Sam Downing

Image: failblog.org

Good news, everyone:

The federal government announced on Wednesday morning that it will not change how books are bought and sold in Australia, despite a recommendation by the productivity commission to scrap parallel importation restrictions on books.

Adds Sydney agent blogger Call My Agent:

Parallel importation regulations will notbe changed. That’s correct: NOT be changed. Which means Australian copyright still exists and Australian authors have the same fair shot at getting published that they had a couple of years ago (the industry has been understandably nervous the last year and a bit).

I have never participated in NaNoWriMo, because it took me more than five years to complete one novel and even the thought of spitting out a whole one in a month is morbid and terrifying.

And when I say “complete one novel” I mean “write something that has a beginning, middle and an end”. It is yet to be edited, so I am well chuffed to have stumbled upon NaNoRevismo (something I had conveniently planned on anyway), a whole month devoted to “[plunging] yourself into the filthy, glorious work that is revision”.

Yay!

Slashing unwanted adverbs and pointless filler and nonsensical garbage (I honestly have no idea what I meant when I wrote “the gold sunset [was] dispelled by the hues radiating upwards from clusters of imperious high-rises”. Huh?) is fun! On the other hand, I’m beginning to understand the meaning of “Kill your darlings”. Chopping out some of those sparkling-and-clever-but-ultimately-useless turns of phrase is hard.

The very first story I ever wrote (or that I can remember writing) was a thing called Benny and the Little People. Contrary to what the title might make you believe, it was not about midgets or dwarves or whatever; it was about this kid called Benny (surprisingly) who shrank down to a tiny size (somehow) and met some little people (another surprise).

I was seven. I drew the illustrations myself. I never actually finished it (a habit that has lasted till now).

Probably this story – which was ripped off inspired by who-knows-what – explains why I was so obsessed with The Borrowers series in later years.

If you aren’t already subscribed to Subnormality, the weekly internet comic featuring “a variety of thinly-veiled misanthropic tirades”, go and do so right now. I dare you not to read the entire archive in one go.

Evidence of genius:

Boneshaker I bought at the same time as Leviathan, because they were next to one another on the tables at Barnes & Noble, and I vaguely remembered reading good things about it. (I also liked the cover. Goggles! Airships! Neat typography!) It was a good purchase. This is a great book.

Cherie Priest’s story starts off slow: it’s not immediately apparent how the plot will turn out, unless you cheated and read the blurb, and even then it’s not obvious. Early chapters introduce us to Briar Wilkes and her teenage son Zeke, and the grim 19th century version of Seattle they inhabit. By around page 50, the plot has stuck them both in a walled-up part of the city that’s crawling with zombies (dubbed “rotters” in Priest’s universe) and pirates and mad scientists. (Boing Boing has a longer, better synopsis.)

No-so-coincidentally, around page 50 is where Boneshaker hooked me.

This is an epic, page-turning, wonderful read: deftly plotted, switching between Briar and Zeke as they individually explore the horrifying, steampunk-inspired place they’ve stumbled into; written in a beautifully verbose style that matches its historical era; and just a whole lot of fun. Priest is writing at least two more books set in the same world, and while they won’t be direct sequels to Boneshaker (which is a shame – I want more of Briar and Zeke and zombie-Seattle!), I can’t wait to read them.

The internet has been switched on at my new house. Here is a video to celebrate!: