Read the free sample of The Realm of the Hungry Ghosts here.
Pre-order your copy of The Realm of the Hungry Ghosts now!
© 2012 Gary William Murning
fiction
All posts tagged fiction
Now, yes, I know that Christmas seems to come a little earlier every year. And every man and his sister seems to be trying to sell you something (no, I can’t claim to be an exception, alas) – but as The Angel of the Lord once said (allegedly), I bring you glad tidings of great joy. No. Really. Cross my heart and… well, cross my heart.
For all of you who have bought or been bought bright, new, shiny (well, matte plasticy) Kindles over the past few months, the Kindle versions of my first two novels – If I Never and Children of the Resolution – together with my exclusive Kindle short story, Broken Angel, are now heavily discounted. (Other formats are available… getting good at this, aren’t I? Next week I’m doing the new Cillit Bang advert.)
To take advantage of these UTTERLY FANTASTIC DEALS, please click here. (And if you’re thinking, Well, no, I still probably won’t be able to afford it, it might be worth bearing in mind that you can buy ALL THREE for UNDER £3! Need I say more?)
Now, I hear some of you muttering to yourselves, BUT I HAVEN’T GOT A KINDLE! Well, fear not! FREE apps are available here for all types of computer and phone. (If you’re using Windows Phone 7, you can find it in your Marketplace.)
So let me just sum that up for you: two novels, one exclusive Kindle short story and a free Kindle application, should you need it, all for under £3. And, of course, without wishing to blow my own trumpet (though why break the habit of a lifetime), it’s bloody good fiction, too! Trust me, I’m an author.
If you know of anyone who might also be interested in these UTTERLY FANTASTIC and LIMITED TIME OFFERS, please feel free to forward this on to them. PLEASE. Pretty please. Pretty please with…
Joking aside, thanks again and I sincerely hope these offers are of interest – if not to you, then to someone you may know.
© 2011 Gary William Murning
I am delighted to reveal the cover for my next novel (to be published on 31 March 2012) The Realm of the Hungry Ghosts. The first novel to be brought out under my own micropublishing imprint, GWM Publications.
Designed by the very talented Gudrun Jobst, who also designed the cover for my first Legend Press novel, If I Never, I think you will agree that the end result is pretty striking.
Front cover (click on image to enlarge):
Full cover (click on image to enlarge):
© 2011 Gary William Murning
Recent weeks have found me, when not editing outstanding projects, tentatively approaching research for my next novel, The Wisdom of Closed Worlds—making the first preliminary dents in the numerous websites covering the particular topics I need to address and spending a small fortune on Amazon for reference works.
The subject at the heart of The Wisdom of Closed Worlds—as the title of this blog post might suggest—is disability, or, more to the point, the history of disability in the UK with an emphasis on the 1940s and 1950s.
Now, as many of you will know (although quite a few may not, since I only mention it when it has relevance), I’ve been disabled since birth with a condition known as type II spinal muscular atrophy. A “severe” disability, I, although considerably limited physically by my condition, am most emphatically one of the more fortunate ones. Nonetheless, I have lived with disability all my life. I have no doubt that it has contributed to my worldview, my personality, my career choice, even. But it has never seemed all that significant. Not to me.
Recently this has become all the more striking. The disparity between how I view myself and how the world (or the nation, to keep it on a more workable scale) views people with disabilities has, frankly, reached a point that is now almost laughable—were it not in many regards extremely alarming. Repeatedly, I see headlines talking about what “disabled people” do and do not want, how they all seem to be responding en masse, with one voice, to, for example, proposed changes to the benefit system, and I find myself wondering just who these “disabled people” actually are. Because, whilst I am concerned that we should always have a fair and effective benefit system, I only rarely agree with the headlines I see out there. These proposed changes, however, are not what I want to address here. Let me simply put myself on the record as saying, for now, that I believe an overhaul of the benefit system has been long overdue. In such circumstances, it is vital that this is done responsibly, with the most vulnerable protected. It is equally vital, however, that we do not allow ourselves to fall into the trap of believing that everyone who claims to be disabled is disabled, or that, for that matter, all disabled people have a default setting of non-criminality. Whether the current government is getting the balance right, to be frank, is difficult to say, yet. Seeing beyond the scaremongering headlines and assessing the general effectiveness of policies that, in some cases, haven’t even been passed, yet, just isn’t possible. So this is something I will probably return to at later date, when the indignant press and bandwagon-jumping, opportunity-seizing charities have quietened down a little.
What I do want to address here, however, are the dangers of times such as these, and the way in which very well meaning people can so often contribute to very real misconceptions regarding disability.
Whilst reading this piece by Jayne Clapton and Jennifer Fitzgerald on The History of Disability: A History of “Otherness”, I was especially struck by the changing attitudinal “models” of disability throughout the ages—moving from the religious, through the medical and into the (current?) “rights-based” model. And I was, of course, especially affected by the way in which this impacts upon general and individual “identity”
These are things I have considered numerous times, of course. My novel Children of the Resolution touches upon some of these themes (it goes back, I suppose, in many ways to the sociological notion that it is societal reaction to disability that is the disabling factor rather than the disability itself). I had never, however, seen it so precisely analysed and explained.
The paragraph below struck a particular chord with me:
Yet, rights-based discourse, although employed as a political strategy, has also become a way of constructing disability by locking people with disability into an identity which is based upon membership of a minority group. Entitlements thus become contingent upon being able to define oneself as a person with disability. And the conceptual barrier between ‘normal’ and ‘abnormal’ goes unchallenged, so that while one may have entitlements legislatively guaranteed, ‘community’ which cannot be legislated for, remains elusive.
The very idea that I am somehow a member of a minority group is, frankly, something I find quite absurd. Like everyone out there who does not have a disability (although I would argue that we all have a disability, if we define the term broadly enough) I eat, drink, live, breathe, vote, have opinions, voice them, sometimes keep them to myself, watch crap TV, read good books, listen to music, fart, laugh, cry, love, hate and so on. In short, I exist in the same intellectual, physical and emotional world that we all, on the whole, share. Read my novels, and you will be struck by the inherently human nature of my characters—whether they be noticeably disabled or not. I do not live on the fringes of life. My disability and, more to the point, reactions and attitudes to it, do not in any shape or form truly define my identity. Any problems I may have in life do not (and its remarkable just how many people in social work of one kind or another still assume this) automatically mean that I have enough “in common” with someone who has similar problems for me to rub along nicely with them (although, obviously, this can occasionally be the case). I do not exist in some Wyndham-esque world where I am psychically and emotionally connected to EVERYONE with a disability out there, sharing their views and concurring on every point as the media and numerous charities would like you to believe (and, for that matter, neither do other people with disabilities). Disability is not some generic, unifying, victim-centric political theory—it’s a noun, an understandably useful umbrella term, and something that, frankly, we should all use much more carefully.
The final paragraphs of the above-mentioned article, whilst a little too “new-agey” for me to be entirely comfortable with them, address the future, and touch upon ideas that fit quite nicely with my thoughts above:
Some writers argue that we need to go beyond conceptions of constructed disability to a notion of universalism whereby, according to Canadian writer, Bickenbach, disability is actually a fluid and continuous condition which has no boundaries but which is, in fact, the essence of the human condition. And, as a condition which is experienced by us all, at some stage in our lives, disability is actually normal. This view is also supported by the Indian philosopher, Sarkar, who argues that bodily differences should not be allowed to mask our essential humanity.
At the level of our physical existence, diversity is a natural condition and the need is for us to welcome and embrace diversity outside of a hierarchical classification of difference. Yet, at another level, difference is simply a construction of ideology, not a state of reality – since we are all interconnected and have flowing through each of us the same life force. According to Sarkar, “the force that guides the stars you too”. Yet, the history of disability has been a history of seeking to construct hierarchical difference out of an essential reality of oneness. The challenge is to create the reverse.
And, so, in conclusion, what can we do to address this? The first step, I think, is to, where possible, try to think in the terms set out by Bickenbach. “Disability” is a sliding scale. We all fit on it somewhere—either towards the milder end of the spectrum, or the more severe. The scale is not fixed. It alters through life. Some people become more disabled as they grow older, some, disabled in childhood, actually improve into adulthood, before old-age kicks in and does its stuff. It’s one of life’s many variables. It does not define who we are (though, naturally, it can and often does contribute to one’s outlook, personality, opportunities etc) and it most certainly does not unite us all with one political mind and will.
So use the word with care. I don’t mean be politically correct and tiptoe around the poor little cripples—I mean think a little about those headlines, about how you share the too-numerous myths regarding disability. When you discuss the topic, discuss it as you should any other: rationally and with consideration, and always with the awareness that, yes, we all fit on that scale somewhere. Never assume that the phrase “oh, disabled people have it so hard” will automatically engender a smile of agreement from someone with a disability and, in short, remember what is, for me, the one most important fact: the “general victim” model of “disability” is despicable whoever perpetuates it. (Just for the sake of clarification, this is very different to situations where people have become victims of hate crimes etc due to reactions to their disabilities. I know some people out there will no doubt try to read this into my use of the term “general victim” model, but please don’t. You’ll be quite wrong.)
I have vacillated somewhat on whether or not to open comments on this post and have decided not to—not because I do not value your opinions, but, rather, because I simply do not have the time to enter into protracted debate on this. I have, however, activated the Rate This function at the top of this post. Please feel free to vote.
Read your free sample of Children of the Resolution, please click here.
To buy from the UK, click here – and American customers can buy here. (Also available on Kindle. UK. US.)
© 2011 Gary William Murning
I’ve been getting quite a few fairly exceptional reader responses to my latest published novel, Children of the Resolution. Many of them can be read over here on my Amazon review page.
However, I also occasionally receive e-mails via this website and comments on Twitter etc and the impact that Children seems to be having, whilst still relatively small at this stage, is deeply satisfying (not to mention often very moving).
One e-mail I received a few days ago (reproduced with permission):
Dear Gary,
First, Children of the Resolution is such a wondrously courageous novel. The depth of your humor, sensitivity and compassion both delight and mystify me. It’s strange, but as I read your novel all I could think of was how heightened and controlled your voice is . . . spiraling towards the realms of Julian Barnes and beyond . . . making my own words sound like a backroom brawl with Charles Bukowski biting the tops of beer bottles off while shrieking murderous prose at some imperceptible offender. Where I seek the merciless, and unpardonable, realms of silent narration with unreliable narrators you speak the heartfelt truth and nothing but the heartfelt truth, most admirably. Yes, Johnny reminded me of my dearest friend who likewise has just died. He was a drinking, wenching, pirate of an architect from Boston. He taught me and all of his friends more about bravery, fortitude, fatherhood, and humor than any two war heroes. When I first met him, he would merely “Arghhh” into the saloon (sans parrots or any fowl, dead or alive) and swing his semi-dwarfish carcass up on to the barstool while, ruthlessly, announcing his presence by verbally insulting friend and foe alike, in equal strengths. But as the years wore on not only did his parts begin to fall off forcing him into a wheelchair, but his mechanical-engineering-ish hands turned into the gnarly limbs of an olive tree. I lectured, “My dearest Michael, you must have been one really bad dude in a previous life, because ol’ JC is gnawing away at you like a cannibal on crack cocaine.” I just loved that man and miss him dearly . . . exactly the emotion your ending flooded me with all over again. And for that I can only thank you and wish you luck in all your endeavors.
So, proud and honored to have read your book—I have the highest respect for the quality of your mind,
Peter Jacob Streitz
Read your free sample of Children of the Resolution, please click here.
To buy from the UK, click here – and American customers can buy here. (Also available on Kindle. UK. US.)
© 2011 Gary William Murning
This week, I finished the first draft of my latest novel, The Legacy of Lorna Lovelost. Four hundred and thirty-three pages of manuscript written in under seven months—with only three weekdays off during that period—I’ve now, I think it’s fair to say, come down from the creative high with a very definite thud. Post-project lethargy has set in and, consequently, I’m now trying to force myself to take a little time off, anathema to me, as many of you will know.
Part of the problem in this is the sheer number of projects I have planned for the rest of the year. With editorial work to do on Lorna Lovelost, As Morning Shows the Day and In the Realm of the Hungry Ghosts (this latter to be the first published through my recently set up micro-publishing company GWM Publications), and with research to do for my next novel, The Wisdom of Closed Worlds, sitting back and taking even a few days off isn’t something that really appeals to me. For me, the pleasure is in the work—one of the many reasons why I find it difficult to understand/tolerate those who bemoan their fates as writers!
Since it hasn’t been mentioned here all that much, over the next few weeks or so I hope to discuss Lorna Lovelost and her legacy. Fair to say, it’s been a fairly all-consuming novel. One of those novels that arrive (in this instance, in the early hours of the morning) almost fully formed, I actually set aside an outline for another novel I was then planning and had the rough outline for Legacy in place within a morning. I had the beginning, the middle and the end. At the point of inception. A rarity, and an opportunity I didn’t plan on wasting.
And I don’t think I have. The Legacy of Lorna Lovelost is, I believe, touching, outrageously funny in places, thought-provoking and just quirky enough to satisfy those of you who especially enjoyed If I Never. I know I’m going to miss Tobias and Lorna Lovelost, Bob Bartholomew and Patsy O’Connor, Katarina Scrimshaw and her left-handed limp. And, yes… I think you will, too.
Drop by later in the week for more on The Legacy of Lorna Lovelost. You never know, you might even get a sneak preview.
Read your free sample of Children of the Resolution, please click here.
To buy from the UK, click here – and American customers can buy here. (Also available on Kindle. UK. US.)
© 2011 Gary William Murning
For those who missed it live, you can catch my BBC Tees Phil and Amy radio interview here http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/console/p00hrddb Fast forward to 2:40:00.
UPDATE: As this interview is no longer available on iPlayer, I have, with kind permission from BBC Tees, now made the interview segment available here. Please do not repost without prior permission.
Today I made available, exclusively for Kindle, my short story Broken Angel.
Something of an experiment, I’m encouraging those of you who are interested in buying it (for only seventy-one pence) to hold fire until the weekend. Ideally, I would like as many people as possible to buy it on Saturday. The reason for this is to, hopefully, push it up the ranking as high as possible in a relatively short space of time—with the intention of increasing visibility on the ranking lists. How successful this will be, I don’t know, but if you are interested in joining in the experiment (and buying a pretty cool exclusive short story in the process) please let me know by commenting below!
Broken Angel is available here (US, German Amazon).
PLEASE NOTE: for those of you without a Kindle, free apps are available on the product page for all mobile phone operating systems, iPad, PC etc.
© 2011 Gary William Murning
For a limited time only, I’ve discounted the Kindle version of Children of the Resolution. There are a couple of reasons for my doing this. Firstly, it’s a very tough time for publishing in general. Books are still selling, of course, but sales have slowed. The reason for this is fairly obvious. We are all having to tighten our belts at the moment and book buyers are obviously having to prioritise elsewhere.
Because of this—and because I have full control over pricing on this particular Kindle book—I’ve reduced the price to £1.14 and $1.85 in the states. That, in the case of the UK version, is a 90% saving on the paperback version.
Now, yes, I know some of you non-Kindle types will now be saying “oh, yes, but I’ve got to spend over a hundred quid on the Kindle before I can read it”. But, of course, you don’t. Completely free apps are available for iPhone, iPad, android phones, Windows phones, BlackBerry and PC. Possibly not quite as easy on the eyes as reading off paper or the Kindle itself, but if you’re desperate to read Children of the Resolution but don’t feel you can justify forking out on the paperback, this may be the perfect solution for you. (Incidentally, I use the Windows phone 7 app and it’s far better than you might expect.)
So, to take advantage of this discount, pop along to Amazon post-haste! US readers should click here. (Also, the app for Windows phone 7 isn’t actually listed on the above page but users can find it easily through their phone in their app Marketplace.)
Happy Kindle-ing.
PS—Don’t ask why £1.14!
PPS—Please, please, please spread the word!
Read your free sample of Children of the Resolution, please click here.
© 2011 Gary William Murning
A decision has been made, arrived at, pounced upon unceremoniously.
As it was with Children of the Resolution, I will, with my next project, The Wisdom of Closed Worlds, log in intimate and intricate detail every aspect of its development on this here much-neglected blog. Every lingering ellipsis and every quivering colon will be given due recognition, studied, interrogated and lauded—and if you’re really lucky (or unlucky, depending on your viewpoint) I may even share considerable chunks of the first draft and, even, the initial outline.
Never let it be said you weren’t given fair warning!
Read your free sample of Children of the Resolution, please click here.
To buy from the UK, click here – and American customers can buy here. (Also available on Kindle. UK. US.)
© 2011 Gary William Murning
