A new series by the well-known Scottish columnist, Anna Smith, was published at the end of this month and reviews for The Dead Don’t Sleep are already flooding in. We begin with an interview with Anna about the book in the Scottish News of the World, followed by a 5-star review in the London edition of the News of the World:
“ … expertly unveils Glasgow’s seedy underbelly in this grisly page-turner. Her knowledge of the city’s underclass and the characters that fill the newsrooms shines out on every page. Scotland has a budding new crime talent.”
A recommendation by Lorraine Kelly in her Sunday Post column:
“The Dead Won’t Sleep is a cracking crime thriller … every single word rings true and it so cinematic, I’d be amazed if movie and TV companies aren’t falling over themselves to get it on the large or small screen … I can’t wait to get my hands on the next one.”
And the launch for Anna’s book at Waterstone’s of Glasgow last Thursday was a smashing success with over 200 books sold and rave mention in the Glasgow Evening Times and another on the allmediascotland website:
“One that most authors and their PRs can only dream about. The guests were a Who’s Who of Scottish journalism … Anna’s style of writing as a journalist has won her many awards, and she has infused that gritty prose style into her fiction, bringing alive the exciting places, gripping situations and colourful characters in her books.”
The Dinosaur Feather, by Danish author Sissel-Jo Gazan, has been mentioned in some influential circles, including Metro, Mumsnet and by Joan Smith in a piece about Scandinavian crime fiction in her Independent On Sunday column.
And Island of Wings by Karin Altenberg has been reviewed in Intelligent Life – the Economist’s quarterly supplement:
“Karin Altenberg combines scrupulous research with psychological acuity in exploring the marital and pastoral struggles of Reverend Neil Mackenzie.”
On the non-fiction side of things, the Daily Express ran a two-page extract from Camp Z including a generaous off-the-page offer and there was a news piece about the book in Scotland on Sunday.
At the Hay Festival this weekend the authors of The King’s Speech, Mark Logue and Peter Conradi’s, event was sold out and The Sunday Telegraph picked it out as a highlight of the festival. Lucky Mark Logue was also interviewed on the Sky Books programme by Mariella Frostrup whilst at the festival, and Choice, the retirement magazine, also ran an interview with Mark Logue over the weekend.
And for those of you not familiar with the London Glossy Magazine, grab your copy now to read more on their review of The King’s Speech:
“An astonishing insight into a private world … never before has there been such a personal portrait of the British monarchy.”
Back to the Hay Festival and Nicholas Humphrey’s event for his book Soul Dust, which went down extremely well which was followed by a review of Soul Dust in the International Herald Tribune:
“Nicholas Humphrey’s new book about consciousness is seductive – early 1960s Mad Men seductive . His writing is as elegant, and hypnotic, as that cool jazz stacked on the record player. His argument feels as crystalline and bracing as that double martini going down … his tone is as warm and inviting as that big, crackling fire … his book is not only thoroughly enjoyable but genuinely instructive too … he has some really interesting and original ideas about consciousness.”
Children’s author, Kevin Crossley-Holland’s event at Hay this afternoon is also sold out and his latest book, Bracelet of Bones was reviewed in the Guardian, comparing Kevin to both Rosemary Sutcliff and Henry Treece:
“ … superb new novel … Crossley-Holland knows the period – and the Vikings – so well that I’m sure were Dr Who to whisk him back to 11th century Scandinavia in the Tardis, he would be perfectly at home … Crossley-Holland writes prose with a poet’s eye and love of words, painting a vivid picture of the world his characters move through … it (the prose) almost sounds like a line from an Icelandic saga or a retelling of a Norse myth, which is no surprise from a writer so deeply imbues with the spirit of the north.”
An Epic Swindle was the Sports Book of the Week in the Independent on Sunday:
“ … passionate account … his facts stand up to scrutiny … offers a valuable insight into why the players didn’t feel they could speak out … Reade has a keen eye for the more ridiculous aspects of the affair … A valuable primer for fans of other clubs in future peril.”
And it was also reviewed in Tribune, the Labour party newspaper, with a succinct description of the book.
Toploader was reviewed in the Times Literary Supplement:
“No element of conflict zones escapes O’Loughlin’s anger, and he uses his book to explicitly attack both the construction of walls all over the world and the news media that feeds off their construction. The absurdist elements that drive the plot are both ridiculous and believable … at times the satire is reminiscent of Joseph Heller or Thomas Pynchon in the way it embraces the sheer stupidity of the situation it describes, but unlike those authors, O’Loughlin adds eloquent and thoughtful political discussions, which do not disrupt his fast-paced narrative.”
There was an interview with Lex author, James Mylet, in the Irish Post, the newspaper for expats in the UK:
“His enthusiasm for the world we live in and the kind of culture we consume, and natural story-telling ability definitely make him a new author to watch out for.”
Lex has also been reviewed in U, the Irish monthly magazine: “… Hilarious story.”
And Christopher Brookmyre mentions it in an interview in the Glasgow Herald.
And last, but by no means least, The Thing on the Shore by Tom Fletcher was reviewed on the Bookmunch website:
“The Thing on the Shore is assured, chilling and heartbreaking and Fletcher’s star is very much on the ascent. Fletcher’s characterization is flawless, he populates his story with a tantalizing cast of characters, his prose is bewitching, and the story is a melting pot of SF, fantasy and grim horror and the writer will keep you guessing. One thing is certain in Fletcher’s novel, you’ll never see anything coming.”
To celebrate the publication of Trial by Fire by the formidably talented Jennifer Lynn Barnes, we’ve put the first chapter on a wee tour around the blogosphere…
Trial by Fire tells the story of Bryn, a seventeen schoolgirl with all the usual schoolgirl worries: a new boyfriend, a new school and a new home. But she has one major concern that her friends don’t have: she is an alpha – a human girl in charge of her own werewolf pack!
Now, the last bit of the first chapter is here, but if you want to read the whole thing, from beginning to end, go to the fantastic Wondrous Reads blog and follow the trail!
Part Four…
“Ahem.”
I’d known before I kissed Chase that we’d be interrupted. There was no such thing as a secret in a wolf pack – let alone privacy. But I’d been foolishly optimistic and hoped that the interrupter would be Lake or Maddy or one of the younger kids.
Instead, as Chase and I pulled away from each other, we were confronted with the oldest member of our pack, a gruff, weatherworn man who didn’t look a day over thirty-five. Based on the way his lips were twitching, I concluded that the man in question was torn between smiling and scowling.
“Hey, Mr. Mitchell,” I said, hoping to push him toward the smiling end of the spectrum. A guarded look settled over Chase’s eyes, but he echoed my greeting, and Lake’s dad gave us a long, measuring stare in return.
“I suspect the earth would keep rotating round the sun even if the two of you called me Mitch.”
In the time I’d been living on the Mitchells’ land, Mitch and I had had this conversation more than once, but I wasn’t really the type to give in once I dug my heels in about something.
“So noted, Mr. Mitchell.”
The smile finally won out over his scowl, but it lasted only a second or two before Mitch eyed the space (or lack thereof) between my body and Chase’s. “Last I heard, Ali was on her way here with the twins,” he said, which I took as a not-so subtle hint that Chase and I should give each other some breathing room. Chase must have interpreted it the same way, because he stepped back away from me and away from Mitch, who delivered the rest of his update with a nod.
“Lake and Maddy are rounding up the troops, and I believe Devon said something about making an entrance.”
I was fairly certain that I was the only alpha in the history of the world to have a second-in-command who appreciated the impact of arriving fashionably late. Then again, I was also the only alpha with as many females in her pack as males and more toddlers and tweens than grown men.
Besides, it wasn’t like the whole human thing was status quo.
“Bryn!” The unmistakable sound of a very small person bellowing ripped me from my thoughts, and I smiled. There was nothing quite like hearing my name yelled at the top of a three-year-old’s lungs – unless it was having the aforementioned three-year-old barrel into me full blast and throw her arms around my legs like she was afraid that if she let go, I’d disappear off the face of the earth forever.
“Hello, Lily,” I said wryly. The kid acted like she hadn’t seen me in a lifetime or two, even though it had only been an hour, if that.
Moon! Happy! Fun!
With the older wolves, I had to go looking for thoughts, unless someone was using the pack-bond to actively send them my way, but with Lily, everything was right there on the surface, bubbling up the way only the strongest emotions did in adults.
Alpha-alpha-alpha! Bryn-Bryn-Bryn!
The two words – alpha and Bryn – blended together in her mind. As the youngest of the kids I’d saved from the werewolf equivalent of a psychopath, Lily was one of the only ones who couldn’t remember the time before our pack, or the things that the Rabid had done to her, to all of them.
In Lily’s mind, Bryn meant alpha, and alpha meant Bryn. It was as simple as that.
“Can we Change yet?” Lily asked. “Can we, can we, can we?”
Not yet, Lily, I answered silently, and she stilled, mesmerized by a power I’d never asked to hold over anyone.
“Lily, I told you to wait.” The voice that issued that statement was aggrieved, and the look on its owner’s face was one I recognized all too well from my own childhood.
Come to think of it, it was a look I recognized all too well from about a week ago, two tops.
“Hey, Ali,” I said, glad that Chase and I had heeded Mitch’s warning and put a little space between my body and his.
“Hey, baby,” Ali replied, a twin on each hip. “Everyone’s been fed, but I make no guarantees about their state of mind.”
For most of my life, it had been just Ali and me, but she’d taken to managing an entire brood with the same efficiency with which she’d once transformed herself from a twenty-year-old college student into my protector within Callum’s pack. Ali was human, but the words force of nature still applied, and I would infinitely rather have tangled with an irritated werewolf than Ali in mama bear mode.
“Now?” Lily asked, right on cue with Ali’s disclaimer about the younger werewolves’ state of mind.
“Now-now-now?”
“Shhhh,” I said, and Lily closed her mouth and laid her head against my knee.
“You know, Bryn,” Ali said thoughtfully, “if Lily minded me half as well as she minds you, I wouldn’t be considering renaming her Bryn Two.”
“Ha-ha,” I retorted. “Very funny.”
Ali smiled. “I try.” She looked toward Mitch, and without saying a word, he walked over and took Katie and Alex from her arms. Not even a year old, Ali’s babies already looked more like toddlers, and in identical motions, their hands found their way almost immediately to Mitch’s beard.
He smiled. “I’ve got them,” he told Ali, and she nodded before kissing the twins and turning to walk back out of the woods. Ali never stayed to run with the pack.
As far as I knew, she never had.
Now, Bryn? Now?
Lily refrained from asking the question out loud, but I heard it through the pack-bond all the same, and this time, the answer–soon, soon, soon–seemed to come from outside my body, from instincts I couldn’t have explained to the human world. Lily seemed to feel it, too, and a keening, whimpering sound built in the back of her throat. I ran a hand gently over her bright red hair and she began rocking back and forth on her feet. Within moments, the others had arrived, filling the clearing, and the effect was magnified a hundred times.
Our pack was small–twenty-two total, only eighteen there that night–but the air was electric, and as their thoughts swirled with my own, the connection between us became a living, breathing thing. I felt them, all of them: Lake and Maddy, Lily and the twins, Chase. From the youngest to the oldest, from those who thirsted for a hunt to those who wanted nothing more in life than to run . . .
They were mine.
Devon slid in beside me, and the moment I felt the brush of his arm against mine, I knew.
It was time.
In other packs, this was formal. There were petitions and ceremonies and marks carved into flesh, but here and now, I didn’t have words, and they didn’t need them.
Now. Now. Now.
I couldn’t deny the Change any more than they could. The treetops scattered moonlight across our faces, and I inclined my head. That was all it took.
At any other time of the month, the sound of tearing fabric and crunching bones wasn’t a pleasant one, but under the full moon, the effect was like the beating of a drum.
Run. Run. Run.
All around me, they could taste it. They could feel it. Furred bodies pushed at each other to get closer to me, to touch me, to sniff me, to be with me, and the roar from their minds was overwhelming.
Alpha. Alpha. Alpha.
I forgot about Chase, about Devon, about each and every one of them as anything other than my brothers, my sisters, my people, my pack.
Mine.
This was what I’d been born for. This was all that I wanted and all that I was, and as one overwhelming, unstoppable, incredible force, we ran.
———–
Many thanks to Wondrous Reads, Girls with a Bookshelf and Bloggers Heart Books – dedicated readers with fantastic blogs. Thanks again girls!
Danish born Sissel-Jo Gazan (b. 1973) is a biology graduate from the University of Copenhagen.
Her major public break-through came with The Dinosaur Feather in 2008, with which she stepped into the realm of crime and suspense. By incorporating science with murder, and recognizing the secrets and drama of every man’s life, Sissel-Jo Gazan has found a unique style that makes her stand out in the Scandinavian crime writing scene.
Sissel-Jo Gazan currently lives in Berlin with her daughter.
Danish readers, click here to visit Sissel-Jo Gazan’s personal website.
Reviews of The Dinosaur Feather
“Intelligently plotted and psychologically believable.” The Times
“Sissel-Jo Gazan’s solid novel has by far outdone, not to say outshone, all other crime novels published this year.” Politiken (Denmark)
“So brilliantly well written and entertaining that you can’t resist to simply lean back and enjoy the ride.” ALT for damerne (Denmark) (5 stars)
“A breathtaking crime novel with a realistic plot and a female character who proves to be a quick-thinker.” Berlingske Tidende (Denmark) (5 stars)
“The Dinosaur Feather is simply first class. It is an excellent blend of intelligent science, psychology, and essential excitement … The Scandinavian crime queens have now got a brilliant rival.” Jyllands-Posten (Denmark) (5 stars)
