There’s a very upbeat review of The Edinburgh Dead over on The Bookshelf Chronicles. ( ‘2011 is drawing to a close and I think I just found my favourite read of the year’ !)
Nice little exchange with the author of that same to review in the comments here, in which it turns out we both very much like one specific line in The Edinburgh Dead. And that line is … wait for it … wait for it …:
‘I’m not wanting any butter.’
Does that strike you as … I don’t know … a bit anti-climactic? It points up one thing that I’m sure isn’t particular to me. Lots of writers must have the same thing. That thing is that the pleasure of writing, the satisfaction that the finished text can give you as its creator, is sometimes as much about the small things – the small victories – as it is the big picture stuff. That tiny little line of dialogue gave me pleasure when I wrote it – you’ll just have to take make my word for the fact that it’s just the right length, tone and rhythm for its context – and it’s nice that someone else liked it.
(And in case that sounds too self-congratulatory, I’ll just note in passing that the small defeats can be just as frustrating as the small victories are satisfying. Witness: I can’t spell the word ‘rhythm’. Never have been able to, probably never will. Every single time I write the cursed word – including in the last sentence of the previous paragraph – I have to check its spelling. Pathetic. I’m already starting to fret it still doesn’t look right … maybe I should just have a quick double-check …)
Over at the Writers Read blog, I’ve got a guest post reporting on what I was reading in November. It includes Fascist dictators, etchings and horses.
And a very nice giveaway is open for the holidays – for those of you living in the UK and the US, at least. Over at the Orbit blog you can enter a draw to win one of five sets of five jolly good books. Including The Edinburgh Dead. There’s two or three there I’d really like to read myself, but somehow I doubt I’m eligible …