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Book Recipes: How to Write Folk Horror

Time for another book recipe! Because it is October, the spookiest month, we’re going to be looking at folk horror. Grab your most flickery torches, we’re heading to the country. But, y’know, the creepy bits.

 

Ingredients:

  • One creepy village
  • A hapless, city-bred idiot
  • Spooky trees
  • A grab-bag full of miscellaneous Celtic imagery
  • Sinister villagers, possibly with catchphrases
  • A beautiful woman who is totally not going to betray the hapless idiot, honest
  • A contrived reason to stop your characters going home or calling the police
  • A bunch of straw, just, like, everywhere

 

Method:

  1. Prepare your creepy setting. Your village should be isolated, surrounded by spooky trees and have a bunch of, like, straw bales and that lying around. Because it’s the country.
  2. Enter your hapless city-boy. It doesn’t matter why he’s here – all that matters is that he is 100% definitely going to die.
  3. Oh boy, sure is spooky in this spooky village! We’re not leaving though. There’s still seventeen steps to go.
  4. Let’s meet some spooky villagers! They like to stand around and say meaningless but creepy things. It’s a quaint countryside pastime.
giphy swan
That and chasing swans. (image: giphy.com)
  1. Introduce your beautiful woman to the hapless idiot. She’s not like the other villagers – she’s hot.
  2. A mysterious thing has happened! Better investigate. Ooh, look at how Celtically spooky things are.
  3. Have another encounter with some spooky villagers. They’ll say cryptic things at you, but it’s probably fine. This is just what passes for fun when you can’t get reliable internet.
  4. Have a brief moment of contact with the outside world. Your hapless idiot could go home, but he won’t, because I said so and this is my blog.
  5. But oh look, here comes the only babe in the village! We can leave later – once we’ve got her number, amirite??
  6. The village’s resident hottie agrees to help the hapless idiot investigate the spooky things. It’s not a trap.
  7. Uh-oh, things are definitely getting spookier! Uncover some sort of vaguely mystic Celtic nonsense that’ll set things up for the final act.
  8. Have an encounter with a spooky villager, but, like, a really scary one. If you end up running through the woods, you’re doing it right.
giphy snow forest
See, Snow gets it. (image: giphy.com)
  1. Oh no, someone has attacked the village hottie and NOW WE MUST SAVE HER. Celebrate by making out a bunch.
  2. One last encounter with the outside world! The hapless idiot is offered the chance to leave, but he doesn’t take it because the clue’s in his name.
  3. Spooky things are happening more often! Almost like there’s only five steps to go…
  4. Uncover the village’s spooky, spooky secret. It’s, like, totally scary.
  5. Oh no, a thing has happened which means you can’t leave the village!
  6. The village hottie reveals that she was working with the rest of the creepy villagers all along! You feel so betrayed – but mainly you feel scared, because they all want to kill you.
  7. Run away! Time for a last-minute dash to safety. Here’s where you find out if all your cardio paid off…
  8. Hooray, you made it! Back in civilisation, you’re totally safe from creepy straw bales and corn dollies – until HAHA SURPRISE THE SPOOKY GOT YOU

The End. OR IS IT??

 

Tips:

  • Always set it in autumn. It is the spookiest season.
  • Don’t feel you have to get specific about the kind of spooky stuff that’s going on. Just make vague allusions to Celtic-sounding things and you’ll probably be fine.
  • Make sure to talk about the full moon at least three times.
  • Keep the technology to a minimum. Googling the spooky stuff is all well and good, but it’s nowhere near as effective as looking it up in a mysterious old tome.
Vampyr
AKA The Buffy Principle. (image: buffy.wikia.com)
  • Always have your creepy villagers say something like ‘you don’t belong here’, or ‘we don’t take kindly to strangers round these parts’.
  • If in doubt, chuck in some vague paganism.
  • Make good use of your agricultural props. Corn dollies – check. Rusty old farm tools – check. Spooky scarecrows – double check. Blue plastic tarps and government-subsidised windfarms – maybe not.

 

And here’s one I prepared earlier…

 

John turned up the collar of his jacket against the cold. Wind whistled through the trees as he approached the old pub in the distance. The lights in the windows were the only signs of life for miles around. But it would be worth it. In a place like Grimbrooke, he could write his masterpiece.

There was no better place for an aspiring writer. No Internet, no TVs and only one phone line in the whole village – in short, there would be no distractions. True, every time he passed an animal it turned its head and hissed at him, but that was probably just a countryside thing. He’d never been great with cows.

A shape loomed out of the darkness. John flinched and swung his torch around; it was only a scarecrow. Dressed in a ragged old smock and with a carved pumpkin for a head, it had one arm propped up to point towards the pub. Rustling came from the field behind it.

“How convenient!” he said.

He kept walking. The road was narrow and winding, and overshadowed by trees on both sides. Every now and then the path twisted, blocking out the lights in the pub windows, and he was left stranded in the dark. He wished he’d been able to get the taxi driver to take him all the way up to the pub doors. He’d asked, but the man had shuddered and said “Be nowt in Grimbrooke for the likes o’ ye,” and he’d driven off before John had worked out what accent he was supposed to have.

He passed by another scarecrow. For some reason, this one was hanging from a tree by a noose, pumpkin head grinning. He looked at it for a little while and decided that it made sense. It was definitely scarier that way.

There was some more rustling. John ignored it. It was probably just the wind – but then, a man dressed all in black stepped out of the trees. He was old, with a scraggly beard and wide, staring eyes.

He made a vaguely agricultural noise before saying “Tha’d best go home, stranger.”

“Hello,” said John. That was probably what the old guy had meant. “Can you tell me if I’m on the right path for The Grimbrooke Arms? I can hardly see where I’m going with all these trees.”

The old man wheezed at him. “T’Grimbrooke Arms? Aye, ‘tis yonder. But why ye should go tae such a dark and eldritch place, on tonight of all nights…”

John was still struggling with the accent. “Eldritch? Isn’t that just a sort of square?”

The old man waved a knobbly finger in John’s face. “Dinnae come roond here wi’ yer fancy city ways and yer Pratchett references! We Grimbrookers are a proud people, ootsider, and ye’ve no business here!”

“I’m sorry,” said John, wondering how far away they were from the Scottish border, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

The old man nodded and fell into step beside him. “Aye, well, tha knows nowt of the old ways.”

The pub was growing closer now. John could see the little round windows and the big bales of straw stacked up outside. They passed by some more scarecrows. They all had pumpkins instead of heads – one of them with a knife stuck in it – and their ragdoll bodies had been bent to spell out the word ‘NOPE’.

“What are the old ways?”

The old man chuckled, spookily. “If tha goes t’Grimbrooke Arms, tha’ll find out.”

“Look,” said John, finally cracking, “where exactly are you from?”

The old man ignored him and pointed up at the pub. The trees had thinned back to show a small, squat building hunkered down beside a river. There were two more pumpkin-headed scarecrows outside: one holding a long, red candle and a tall pitchfork, and the other holding up the specials board.

“’Tis yer last chance, stranger,” said the old man. “Tha stands at a crossroads. Doon one path lies the familiar, doon the other leads…well, doom. Only tha can choose.”

John shifted his backpack higher onto his shoulder. “I’m just here to write a book.”

The old man looked interested. “Will ye put me in it?”

“If you like.”

“Then I’ll give tha three pieces of advice. One: dinnae trust a crow. Two: keep away fra’ the auld Grimbrooke estate, ye’ll find nae comfort there. And three – ” and now, he beckoned John closer, and whispered in his ear “ – try the special. They’ve a kale and quinoa-stuffed butternut squash yonder that’s to die for.”

 

My full book-cookbook can be found here. Let me know what you’d like me to look at next – and as always, take this recipe with a pinch of salt.

Alice-In-Wonderland-I-See-What-You-Did-There
Heh heh heh. (image: replycandy.com)
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Editing Tips: How to Do the Words

Let me paint you a picture. You’ve just finished your first draft. Corks have been popped, backs have been slapped, and you’re basking in the rosy glow of a job well done.

Except NO YOU’RE NOT, GET BACK TO WORK.

tenor scrooge
That novel’s not going to write itself. (mage: tenor.com)

There’s a saying that writing is re-writing, and that’s by and large true, in my experience. It’s very easy to miss stuff on your first go round. But it’s pretty daunting to have just got to the end of a project and then realise that you’ve got to go right back to the beginning again. Whether you’re writing a novel or an essay, you’re always going to make mistakes in your first draft, but often it’s quite tricky to know exactly where to start.

Luckily for you guys, I am a mild-mannered editor by day and I am, like, the best at making sentences. Here’s some quick and dirty tips to use as a starting point.

 

 

  1. Check your spelling and grammar…

All the editing lists say this, and it’s because it’s true. If you’re writing fiction, having proper spelling and grammar will help a reader get into the story – they won’t get snapped out of it every time they see a typo. If you’re writing an essay, correct spelling and grammar will make you sound like you know what you’re talking about. (Also one time, at university, our tutor told my seminar group that someone had submitted their dissertation with an accidental swear word in there, so CHECK YOUR TYPOS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.)

 

  1. …but don’t stick to it too rigidly.

This really applies more to fiction than non-fiction, so if you’re writing an essay feel free to skip to the next step. Depending on the type of thing you’re writing, sticking to very rigid grammatical rules can sometimes work against you. By all means use the correct punctuation, but forcing all your sentences to fit into a very regimented pattern doesn’t always work well – it can be pretty boring. Mixing things up a bit in terms of sentence structure helps your writing feel interesting, so go ahead and start that sentence with ‘and’.

 

  1. Take a break.

Go for a walk. Look at some clouds. Have some dinner, or maybe a nap. Anything that will give you fresh eyes, because if you go straight back to the beginning after typing your final sentence, you’re going to be reading what you were going for instead of what’s actually there. Obviously this works better when you’ve got time to take a proper break, but even if you’re writing to deadline this will really help. Maybe just go for a run instead of taking a full week of R&R, otherwise your teachers will be mad at me. 

 

  1. Invest in a thesaurus…

Check your work for repeated phrases. It’s OK to use the same phrase a few times, but if it’s popping up every paragraph you need to re-assess your choice of words. I’ll hold my hands up and say that I used to be so bad for this and only realised I was doing it when one of my friends pointed it out. I was leaning on those phrases so often that they were actually getting in the way of the plot. Fixing it was difficult, but when I did my writing became a lot better.

 

  1. …but don’t pay it too much attention. 

Look. Thesauruses (thesauri?) are great and everything, but they do have a tendency to turn all your prose completely purple. By all means switch up your choice of words, but don’t choose anything that sounds daft.

 

  1. Get some outside feedback.

If you’ve got time, see if you can get someone else to have a quick look through your work. Even if it’s just your mate proofing your essay at the kitchen table, it really helps to have a second pair of eyes. I’ve got my family and friends to read bits I’ve written for as long as I can remember, and they pick up stuff I wouldn’t have even thought of. (Thanks, guys!)

EnragedOrneryDachshund-size_restricted
Ron learned NOTHING without her. (image: gfycat.com)

 

  1. Read it aloud.

Seriously, do it. It’s so easy to fall into the trap of putting stuff down because it looks good on paper, particularly when you’re writing essays. Don’t make the same mistakes I made, and always make sure it sounds like something a human could conceivably say out loud before you hand it in.

 

  1. See how it all flows together.

How are you progressing from one idea to the next? Are you following a chain of argument or a narrative thread when you’re moving between topics? This will really help it feel natural, as opposed to checking things off a list. I always find that reading it aloud helps here too. If new topics are introduced in a way that feels jarring when it’s spoken, that probably means I’m not doing something right.

 

  1. Be picky.

You don’t need to have a cast-iron reason to cut something if you want to get rid of it. It’s your work, and if you decide that it’s time to hack and slash at something you’ve written then chop chop.

original
Calm down. (image: weheartit.com)

It’s enough to decide you’ve gone off something – and if you keep the original version, you can always put it back in if you change your mind.

 

  1. Trust your instincts.

You know what you want to say, so write it down. These tips are just tips – they are by no means the be-all and end-all of editing. If something doesn’t work for you, don’t use it. Equally, if something else on a different list works better, add it to your list of things to look for. Going over your own stuff can be an incredibly personal process, so you’ve got to do it in a way that works for you.

 

And that’s it! These are my extremely basic, starting-point tips for anyone looking for some advice on how to edit their own stuff. Hopefully they’re useful. The most important thing is to find a process that works for you. It may take some doing, and you may want to try a few different approaches, but it’ll help you find a way to make your writing really shine, no matter what it is you’re actually putting on paper.

Now get back to work.

Book Recipes: How to Write a Time-Travel Romance

Time for another book recipe! Put on your corsets and make sure you’ve had all your jabs – we’re going BACK IN TIME. Sexily.

 

Ingredients:

  • One feisty heroine with a wildly detailed knowledge of history
  • One mega-hottie from THE PAST
  • A largely-irrelevant historical backdrop
  • One modern boyfriend, purely for angst
  • Buckets full of drama
  • A convenient historical event
  • A shakily-explained means of travelling backwards through time
  • Some sort of ticking clock plot device, which is utterly pointless because you have a time machine

 

Method:

  1. Put your feisty heroine with an incredibly detailed knowledge of history in the present, living a normal life with her normal, modern boyfriend. Sure hope nothing happens to them.
  2. HAHA TIME TRAVEL!
  3. Oh no! For convoluted plot reasons your heroine is now stuck in the past! However will she return to her one true love?
  4. Introduce the historical mega-hottie as dramatically as possible.
  5. Your heroine must spend a bunch of time with this historical mega-hottie, for plot reasons. She hates it, and it’s not because she like, likes him or anything, oh my God, why do you have to make this so weird??
giphy omg mom
I mean, why would you even say that? (image: giphy.com)
  1. Throw in some hilarious time-travel japes.
  2. Angst about the modern boyfriend for a bit. He’s probably frantically searching for the heroine right now, even though that’s not how time travel works and she can literally just bamf right back to the exact second she disappeared.
  3. Foreshadow the historical event!
  4. Your heroine and the historical hottie share a tender moment. Angst about it, then him, then the modern boyfriend, and then about the inevitability of history. It’s time for some serious brooding.
  5. Uh-oh! This historical event is not going to be good – and for reasons best left unexplained, you have to do a thing right before it happens!
  6. Distract yourself by staring at the historical hottie for a bit.
  7. More angst.
giphy angst
No-one understands. (image: giphy.com)
  1. The heroine and the historical hottie at last admit their tender, squishy feelings for each other. Then they make out, like, a bunch.
  2. Give up on getting back to the present. Your modern boyfriend is probably fine, and besides, in the present they definitely don’t make cheekbones like they used to.
  3. That historical event is coming closer! Time for aaaaaaangst.
  4. Finally tell your historical hottie that you’re from The Future. It’ll be a bit weird at first, but eventually he’ll decide he’s into it.
  5. Use some of your incredibly detailed historical knowledge to attempt to alter the course of history. That always ends well.
  6. You manage to do the thing right before the historical event! Phew. Guess that’s finally sorted out the –
  7. OH NO IT ALL BACKFIRED HOW COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED
  8. Now that the history books have been proved right, the heroine must return to her own time. Say a tearful farewell to your historical hottie, then waltz off to the smallpox-free present.

THE END. Serve with a generous dollop of wistful staring.

 

Tips:

  • Make sure that you pick the right kind of historical backdrop. A little bit of grime is allowed, but it’s got to have some clean and pretty bits where the heroine can chill. Ideally you want to pick one that also comes with its own little outfit.
  • You can give your historical hottie an old-timey scar, but it must be the result of some brave and manly deed and not just smallpox.
  • No plagues. No-one likes a plague.
  • The heroine never tells people she’s from The Future unless it’s the hottie, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to influence what happens in the past. She just gives a bunch of really specific instructions and then gets very vague about why she’s doing it. It is the most subtle way.
  • Do not forget to describe your heroine’s outfits in rigorous detail.
  • Always make sure your heroine has an excuse to spend most of the plot in a rich dude’s house, so that the reader can see all the cool bits of the past. No-one wants to spend the whole novel in a mud hut.
  • Don’t forget to let your heroine spout off a bunch of pointless facts for no reason!
  • If you want to really ramp up the drama, have a random character accuse your heroine of witchcraft, and then your historical hottie can swoop in and save her. Everyone believed in witches in the past, obviously (no-one had invented telly, there was nothing else to do) so this is 100% bona fide historical fact.

 

And here’s one I prepared earlier…

 

Dr Julia Knight paced up and down her bedchamber, the long hem of her beaded yellow stola brushing the floor. She had to find a way out of here. The door was not locked, there were no guards outside, but that was not the problem.

She was trapped in the past.

She had no idea how it happened. One moment her fiancé, Blanden, was daring her to touch a mysterious glowing orb, and the next, she was wandering around the Forum. It made no sense. Luckily, she’d been taken in by Flavius Marcellus Barbarus, the wealthiest man in Rome, but still – nobody had any toothpaste here, and her three degrees in Romanology could only take her so far. She had to get back to her own time.

There was a knock at the door – a strapping, manly knock that made her heart flutter. And that, of course, was the other problem.

She patted her hair and tried not to sound too flustered. “Come in!”

Maximus strode into the room, eyes flashing, muscles rippling, still sweaty and breathless from his gladiator training, and Julia had to have a little sit down until she regained the ability to stand up. His legs looked great in his strappy sandals. Not for the first time, she wondered if making out with a super-hot gladiator would alter the course of history. Hopefully not, but she was prepared to risk it.

“Oracle,” he said, smouldering, “you have a client.”

“Oh. Yes, right!” Julia put on her most mysterious face. “Send him in.”

Maximus bowed, sexily, and Julia splashed her face with cold water. Moments later he reappeared with a man in a toga, who had a large nose and a receding hairline. Julia recognised him instantly, and tried not to freak out.

“Oracle,” he said, “I am –”

She held up a hand and tried to look spooky. “I know who you are, Gaius Julius Caesar.”

He frowned. “You do? How?”

Because I wrote my dissertation on you, Julia thought. Out loud, she said “Who in all of Rome does not know Caesar?”

Caesar looked pleased and pulled up a stool. “Exactly. Well, Oracle, I wish to consult you on –”

“Yeah,” said Julia, “I’m gonna stop you right there. Got some super important Oracle stuff to tell you. Have you got a pen?”

“What is this strange…pen you speak of?”

Julia blushed. “Stylus, I meant. Obviously. Something to take notes with.”

Caesar snapped his fingers. A slave sprang forward with a tablet and stylus and started to write.

“Right, so,” Julia began, “don’t go to the Senate on the Ides of March, don’t trust Cassius, Brutus, or the other Brutus who was also there –”

Caesar looked shocked. “But they’re all friends, Romans, countrymen…”

Julia laughed delightedly. “You said the thing!”

“I…what?”

“Never mind. So, yeah – Brutus one and two, and also Cassius – oh, and don’t accept the crown if you get offered it. Ever. You’ll thank me later.”

He blinked at her. “Why? I think I’d like a crown.”

Julia waved a dismissive hand. “More trouble than it’s worth. Also, it’ll give you a headache; those things are heavy. That’s it, Oracle stuff over.”

Caesar frowned while his slave scribbled down the last of her advice. “You seem to be very well-informed. Oracles are not usually so specific. Tell me – where have you learned such secrets?”

Julia caught Maximus’s eye. He smouldered at her.

“Oh, well, you know,” she said, waving Caesar out the door, “mystical Oracle stuff. The gods, obviously. And, like, significant dreams, goat entrails, reading bones and that. It’s all very technical. Ta-ta now.”

Caesar inclined his head. “I will think on your wisdom, Oracle.”

“Yes, yes. Off you go. Lovely to meet you, don’t get stabbed.”

“What?”

Julia shut the door and leaned against it, breathing hard. She’d just saved Julius Caesar’s life – and altered the course of history altogether. On retrospect, maybe that wasn’t her best idea.

When she opened her eyes, Maximus was staring at her. “Truly, you are wise, Oracle,” he murmured. “Do the gods have any advice for me?”

Julia hesitated. If she was going to be stuck in Rome, she may as well enjoy the view.

“Yes,” she said, in her most mystical voice. “They said you should take your shirt off.”

 

My full book-cookbook can be found here. Let me know what you’d like me to look at next – and as always, take this recipe with a pinch of salt.

Alice-In-Wonderland-I-See-What-You-Did-There
Heh heh heh. (image: replycandy.com)

Book Recipes: How to Write a Historical Epic

Time for another book recipe! This time we’ll be looking at historical epics. Bring tissues, because three-quarters of the characters are definitely going to die.

 

Ingredients:

  • A thousand different characters
  • Significant landmarks
  • Buckets full of research
  • Weather that matches the events of the plot
  • Duh-RAMA
  • Speeches
  • Enough backstory to fill a lake
  • A significant historical event you can use as a backdrop
  • More research

 

Method:

  1. Research literally everything you can about your historical event. YOU MUST KNOW EVERYTHING.
  2. Introduce your thousand characters in the build-up to the historical event. Pick about twenty of them as your leads, but just bear in mind that only three of them are going to survive to the end of the book.
  3. Deliver some backstory in front of a famous landmark.
  4. Oh no, some plot is happening that sets up the big historical event! Never mind. I’m sure it won’t be important later.
shrug
It’s probably fine. (image: andrewstoeten.com)
  1. Kill off a character. It’s fine, we’ve got loads.
  2. Set up a confrontation between two of your characters in front of a famous landmark. Don’t resolve it yet, we’ve got like twelve thousand pages to go.
  3. Uh-oh, some important history is going on! Looks like we’ve got to pay attention this time, so make sure to slap some of your characters in there.
  4. Do a speech! Readers love speeches.
  5. Two (or more) of your characters have fallen in love! Yaaaaaayyyyy. They can’t be together, because of reasons. Angst about it in the rain, so the readers know that it’s sad.
  6. Hmm, what’s this? Looks like…foreshadowing…
giphy chipmunk
Dun dun DUUUNNNNN. (image: giphy.com)
  1. Have another confrontation between those two characters that hate each other, but in front of a different landmark. Don’t resolve it, just use the opportunity to deliver more backstory instead.
  2. THE HISTORICAL EVENT IS HAPPENING ALL STATIONS GO
  3. Your lovers are separated by all this history lying around. Time for one of them to go and angst about it while the over tries to get all the history out of their clothes.
  4. Let’s see how the characters you put right in the middle of things are getting on. They seem OK so far…
  5. HAHA JK THEY’RE ALL DEAD. The foreshadowing was right…
  6. Fighting! Drama! History all over the floor! It’s very exciting, and factually accurate.
  7. Kill off some more characters, just for kicks.
  8. Time to resolve that confrontation you’ve been building up to! Make sure to make it as dramatic as possible – if you’re not doing it in a storm, you’re doing it wrong.
  9. The dust has settled. History has finished its tantrum and is putting away its toys. Have your characters do some speeches about how significant and important this is.
  10. End on a wedding, to distract your readers from the fact that ninety percent of your characters are dead.

THE END. Serve in a thousand pages.

 

Tips:

  • Don’t get attached to any of your characters.
  • Word count coming up a bit short? That’s where your backstory comes in. It’s not just for one character – it’s for their entire family and goes back centuries. That ought to give you at least another chapter.
  • Every character must have either a corset, a sword, or a historical hat.
  • You can have antagonists, but don’t include an out-and-out villain. The real villain is society.
giphy woah
That’s deep, man. (image: giphy.com)
  • Choose your historical event carefully. You want to pick something that has a nice decisive fight right at the end and has lots of stuff to fill out your characters’ speeches with. No-one’s going to want to read a novel about humanity gradually discovering the uses of metal.
  • Make sure to pack your novel full of historical facts, no matter how irrelevant. That way, your reader can suffer too – just like when you were doing your research.
  • Start weightlifting. You’re going to need some serious guns to lift the finished book.

 

And here’s one I prepared earlier…

 

Hood pulled up to hide his face, Brother Girolamo slipped silently along the streets of Bologna. Vespers had been rung hours ago; if he was lucky, he would make it back to the abbey before Compline. If not…well. The abbot might notice his absence, but some things were more important.

Tonight, di Luca would confess.

He had to be careful. The city was tense since the theft of the bucket. Soon, there would be war. Holding the edges of his habit out of the mud, he passed by the church of San Domenico and headed for the Asinelli. In the shadows between the great tower and the smaller Garisenda tower, he would be unseen. That was where di Luca would be waiting.

He was right. There, at the base of the vast towers, stood Niccolo di Luca.

Hatred rushed through him. Di Luca was just standing there, one hand on his stupid shiny sword, a big feathered hat covering his stupid floppy hair. Rings glittered on his stupid fingers, his hose were too tight and he’d grown a stupid, stupid pointy beard. The only good thing about him was the sparkly brooch fastening his cloak, and he’d stolen that from Brother Girolamo before he’d taken holy orders. Jerk.

Well, this time he’d gone too far. Brother Girolamo stepped into the shadows, heart beating very fast. He’d thought about this moment for fifteen years. He’d composed his speech in his head all through Matins, and dropped his prayer book because of it. He’d locked himself in the latrines and practiced it out loud, just to make sure. He’d even practiced the right faces when he’d drawn water from the well. Now, he put on his determined-yet-vengeful face and cleared his throat. He had to get the voice right.

“Niccolo di Luca,” he intoned, majestically. He allowed himself a brief smile – he was doing so well – and stepped out of the shadows.

Di Luca flinched and whirled around, already drawing his sword. “Who’s there? Who are you?”

“You mean you don’t recognise me?” said Brother Girolamo, still doing the voice.

“I…I don’t…take off your hood and face me like a man!”

Brother Girolamo did a sinister laugh. He was very proud of it. He’d practiced for hours, and in the end he’d had to get Brother Paolo to help him get it right. He was going to tell Brother Paolo everything when he got back to the abbey.

“Well,” Brother Girolamo said, putting on his determined-yet-vengeful face again, “I suppose it has been fifteen years. Maybe this will help you remember.”

He lowered his hood. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. This was the moment his whole life had been building up to. This was it, this was it

Di Luca blinked at him. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Yes! It is – what do you mean, have we met?”

“It’s just that you don’t look very familiar. I don’t owe you money, do I?”

“I’m a monk!”

Di Luca lowered his sword. “Oh, yes! Sorry, it’s a bit dark, couldn’t see your habit. This is something of a bad time, Brother, so perhaps you could just…”

Brother Girolamo put his hands on his hips. “You really don’t recognise me?”

Di Luca squinted at him. “Er…no, not really. Could be the haircut’s throwing me off. Cover up your tonsure for a moment, would you?”

Brother Girolamo put his hands over his bald spot, fuming.

“No, you’re not ringing any bells, I’m afraid.” He smirked. “Heh. Ringing any bells…”

Brother Girolamo stamped his foot. “It’s me! Girolamo Vitelli! You ruined my life fifteen years ago and destroyed my whole family!”

Di Luca stroked his beard, thoughtfully. “Vitelli…that does sound a little familiar…”

“How could you forget what you did to my family?” Brother Girolamo declaimed. “Fifteen years ago, you seduced my sister Maria on the eve of her wedding and ran away with her! Without the help of the powerful signore she was supposed to marry, my family was ruined! We had to sell everything we owned just to pay our debts and I was forced to become a monk! I’ve laboured fifteen years, tracking you down and plotting my revenge, and you don’t even have the courtesy to remember me? You destroyed my whole family!”

Di Luca shrugged. “Hey, I’m a busy man.”

“I never heard from my sister again! What did you do to her, you monster? Did you cast her aside, leaving her friendless and alone in the world? Is she living in a pit of iniquity? Is she dead in a ditch somewhere?”

“What? No!” said Di Luca. “I married her. She’s at home with the kids.”

“…oh. Well. You should’ve told us that –”

“It’s not my fault that you didn’t write to your sister.”

“Yes it is!”

“Oh, come on! How is it my fault?”

Brother Girolamo straightened his habit. He was getting off-topic. Time to focus on the matter at hand: sweet, sweet revenge.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, putting his vengeful face back on. “I know what you did. It was you who let the Modenese soldiers into the city, wasn’t it? It’s because of you they stole our bucket!”

“What? Listen, man, I think you’ve –”

“I’ve got proof,” said Brother Girolamo. “Brother Alessandro saw you. Now we’re going to go to war, and it’s all your fault! Well, you won’t live to enjoy the spoils of your bucket-theft. I’m going to tell the Archbishop of you and you’re going to be in so much trouble…”

There was a brief flicker of panic on Di Luca’s face, a flash of silver, and then a terrible pain in Brother Girolamo’s stomach. Then, everything went dark.

Di Luca wiped the blood off his sword. “Goddammit,” he muttered, “Maria is going to be so mad at me.”

 

My full book-cookbook can be found here. Let me know what you’d like me to look at next – and as always, take this recipe with a pinch of salt.

Alice-In-Wonderland-I-See-What-You-Did-There
Heh heh heh. (image: replycandy.com)

Side note: there was actually a war between the city-states of Bologna and Modena in the fourteenth century fought over the theft of a bucket. I honestly could not have asked for more.

How to Make a Reader: Ten Books that have Shaped Me

So. As many of you have probably guessed, I read all the damn time. I read everywhere – in bed, on the train, while cleaning my teeth, while going down stairs (not recommended), while helping my dad paint a fence and while eating my dinner, which explains why so many of my books are covered in paint flecks and curry stains.

But not all books are created equal. The vast majority of the books I’ve read I’ve forgotten about, or disliked, or experienced that special kind of apathy which is way worse than actually hating something. But there are some books I’ll always remember. Sometimes I will look back over my long history as a reader and see distinct ‘before’ and ‘after’ phases in the way I think and the type of things I seek out. Some books leave marks.

These are mine.

 

  1. The Witches by Roald Dahl

This was my favourite book when I was about six years old and the most goffik little child you ever saw. It was the first ‘scary’ book I can really remember enjoying, and I’m not really sure why – for some reason, the idea of seemingly-normal women ripping off wigs and gloves and masks to reveal their terrifying faces was kind of amazing to me, instead of horrifying. I had it on tape, read by a man with a very sinister British voice who may or may not have been Richard E. Grant. All I’m sure of is that even now, nearly twenty years after throwing that tape away, I can still remember the way the narrator says “Listen very carefully. Never forget what is coming next.”

 

  1. Awful Egyptians by Terry Deary

This was another book I read at the age of about six or seven, and it sparked a lifelong love of history. For those of you who aren’t aware, this is part of the Horrible Histories series – a series of short history books aimed at kids that highlight all the really gross bits of history. This was the first one I read, and for years afterwards I was obsessed with ‘The Curse of the Mummy’, even though the book went to great lengths to make it clear that it wasn’t real. Horrible Histories was a hugely important part of my childhood, and I read them all until I was well into my teens. I’m pretty sure that if I hadn’t picked up Awful Egyptians, I wouldn’t have ended up doing my history degree.

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Me paying back my student loans. (image: giphy.com)

 

  1. Greek Myths, Retold and Illustrated by Marcia Williams

Another childhood favourite. This was the first book of myths and legends I remember reading. It was a fairly sanitised version of the classical Greek myths, illustrated with silly little cartoons which I can still picture really clearly. I don’t remember much about the way the actual stories were told, unfortunately, as I was really small when I first read this one. However, after I read this book I spent the rest of my primary school years reading all the books of myths, legends and fairy tales that I could get my hands on. To this day I’m still really interested in folklore and mythology, and I can trace it all back to this book.

 

  1. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by JK Rowling

I’ve already touched on my love of the Harry Potter series before, so I won’t go into it in too much detail here. Suffice to say that I read it as a slightly older child and continued well into my teens, and it completely dominated my childhood. My relationship with the series has changed as I’ve got older, and I don’t see it in quite the same way as I did, but there’s no denying it was a hugely important part of my life.

 

  1. Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett

Picture this. It’s the mid-2000s and my snotty teenage self is having a crisis: I’m on holiday, but I’ve read all the books I brought with me. The only solution is to drive my family mad. In desperation, my dad finds an English-language bookstore, grabs a Terry Pratchett book (“No, you’ll like it”) and presses it into my hands. I loved it, and I never looked back. This was the moment that ‘proper’ fantasy as a genre unfolded for me – at this point I’d already read Lord of the Rings and had felt kind of shut out by it. I read this book and a door unlocked. It’s not my favourite Pratchett book now, but it is one of the most sentimental, because I can still remember the moment it all fell into place when I was reading it.

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I’ve just got something in my eye… (image: giphy.com)

 

  1. Dracula by Bram Stoker

This is another teenage darling of mine. Growing up I wasn’t really allowed to read horror – I got nightmares really easily and my parents didn’t want to make it worse. Obviously, this ended up triggering a massive secret horror phase, but I’m getting ahead of myself. I persuaded them to let me read Dracula because it was a ‘serious’ book, and read it on holiday at the age of about thirteen. I was completely spellbound – and to be honest, I still am. There’s something about the novel which keeps pulling me back, and I find the idea of an ageless, immortal being adrift from his own time utterly fascinating. My copy is falling to bits and still smells a bit like chlorine and suncream, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

 

  1. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

This book taught me the value of the slow burn. Again, I read this one as an impatient teenager, and I found the book incredibly frustrating until I was about halfway through. Then, it got weird. When the twist was revealed, I saw the entire book in a completely different light. It completely blew my mind. It’s not an exaggeration to say that this book changed the way I read. Without it, I never would’ve looked at half the books I now consider favourites.

giphy book baby
Before, I used to read like this. (image: giphy.com)

 

  1. To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

I really love this book. This was another novel that took a while for me to get into it, as I read it when I was a bit too young to appreciate the set-up of the first part. But as I got older, and read it again and again, it kind of blossomed for me. The more I read it, the more I discovered. Over the years it’s become a book I really lean on when I’m finding things difficult, and I’ve really grown to appreciate its bittersweet mix of hope and despair. I’ve listened to the audiobook when I was writing my dissertation, and in the aftermath of a very sudden death in the family, and every single time it’s an incredible source of comfort for me.

 

  1. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

This is one of those rare books that I have to cuddle after I finish, it breaks my heart so exquisitely. I don’t usually go in for stuff set around the Second World War, as it’s not one of my favourite periods of history – I often find war fiction either very depressing or far too simplistic. But The Book Thief paints a vivid picture of life in Nazi Germany and the ways people resisted it, and in a way that isn’t exploitative or sensationalist. It stomps all over my feelings every time and I still keep coming back for more.

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I don’t know why I enjoy so many books that basically put my feelings in a headlock. (image: giphy.com)

 

  1. Twilight by Stephenie Meyer

I absolutely loathe this book, as I have repeatedly made clear. But there’s no denying it had a massive impact on me. I first read it at the height of the Twilight craze, and the first time I breezed through it in a few days and enjoyed it. But then, I read it again – and this time, I slowed down and actually thought about what I was reading. And I hated it. This was the first book that made me stop and look at things critically and engage with the text on a deeper level. I’ve never looked back! My experience of Twilight was by no means positive, but it encouraged me to be a critical reader and actually think about the mechanics of plotting and prose. Credit where credit’s due: I never would’ve started up this blog if it wasn’t for Stephenie Meyer.

 

 

And there you have it! It was really hard keeping this list down to ten books, but I managed it without crying once. It’s by no means set in stone. Ask me again in ten years and it’ll be completely different – but that’s one of the best parts about reading.

Book Recipes: How to Write a Sports Novel

Time for another book recipe! It’s been brought to my attention that there is some sort of sport thing this weekend and I intend to join in, in the most sitting-down-and-not-getting-off-the-Internet way possible. Grab your favourite sports top and let’s get started!

 

Ingredients:

  • A plucky bunch of ragtag misfits. Choose your own flavours from any of the following:
    • The loveable prankster
    • Big and dumb
    • Child of another famous athlete
    • Twins
    • The nerd
    • That one really angry kid
    • A girl
  • One grizzled yet not-too-jaded coach
  • A big ol’ trophy
  • A team of professional yet evil players
  • A beloved community thing in peril
  • One sleazy corporate betrayer
  • Sports, I guess

 

Method:

  1. Choose your setting. It can be anywhere, as long as you make one thing perfectly clear: it’s being held together by one (and only one) beloved community thing. Probably sports-related. Sure hope nothing happens to it.
  2. But oh no, here comes the sleazy corporate betrayer! They’re going to buy the community thing and turn it into a mall! (It’s always a mall.) There’s only one way to stop them…
  3. …entering this sports competition and winning the big ol’ trophy!
  4. Assemble your team of ragtag misfits. The one who came up with the idea is the leader.
  5. The team try and play the sport, but they’re bad. Like, really bad. Looks like they need…
  6. …a grizzled yet not-too-jaded coach! Good thing we found one staring wistfully at an old sports thing.
  7. Training time! Don’t forget to listen to an eighties power ballad.

  1. Time for your first match!
  2. You lose. But not permanently – it’s all about the journey. More training!
  3. The grizzly old coach dispenses some life advice. Pay attention, it’ll help you resolve a moral dilemma at the end.
  4. One of the players is having an issue that means he’s having trouble with the sport thing. You know what this means – more training.
  5. Time for another match and this time, you win! You’re through to the next round of the sports competition, oh boy!
  6. The professional yet evil players make their first appearance. They’re this year’s favourites to win, which means they’ll never win.
  7. Time for more matches! The team are winning, all thanks to the power of love working together.
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I mean, that’s not what I had in mind, but I guess that’d work. (image: giphy.com)
  1. Time for the semi-final and it’s a close thing. That one player with the issue freaks out and the team almost don’t make it through.
  2. But oh no, here comes the sleazy corporate betrayer! They offer the leader a massive, MASSIVE bribe to let the evil team win.
  3. Angst about it for a bit. The bribe would save the beloved community thing, but what about the teeeaaaaaam?
  4. Remember the grizzled coach’s life advice right before the final. Give a rousing pre-match speech and decide that you’re playing to win. To heck with the corporate betrayer!
  5. Time for the final! It’s, like, soooo tense. The evil team cheat, that one player with the issue finally gets over it and does some good sport, and nothing is resolved until the final five minutes of the game…
  6. …where you win by just one point! Hooray! The beloved community thing has been saved, the coach is 20% less jaded, and we’ve all learned a lesson about team spirit. Go home for tea and medals with the big ol’ trophy.

THE END. Serve painted in sports team colours, so everyone knows you’re serious about sports.

 

Tips:

  • Your coach can’t be too grizzled and sad because he needs to get over it by the end of the novel. Instead of going for a properly dark backstory, just have him mutter about ‘the worst mistake of my career’.
  • All your characters must be invested in the sports, apart from one comedy side character who just doesn’t get it. This character is either blonde or a nerd.
  • Don’t get too technical with your sports talk. Your reader wants to see the ball get put wherever it goes – no-one’s here for a discussion about windspeed.
  • Always put your rivals in matching clothes, but like, in a sinister way. It’s got to be about 20% more evil than normal sports gear.
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EXACTLY. (image: atlantasportandsocialclub.com)
  • Winning the trophy fixes literally everyone’s problems. Can’t afford university fees? Trophy. Need a prosthetic leg? Trophy. Dead parents? Trophy.
  • Always let your characters make big life decisions live on air.
  • If there’s a couple, make them break up about two-thirds of the way through. Then one of them gives a big speech on camera at the big game, and then they get back together while the crowd cheers.

 

And here’s one I prepared earlier…

 

As he walked home from the Community Sports Centre, Tommy King ran through the match play in his head. It had to be perfect. The big game was on Saturday, and there was still so much to do. The legs training, the arms training, the strategy bits…not to mention he still had to get his mum to wash his kit. But it would all be worth it. Once they’d won that trophy, they’d all be free to –

“Ah, Mr King. Let me offer you a lift.”

A shiny black limousine had pulled up alongside him. The back window was rolled down – tinted glass, he noticed – and a man in dark glasses was smiling at him. Tommy kept walking. He’d sat through the Stranger Danger talk at school and okay, that was seven years ago now, but his old headteacher had really known how to hammer home a point. He’d done the voice and everything.

The man’s smile didn’t even flicker. “Be reasonable, Mr King. It’s going to rain. You’ll ruin your sports shoes. We don’t want anything to happen to them before Saturday, now do we?”

Tommy glanced up. Big, dark clouds were building like a metaphor over the Community Sports Centre. The car door opened.

“Get in.”

He did, and his mouth fell open. The seats were upholstered with the fur of a snow leopard. The door handles were made of diamonds. A light-up bar ran along one side of the car and when he sat down, a robotic voice said ‘Good evening, Mr King’.

“Don’t forget your seatbelt,” said the man, “it’s real silk. Champagne?”

He pressed a button as the car pulled away. A compartment in the wall popped open to reveal a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice, and two tall glasses. Tommy instantly became very aware of the smell of his sports kit.

“I’m only going down the road,” he said, “there’s no need for all this.”

The man opened the champagne with a pop. There was a brief explosion of swearing from the driver’s compartment and the car swerved widely.

“On the contrary, Mr King,” he said, pouring out a glass, “I’ve wanted to meet you for some time. We have a lot to discuss, you and I.”

“We do?”

“My card.”

The man stuck a business card into the glass of champagne and handed it to Tommy. It was made of embossed glass. He fished it out and read the name: Edgar Slythe. Now, he remembered. Edgar Slythe worked for CompanyCorp, the company that wanted to tear down the Community Sports Centre and build a mall on the spot. Tommy tried to crush the card in his fist, but he just cut his finger instead.

“You’ve made quite the impression, Mr King,” said Slythe, sipping his glass of champagne. “Everyone’s talking about you and your little team. I see you managed to sort out that unfortunate business with the rackets and the clubs.”

Tommy took his bleeding finger out of his mouth. “Anyone who knows anything about the sport knows that you need both.”

“Yes. You’ve shown real promise. But tell me – do you really think you’re ready for the Big Sports League?”

“Of course we are! We’ve been practising. Coach McGroughlin has taught us all about how we’re not supposed to do handballs, how to do a two-handed grip on the club and the racket at the same time, and about how we’re not supposed to hit the ball with our feet, except when we are. We’re as good as any other team!”

Slythe raised his eyebrows. “If you say so. Remind me, how many sports trophies have your little band of misfits won?”

Tommy said nothing. He couldn’t; his finger was in his mouth.

“The other sports team,” continued Slythe, “are up against you in the final. They’ve won last year’s trophy, and the year before, and the year before that, and they’ve all been nominated for the Sportiest Sportsperson Award for the past five years. You’ve got a tall order, beating them.”

Tommy inspected his bleeding finger. There really was quite a lot of blood, and he was starting to feel a bit queasy. He poured a bit of champagne onto the hem of his sports top – Slythe winced – and wrapped his finger in the damp material.

Slythe leaned forward. “Listen. Tommy. We all know how Saturday’s game is going to go. You’ll be eaten alive. Why not spare yourself the humiliation? I’ll make it worth your while.”

“What do you mean?”

“A full scholarship to Sports Academy. When you’ve graduated, you’ll be drafted into the bestest sports team in all the land. And after that, a job with CompanyCorp, as our official sports spokesperson.”

Tommy sat back in his seat. He’d dreamed of going to Sports Academy since he was a kid, but only the very best at sports got to go there. Nobody knew how to put the ball in the place where it was supposed to go like a Sports Academy graduate.

“All you have to do is lose on Saturday.”

Tommy bit his lip. Getting into Sports Academy would set him up for life, even without the job at CompanyCorp. He’d be able to buy himself a limo just as nice as this one, and still have enough money to buy his mum a new house. But throwing the match… What would Coach McGroughlin say? How would he face up to his teammates? There was a stinging feeling in his lip; he’d bitten it so hard he’d drawn blood. He always did that when he was thinking.

“I can see you’ve got a lot to think about,” said Slythe, looking slightly disgusted. “My number’s on the card. Give me a call when you’ve thought about your future.”

The car slowed to a halt. Tommy handed back his glass of champagne and tried to put Slythe’s card in his gym bag. To his credit, Slythe didn’t even flinch at the smell. And when Tommy dropped and broke the card, slicing open his finger again, he reached into his pocket and pulled out another.

“Wrap it up in a hanky or something,” said Slythe.

Tommy reached for a sock.

Slythe went white and shook out his hanky. It was silk, and printed with a copy of the Mona Lisa. “No, no, take mine, I insist.”

 

My full book-cookbook can be found here. Let me know what you’d like me to look at next – and as always, take this recipe with a pinch of salt.

Alice-In-Wonderland-I-See-What-You-Did-There
Heh heh heh. (image: replycandy.com)

Reading Roundup: Audio Edition

A while ago I made a short list of some of the books I’d been reading lately. I’m going to do the same thing again, but with a slight twist: everything on this list will be an audiobook.

I haven’t really talked about this before, but I absolutely love audiobooks and always have done. They were a huge part of my childhood, mainly thanks to Stephen Fry’s excellent reading of the Harry Potter series (I listened to them so often that to this day, when I read them myself I can only hear the words in his voice). There’s just something really relaxing about having an audiobook read to you, and a good performance can really make all the difference.

So! Here’s what I’ve been listening to that has really stood out:

 

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image: amazon.com

Sherlock Holmes: The Definitive Collection, by Arthur Conan Doyle – read by Stephen Fry 

This is exactly what it sounds like. Stephen Fry reads the entire works of Sherlock Holmes (apart from the apocrypha) and it’s great. The full recording is about three days long and took me the best part of a month to get through, but it was totally worth it. Fry does an excellent job of creating the right atmosphere for each story and there’s also a short introduction to each of the main collections where we find out more about the Sherlock Holmes canon and how Fry discovered it.

I really liked this one. Sherlock Holmes stories aren’t always my favourite, as a lot of them tend to rely on forcing their characters into pretty restrictive boxes, but Fry’s performance made me forget about that. It was a little strange hearing him do all the accents, as I’m just so used to him having the most English voice in the world, but he got the voices right. My only complaint is that I still don’t know how to pronounce Inspector Lestrade’s name right, as he used both ‘Le-straahhhd’ and ‘Le-strayed’ and now I don’t know how to speak. But all in all a really great collection.

 

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image: audioeditions.com

To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee – read by Sally Darling

This one has a special place in my heart. The first time I came across this particular recording was when I was writing my dissertation. I didn’t work very well in the university library, but needed to use lots of books on short-term loans, so what I would do was to take out a bunch of books, transcribe as many direct quotes from the useful passages onto my laptop and then take them all back three days later. My eyes hurt so much it felt like all the moisture had been systematically removed from each eyeball with a syringe. Do not do this.

Anyway. When I wanted to take a break, I needed to close my eyes. But I wasn’t sleepy – I just needed to not be staring at screens or tiny print for a while. So I was idly scrolling along when I came across this audiobook, and decided to listen for a while just to see if I liked the performance.

And it was perfect.

Sally Darling got the pace, the accent and the tone spot on for me. It was exactly like an older Scout had plonked herself down in my chair and was just telling me about her life. I was completely transported. Years later, after a death in the family, I’d listen to this audiobook again, and it was exactly what I needed: comforting, bittersweet and rich, without shying away from all the nasty things in life. After all that, no other performance can compare.

 

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image: amazon.co.uk

The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, by Robert Louis Stevenson – read by Richard Armitage

I got this one as part of The Monster Collection, which is a three-in-one audiobook of Jekyll and Hyde, Frankenstein and Dracula. All three stories are read by different actors but it was Jekyll that really stood out. (For what it’s worth, Greg Wise and Rachel Atkins did quite a good job on Dracula, but I didn’t really think much of Dan Stevens reading Frankenstein – the voice he went with was a bit too woeful for my tastes, even though I can see why he made that choice.)

Damn, Richard Armitage. Damn. This man can really read a book. His performance was genuinely electrifying. He has the perfect voice for scary stories, managing to get just the right kind of slow-build menace in the scene-setting, but the really stand-out part was when he was reading Jekyll’s confession right at the end. As he was describing his transformation his voice started slowly changing, becoming low and scratchy as Jekyll transformed into Hyde – he did an amazing job of showing the transformation through his performance.

 

image: denofgeek.com
image: denofgeek.com

Discworld series, by Terry Pratchett – read by Stephen Briggs

I’m cheating slightly by listing a series, but it’s my blog and I don’t care. You didn’t think we’d make it this far without me raving about Discworld some more, did you?

There’s actually three different narrators for the Discworld audiobooks, but for me Stephen Briggs is the one that ready stands out. Nigel Planer reads the earlier unabridged ones, and he does a decent job, although some are better than others. Tony Robinson reads all the abridged audiobooks, and while he’s probably the better performer I am 100% not here for abridged audiobooks – don’t give me that nonsense, I don’t care that it takes a day to read it through, don’t cut out the story.

Sorry. Anyway, Stephen Briggs reads the later unabridged ones, and for me these are the best of the lot. He gets the voices and the tone just right, no matter which character he’s reading for, and best of all he seems to have a really intuitive understanding of the Discworld universe, which really makes a difference. It’s little things, like making sure all the dwarves in his Discworld audiobooks speak with a similar accent, that really gives his readings the edge.

 

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image: amazon.co.uk

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak – read by Allan Corduner

I really don’t know why I bought this one. I love The Book Thief, even though every time I read it, it punches me in the face. So far, it is the only book I feel the need to cuddle after I’ve finished reading it. I don’t know why this is.

I was kind of sceptical about this one at first. I just love the book so much, and there’s nothing worse than having a narrator ruin your favourite book by getting the voices all wrong. But I’m happy to say I was proved wrong. Allan Corduner does a great job on the accents and the tone for each character, and he can really carry the emotional weight through his narration. I haven’t finished this one yet, but I know that I’m going to cry.

 

And there you have it! A short list of stuff I’ve listened to that I’ve liked. Ta-dah. Feel free to discuss in the comments (and leave suggestions if you want, I always like recommendations) but please do tag up your spoilers. Apart from Frankenstein. It’s been out for two hundred years, it’s a little late for spoiler warnings now.