Thief of Time by Pratchett

Once upon a time, there was a book blogger in a magical kingdom called Sarf Lahndan and sometimes, he'd review books. Until he stopped reading new things, or re-reads he wanted to review.

So it's time for a review of something I know backwards, forwards, sideways and through the space-time continuum. Welcome, one and, er, one to my review/mini-essay of Thief of Time.

Where to start? To me, one of the great appeals of ToT is it's in a halfway house of sorts in terms of Discworld mini-series. It's technically a Death/Susan book, but they feel more part of an ensemble cast than the do in previous books, with a lot of the limelight taken up by previously minor elements such as the History Monks and the Auditors of Reality. And the biggest thing they add here is a good dose of weirdness. I love Discworld. I really loved the books Pratchett was putting out at the turn of the Millennium. But they were very down to earth and focused on humanity. The madness and metaphysical fun we saw at the start of the Discworld was a little absent. I missed it and ToT gave me a good dose.

The concept of ToT is... fucking convoluted actually. There are two strange men of unknow parentage. One is being egged on by the Auditors (a sort of hive-mind spirit race that wishes to extinguish all life as it makes the universe messy) to create a clock that will stop time entirely. The other belongs to the History Monks, an order of not-Buddhist monks that seek to ensure history happens correctly through a mix of subterfuge, time manipulation, and kicking peoples heads off. Or not. And there is Death and Susan. There's a lot happening.

Lobsang, the more or less MC, is a novice with the History Monks, where he's considered a bloody nightmare by his teachers as "there's no educating a clever boy". My sister got that made into a t-shirt for me which should say something about the connection I feel to his experiences - in particular, being bored because he's not being challenged. There's all sorts of young MCs in Fantasy, but the number of them that have outgrown their situation and are itching for challenge is low. Too low. I like Lobsang. I like the mentor he's given by the teachers seeking to make him somebody else's problem - Lu-Tze, or the Sweeper. The Sweeper was once an unteachable boy himself and went on to become the History Monk's greatest operative... except for the part where he never became a monk, but forever stayed a sweeper. Cunning, irreverent (except when actually appropriate), compassionate, he's possibly Pratchett's most underused creation.

The book can be split into two. The first half follows Lobsang's unwilling and slightly awestruck novitiate with Lu-Tze. Parallel to that we see the other arcs. Clockmaker Jeremy is trying to make the clock that will end time; the Auditor Myria LeJean is meant to be aiding him but, betrayed by the difficulties of being actually incarnate, isn't quite doing what she's meant to; and Susan Sto-Helit has been tempted into getting involved by her Grandfather by the talk there Time has had a son. Someone like her.

And here we get into the human elements of ToT, because even with weirdness it is still a Discworld and Pratchett's insight into humanity bowed to no one. None of the characters fit in and when you don't fit in, the idea that there's somewhere you might - or even just someone you might fit with - is like the promise of water in the desert. Nowhere is that more magnified than in the relationship between Jeremy and Myria but it is Death's manipulation of Susan that makes this theme most explicit. And while those plot arcs scream it, Lobsang perhaps has the most interesting example. He misses his life before the History Monks; he had a purpose there. He had friends. He was good at what he did and had pride. Missing that is part of what he's acting out as a novice Monk. 

Yet when removed from that and apprenticed to a sweeper, he starts missing that sense of being a monk. He at least knew where he was going there; he didn't fit in but he knew how he didn't fit in. Hands up everyone who's found themselves missing a dodgy situation because of that. Lu-Tze's guidance doesn't really cover any of that. And so a sense of not so gentle rebellion bubbles away with our young sweeper. And that is one of the most common feelings of coming of age I can think of - not knowing where you're going, not knowing where you should be, wishing those placed above you would actually help (and sometimes not realising how they are doing so). If Lobsang is an atypical young hero in terms of ambition, he is a very typical young man in this sense... and yet, perhaps atypical as a hero.

The second half of the book deals with the inevitable desperate quest to save the world and stave off the apocalypse. Lobsang and Lu-Tze set out to Ankh-Morpork; Myria seeks to survive what is seen as a betrayal by the Auditors; and Susan tries to work out what the hell is going on. This is the part of the book where Myria and Susan come more into their own, but the show is still stolen by Lobsang and Lu-Tze's relationship.

What is great about them is that Lobsang has young man dreams, fierce man dreams. He wants Lu-Tze to show him how to defeat their enemies through martial arts and physical prowess. Defeat the problem like a hero does. Show no fear before obstacles on the straight forwards path. There's quite a lot that's admirable about that but it's not Lu-Tze's way. The Sweeper favours guile and misdirection and his path is guided by the sayings of Mrs Cosmopolite and of Wen, founder of the History Monks (rather than by the organisation they've become):

"He was a lad, eh? Completely blissed out on the universe. Saw the past and future as one living person, and wrote the Books of History to tell how the story should go. We can't imagine what those eyes saw. And he never raised a hand to any man in his life."

Part happy hippy, part hard-headed old lady; those are the guiding principles of Lu-Tze's universe. He's never going to encourage Lobsang's hero dreams. Yet he does little to deter them either. He provides things for Lobsang to learn from, let him make his decisions, and provides more chances for lessons. There's not a huge amount there for the rebellious Lobsang to push back against, although there's always something if you look hard enough. But the mix is witty, warm, and had just enough war to make it all worthwhile.

In this relationship - and the contrast with how Lobsang was dealt with by his former teachers - we see Pratchett's thought on how to help those unsure of their place in the world. And that is to let them find it. To be there when needed but to let them have their head. Susan's experiences as a school teacher at the beginning of the book is the cherry on top of this thought and not a particularly subtle one either. Pratchett's always been praised for his ability to make his points without preaching but sometimes he does enjoy a good preach.

Lets talk about Susan. I've always loved the concept of Susan Sto Helit. Sensible to the point of character flaw, a professional calm and dependent adult with a petulant streak as a result, independent minded, and just downright formidable, she is a great heroine. But again, she's always felt a bit underused, maybe short of the right foil. ToT finally gives her a good cast to bounce against. I love The Hogfather but Susan gets the short end of the stick there. If Susan is Miss Together, then Myria is a mess, an unholy mix of age old lifeform and week old human and adult female body. She blurts things out, makes rash choices. Yet there is a freedom there denied to Susan, a naivete and sense of wonder she slightly envies even as she guides Myria along. It is similar to the relationship with Bilious, but done a lot better.

There's also a number of cameos, as is Pratchett's wont. The sub-plot of Death calling the other horsemen of the apocalypse to arms is full of amusing set pieces that don't quite reach great. Ditto the scenes featuring the fifth horseman, Chaos. Jeremy's Igor has some wonderful lines though and Susan's visit to Nanny Ogg is one of my favourite parts of the novel; a Witch's view of the occult is always a wonderful thing. And of humanity too.

That blend is why ToT's cuisine reigns supreme. It is about kung-fu time-manipulating monks, the children of mythical incarnations of abstract concepts, the apocalypse, clocks that can stop the universe and malign spirits. It is a completely fantastical book. It is also about finding our place in the world and how our environment shapes us. It is completely human, for all few of the characters are. And very good - a book that more than survives the test of time.

If Books were Drink...

The bad news is today's blog is mildly stupid.

The good news is it isn't as stupid as the idea of what an imaginary Rugby World Cup would look like, which was my original idea. If five people tell me they want to see that, then I'll know that five people reading this are sadists who want to torture other people. And me.

So instead I'm going to talk about what tasty alcoholic beverage certain Fantasy series would be. This idea is all thanks to a question I saw at least a year ago from a guy called Stephen Warren on twitter - it's stuck with me this long.

The list has been constructed with the aid of my lovely wife, a certified cicerone and veteran of the bar industry. Between us we know a lot about alcohol. Who knows? Maybe reading them would go better while drinking said type of beverage. If anyone tries it, let me know. So with no further ado...

Lord of the Rings - Traditional. English - very English. Not a complex or high alcohol drink but one with hidden depths and an interplay of sweet and bitter. There's a certain reassuring warming sense to it. It's tempting to suggest Mulled Wine or Cider but I'm going to suggest that the beer that matches it best is the British Brown Ale, with its blend of sweet toffee-caramel and nutty-toasted notes. To my mind, that captures Lord of the Rings' mix of sorrow and tragedy, triumph and wit.

Discworld - From traditional to traditional, radical, crazy and giggling all at once. So, we need a mix of something traditional and crazy; cocktails seem obvious to me. Bonus points for having an obvious sweetness to them amid all the sourness and bitterness and also for getting you smashed. The alcoholic base? I think cider brandy (or calvados) is obvious as the closest relation to scumble fit to feed to non-Oggs and a great base in its own right. But something that I think would work really well is Ice Cider, the apple's answer to sherry. There's some interesting ideas here and here but if I were to start somewhere myself, I'd be looking for some rye whiskey and bitters to try and get the right level of crazy flavours going.

Deverry - Katherine Kerr's celtic-inspired tale of savagery, reincarnation and understanding seems to be screaming out for mead doesn't it? Just gotta be. But although it makes sense, it doesn't quite fit to my mind. Most meads are a little too sweet to match what Kerr serves up. Sure, not every mead has that full on sweetness, but many do. So, one could use a barrel-aged mead, but I think it's better to use an adaption of the drink like the Braggot, a drink that's made from a mix of honey and barley. That adds the bitter notes the honey drink needs to fit the Deverry Cycle.

Sol's Harvest - Talking of bitter and savagery, MD Presley's Sol's Harvest series has a rather hard-hitting take on fantasy without going so far as to overwhelm. Indeed, there's even a rather refreshing feel to it at the ending; heavy on the bitterness, heavy on the redemption. And there's one drink that fits that very well - the IPA. In particular I'm thinking something West Coast - something piney and hop forwards, rather than a more fruity New England style.

The First Law - Escalating up and onwards in terms of confrontation and idiosyncrasy to Abercrombie's work. We're looking for a drink here that stands apart from its style; that shares its qualities but filters them through a deliberately harsh filter. And to me, there is only one thing that can be - the whiskeys of Islay. They take the smoky, peaty qualities of Scotch and turn it from an accent to a bomb. Does that not sound like Abercrombie?

Heralds of Valdemar - Let us take it down a notch and deal with something a bit more friendly, shall we? Its still got a certain divisive quality to it, but in a different way. The Heralds of Valdemar series is known for its bright shining heroics, its sense of right and determination to represent everyone. My answer to that? Fruit cider. Sure, some people give it a hard time for being overly sweet and lacking the complexity of other alcoholic drinks. But it is delicious and gives every fruit a chance to shine. Strawberry & lime? Kiwi & Passionfruit? Pineapple? It's all possible.

Temeraire - From a very wide choice to a very specific one. For Novik's Temeraire series the obvious thing to do was something involving rum. Partly that's because Navy, duh. But it's also because rum is fun and so is Temeraire. Why has there never been an advertising slogan for rum is fun? But it's not a straight rum series. It needs mixed. Rum and coke? Doesn't feel right. But Dark N' Stormy? That works to me. Rum for Laurence, ginger (beer) for Temeraire. Allusive, tasty and fun. This is my best one yet. 

The Wounded Kingdoms - The Wounded Kingdoms is your daddy's Epic Fantasy after spending years getting high on the universe, despair, and Gothic music. There is a hallucinogenic quality to it, fuelled by decay and beauty alike. And to me that screams barleywine, largely because a lot of the same thoughts go through my head when I start to drink it. The beauty at least. The despair and decay tends to come later.

Empire of Sand - Judging from Tasha Suri's twitter feed the correct answer to this is tea. So drink tea. But I am also going with a fairly strict alcohol policy on this, so I need to give an alcoholic answer too. And I actually selected this book because I thought it measured a type of alcohol I wanted to include, and that is the Imperial Stout; in particular, the sweet adjunct varieties. What I love about these sort of beers is they've got a mix of punch you in the face and straight up deliciousness, married together by complexity and decadence. Empire of Sand (which is one of those books that has grown in my memory) is marked by a mix of punchy emotional brutality and sweet sentimental moments, ornate prose and complicated questions. That works well enough for me.

So there we go. My Fellowship of the Booze. 

Slow Burning

T'other day I saw this tweet (click on it, as its a quote retweet and I think the original is needed for full context):

I always think this is an interesting question especially with regards to fantasy. With The Ninth Rain I deliberately had a slower opening section because I wanted to seed a deep affection for the characters before I did terrible terrible things to them (maniacal laugh etc) https://t.co/L9t1RV7FNA

— Jen '100% staying indoors’ Williams (@sennydreadful) April 16, 2020

My first reaction was kinda kneejerk "But you gotta hook!". That and "Yeah well, you can go as slow as you like when you write like GGK (the retweetee), but not many do". Which is weird as I'm critical of very fast action packed starts. Which is why I had a second reaction of "Preach it". And there's a couple of things about it that I want to particularly highlight.

First I want to quickly talk about hook. I think it's one of those writing terms where the community uses it in pretty different ways from person to person. Some people seem to use it in a "Is X going to survive! What's happened to Y?" way that suggests the form of the hook is going to be something action-y or dramatic. Others use it in a "anything that gets the reader to turn the next page" way that can let it be, well, anything. There's a big difference there. For the purposes of this article, I'll be using the first definition.

Back to Jen's tweet and this line in particular:

"I wanted to seed a deep affection for the characters before I did terrible terrible things to them".

There is an implication there that one can't establish deep affection for characters with openings that are Action & Drama heavy, or that it is very difficult. I would certainly agree with the latter. Communicating the endearing parts of a character's personality while they're totally focused on fighting for their lives or a complicated crime scene is very difficult, not least because you've got very limited space because its not the focus of the scene. You can maybe show off a bit of humour or what they fight for, but it's limited. I'm trying to think of a book that makes it work. Maybe Lindsay Davies' The Silver Pigs? That's a chase scene with a young lady running from two heavies - very hooky - but Falco's personality as a good-hearted rogue comes across very clearly. However the following should be considered:

a) 1st PoV puts us deepest into the character's mindset; I'm not sure it'd work with 3rd, not unless its super deep
b) Falco isn't the person under the deepest stress here; it mightn't work with a character who's more directly under attack, or is less experienced, or less funny too for that matter
c) Lindsay Davies is fucking awesome and not everyone can do what she can.

Now an author can go with a hook start and immediately slow down to establish character. I feel like Abercrombie's The Blade Itself and Herron's Slow Horses do that. That can work - it can be the best of both worlds - but it can also be like starting the book twice, with the chance of losing the reader twice, particularly with readers who look hooks but not slow (and vice versa). 

What doesn't work, at least 90% of the time, is failing to establish affection for the characters. And I think those 10% of books generally aren't in fantasy.

Fantasy is very much a genre with a history of the slow burn. It was Tolkien's way, it was the way of the authors that established Epic Fantasy as a sub-genre, the way of Le Guin and Pratchett and many of the genre's greats. As Jen pointed out in a follow up tweet, fantasy particularly benefits from slower starts because of all the world building we stuff in there. Which is true. Ankh-Morpork is almost as much of a character as Sam Vimes. I would like to offer a parallel explanation and that is fantasy is a genre very dependent on its characters. To badly paraphrase Lloyd Alexander, fantasy is a genre in need of a hard dose of reality; those who would build castles in the air must kept their feet on the ground.

Characters are the best form of grounding. We can relate to them. We might wonder or coo at the magic and impossible wonders and dragon fights, but it is the emotions of the characters that frame them. The emotions are the things we understand best because they mirror the ones we have. And we appreciate the characters most when we like them, are fascinated by them.

I think with every genre, authors face a quandary on how much internal journey to bring vs how much external journey, with the best finding ways to sacrifice as little of each as possible. Maybe this is a claim that all other genres' fans would make but I think fantasy is harsh with those who can't bring a lot of both. Lack of external journey? All that magic, all that worldbuilding, is gone. Lack of internal journey? I've talked about only a few of the dangers here. Only dedicated action-adventure fantasies that are happy to use safe familiar worldbuilding can get away with that I think.

At some point, the majority of fantasy stories need to slow down. The characters need oxygen, to borrow a phrase from the Wendig review I talked about yesterday. So why not at the start? I'll admit this also fits my bias for slower more character focused stories but it makes sense to me in terms of giving readers what they want. My twitter feed is littered with excitement about characters, not fight scenes. Is it harder to get the majority of readers intrigued with slower starts? Maybe, although I'll admit to being curious if there's any data behind this. But harder is not impossible. And bluntly I think it'd be no bad thing to force authors to concentrate so much on their prose and characters that they don't need hooks.

It is not the only way nor should it be. It has however been a hugely successful way and will continue to be so. If people need reminding, then I hope they're reminded.

Friday Five - Random Shizzle

1) Blooming heck, I haven't done of these in ages. So lets start as I mean to go on with some interesting articles. First one is one I found on a twitter thread on The Rise of Skywalker and that is Chuck Wendig's review. Its an entertaining read in its own right, part love letter and part critique, but the best part of it and what makes it highly recommended is the very thoughtful and incisive look at what makes high action, entertainment first stories really sing. I can't list everything he says that makes total sense to me but here's a couple of snippets of the real best bits:

"Small stories are why we care about stories" - the entirety of the story exist as the framework for all the little stories about kids who want off planets and gamblers who learn to care.

"Stories like Star Wars thrive on moments of quiet contemplation" - because action movies need quiet moments in which to build tension and attachment to the characters, or it doesn't mean shit.

2) Interesting article number two - Lyta Gold's history of feminist manless utopias, a subject I knew absolutely nothing about before clicking on the link and now know all too little. Too little, in fact, to pass any further comment other than to say it ranges far and wide with great clarity.

3) I would love to leave an insightful little note about some of the fantasy books that people keep talking about on my Twitter but I can't. Out of date I am. What I can talk about is Bravo Jubilee by Charlie Owen, a 70s cop story where the blurb's description of riotous is the best one I can think of. It's funny, touching, and unhinged; I'd give a lot to know how many of the various asides are lifted straight from his own experience as a copper. Even if somebody didn't enjoy the book (weirdo) it'd be great research in its own right. It's slightly odd to me that, given how popular 70s policing is in the British psyche and how much fantasy-crime we're seeing, that nobody has yet sought to do something riffing off it. Hopefully someone will.

4) The book of the month at the Fantasy Faction forum is Prince of Cats by Daniel E Olesen, a fact that reminds me a) that I have the book and have yet to read it and b) that his most recent book The Raven's Cry was released recently and I haven't said anything about it. The first book was a slow burn intrigue with a heavy emphasis on historically faithful elements over fantasy, similar to Katherine Kurtz. Well worth a look if that's your sort of thing.

5) Finally, a short story. And one I haven't even read yet. But I enjoyed the last one I saw from L Chan, so I'm confident I'll like Seven Scraps Unwritten too. And I have another even shorter story for people to read too! This one is a microfiction written from the point of view of an abstract concept as written by Magnus Heden from the FF forum - I Am Doubt.

Project Transformation Part One - The Beginning

I once read an author interview in which she - the name is forgotten sadly - said she varied how she wrote to avoid any one method getting stale. The idea struck a chord in me. As such, I like to deliberately change how I go about writing from time to time, trying new ideas and methods. Today I'm going to change how I communicate about what I'm writing.

That's something I've changed from time to time in the past too. Sometimes I get an idea through talking to people and riff a lot with them. Sometimes I get a bunch of ideas and pitch them at people to see which I should do. Sometimes - again based on something I read - I don't talk about the idea at all, trying to force it out of me by giving it no other outlet than the page. That's had a lot of success but I'm not in the mood for that. So this time, I'm going to try talking about the project as much as possible by keeping a public diary. Hopefully it'll lead to people getting excited for it (which will make me excited) and bouncing ideas off of me. At the very least it should give me some accountability. But if all else fails, it's a new idea tried.

So speaking of new ideas, let me tell you about Project Transformation.

A lot of ideas come to me. And I mean a lot. It's probably my strongest suit as a would-be novelist. I went looking for Project Transformation. I have a number of half-finished projects I could be working on but they all had various flaws that I didn't feel able to tackle while also doing an edit side-by-side. I wanted to do something totally new. I did have an idea but I found it drowning under a) uncertainty of where to start b) uncertainty of how all the personal conflicts and interpersonal dynamics would actually turn into a great narrative. I thought and thought and thought about it but nothing was coming to me and as that project is an experiment in doing a very clean, rolling revision, one and one draft, I wasn't going to just fling words at it. I didn't just need a new project, I needed one I could fling words at. But what?

Nothing was occurring to me. No image, no 'what if', no characters. Instead I went searching for the idea in a very different way for me - what do I want to write? What would be something I'd be proud of? What would the fantasy I want to read be - a very pertinent question when deep in a reading slump where I was questioning whether I'd simply had my fill of the fantasy genre.

Little ideas dribbled through. I wanted something that felt really classically Fantasy. I think in authors' quests to reinvent the genre, they sometimes chuck out the baby with the bathwater (to my tastes at least). I wanted something that built on the idea of modern-feeling Fantasy as done by Pratchett and Gladstone and Jackson Bennett. I wanted to reach back to that idea of invented myth and powerful magic, and tell it in a style that fits the world I know. A series that really exemplified that to me was GGK's The Fionavar Tapestry; hugely mythic, yet rooted in the world view of people from our own world. People becoming myths - that's an idea that is somewhere in every idea I have, but I wanted to dial it up. I also wanted to build on the idea of rebellion and building a better world I was getting from my Xth re-read of The Invisibles. I wouldn't go as far as Moorcock, but there is a tendency for Fantasy to lionise stories where authority fights the enemy without over the struggle for a better future and the confusion of enemies within our culture. I was getting what I wanted to do (albeit in a form a lot less crystal than these words) but I needed a vehicle.

Then it all came together while listening to Dead Can Dance's Ulysses. Read the lyrics (third comment down on the video) and I think you'll see hints of what I was talking about but something particular about it gave me a half-formed idea. What's more, listen to it and you'll get a mix of eerie rhythm and elegant melody, yearning nostalgia and determination to create from chaos; that mood is strong in what I want to do.

This gave me the idea of young normal people, yearning to make a difference, and in their eagerness agreeing to take on mythic personas giving them great powers for a rebellion (against what?), but in doing so putting themselves in great internal peril as well as external. There was something there. I teased and tugged at the idea for a few days - part of me is still wondering if this should be a portal fantasy - but couldn't get it to really sit anywhere. So I said screw it and started anyway.

Now I've got 6k words about a young man named Sooley. He's a doctor employed by a city state of great power to offer enough care to the poor to keep them quiescent but his sympathies are with the unquiescent rebels. Currently I'm following him around his everyday life, establishing his world and seeing what his deal is; he wants to join the rebellion but they say no. Their reason is they need people like him to keep his neighbourhood together - no point winning the war by turning the city into an even worse place than it already is. But Sooley is restless. He is taking daft risks. He's scared. He's going to do something daft. I mean, you know the young hero of a fantasy story is going to get mixed up in something, right?

Right now the idea is very under developed and the prose is frankly atrocious. I like to think I've got different accents as a writer, and when I'm writing discovery style is defaults to a very disjointed tell-heavy 90s-tastic style that bears distinct resemblance to my 14 year old self's writing. This project is very much about get it down and revise later.

But one thing that is developing is a little something about the culture and source of power. The ruling power makes heavy use of alchemy - lethal weapons, super soldiers, and so on. Reason A - I like magic that echoes real world occultism, and medieval-esque alchemy has been impinging on my radar for a little now and is little done in fantasy. Reason B - putting some solid restrictions on how their magic works will make for a better story. Not that it's gone further than "alchemy!". The rebels are trending more towards a pseudo-shamanistic point of view, summoning spirits and weapons imbued by magic. What's important about that? They're indications of different world views. There's a clash of ideology here. And that clash is giving me some ideas about Sooley (name liable to change).

My plan is to get this story to about 20k words and take stock there. I'm hoping that this will be around the moment that Sooley's power is emerging and that we've established his character. There's a lot of questions along the way about how that 20k will go, not least whether this story is just following Sooley (probably not).

And that's about all I've got to say without spoilering everything majorly. I'll hopefully update this in a fortnight.

On Disney and Marvel

On the first day of Quarantine my true love gave to me,
a channel full of Disney...

Or rather she gave it to herself and took me along for the ride, no matter what I said, which truthfully wasn't much as I don't really care too much what's on TV most of the time. 

Let me tell you something that occurred to me in the last few weeks.

Going by most definitions of Fantasy out there, nobody is bigger in modern Fantasy than Walt Disney. Not Tolkien, not Gygax, not Dunsany, not Rowling, not Del Rey, but Disney. His work, and the work done by those following his legacy and template, has reached more people, and covered more fairy tales and myths and stories about fantastical happenings, than any other. And they do so younger. Children the age of four and five know and love powerful sorceresses like Elsa and folk-heroes like Maui. Is his work influential outside Disney, in a literary sense? I cannot think of examples easily but I suspect wiser people than me would not struggle. And if there aren't any, then frankly we are staring at the biggest opportunity in Fantasy literature ever; the Fantasy book that will resonate with the audience reared on Disney.

And nobody has a bigger mythological interpretation than Marvel with Thor (which boils my piss to say the least). Or probably a bigger single franchise in SFF geekdom, one that will go on to leave little traces of influence everywhere like LotR and Star Wars before it, both in terms of elements and pacing. Somebody linked to a story template the other day that reads as heavily influenced by the MCU. I doubt its the only one. Sure, its not deviating much if any from the Hero's Journey to begin with, but there's a particular MCU-specific slant.

This isn't talked about much in most of the corners of SFF fandom I inhabit. They're popular but I love in book specific corners, and they're not books. But if there's one thing I think Fantasy authors and those thinking about the genre should be wise to right now is the ever increasing level of cross over between the various forms of media that constitute the genre, and genres in SFF. FF7 is as influential as the Wheel of Time, Sandman as influential as, er, Neil Gaiman's other works... and I don't have a movie because the books feed the screen in Fantasy. But the screen has a greater reach and takes on a life of their own; see Game of Thrones. See the MCUverse.

I think that the most important thing about this is that readers will see tropes, stereotypes and cliches from Disney and Marvel in the Fantasy books they read. If you want to write a story about a snarky genius inventor or ice sorceress scared of their powers, convinced that's fresh in Fantasy, it's not going to be fresh to most of the market at all. Which also means you can riff on them. But there's probably tons of ramifications I'm not getting and in any case, I didn't write this really to talk about what it means for the genre - that, or maybe what these two franchises do for the genre that's good, is a different tale - but more to share my revelation.

On Picking Books

I am currently not reading anything.

Well. For a given value of not reading anything. I actually have several books unfinished that I'm going to finish, honest - Hackwith's Invisible Library, Crowley's Aegypt, a factual book called Outlaws Inc, one of Buroker's Emperor's Edge novels, a wuxia novel with elves - but none of them that I intend to pick up and read some point today. I would like to start something, probably a re-read, but this involves me making a choice.

Which is where the problems start.

Many of my family members will tell you I'm indecisive. This isn't true. 60% of the time I just don't care and also don't care to deal with the backlash of picking wrong for someone else. 35% of the time it's a hard decision that takes time and internal deliberation. 5% of the time I pick just fine. Nothing indecisive about that. And that doesn't even count work, where I've no problem at all!

Picking a book to read usually falls into the 35%.

Let's start with the process by which a book gets onto my bookshelf (or table, or floor, or one of the countless places I stick books to my wife's frustration) before getting onto the whole picking a re-read thing.

Very few weeks go by when I don't look at acquiring a book in some form. If its not visiting a book shop (monthly), it's nipping into a second hand book shop (monthly), or looking at the book share at the work (formerly daily), or going to the library (every time I'm no longer allowed to renew), or looking at NetGalley (bi-monthly), or books posted in deal threads on forums (weekly), or even the odd review request in my email (trick question, I don't read my email, I need a better way to get these). And if its none of those, then there's good old fashioned looking up a book thanks to word of mouth or recommendations or being friends of some sort with the author. 

Which reminded me that Blackwing and The Court of Broken Knives are also on my started but in abeyance list.

Back to the topic though  - the point is I look at far far too many books to ever read them all. Frankly I buy and borrow too many books to ever read them all. I am picky to begin with but that knowledge makes me even pickier.

My first contact with a book will be one of the following:

a) Someone talking about it, online or otherwise
b) The title and author
c) The title, author and cover

Let's skip over A for now. B and C - mainly B - are my most common first contacts with a book. I'll walk along a shelf, I'll click on a link with a name (or not) - the name is pretty much all I've got to be going with unless the author has an awesome sounding name. Is there anything that draws me in a title? Honestly, sometimes generic works better than anything fancy. I once picked up a book called The Horse Lord because I felt pretty safe assuming it'd be my type of fantasy. But generally I'm attracted to books with a hint of poetry or humour to their title. I picked up Kerr's Daggerspell based on the name. Ditto Hughart's Bridge of Birds. Incongurity works too - I'm pretty sure I picked up Davies' The Silver Pigs as a kid for this reason. Turn-offs? I guess maybe certain overused words. I very nearly didn't buy Barker's Age of Assassins because meh assassins.

The book cover, if I'm honest, doesn't play a huge part. I once noticed a book thanks to its fantastic art on Twitter... and I can't remember the name of the book in question. A lot of the books on my shelf have very simple abstract designs. 

Shortly after any of those introductory points comes the blurb. That's the universal. And honestly, it often means quite a lot to me, which is weird. Sometimes I'm just looking for an absence of "oh dear". But often I'm looking for some sign that the author is with me on some wavelength. A hint of humour. A tease of mystery. Or just a clever bit of phrasing. Some flavour. I've put down so many forgotten books because there was no sense of flavour. Flavour can be very simple:

"It is the only route by which an army can pass through the mountains. Protected by six outer walls, it was the stronghold of the Drenai Empire. Now it is the last battleground, for all else has fallen before the Nadir hordes. 

And the only hope rests on the skills of that one old man."

The prose is stark, matter of fact, straight to the point. It has a flavour. I can't recall if I read Legend's blurb all those years ago but it would have got my attention.

We then get to the all important stage of reading a few pages. I don't always do this - Amazon book sales, books by friends, and library books by highly reputed authors often skip this stage - but frankly I should. I don't know if I'm abnormally attached to prose style and voice but if I don't like it, I don't like the book. That's probably a better than 99% accurate prediction. There's probably an author where I was lukewarm on their voice but got used to it and learned to like it. Give me a year and I might remember who. This is the real acid test. Everything before this is me whittling down the numbers to manageable levels.

Now that I've waffled long enough - how do I pick which book out of the huge pile to read? Which re-read am I going to do this time?

I think it's here that people talking about a book really matters to me. Chat might get me to pay attention but it would get the sale - the steps above are what does that for me. Even if one of the people whose taste I regard as being very close to my own raves about a book it doesn't matter that much as to whether I'll buy it. But in terms of keeping a book in my mind and ramping up my enthusiasm for it once I've got a taste, it really does matter. Which is why it's always good to keep talking about books, and not just whoop it up at their release and forget.

Has anybody been cooing over anything in on my shelves recently? No. Bugger. Next step. Is there anything corresponding to my mood? I'm toying with the idea of picking up Cornwell's The Winter King but it feels a little too fresh in my mind, a little too remote and long winded. Similarly, I could carry on a re-read of The Empire Trilogy but again, a little long winded. More over, I'm not in the mood for the weirdnesses of the romantic relationship there. Maybe a Discworld or a Sharpe? I'd like to re-read Age of Assassins but for some reason the idea of re-reading on kindle really doesn't work for me. The answer is I'll probably only decide when at the shelves.