A couple of publicists from Felidae Associates stopped by earlier today. They dropped off the proofs for some publicity campaigns for various crime novels during April. Sir Humphrey Ratcatcher would like to know what you think and, as a test of his creative talent, asks if you can match the posters to the correct novels. No prizes, but answers on Saturday evening for those who may experience a little difficulty. First, the posters:
And now for the novels:
With a unique marketing concept from independent publisher Pedant Books, the cover of this debut novel perfectly portrays its title. Indeed, what does lie within? First there are the credits. Reflecting his Swedish, German and British heritage and his ever-changing mood, RA - as he likes to be known - wrote the chapters of this novel in Swedish, German, pigeon English and decent English (but not the Queen’s). In total, this required a full complement of seven translators; all are listed for their sterling work.
What Lies Within is a story based on RA’s own life as the perpetual victim of crime. We kick off with our protagonist, thirteen year old Evan Sumner, kidnapped from his expensive private school. His parents are faced with a ransom demand of 2m US$. They deliver – it’s small fry to parents in the shipping industry – and await the return of their son. However, instead of their son, they receive a further demand for another 5m US$. This continues on a weekly basis for varying amounts, until a total of 100m US$ is paid over and Evan returns home. Mr and Mrs Sumner hardly recognise their boy with his deeper voice and waist-length curly hair.
Continue reading "What Lies Within – Rutger Artur Robinson-Pratt" »
Some people across the UK and Ireland are (potentially) about to make fools of themselves tonight; while having fun, of course. We've decided to play along with University Challenge as it is broadcast live, tweeting our answers live on twitter. A potential embarrassment of riches or simply just some good old Christmas malarkey? But across the stately homes of the aforementioned places, it could look like this. Hic!
[Click on pic for bigger version if you feel the need.]
I’ve noted this is not a crime book (in the usual fictional blog-throughput sense), but you may care to differ when you read the content and think about crime. With a sub-title of “The Shocking Lies We’re Told Every Day”, Complete and Utter Zebu will leave you wondering if legal action ought to be taken. It will also make you laugh and if it arrives in your house for Christmas, expect to hear cries of “Well, I never knew that! Did you know…” and have your attention diverted from the sprouts as someone regales a little story from within. And if you read the zebu story on which the title is based, you may start to look at that turkey in a different light (wondering if you knew enough about where it came from).
Complete and Utter Zebu is perfect for this time of year because it’s the typical festive book of short articles with something to capture everyone’s attention and it’s also highly topical, managing to take in some very recent scandals.
My humour was percolated earlier today when reading an extract in the Daily Mail from Mike Barfield's This Septic Isle. Barfield, a cartoonist for Private Eye magazine in the UK has sought to re-define some words in the English dictionary for our modern British world and our language in This Septic Isle. (See it at Amazon, at that link.)
I say "some words" because at 288 pages he's not re-defining the whole of the English language, just the pertinent words. And boy, is it fun! I want to read this as I had so much of a laugh reading the extract.
Here are my highlights, with added comments from me in italics, where relevant (to crime fiction and blogging associates):
Valentine’s Day – Occasion each year when men send their loved ones flowers – and sometimes their wives get them too.
Amalgamation – A gathering of dentists. (That’s one for Norm!)
Baby monitor – The modern child’s introduction to surveillance society.
Cash – Outmoded currency kept alive solely for the convenience of builders.
Call-out charge – Money paid to plumber for privilege of offering him work.
Cod – Fish that has had its chips.
Creche – A bump to the car in Belgravia.
Eighteen certificate – Film that minors are unable to watch at the cinema, so they watch it at home on DVD instead. (Ian Rankin is on record, more than once, where he said there were films he wanted to watch when growing up, but he couldn’t due to his age. However, he discovered that whatever his youthful age and appearance, he could get the books out of the library and read them. Oh, how times have changed!)
European Union – The only union the Government still has to listen to.
Gigolo – Like a pedalo, but costlier to hire and potentially more exhausting.
Liposuction – Costly technique allowing cosmetic surgeons to live off the fat of the land.
Obsolete – Any still perfectly good device for which a more expensive and temperamental replacement has been developed.
Pessimist – Optimist who learns from experience.
Pill, the – Great way of teaching teenage girls the days of the week.
Quadrangle – Minor scuffle between academics. (We have Colin Dexter and Morse to thank for that revision, surely?)
Rail – To complain loudly and angrily, hence the association with train travel.
Scrotum – The only must-have bag for men.
Summing up – Period at end of a court case when lawyers total up their bills. (If it’s a divorce case, don’t forget the penultimate period of dousing opposing lawyer with water, as per the recent Mills/McCartney divorce case. A waterlogged lawyer will have a claim to add to costs on that one, so it's best to be prepared…)
Top secret – Legend stamped on Government documents to ensure their speedy return from phoneboxes, cafes, bus shelters, etc. (Yeah, right!)
University challenge – Getting Britons to study science subjects. (That’s one for Maxine and Clare!)
Wheelie-bin – Rodent meals on wheels.
Barfield hits the nail on the head with an accurate reflection of today's British society - tongue in very, very cheek, or less so, on times. It's £6.99 on Amazon for a hard cover. I will be ordering as soon as this post is complete. I really want to read the rest and need even more laughs! And to me, at my stage of life, call it the embryonic phase of "grumpy old woman" if you wish, This Septic Isle is the perfect title to reflect where we are today and seems to be the perfect intro to life as we now have to bear it, here in the UK. Above all, I need to laugh about it and Barfield provides that outlet.
UK-based reader of crime fiction for many years.
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