Set in a strange mythical world where eagles swim and dolphins fly, The Geezers chronicles the exploits of an unusual High Fantasy outfit.
“Why is this outfit so unusual?”, you ask.
“It avoids hackneyed fantasy tropes”, is my firm reply. I look you right in the eye as I say this, so confident am I in my retort, and you back away sheepishly.
Read more “Idea for an Epic Fantasy Story: #1 – The Geezers”
I was absent-mindedly perusing the internet recently when the following headline caught my eye:
Tolkien and Dickens grandsons join for book
I don’t wish to seem overly vulgar, nor do I want the integrity of my digestive system to be called into question, but upon reading those words I more or less shat all over myself.
“The heirs of Tolkien and Dickens collaborating on a book?!” I thought, giddy as a girl with a new pair of shoes. “This will unquestionably constitute the best thing that has ever happened in the history of mankind!”
Read more “Dickens meets Tolkien?”
I should begin this piece with an apology.
The trailer for the upcoming Peter Jackson film, The Hobbit, was released weeks ago. It has been and gone. Critics have reviewed it – offering up their predictable and (some might say) banal opinions – and fanboys have drooled all over it, their Pepsi-rich saliva dissolving parts of it, like nerdy versions of the Alien. Yet still Johnny Fisher has not commented on it. As a prominent Tolkien expert, this represents a grievous professional shortcoming on my part, and I therefore offer up the necessary apologies:
Sorry for not reviewing the trailer for The Hobbit.
Read more “Thorin Joke-enshield: The Hobbit trailer reviewed”
The Hugo Awards, the Nebula Awards, SFX Magazine, the International Horror Guild, the Geffen Award, what do they all have in common? They’re all idiots who unjustly lauded Neil Gaiman’s sprawling, turgid American Gods.
In aforesaid novel, Gaiman (whom I was pleased to recently discover, has not fallen victim to nominative determinism) posits a situation where the broadly contemporary United States of America are littered with destitute gods, brought over by immigrants years previously, but now gone to seed through lack of reverence and observance.
Read more “American Clods: A scathing rebuke of Neil Gaiman’s bafflingly successful American Gods”
Recently I found myself in the unusual position of having time to kill, following the collapse of a musical project I’d been feverishly working on.
The project in question was Siegfried Bassoon – a musical autobiography of Siegfried Sassoon (for Bassoon). I had poured hours into a promising first draft of the piece, but the project collapsed when it transpired that Britain’s foremost bassoonists consider themselves too important to travel to Carrickfergus for a weekend of intensive development work, despite my assurances of an 8% share of any future profits. I suppose I will now have to focus my efforts on Wilfred Bowin’ – a musical autobiography of Wilfred Owen (for Cello). I hear cellists are a much more reasonable breed, equipped with the sort of foresight that is foreign to the mind of the eminent bassoonist.
Read more “The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, the Unbelievable Lapper”
Somebody suggested to me recently that J Mascis is in fact the same person as Saruman the White.
Naturally I laughed at such a ridiculous concept, and berated them for their utter stupidity. “Sure, J’s got long white hair”, said I, “But he’s an American grunge pioneer, not an immortal sorcerer from the Land of the Valar! Where is his staff? Show me his cloak! You are a total idiot, mum.”
But later that night, I confess my mind returned to the matter. I was working into the small hours on my seminal Tolkien musical suite, The Seven Sons of Fëanor, when the comment resurfaced in my thoughts, like a stealthy Russian Shark-class nuclear sub, unseen until it breaks the waves.
Read more “Wizard Rock”