Terry Deary wants to abolish libraries

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Newcastle City Library

Last week, I spotted a tweet from Neil Gaiman, calling Terry Deary selfish and avaricious for his attitude towards libraries. He'd included a link to the Guardian's website, so I clicked through to have a look. What I saw shocked me. Deary appears to have a thing against libraries because they're losing him money. According to the article, his books were borrowed more than half a million times during 2011/12, and due to the Public Lending Right scheme, he only made £6,600 from those books. Had he sold them, he'd have made over £180,000. According to him, "The libraries are doing nothing for the book industry. They give nothing back, whereas bookshops are selling the book, and the author and the publisher get paid, which is as it should be. What other entertainment do we expect to get for free?"

His main gripes with libraries seem to revolve around cost - both the cost to the tax payer in keeping libraries open, and the cost to the authors and publishers who lose money when books are borrowed, not bought. It seems he puts his right to be paid above public access to information. To put it bluntly, what an arsehole attitude. I originally planned a post that would have potentially blistered paint, but I thought I'd break down his argument that libraries are bad, and explain what he's clearly missing.

1) Books as entertainment.

At one point, Deary makes the point that people wouldn't expect to go to the cinema for free, so why should we let them borrow books for free? The key thing that he's missing is that you cannot equate books with cinema. Books straddle both education and entertainment, and just as many people borrow non-fiction as they do fiction books. One wonders where he finds the books to do the research for his Horrible Histories series. But given the vast number of people who use services like Lovefilm or Netflix to watch films at home at a much lower price than the cinema, it seems Deary is a little behind the times regarding how people spend. Bottom line is, people just don't have that much money. Which leads me on to...

2) The cost of books.

In and of themselves, books are not expensive. However, if you're from a low income family, or you're a student, paying for all the books you want/need is going to get very expensive very quickly. Everyone knows I'm working on my PhD at the moment, and my current chapter is an overview of the horror film from 1897-1978. Just as an example, if I'd bought all the books I needed for a 1000 word section in that chapter on the giallo film, it would have cost me, at a minimum, £136.10. That's just for one small section of a single chapter. I can't afford that! But I can easily borrow the books from the library as and when required. Furthermore, Deary seems to believe that libraries are putting bookshops out of business but I'm sorry, both co-existed quite peacefully until the rise of online shopping. Stores like Amazon are putting bookshops out of business, simply because their product is cheaper. (Incidentally, I've found that the online prices at Waterstones match, and in some cases are lower than, Amazon's, so I've switched from buying at Amazon to buying at Waterstones).

3) Marketing.

Due to the cost of books, people might be put off buying, say, the first in a series in case they don't like it. But how many people might borrow the book from a library, discover they like it, and then go on to buy another book by that author? Allowing people to borrow books is a good way of 'hooking' readers and getting them to buy new books as they're released. I've sometimes borrowed books from libraries and enjoyed them so much that I've bought my own copy. After all, in an interview with the Evening Standard back in April 2012, he was backing a literacy campaign, saying he preferred children to discover his books themselves without being forced to read them by schools. Without libraries, how can children discover these books then? (As a side issue, he also backed a literacy campaign by saying children have never been more literate because they text and use Facebook. Has he ever actually seen a student's work? I suspect not.)

4) What about the other services?

Libraries don't just offer books any more - at our main City Library, they offer genealogy services, advice for small businesses, education facilities, conference space and a means of getting online. Deary needs to remember that not everyone has a computer at home, or they may not have an internet connection, and the only way for such people to get online is to use computers in a public space. Libraries are far nicer than internet cafes, and they can provide a lifeline to older people, giving them somewhere warm and welcoming to go to get them out of the house. Besides, if you need to get online and you have children, you can safely leave them in the children's section while you do your online errands. Without libraries, what would you do?

5) Other methods of obtaining books.

Really, if Deary is going to complain about libraries, then I'm assuming he also wants to see an end to secondhand bookshops, or books being sold in charity shops to raise money for good causes. Does he also want people to stop lending books to their friends? At least if people borrow from a library, he earns 6.2p every time they do so. If I bought one of his books at an Oxfam shop, he'd get nothing for it. In Deary World, do all people only buy their books from established bookshops? In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Deary's favourite historical event was the destruction of the library at Alexandria.

Hundreds of authors have rallied behind the cause to save libraries, recognising the universal need for access to information - if the comments section is anything to go by, then so do most readers of the Guardian. Yes, authors and publishers need to make money but I really don't think that books being available in libraries is going to cause enough of a dent in earnings to make it necessary to abolish libraries altogether. I seem to be quoting this more often than not lately but Deary needs to remember that "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one", and as long as we live in a society where the have-nots outnumber the haves, then we need to provide education and information in an accessible, affordable way. If Deary doesn't like that, then I might suggest a change of career to one that will bring him into contact with as few people as possible.

#FridayFlash - Rainy Day

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Celine sits on the station platform, waiting for her train to York. She fiddles with her hair and taps an irregular rhythm with her feet. The announcements board says the train is on time but it cannot come soon enough for Celine. Her Boyfriend promised her a day out in York, a city she has not visited in years, and she has not seen him in almost a month.

Her phone jangles in her pocket and she fishes it out, pulling free an assortment of tissues and old bus tickets as she does so. She sits among the detritus of her everyday life and opens a text from the Boyfriend.

"Hi C, sorry 2 do this, have been thinkin a lot lately & i don't think this is workin 4 either of us. Probs best u don't come 2 york".

Celine stares at the screen. Moments crawl by before her fingers shake themselves free of their stupor.

"But I'm already waiting for the train." She presses send.

"Sorry C. Really am. Just don't think we're rite 4 each other. Hope to stay friends, ur a gr8 girl."

Celine peers at the phone through a film of salt water. Her train pulls into the station but she doesn't see it. She wipes away the tears and re-reads the texts, hoping she made a mistake, or that he was joking. She starts to type four or five different replies, each time deleting the message in case another comes in explaining it all.

A station guard comes over after half an hour. He asks her if she needs help, and leads her out of the station. He looks at her kindly, like a grandfather indulging a child with a scabby knee. It only occurs to her later that she is probably not the first dumpee he has encountered at work. He even buys her a cup of coffee after a hatchet-faced woman in the station office refuses to refund her now-useless train ticket.

Her friends rally around, and try to take her mind off it. They do a reasonable job, and after a few months, Celine deletes the texts from her phone. She deletes all of his texts, both good and bad. She cannot stand to be reminded of the wonderful things he said before he became so cruel. She gets a new haircut and uploads the photo to Facebook. The Now-Ex-Boyfriend 'likes' it almost immediately, but she un-friends him as quickly, and clears out her cache of photographs. He ceases to exist in her life, both online and off. A nasty streak, buried deep within Celine, hopes that she has erased him from existence altogether. She never hears from him again - it could be true.

Two days later, Celine takes all of the feelings she ever had about him and packs them into a cardboard box. She writes 'Rainy Day' on the front in black marker, and stores it at the back of a closet. She doesn't know when, or if, she'll ever need them again. She pushes other boxes, containing clothes or books, in front of them, and vows to get on with her life.

It doesn't take long for the box to start rattling. Something inside it wants to break out.

NaNoReMo update

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At the end of January, I announced that I'd be reading Horace Walpole's The Castle of Otranto for NaNoReMo. I'd chosen it due to its privileged position within the canon of Gothic literature, and because many of its themes and motifs appear in later novels, and by extension, within the gothic mode of filmmaking.

It's not a long book - my copy is only 115 pages long - and I can only thank my lucky stars for that. I'm already about a third of the way through but it has not been a pleasure to get even that far. I know that storytelling has changed an awful lot in the 249 years since it was published but the novel feels more like a documentary than a work of fiction. Walpole almost exclusively 'tells' the story, rigorously ignoring any opportunities to 'show' what's going on, and the characters are almost entirely devoid of any depth.

In the story so far, the Prince of Otranto, a fairly odious and one-dimensional man named Manfred, has been anticipating the forthcoming wedding of his son, Conrad, to a princess named Isabella. Manfred is desperate to continue the family line to avoid a fatal prophecy, but before the marriage can take place, a giant helmet falls from the sky (yeah...what?!) and crushes Conrad. Manfred then decides to divorce his wife, Hippolita (a simpering woman continually described as being a paragon of virtue, who is so weak and pathetic you just want to slap her) in order to marry Isabella himself and thus produce more heirs. Isabella is having none of it, and escapes to a nearby convent through a rather convenient subterranean passage. All of this takes place within chapter one, and it's difficult to care what's going on when so much content is crammed into the story before you even know who anyone is.

It takes a lot for me to abandon a book, and I'd quite happily set this aside if a) it wasn't such a seminal text, meaning I feel like I have to read it, and b) it wasn't so short. I'm pretty sure I can whizz through the rest of it before the end of the month, and if I do...well I'll be switching to Edgar Allen Poe instead...

#FridayFlash - We Could Be Heroes

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"Ere, Simon, how do you know you can die?"

"What?"

"I said, how do you know you'll die? Or that you even can?" 

"What are you on about now?"

"I was just thinking. You could have superpowers or something, so how do you know you even can die unless you try it?"

"Don't be stupid, everyone can die. It's a given."

"Yeah man, that's what they want you to think."

"Oh don't start with all your conspiracy theory rubbish. It's too early in the day for that."

"It's not a conspiracy theory. What if it turned out you'd gotten superpowers during the night and you were now invincible - how would you even know?"

"That's ridiculous."

"So come at it another way - we all reckon we can die because people keep doing it, but how do you know you actually will?"

"It's the natural law."

"But how do you know?"

"I don't, but I'm certainly not going to try it to check either way."

"You've got no vision, have you?"

"Well you do it then."

"Fine. I will."

"No! Don't! Don't jump out the-"

THUMP

"Eric? Eric?!"

"It's okay, I'm alright! I told you I couldn't die!"

"Oh don't be stupid. I just looked out - you landed in a dumpster!"

#FridayFlash - Broken Bracelet

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In the days following The End, a lot of people learned the value of what they'd lost. Law, order, social niceties, even electricity - all gone. Those disenfranchised by the old system turned feral, and formed the Riot Boys. The police, overrun and overworked, just gave up. It got worse. Even death offered no eternal peace, as the dead began to rise. It wasn't radiation, or a virus, just some quirk of reality that reversed some of the natural laws. Some of the revenants retained their previous selves, and went home. Some of them...well, they copied whatever behaviour they saw, and a lot of them saw nothing but Riot Boys. Humanity was beset on all sides - for the first time in my life, I was glad not to be human.

Oh I looked human. Most of the time. For three days out of the month, we were something else entirely. My family were Wulfen, and given there haven't been wolves in England for centuries, we'd become adept at avoiding detection. Being smaller and lighter than my brothers, I trained as a Tracker, and I was good at it. Very good. My brothers could have been jealous, but they had no other sisters, and protected me as the Warriors they were.

So it was that I came to be skirting the remains of an old village, late one spring evening. Some of those places avoided much trouble, being so far out of the way, and the inhabitants continued on much as they did before, growing their own food and bartering goods. They were always happy to see me, bringing with me news of the 'outside world'. Not all villages escaped, and the burnt out buildings of Woldendale put me on my guard. Riot Boys had been here - and might still be around.

I found myself in a pub car park on the edge of the village. The pub wasn't gutted by fire, but the windows were full of broken glass, the walls coated by thick graffiti. The Riot Boys probably drank it dry before they moved on. I lifted my head and let the scents of the air wash over me. Nothing - human or undead. I didn't think there was anything worth salvaging in Woldendale but I had to check.

I picked my way across the car park, and something shiny caught my eye. I padded closer, and saw the remains of a bracelet lying on the ground. Several cracked beads still clung to the nylon thread, although most of them had scattered across the tarmac. I picked up the fragile remains and sniffed, but heavy rain had washed away any traces of its owner. Now the bracelet just smelled of bad weather and petrol. I didn't have to be clairvoyant to see how it ended up here. Some hapless girl, perhaps eager to meet a boyfriend, ignored curfew and crossed the car park. With both revenants and Riot Boys in the area, she stood no chance. She encountered one or the other - or in a worst case scenario, both - and in the ensuing scuffle, the bracelet broke, and spilled its beads on the ground. I sighed. Nothing I could do for her now.

A scent caught my nose. Rotting flesh and hair gel – particularly cheap hair gel, considering its pungent aroma. I froze, trying to gauge the direction. Someone shambled out of an ancient lean-to at the back of the pub. He cut a strange figure, with his disintegrating skin, bloodshot eyes, and hair thick with styling product. He sported the typical spiky crop favoured by the Riot Boys, and was even clad in their tracksuit and trainers uniform. I could see acne scars among the patches of rot on his face – he couldn’t have been more than fifteen when he died.

He uttered a single moan and lurched towards me. I cursed myself for not keeping a weapon to hand, and scrabbled at the buckles on my bag. I backed away across the car park as the revenant ambled closer – not quite hurrying, but not taking his time either. I fumbled with the strap and the buckle finally gave. My foot caught on a pothole in the tarmac, sending me sprawling backwards. The flap of my satchel opened and scattered the contents of my bag across the car park.

The revenant smiled, a horrifying sight of missing teeth and misshapen lips, and bore down on me. I scrambled backwards, and my hand found smooth wood. My fingers curled around a handle and I swung upwards with all my strength as the revenant pounced. The head of my hammer collided with the revenant’s skull in an explosion of bone and blood. My would-be attacker keeled over, the hammer still buried in his brain.

I pulled the hammer free and wiped it clean on the revenant’s tracksuit top. I gathered the rest of my things and dumped them back in the satchel, ever mindful that where there was one revenant, there would no doubt be more.

A low moaning erupted within the lean-to. I recognised the sound – humans might think it a sound of mourning, but the moan, interrupted by snarls, was a revenant argument. They likely didn’t know I was there, but if they came outside, they would. My brothers would storm the building, slaughtering all the revenants they found, and they’d celebrate later with a feast of venison and ale.

But that was my brothers. I was on my own. I may be Wulfen but I wasn’t stupid. The revenants of Woldendale could wait. So I did the only thing I could. I ran.

* * *

Bracelet by L1l1th, tarmac by Blackcatm, edits by me. Concept of a broken bracelet in a car park from Nerine Dorman.

What writers can take from Django Unchained

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I finally got to see Django Unchained at the weekend, a film I'd been looking forward to for a long time since a) I love Westerns, b) I like Tarantino and c) I love Leo DiCaprio. My review is over on my film blog, but I had a few thoughts about what writers could take away from the movie.

1) Do your research.

The world of Django Unchained felt very plausible, and very real. At no point did I look at anything and think it was anachronistic, although while checking things for this post, I discovered that Tarantino has included dynamite some eight years before it was invented. Still, fiction is allowed to take some liberties, as long as they're within the bounds of possibility. The costumes were fabulous, the set design had a real attention to detail that period pieces always need, and Tarantino had clearly researched the social situation of 1858. No matter whether you're setting your story in 2087 or 1887, it needs to feel real to a reader. Even futuristic pieces need research to extrapolate the likelihood of possible inventions becoming reality.

2) Don't be afraid of controversy.

Don't feel you have to court controversy - for every person who reads your work out of genuine interest, you'll have another who reads it for its reputation, and that's a Pandora's box you don't want to open as you scrabble to top each controversial outing. Having said that, don't shy away from a topic because you feel it is, or might be, controversial. Fiction will always need brave authors willing to talk about things that no one else will discuss, and if you have an original, fair, or unique take on a subject, why not try it out? Tarantino certainly did. Whether he was right or wrong to do tackle the subject of slavery using the generic conventions of both the Western and the Revenge film so is not for me to decide, but kudos to him for having the balls to raise the topic in the first place.

3) Know when to end a scene.

There were more than a few scenes where I found myself mentally screaming "CUT! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, CUUUUUUT!" Tarantino's often had the tendency to ramble, letting scenes go on far longer than they need to, while the additional running time does nothing to further the story (although it may increase your need to duck out to the bathroom). As a reader, if you feel that a scene is going on too long you might just skip to the next one - or worse, you might put the book down altogether. Writers need to know when to stop a scene, or cut it entirely. If it doesn't further the plot or illuminate something important, lose it. If it feels like it's running out of steam, cut and get on with it.

4) Using up your big finish too early.

It wasn't one of his biggest hits but Death Proof got it just right when the climactic set piece, that epic car chase, was at the very end of the film. Likewise the fight sequence between the Bride and O-Ren Ishii in Kill Bill Pt I. Trouble is, I felt like Django Unchained's big shoot-out was the big set piece, as opposed to the actual climactic ending...meaning that the film after said shoot-out sagged a little. That would be like Luke destroying the Death Star and spending another forty five minutes wandering around. Keep your big finish for the end.

5) Give your hero flaws...but don't make him easy to dislike.

I think my biggest problem with Django Unchained is that I warmed to King Schultz very easily, and I really liked the character, but I found it nigh on impossible to root for Django himself. If your sole presented reason for me rooting for someone is how badly they've been treated by someone else then you're not exactly presenting a rounded character. Likewise, making the guy a natural shot so he's a better gunslinger than Wyatt Earp without any practice just makes me too incredulous. His motivations were understandable, and possibly even commendable, but as a character, I just didn't like Django. I know that, in places, Django himself was playing a character in order to further his own ends, but it didn't feel like Django was stretching himself too much to play a bastard. Schultz had flaws, but they were there to make him human. By contrast, Django's flaws just made him into a cartoon character. So by all means give your protagonist flaws - after all, we don't want yet another Mary Sue - but don't make them unlikeable in the process. Even anti-heroes like Snake Plisskin are likeable.

What do you think?

National Novel Reading Month

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John Wiswell has reminded me that National Novel Reading Month begins on February 1st. It's quite simple - you choose a classic you've never read, read it in February, and then talk about it.

As I'm looking at the Gothic as part of my PhD thesis, I think it only right that I choose a book related to my topic. I've chosen Horace Walpole's The Castle of Otranto. I've been meaning to read it for months now, but this has given me a very good excuse!

The Castle of Otranto is largely considered the first Gothic text, and was originally published in 1764 as an alleged translation of an ancient text. Walpole eventually acknowledged authorship by the time the second edition came out. It's available for the Kindle for free through Project Gutenberg but I'll be reading the paperback version, a book I bought at an art exhibition about his rather stunning house at Strawberry Hill.