Late last night finished (largely) my latest short story, Ginger Fred, the Pavement Artist. Somewhat different for me – light horror, more a mystery with undertones of the supernatural. Difficult to classify, but at a high level, perhaps horror. Hmm.. Fantasy? LOL
Wont go into it too much – it involves a tramp who regularly visits a seaside town and creates masterpieces of pavement art – but it gets weird when the pictures are able to convey what will happen in the future.
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I don’t normally write blogs on current affairs, but over recent weeks, perhaps months, I have been amazed, and affected by natural disaster in the Asia Pacific region.
Basically, at home (Australia) we had floods and cyclones of record-breaking proportions, with many billions of dollars of damage, and loss of human live.
Then our neighbour, New Zealand, had their horrific earthquake near Christchurch, that basically flattened large parts of their city and no doubt they are still finding the poor victims.
Finally (I hope) we had the earthquake and resulting tsunamis near Japan, and the damage and loss of life just eclipsed everything, and can perhaps only be compared to the 2004 tsunami further south.
I know that this string of natural disasters is a coincidence, and if there is anything that ties them together, is a solemn acceptance that mother nature is powerful indeed. It doesn’t change the fact, however, that I feel that our region of the planet have copped a lot lately.
My heart goes out to all who were affected, and in particular those who lost love ones. The largest hunk of my heart goes to our neighbours in Japan.
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I always take a little longer to read non-fiction – just the nature of the beast.
Michael Wood is a long-standing favorite of mine – in tandem with his television series. He truly is a rarity – a historian who knows how to popularize history without losing insight and scholarship.
When I heard about his The Story of England, I just had to get it straight away. The concept of depicting the culture and history of England from prehistoric times to modern day, through the archives and archaeology of a single set of village hamlets, was inspiring. And I can say that the reading validated my anticipation.
I particularly liked the medieval period of history, and the Tudors, but I can say that the book was interesting and insightful throughout. What I particularly liked was his ability to use contrasts and comparisons between different time periods (often with examples of families who lived in or near the locale for those represented periods), and expressing insightful patterns in history.
And of course, his writing is crisp, fluid, and even at times, poetic.
Perhaps the only criticism I can throw in – which does not undermine my rating of 5 for this work – is that the geography often mentioned of areas outside of the locale are not represented by maps. As a non-Englishman, I simply lose my sense of direction and geographical context when reading about various counties and cities. It would have been helpful to have a few extra maps.
I heartily recommend this book to any student of history or culture.
Five stars
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Wrote a 3000 word steampunk short today. Conceived it in about an hour of thinking last night, and today it just spun out, and very well to boot. A little different than my others, where I enjoyed the alternate universe thing, but in this one, steampunk is with us, but it is largely hidden.
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Yep, got back a few hours ago from the Gold Coast. Had a wonderful 6 days – it was sunny (and hot) when we needed it to be. Little one loved the pool (7 dips), Broadbeach, and Sea World. I relaxed, and yet was able to catch up on reading and also enjoying editing some of Ian Hall’s wonderful historical novel, Opportunities.
Day job from Monday… oh well!
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Folks
I’m heading off to sunny Queensland for a break for a week – a little editing, reading and writing, but mostly enjoying the sun, pool, beaches etc with my wife and daughter. Much needed. I will have limited Internet access (blackberry, basically), so there will be a bit of a hiatus – maybe a post or two.
Cya!
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Back on track. The conceptualizing went well and back to writing The Comfort of Beanbags, although a bit tired today – 4th day of a 5 day training course, and super intensive.
I am pleased with the world building done – trying to extrapolate a future society with the key elements that changes the normal progress of human society. I like. Might throw in a WIP some time soon.
Off to the Gold Coast on Saturday – 6 days in warm weather, pool, beach etc. All good to recharge batteries and fantastic for our little one.
Minimal internet there – so don’t be surprised with a drop in social networking.
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My YA dystopian WIP, The Comfort of Beanbags, is not on hold, but will take longer to write. It’s about getting the world building right. My original conception, reflected in my short story, is fine, but in the expanded version I realized that the world needed to be more detailed, and consistent with the original thoughts. Plot and characterization isn’t an issue; it really is about world building.
I do look forward to this, but I need more time thinking and outlining. Fun, fun, fun.
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Ah, a topic no doubt close to writers’ hearts, especially short fiction writers.
Editors.
The motivation for writing this post was because I did something I have never done before – I complained to an editor that rejected me. Surprisingly, the editor responded, and it was rather vitriolic. I responded back, and I am waiting for the completion of round two. Hopefully, it actually has already ceased. Why did I complain?
I should point out that it is not my style to respond to rejections, and in fact I consider it poor form. We live in an unequal world, and for several reasons. Firstly, the writer is knocking on the editor’s door, and it is up to the editor to open it or not. This leads to the second reason why it is unequal – the editor’s skill can range from brilliant to moronic, and it doesn’t make a difference. From an editor’s perspective, of course, they have their own issues to contend with, including a wide range of author capability, as well as the whinging, whining types (the ones that complain on rejection on a habitual basis, or for no good reason). For these reasons, there is normally no point at all on dwelling on rejections.
The irony about my complaint in this case was that the editor took the trouble of providing content and style feedback – which is, these days, refreshing. However, editors expose their own skills in communication and assessment by doing this. Add the whinging, whining authors, and it isn’t surprising at all that most publications don’t provide feedback (not to mention the sheer logistics of spending time on feedback).
My complaint was directed to this particular editor because he made an assertion outside of my writing capability – I submitted a story that has, as its central antagonist, an antique porcelain doll. I wrote it as part of a regular challenge among some peers, where in this case stories had to be written based on a photograph of a doll. I submitted my story to this particular publication because it was running a theme on dolls, marionettes, etc. Perfect fit, for submission purposes. My story was rejected, and some constructive criticism was presented, as well as notes on strengths – all appreciated, but it then asserted that I retrofitted an older story to include a doll, in order to justify submission.
This was too much for me. As a writer, trying to be professional, I will take rejections on the chin and go to the next market. And gladly, even if comments (as rare as they are) are facile. ‘Water off a duck’s back’, as I stated to the editor in question. But I also stated that I do not kindly accept second guessing on my motivations, and would rather have feedback on the delivery of my story – otherwise, I would rather have no comments at all.
The editor responded in shotgun fashion, ignoring my point altogether, simply stating I was ‘sensitive’ to criticism. I suppose I was sensitive (as he clearly was), but it wasn’t to criticism.
I don’t necessarily recommend that authors do what I do – it took mental and nervous energy to write an email, and ultimately to construct this blog. For what purpose? Not entirely sure – I was hoping that I could send a message to the editor (a criticism in itself – despite our unequal world), but perhaps there was also a bit of venting one’s spleen. The only saving grace is that I do not do this very often (in fact, this is the very first time, and probably the last).
As a writer, we live in an unequal world. Pick your battles, and avoid getting damaged. Most of the time, write instead.
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I am therefore very pleased to say that I managed the time and took the ‘leap’ to read Christos Rodoulla Tsiailis’ short anthology, Throwing Dice On A Chessboard. It most certainly was worthwhile.
Before I give my general impression of the work, and provide some detail on each of the short stories, I should dispense with an important area of improvement needed in the work. Christos is a Greek Cypriot and English is not his first language. While I am astounded with Christos’ mastery of elements of the English language, including an immense vocabulary, his work is unfortunately well represented with spelling, grammar and proofing issues. The classic (turning up several times in the first half reading of the anthology, is ‘lose’ versus ‘loose’ – fundamentally different meaning and hard to miss the eyesore). Accuracy of tense is another common issue. I wont belabor the point – this book needs a good editorial treatment, and probably indicative of a work that is self published.
BUT… and it is really important to ‘but’-in – this flaw is seriously overshadowed by a clearly talented and well-developed writer. This man is definitely going places.
Some works of fiction have a style that is more poetic than narrative based. This is just such a case. While there are cases of choices of words that perhaps are not quite right from a broad English idiomatic viewpoint, Christos has succeeded in expanding narrative to a level where unique phrases ARE apt, poetic, penetrating. I am a writer and I have learned things about expression in the English language from Christos. I thank him for that, in itself.
Each of Christos’ stories in this anthology are penetrating – loaded with metaphor and evocative imagery. There isn’t a single character who is two-dimensional – in many cases they are four-dimensional, if it is at all possible.
Perhaps to suffer being labeled a generaliser in this critique, the stories focus fair and square on characters, and this is somewhat supported by his (an artistic piece in itself) preface.
None of Tsiailis’ stories depict a normal world. Not one. They are super-normal, but by doing this, he provides the reader with a super-understanding of human nature, and what it is to be normal, and why ‘normalcy’ is in fact a lie.
This, perhaps, is what I like most about the anthology.
As I stated above his Preface is a piece of quality writing in itself. Tsiailis chose to write it almost like a literary essay – he makes a bold statement – there is no originality left in literature, so his stories will be a presentation of carefully produced thefts – but nothing is obvious in Christos’ work – his imagery is centred around
the ‘sounds’ of smoke – he is deliberately obfuscating in his Preface and is in fact going to provide the reader with stories (smoke) that have sound. Originality in my mind.
The following are brief appraisals of each of the short stories:
White Night Stones – This was a great start to the anthology as it immediately presented Tsiailis’ writing skills at its near-optimum. This story is essentially about a young girl’s thoughts and revelations while attending a wedding function, and provides an insight into her world, which encompasses her family and her extended community. It is honest and delves deeply into her psyche, and it is
superimposed (presented, so to speak) via her growing understanding of the behavior of bats in the night garden outside the wedding function. Her growth of understanding of how bats can ‘see’ in the dark run parallel with her growth into a woman. It was a strong and penetrating piece.
Nilusha Thilangi Kariyawasam – This short story was nothing short of superb. Utterly superb. I cannot grasp why Christos chose to write such an insightful piece set in Sri Lanka, with Sri Lankan protagonists, but it worked – mightily well. The simple and devastatingly sad story of a woman’s relationship with her daughter, and how it got complicated with her father, siblings and the nature of the community and society that these people were/are in, are revealed by simple second person discussion is impressive, and made the more readable by a hint, tinge of the religious supernatural. This is not a happy story, and yet it succeeds in part to uplift one’s spirit. This anthology is worth buying just for this story.
A Black Car Radio – is one story that, for me, doesn’t quite succeed in hitting its target, although again, is well written. Again the metaphors are skillfully constructed – the middle aged businessman, with complex psychological issues, finding his life centred around the
long journey to work and back, complicated by his unhealthy reliance on his radio and the tree-lined terrain lining the highway he was driving on. In my view Christos tried to push this too hard, to wring as much insight into the character as he could, where perhaps it was redundant to do so – I got it about halfway. Also, the conclusion – which I will not spoil for others – might have exploited the metaphor too far. Nevertheless, it was still a good read.
One SMS Behind – another very good story. Can’t give anything away here, but I can say that this is the first story where there is a twist at the end. Superficially, the twist controls the story and yet, when revising what I read in the story as a whole, it is a secondary force. What makes this story very very good is its insight, depth of presentation of the main character. It captures – you can almost smell – the Mediterranean, young, party set, alive and convincing – youthful, energetic, indestructible (irony here), and yet set in context with the ‘real world’ outside. Perhaps more than anything, Christos is telling us that some realities are short lived, fleeting.
Hi, I’m Stephan; I Am A Triplet Child – this is a lovely short story, that on the surface is a vignette – a slice of a day of triplet children in a household, and yet it really is about the nature of the ‘secret’ behaviors, relationships betwixt multiple birth siblings, and how it further complicates as it extends to the rest of the family, friends and community (school in this case). This is not nearly as deep or penetrating as his other stories, but is rings of truth, and sensibly, he leaves the deepest undercurrents of being a triplet to our imagination.
Shallow Oceans – this is one of my less liked stories, but it was intriguing. I think, like A Black Car Radio, it tried too much. Again, I don’t want to give too much away, but it, in my mind, is constructed of three parallel elements – a diver diving and what happens to him, the surrealistic affects of a brain being affected by some event during the dive, and a treatment of what consciousness is using the metaphor of the previous two elements. Tough gig in my mind. I don’t think it quite worked, but there are very good surrealist scenes being portrayed. I felt put off by footnoting of neurological terminologies – I think the use of it is a symptom of the excessive effort Tsiailis is making.
The last three short stories – I will comment as one – they really are a triptych – Up There On The Fig Tree, The Coffin Maker, and The Hotel Owner – these three titles represents the three phases of Stavros, the protagonist. It is a depressing story of a man who was abused in a most unusual way through his childhood, and how this forms the kernel of his unusual, stunted, largely unhappy life. The fig tree is the key symbol in these three stories, which I will leave for you to discover. The tree is the tool by which he is so grievously stunted (like the tree itself), and it is the tree that becomes the raw material for the remainder of his life (in being there in his life, and by creating an ugly hole in his life in its absence). And yet life goes on, which is certainly the theme of the third story, and proves that some positivism can emerge from a long lifetime of darkness, incongruity. This is a very good story (stories – very unusual to do it this way, perhaps it should have been more structured so this is obvious from a title point of view), among Christos’ best.
In summary, we have a wonderful, evocative writer here, and the only real negative of this anthology (other than it was in my mind too short), is the weakness in the English language. And yet, the strength of his themes, imagery and characterization transcends this to a high degree, making the majority of his stories highly worthwhile to read. Even the weaker stories (in my estimation) have merit, and contribute to the anthology as a whole.
I highly recommend this anthology to discerning, thinking readers. I rate it 4 well deserved stars.
The Chronicles of Evyntyde 