30 June 2015
Hello!
And thank you.
The support we received after our appeal a few weeks ago made a tremendous difference financially and emotionally. It gave us a good cushion against the rocks in the road ahead - and also made us as determined as ever to keep on trucking and keep on sticking it to The Man. The future in our precarious industry is never going to be easy - but we’re in an increasingly good condition to face it. And that’s thanks to you, our readers. (And a few other stalwart friends like our tremendous distributor Turnaround and all those shops stocking our books at reasonable rates.)
Anyway, I don’t want this newsletter to turn into some kind of mushy Oscar acceptance speech. I don’t want Jeff Bezos to think we’re getting soft. But I do want you to know we’re moved and we’re grateful. If people keep on buying direct from us, we’ll be okay. We’ll try to repay you as best we can in art and literature and serious devotion to proper books. Also fun stuff. Like our Writers on the Beach:
Who wouldn't want to hit the waves and catch some rays with George Bernard Shaw? Talking of sunshine, The Weightless World is out there. It’s in the shops and better still in readers’ hands. Thank you to everyone who came to give it a boost at its London launch at the very beautiful Vout-o-renees. And if you’re anywhere near Manchester this weekend, please come and see us at Deansgate Waterstones at 18:30, where Anthony will be playing to his home crowd and giving this wonderful book the celebration it deserves.
Forgive a bit of preening, but I must also share some of the first reviews of the novel that have come in:
“This is a novel steeped in the heat and light of the subcontinent. And while it requires an initial suspension of disbelief, its themes are wholly serious… This strikingly original debut probes not just the implications of technology but human ties, too.”
“A literary, speculative, to-hell-with-pigeonholes piece of fiction, The Weightless World blends reality with a fantastical premise. … Galley Beggar Press is fast becoming a hallmark of great literary taste. Their back catalogue shimmers with glorious finds such as Randall, A Girl Is A Half-formed Thing, The White Goddess and Everlasting Lane. The Weightless World is a stylish addition to the canon.” (J.J. Marsh, Book Muse)
“The writing is wonderful, Steven’s voice exquisite… I wouldn’t be surprised to see this book at the very least on shortlists. … I know I’ll go back and read it again, delight in the story, the characters, the writing – it is, I think, that good. It carries a certain sense of – how should I say it – gravity.” (Van Is Reading)
“Engaging, funny and imaginative… The Weightless World is a fine debut, a well-aimed satire that manages to be equally enjoyable and thought-provoking.” (Thom Cuell, Workshy Fop)
“A brisk comic tragedy, the adventure undertaken by the narrator and his boss Ess leads to a surprising, contemplative and ultimately touching ending.” (Lonesome Reader)
“The backdrop of India is beautifully evoked, with its heat, colour, economic contrasts and the duplicity of the multi-national business community… Taut and captivating, this is a fabulous read.” (Jackie Law, Never Imitate)
While I’m posting links, you might also enjoy this fine piece by Anthony’s agent Emma Herdman. It’s one that shows how much everyone loves this book.
Now then:
This is our latest single release. It’s by C.D. Rose, the man who wrote the splendid Biographical Dictionary of Literary Failure and it’s something special. Here’s the blurb:
"They were thin men, curiously built, with long square bodies and short legs, but both moved with a careful grace, their slow and deliberate gestures reminding me of mime artists or expert craftsmen. When I asked how long they had been building their model, they looked at each other and smiled. All our lives, said Arkady, all our lives."A story that takes place on a train. About building a world out of matchsticks. About brothers. About drinking. About things that matter.
You can buy it in our store now - or get it as part of your Singles Club subscription. And if you do, that would make us very happy.
What’s next. Oh yes.
Look out!
Someone’s swinging a sledgehammer right at your noggin.
Playthings is coming in late 2015. You can pre-order it now. (And if you’re a reviewer, and want a proof copy, please drop us a line.) Did I say it would hit you like a truck full of rubble tipping its load onto your back while you’re trying to do press-ups? No? Well I should have done. It will smash into you like a lawyer’s bill. It’s going to arrive like Slayer at a folk festival. It is going to pull off the top of your head and mash the insides like it’s making guacamole. It will rip you open and feed your insides to the crows.
This novel is serious.
This novel will puke on your shoes.
I sent this novel to Hemingway: he tore out his beard and cried like a baby.
It’s right up your street. Not only that. It arrived on your street. It saw a Foxtons mini and smashed it up. It flooded the bathroom. It moved in next door and started selling crack. It cut all the heads off your children’s teddies.
I’m serious about this novel being serious. This novel will knife off your fingernails. This novel will stub your toe. This novel already dropped a safe on your head. Next, it’s going to go back in time and kill your parents and you won’t even exist. Not as you were, anyway.
In short, you’ll love it. It’s an epic Neil Young solo of a novel. It is one of the best things you will ever read. Here's a sneak peak at the first page:
The truth is that we feel this is an important, brave and wonderful novel. It has big ideas. It focuses on Paul Schreber: the German judge who wrote Memoirs Of My Nervous Illness and became a case study of Freud. Whereas Schreber’s own memoirs recount his initial two incarcerations, Playthings concentrates on his third confinement – the one he didn't write about, and from which he didn't emerge. It delves deep into a disturbed mind - and in doing so, it also unearths the roots of the great ills in the 20th century, the psychological structure of fascism, the cancer of anti-Semitism, and the abuse of institutional power.
It’s overwhelming. But it’s also beautiful. It’s shot through with humour and the joy of living as well as the hardship. You’ll come out the other end feeling better. I know I did.
In fact, I felt so good that I felt like calling up Jeff Bezos to say sorry about some of the things I said about him in the past. Some of them may have been a little bit unfair, maybe, I thought. I thought perhaps Jeff and I should have a little kiss and and squidge and make up and talk about the good things that Amazon do, instead of focussing so relentlessly on the negative. I thought about folding him in my arms. And how it would be like cuddling a sea-urchin, before rubbing my arms with a cheese grater and pouring chilli in the cuts. Tumbleweeds blew across my mind. I was standing on a vast and empty desert of black sand, under a red sky, and I knew the sky was red because the universe was bleeding. And hey! Ouch. Stop that. Oh Jesus. I looked down and rats were eating my toes. A snake was crawling up my leg and I could see the yellow venom on his fangs. Small evil children with sharpened teeth and hooks instead of hands were tearing at my stomach. They weren’t laughing. They had NO EMOTIONS. I had to look away. Because someone was hitting me on the head with a steam iron. My clothes were falling off because the moths had got them. Corrosive rain was pouring from the red sky and I could actually hear my eyes fizzing as the poisonous drops struck them. I was scared for a moment. But it was okay. I realised I’d been here before. It was just another meeting with Amazon about ebook terms. Screw you, I said. Screw you Amazon and all who sail your polluted waters. I started to feel better right away.
Thanks for reading!
Fondly,
Sam
As usual, I'm also going to use the end of the newsletter for a few more adverts, where you can safely ignore them, or kindly indulge me, depending on your fancy:
Firstly, please join The Singles Club so we can pay writers to write. Here's the blurb:
We have a fantastic new subscription system set up for our Singles Club so that you now only have to make one payment to get hold of 12 stories. But how to go through the ins and outs of paypal payment systems without boring the dirtbox off you, I don't know. Probably the best thing to do is to head over to the relevant page on our site, where I've tried to give a brief, but to the point explanation, and to take it from there. The important things to know are that:
(1) Subscribing saves you the trouble of going to the site every month to get your fix of superb ebook literature – we'll just email you the files every month.
(2) Subscribing (so long as enough people do it) will enable us to start giving our authors money up front on for each story. Yes! We are going to pay people to write short stories. It's like the golden days of the 1920s. Only they'll be in electronic book format instead of Strand magazine… Anyway! You get the idea. This is a mighty fine way to keep authors doing what they do best – entertaining you.
(3) It costs £12 a year, or £1 a month, or less than a meal in Pizza Express. (Unless you have a voucher.)
Secondly, please be our friend! Become a Galley Buddy. It's a good deal for us, and a great deal for you.
Thirdly, to donate to Galley Beggar Press and earn yet more of our gratitude, click here.
Fourthly, go on, buy a postcard set. They're lovely:
Fifthly, thanks for reading write down to the bottom. There's no prize, but I sure do like you. Today, I’m listening to Neil Young. Sometimes you just have to. I’m even enjoying his new album. The man has still got reserves of fuck you to spare.
Also, why not contribute to this here Greek bailout fund. You know that Byron would.
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