st editions of the 13th Cooper & Fry novel ALREADY DEAD, signed copies of standalone TOP HARD, and a number of ALREADY DEAD mugs, notebooks and key rings, along with lots of Stephen Booth bookmarks and pens.  Some of these could be winging your way, if you can answer the question below correctly:

What is the name of the stately home owned by Earl Manby in THE CORPSE BRIDGE? 

Just send your answer in an email with the subject ‘Newsletter competition’ to newsletter@stephen-booth.com”

Stephen Booth returns to Reading Matters in Chapel-en-le-Frith tomorrow, at 10.30.  I’m guessing to sign books in general (mainly his own) and to promote his new Cooper & Fry novel Already Dead.  According to Stephen himself, he is not, and never has been, J K Rowling. ( I can see these jokes going on for some time.) 

Although, to me it’s not so much of a joke that people yet again mind so awfully about J K, that they find it hard to accept that she still writes books, gets them published, and sells some copies on the strength of the young wizard.  And some of us just happen to believe she might be worth reading anyway.  We can’t simply magic Harry Potter away.  He exists.  We like him.  Some of us will like what comes after Harry because of what it is, and not because it’s got her name on the books.  Or not her name, as the case may be. 

Another big name, Terry Pratchett, will soon have a new book out, and I can’t help but think he had our family in mind.  It’s about trains, and it will be published on somebody’s birthday.  Raising Steam arrives on October 24th (unless there are leaves on the track, I suppose).  While you wait, there is some kind of iPad map of Ankh-Morpork to be had at half price until the end of the month. 

Since I seem interested in making you spend money, let me introduce the Nicola Morgan online shop!  Yes, a dream come true for Nicola, where she can play shopkeeper to her heart’s content.  So far it’s bags and books, but I’ve been led to understand there could be even more exciting stuff available later.  Keep checking in, and keep Nicola in shoes and baked beans. 

Meanwhile, I’ve received yet another book in my temporary jiffy receptacle.  I’m guessing the postperson doesn’t know how lucky he/she is not to be carting them hither every day or every week.  Let’s just hope the senders know when to stop. 

It certainly does.  Now more than ever.  Although in this case Reading Matters is the name of a brand new bookshop in Chapel-en-le-Frith in Derbyshire.  Who in their right mind opens a bookshop in a smallish town in times like these?  Lyndsey and her business partner Sue do. 

I was alerted to this momentous news by Stephen Booth, who had been called in to sign books on their first day, but probably not to cut any satin ribbons.  Reading Matters didn’t strike me as a ribbon-cutting type of shop, but I could be wrong.  It has been known to happen. 

The Resident IT Consultant and I turned up a little after the opening, when Stephen was already in full swing chatting to the Chapel-en-le-Frithers who had come to buy books.  Perhaps also to taste the mulled wine and the mince pies. 

The Market Street premises are tiny, but lovely.  Walls in Bookshop Red, naturally, and shelves in Mouse’s Tail.  Quite.  Great colour, whatever the person who named the paint was thinking.  Lovely fireplace, and nice and warm on this chilly Derbyshire morning.  Luckily for Stephen, no snow, or he might not have made it across the Peak District.  And the dawn rain had disappeared to give way to a smilier Saturday morning, just the way you want it when you open a bookshop. ( I know I always do.) 

The shop isn’t fully stocked yet, but they had Stephen’s books, and the teen section through the low doorway for us shorter readers had Terry Pratchett to offer.  So the important things in life were present.  They also sell secondhand books, and the Resident IT Consultant commenced his usual bargain hunt. 

There is a garden at the back, where I visualised myself sitting out on a (warmer) sunny day, whereas the Resident IT Consultant busied himself digging it out for an Oxford style Blackwell’s. ( In his mind, I hasten to add.  We don’t demolish shops on a first meeting if we can help it.) 

I chatted to the ladies of Reading Matters, and I chatted to Stephen, who did his best not to ask what the fat witch was doing at yet another of his events.  I had him counting his books again, and we talked some more about those excellent Swedes who like him so much. 

Cough.  Pardon me. 

Deciding to make some space in the shop for others, we drove home the scenic route.  Not getting lost, just the scenic route, because the other way of exiting Chapel-en-le-Frith didn’t work out as planned.  Nice day for a drive in the sunshine, looking at the Derbyshire countryside. 

Having planned for almost a year to attend the third Scarefest in Crosby, I ended up not going at all, so missed seeing and hearing the charming Barry Hutchison, Curtis Jobling, David Gatward, Jon Mayhew, Joseph Delaney, Philip Caveney, Ruth Symes and Tommy Donbavand.  Formby Books had organised a whole Saturday of horrible things for the young and innocent, and I’m so sorry not have been able to drag myself there. 

I know!  I’ll steal a photo off facebook!  I’m sure facebook was there. 

Hmm, that’s not all of them.  Perhaps a few perished early?  Oh well.  I know the feeling. 

There is a certain something about late September and early October.  Book festivals.  You couldn’t go to them all even if you wanted to.  Actually, maybe you could, if you’re happy with a day here and a day there.  I’m so greedy that I expect to ‘go for a while.’ 

What I am currently not doing is roaming around Cheltenham.  But oh how I wish I were.  They have some interesting people on offer this year.  Even J K Rowling is there.  And whatever you say, she is a writer first.  Many of the other tempting names are celebrities first.  Actors who have written a book.  Television presenters.  Politicians.  But is is tempting.  Benedict Cumberbatch.  As I said, tempting. 

I have missed Bath, and Wigtown, and I have a feeling I am in the midst of missing Bouchercon in Cleveland.  Luckily Peter Rozovsky is doing his duty and posting daily, by the looks of it.  Dead Guy has someone there, as well.  Facebook (there it goes again…) has offered up countless photos of people posing with their favourite crime writer.  One day I will do that too.  If I was the type to pose with authors, which I’m not, unless it’s done under duress.  Stephen Booth is doing an event called Murder in the Great Outdoors, and that just sounds so frightfully healthy, don’t you think? 

And so is, to some extent, the non-attendance at countless festivals.  Rest.  Sleep…

—

PS It was only poor Curtis who didn’t make it through the evening.  In fact, he didn’t make it at all.  And Ruth Symes who had an early pumpkin arrangement. 

Fearing I might not be able to bite you this weekend, I will give you a mixed bag of stuff today instead. 

Fear.  Yes.  It’s the done thing.  Meg Rosoff blogged the other day about all the dangers of going to the library.  Is it safe now to admit to having omitted to fit a stair gate when Offspring were at their most vulnerable?  I am a coward most of the time, but there are some things I feel you just need to risk, or we risk (hah) losing sight of common sense.  I eat old food, too. 

And I am afraid I daren’t say anything about this rather excellent shortlist for the Scottish Children’s Book Awards 2012.  The three books for older readers comprise one author whom I admire a great deal (Elizabeth Laird) and the other two just happen to have written what must count as my bestest books (so far) this year, even outside Scotland.  That’s Elizabeth Wein (odds that an Elizabeth wins?)  and Barry Hutchison.  And I see that even more favourites narrowly missed the shortlist.  They clearly need a longer shortlist.  Or more awards. 

The younger shortlists (you know what I mean!)  are also full of jeopardy, with people being eaten and there being nuts, soldiers, crocodiles and lions. 

A man who lives dangerously is Tony Higginson of Formby Books.  He works too hard.  Now he has added to his burden and blogs in his spare (double hah) time.  Double danger there next Thursday (and I’m telling you now because I plan to be busy for a while) when he has invited customers to a crime barbecue.  I mean, books and flames!  Stephen Booth is the one who will be flambéed.  Or was that the burgers? 

This is assuming Tony makes it through his day.  I believe I have counted three more events he’s doing that day, which is the day I already have so much on that I am wondering if I can crawl out of bed for the piano tuner at the crack of dawn.  I suppose, take one event after another… But no trips for me to the coast and Tony. 

She’s still got a long way to go with this, her ‘final’ big tour.  I believe Scandinavia and now parts of Britain are just the beginning for Joan Baez.  We caught her in Glasgow on Friday night, and it took … Continue reading →