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T-Shirt & Genes - Richard Asplin

Paperback: 408 pages

Publisher: Arrow Books Ltd

(4 Oct 2001)

Language English

ISBN-10: 0099416840

GAGGED - Richard Asplin

Paperback: 576 pages

Publisher: Arrow Books Ltd

(1 April 2004)

Language English

ISBN-10: 0099416859

CONMAN - Richard Asplin

Paperback: 416 pages

Publisher: No Exit Press;

(21 May 2009)

Language English

ISBN-10: 184243294X

Futtern Verboten - Richard Asplin

Paperback: 408 pages

Publisher: Blanlavet

Language German

Wesola Trupiarnia

Hollywood - Richard Asplin

Paperback: 480 pages

Publisher: Capricorn

Language Polish

ISBN-13: 978-83-922452-8-5

PSYCHE - Richard Asplin

Paperback: pages tbc

Publisher: TBC

Language English

ISBN-10: tbc

Ahh, novels. Aren’t they poncey?

I didn’t come to novels – proper novels – until embarrassingly late. Well, I say embarrassing. Now I write them I get, natch, a perverse anti-intellectual thrilly buzz of telling readers, booksellers, other writers and students that I didn’t read until very late. Because I’m a revolting snob, obv’.

Anyhoo, I didn’t. My childhood was entirely made up of comics. The Beano, my brother’s Dandy, then on to the UK Marvel Transformers and a jumble-sale’s worth of annuals (Spiderman, Batman, Victor, Monster Fun and whatnot).

Books – novels - simply weren’t as good as telly. Which in many way they’re still not.

Not as a story telling tool (ooh, controversial).

I think it was Robert McKee (author of screenwriting guide “STORY” – played by the splendiful Brian Cox in the otherwise tiresome “Adaptation.” Remember? No, of course not). Anyway, he said that anyone seriously interested in story telling in the 21st Century would be writing screenplays, rather than novels and they do work better as a story telling medium, I think you’d agree. Or not.

Not that Mr McKee’s theorems were the reason I melted my retina with hours of strobing LWT as a yoof. No, nowt so poncey. I was just lazy and hadn’t found a writer I liked. So I was happy to get my mythology and mystery from George Lucas, Phil Redmond and whoever the hell used to write Manimal.

Novels arrived in the guize of Ronald Dahl (yes, I know his name was Roald. But my spell check keeps underlining it and plus it’s a favourite mispronunciation. I’ll talk more about amusing words to say wrong in the “A few words on” page one day soon I expect). I recall spending lunchtimes in the school library devouring “Danny, Champion Of The World” and, spent hours up in bed with “Fantastic Mr Fox.” Which sounds rude but actually isn’t.

I don’t recall when I went from the kids section of the library (lots of Milly Molly Mandy) to the adult bit (large print Alistair Maclean mostly). It was independent of school I’m pretty sure, as we were force fed tedious and time-stretchingly ghastly reading material such as “The Wizard Of Earthsea,” “White Fang” and “Macbeth” – none of which blew my hair back in any sense. Perhaps I should revisit these as an adult?

No, perhaps not.

So we’ll have to cope with some time lapse photography,

some fluttering calendar pages, a whizzing clock and perhaps

fast moving clouds over a woodland season change because

my next recollection is being knee-deep in the

damned things.

Anyway, if you care, dear reader, all of the books listed on the left had a profound effect on me – for different reasons I’m sure. And I’ve read and reread them all over and over, and am confident I will continue to do so: (except Mr. Tickle, who’s twisty, fourth-wall breaking, Ringu style Japanese horror ending still gives me the willies).

(Oh, and yes, I’m half convinced their quality was much much muchly much more to do with my state of mind than the books themselves, but then that’s oft true of so much art that it’s too tedious a poncy argument to have without a bowl of pasta and five bottles of red wine).