Leodum is minum swylce him mon lac gife; willað hy hine aþecgan, gif he on þreat cymeð. Ungelic is us. Wulf is on iege, ic on oþerre. Fæst is þæt eglond, fenne biworpen. Sindon wælreowe weras þær on ige; willað …
The Summer King turns One!
Hard to believe it, but The Summer King was officially launched one year ago today. I still can't quite get my head around it. It feels much longer. And much shorter. And all good! I've done a number of readings; oodles of interviews; won a second award (thank you Australia!); missed out on a third …
Tuesday Poem –“Parable of the Old Man and the Young”, by Wilfred Owen
So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went, And took the fire with him, and a knife. And as they sojourned both of them together, Isaac the first-born spake and said, My Father, Behold the preparations, fire and iron, But where the lamb for this burnt-offering? Then Abram bound the youth with belts and …
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Writing beyond
I'm reading the first book – an Advance Reader Copy, no less! – of Helen Lowe's keenly anticipated Wall of Night series, The Heir of Night. Enjoying it enormously so far. It's classic fantasy, complete with a more-than-usually-interesting proto-heroine in Malian. But there are twists that I recognise as uniquely Helen – the semi martial-arts …
Tuesday Poem – “Lydia of the Lace Doilies”
Of course, she always had hordes of lovers so whenever I saw her, fat and placid termite-queen of the nursing home I imagined her naked, lying on a bed of animal fur, small moustachioed men, smelling of horses and sweat and woodsmoke taking turns to lose themselves …
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A Dark Feathered Art 