This has become a habit, but not necessarily a bad one. Every few months the lovely Lucy who runs a creative writing class at For Open Prison asks me to come and speak to her charges.
It’s always an interesting afternoon. First the routine couple of questions at the gate: ‘Any phones or recording devices?’ Nope. ‘ID?’ Out comes the driving licence. Then inside.
{Read more about: Ford afternoon}
You’d hardly notice it if you didn’t know the place was there. It’s a hillock not far from the main road that twists through the north of Iceland and most people hurtle past at the most respectable pace they can manage.
{Read more about: Tough justice, 1830-style}
This is by way of an explanation rather than an apology... We all get a lousy review now and again. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not something you can do a lot about, and you have to accept that the stuff you write isn’t going to appeal to everyone. So far
Frozen Out and
Cold Comfort have attracted some thoroughly decent reviews and I’m not complaining on that score. When a stinker of a review shows up, it’s not worth engaging with the reviewer. A dignified silence serves best.
{Read more about: I should know better...}
I can’t help but be ridiculously chuffed at having seen
Cold Comfort reviewed by Marcel Berlins in
The Times. It was last Saturday, almost a week ago, so why the hell has it taken a week to get round to mentioning it here? No idea. Let’s just call it a cavalier attitude to publicity that ought to be addressed.
{Read more about: The Thunderer}
