Tate Britain, the redoubtable art museum, opened an exhibit about the 19th century painter John Martin on 21 September, 2011. Tantalizingly titled “John Martin: Apocalypse”, the exhibition was intended to bring this mostly forgotten painter, a flash-in-the-pan during his own lifetime, to the attention of a modern audience by associating his gigantic, Biblical paintings with an emerging cultural fascination with the end of the world.
Dodo Ink are a new publisher of fiction set up in 2015 by the novelist Sam Mills, book blogger Thom Cuell and myself, with a mission to publish innovative, risk-taking, imaginative and experimental fiction.
We had each had experiences that lead us to believe that there was an audience for novels that didn’t fit neatly onto mainstream publisher’s lists: Thom, on The Workshy Fop, as a champion of fiction from indie publishers; myself, having worked in the industry for several years and seen an ever-increasing focus on acquiring highly commercial properties, at the expense of what is termed the ‘midlist’, authors who are popular enough to command a steady readership and remain profitable to publish, but often not deemed commercial enough to them the tailored sales, marketing and PR attention that could help them develop their careers creatively and commercially. Sam, as a novelist and writer, experienced this first-hand when trying to help her friend Tom Tomaszewski secure a book deal or agent for his novel, The Eleventh Letter, which was deemed interesting, accomplished and original, but not commercial enough in today’s publishing climate.
"The Willoughby Obsession" first aired in 1980 on Nightfall.
Thoughts Before Listening
Hallo dears. Today I have decided to listen to something called "The Willoughby Obsession" from Nightfall. This show might be exciting because ‘obsession’ is a very exciting word and so is ‘Willoughby’. Due to racism, I also believe that this will be Downton Abbey, Dr Who and Call the Midwife all mixed together. I’m not sure if my Indian culture will prevent me from understanding all the words. It probably will.
With The Extinction Event behind us, a reminder that extinction itself is only a week away!
Our books are going out of print on 1 November, so if you're looking for some of the universe's best fiction1, strike now!
Our chapbooks are downloadable for free on Goodreads (and will remain so indefinitely)
1: This is completely true. I'll totally provide references in, like, early November. Until then, just take my word for it.
In 1998, Spanish neurologist Juan Gomez-Alonso caused a flurry of bad science journalism by speculating in an academic journal that vampirism originated as a fictional extrapolation of human rabies. The traits were all there. Hypersensitivity to strong stimuli, like bright lights, garlic, and mirrors. Insomnia. Hypersexuality. A tendency to bite, potentially killing their victims or passing on the condition. Furthermore, the peak of vampire fascination in Europe came soon after a well-documented epidemic of rabies in Hungary.
Thursday evening we're having a welcome party for The Extinction Event and a farewell to Jurassic London. Please join us and many of the book's contributors from 7 pm at the Yorkshire Grey (London, WC1X) to give the book/press the welcome/goodbye it deserves!
There are very few copies of The Extinction Event unclaimed. It is very unlikely that there will be any left for sale on the night, so if you are interested in this special edition, 150-copy-only, never to be reprinted or ebooked, rather stately monolith of a book... you should probably order it now.
Most media artifacts come to the public fully formed, the creative process long since edited away or consigned to the rubbish bin. With comic books that process has typically been more open to the public. For starters, when following a long-running series over a number of years, you can see how characters and concepts grow and change in time. If the series has the same creative team you may also see how an artist’s style or a writer’s craft develops as they gain experience.
The grey flannel suit might have looked masculine on the rack, or on another woman, but the close cut of the cloth, and the way the expensive fabric skimmed over the lines of her straight, slender figure was intensely, wholly feminine. If you saw her from behind, you might have thought she looked frail, or saint-like with her close-cropped hair—but when she turned, the determination that shone brightly from the grey eyes almost lost behind her long black lashes was anything but fragile.