Interested in Nerd Bait? Before digging into this week’s post, find out how The Wee Mermannie got the girl – deleted scenes from our Book Festival Gig are part of the bonus materials included in the first issue of the fabulous FREAK Circus!
The beautiful paperback artefact is here. The electronic version that includes the unexpurgated prose version of The Tail of The Wee Mermannie is here.
Right. Now. Back to the blog.
Last Monday, I noted neuroscientist David Eagleman’s remark that the idea that we are unitary people over time is merely an illusion of continuity.
The people each of us individually are at 10, 30, 40, “share the same name and some of the same memories, but we are quite different as a person.”
During the intervening week, I wrote a short story about a man who may – or may not – have lived a succession of quite different lives. Yet there are common themes in those lives. For example, in each case, the character’s father disappears from the scene in his early years.
It wasn’t until I was reading a passage in Robert Penn Warren’s Pulitzer-prize winning novel All the King’s Men last night that I realised that my fiction had been taking a sideways look at Eagleman’s theme…. Continue reading To a Tee→
People love making transatlantic comparisons. Think Sting’s Englishman in New York. Think Toby Young’s How to Lose Friends and Alienate People. Think Jeremy Clarkson’s unfortunately abortive attempt to get himself shot in The South.
[Stroke Bloke’s back from holiday. To make up for missing last week, I commend to you this post that predated Ada Lovelace Day on 13 October.]
[Long-Suffering Girlfriend of the Blog Beth and I went to see Kahlil Joseph and Arcade Fire’s The Reflektor Tapes this past weekend. So, today seemed like a good day to repost some reflektions on the album Reflektor and… other stuff.]
One of the many rubbish things about having a massive haemorrhagic stroke is that the ever-present factor of fatigue, and the whole brain lesions thing, militate against a quick return to the traditional, full-time workforce. Continue reading Reflektor Reduks→
Hi there. I think that last week’s post, Damages, was intended as the first part of a pen diptych. But now a week has passed, I’m not entirely sure what the second half was meant to look like. Maybe it will have come to me by next week.
Was anyone keeping an eye on the award of the Man Booker Prize last week? It’s, like, the World Cup for novels.
Well, that’s not quite right. Historically, the Man Booker has only been open to authors of the Commonwealth, the Republic of Ireland, or Zimbabwe. So it’s kind of more like the Commonwealth Games for novels. The 2014 prize was the first year the prize was open to authors from anywhere in the world. AS Byatt said the prize risked diluting its identity, but blog favourite A.L. Kennedy was all for it.
I met up with my attorney on the street in TriBeCa the other day.
“Did you get a new haircut? I thought so. You’d fit right in here, or in the West Village.”
It’s noticeable that the people most likely to pigeon-hole this middle-aged Scottish man as a hipster (even if he didn’t use the actual epithet) are solicitous recreational therapists and lawyers from Long Island. Clearly, I’m more square than hip.
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When I sit down for too long, my left leg gets all seized up. And being out of my regular routine these past couple of weeks has made it harder to regularly stretch my legs. I decide to go for a walk through my temporary neighbourhood.