50% off Peripheral Vision


Yes, you’re reading that right. And no, you don’t need to go to Specsavers.

Actually, it’s 51% off. But let’s not quibble.

From tomorrow, (Tuesday 24th May), my second novel, Peripheral Vision will be available for only 99p!

I know, I know, I’m practically giving it away. What can you get for 99p these days, eh?

I’ll tell you what – fuck all. (Well, apart from my book, of course.) Actually, you could probably get a bag of Monster Munch and a Sherbert Dip-Dab, but I digress…

Here’s the blurby bit:

After being blinded in one eye by his abusive father, Peripheral Vision tells the story of 11-year-old Danny Kane growing up in 1970s northern England. His violent upbringing results in his descent into a life of drugs and crime. As he reaches adulthood he realises that the only way out of his spiralling slide into perdition is to find the one thing that he treasured most – his childhood friend, Sally, who was taken into care after the death of her mother. Can the search for his long-lost love lead to Danny’s redemption?

Peripheral Vision explores themes such as child abuse, domestic violence, drug abuse and gang crime. It’s a gritty coming-of-age drama that pulls no punches. It’s even been compared to Donna Tartt – which is a huge honour, as I’m a big fan of her work.

But, it’s only half price for 7 days, so get thee skates on.

American cousins can get their discounted copies here.

TOS26

 

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Slow Clocks of Decay


My good friend, Patrick Chapman, has just published his seventh – yes, 7th! – collection of poetry. And it’s utterly brilliant.

Personally, I think Slow Clocks of Decay is a bit more experimental than his earlier works. Though, no less exceptional.

He writes of love and loss with a thoroughly modern voice.

You won’t find images of Ireland’s rolling green pastures here, but a dystopian 21st century society.

He’s one of the best poets Ireland has ever produced and, mark my words, he’ll win the Nobel Prize for Literature one day.

So, just click on the links to order your copy. And, to whet your palate, I’ve included a taster under the pic., with the kind permission of the author.

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Teleport Memory

By Patrick Chapman.

 

Eighteen winters on, I find your jet-black

hold-up in my box of old remarkables,

the rubber garter still with spring in it.

 

I drape the stocking long on the bed

and try to imagine your pale slender leg

filling it toe to knee to thigh and beyond

 

in a matter transmitter reconstitution

of you with a physical copy that holds

your consciousness, your memories,

 

your tenderness, your wit still dry –

while out in the real, the original you

has surely diverged in directions I can’t

 

follow: some of your people passed on;

you a mother, an aunt or alone; and every

cell in your body, twice overwritten.

 

If that you can bear think of me

it may be with disdain for who I was

at the end but listen, my old love,

 

he has been replaced so many times –

no longer that young cripple who,

out of repression and pain, cracked

 

your heart and in its fracture fatally

punctured his own. So far undone is he

that even teleport could never bring us home.

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Mourning Strangers


I found an old CD the other day. It had fallen under the passenger seat of the car.

The front cover was missing. It was like one of those Now That’s What I call Music compilations, except with decent Indie music on it.

I played it and it took me right back to the 90s.

It got me thinking about how we mourn stars.

I’ve seen quite a few posts from cynics criticising people who eulogise about our recently departed idols because we never ‘knew’ them.

And they’re right.

I absolutely loved Bowie and Prince but I didn’t know them. It’s not a traditional kind of grieving that one would do for a loved one, though. It’s a grieving for all those times when your favourite singer was there for you. Through the good and the bad.

They punctuate the important times in our lives. When we were happiest, when we were broken-hearted.

We didn’t know them, but they knew us.

And that’s why we mourn them.

Tara Sparling writes about it much more eloquently than I, here.

Why this Sleeper track? Well, it was on the CD I found.

Let’s just say, it reminds me of a great big exclamation mark.

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Get your FREE copy of Peripheral Vision.


 

TOS26

Only kidding, you cheapskates. It’s £1.99.

April Fools’.

Now then, look down the back of the sofa for a bit of loose change and get yourself over to Amazon, as it’ll be £10.99 tomorrow.

 

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The Show Must Go On


Well, folks, it’s been a week since we heard that the musical genius that was David Bowie passed away.

And I think I’ve annoyed the heck out of quite a few people on Facebook by posting a myriad of Bowie vids every day.

But I did say that we should have a week of mourning for such a great man.

However, this final post is not about Mr. Bowie per se, but those he leaves behind. Namely, his wife and daughter, Lexi. (I appreciate that he has other family and friends who will also be devastated – chief of which, his son Duncan, from his first marriage to Angie Bowie.)

Browsing through some shots of the couple on Pinterest, they looked very much in love. I know photographs can be deceiving and don’t represent a true reflection of life, but I hope it was, for their sake. They look so happy.

David Jones may have departed this world, but his body-of-work will remain for as long as this planet does. Moreover, I’m sure it will inspire countless others to produce works of inspirational creativity ad infinitum. What kind of legacy is that to leave?

So, to finish off, here are a few shots of the happy couple/family. Apparently, Iman’s favourite Bowie tracks were Suffragette City and Heroes, so who am I to disappoint?

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Get 43,415 words FREE!


That’s right, my collection of short stories, Ten Orbits of the Sun is F.R.E.E. for a limited time only.

Not only do you get 13 tantalising tall tales for gratis, you also get a sample chapter of my latest novel, Peripheral Vision, thrown in for good measure.

Simply click on the cover image below for your free copy.

All I ask in return is that if you like it, you’d be so kind as to leave a review on Amazon. (Indie authors live and die by their reviews.) Obviously, if you don’t like it, I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself!

But it’s only free for 5 days so you’d best get your skates on.

TOS

Offer starts Friday 15th January, ends Tuesday 19th January 2016. (Although, I think this might be US ESB time.) Hey-ho, I’m sure you’ll manage.

Front cover photography courtesy of Mike O’Toole.

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Blackstar 10


I’ve decided that we should have a week-long period of mourning for the recently departed genius that was David Bowie.

I know it’s probably a little presumptuous of me to take this unilateral decision. But I thought the world celebrates Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, Gandhi and even Princess Di. And what have they ever done for humanity?

They certainly didn’t belt out Queen Bitch. (Though I can imagine Nelson busting a few shapes to Boys Keep Swinging.)

There has been a myriad of plaudits written about the Great Man, by far more eloquent people than I, so I’ll leave that to the music intelligentsia.

So all we have to do is decide what to call this celebration of the man’s legacy. Initially, I was thinking of Black Sunday. You know, like they have Black Monday for the pre-Christmas sale and Black Friday for the day when everyone finishes work before Chrimbo. The only problem with that is it would have to change every year. Next year it would be Black Tuesday, (coz of Leap Year), the year after, Black Wednesday, etc.

Then I thought, how about the name of his latest, and final album, Blackstar, along with the date: Blackstar 10?

So, henceforth, the 10th January shall now be referred to as Blackstar 10 and celebrated accordingly.

So long and thank you, David Bowie, you were the Picasso of music.

 

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