29 November 2015
Hello!
*Big news alert! There's an important announcment two-thirds of the way down this letter.*
Did you enjoy Black Friday? Me neither. I almost feel bad landing yet another email in your inbox when – if you’re anything like me – you must have spent so much of last week deleting the damn things.
What was almost worse though were all the complaints about Black Friday that I heard. (And oh boy, I’ve just added to their number too.) The subtext there seemed to be: you’re doing it wrong. If you buy anything you’re a fool. If you don’t snap up a bargain, you’re a fool. If you even mention shopping you’re a fool. The essential point being that whoever was complaining was better than you.
On the latter point at least, I know I’m innocent. I’m worse than you! I’ve shopped, I’ve complained and then complained about complaining, and now I've also emailed. Oh and sometimes I drive at 35mph in a 40mph zone just to annoy BMW drivers. Every other word that runs through my head is a filthy cuss. I pick my nose. I didn't like Princess Diana all that much. I judge you for putting milk in your coffee, even though I know there's nothing wrong with it really.
But that's enough about me and enough about Black Friday. Let’s call this Blue Monday and use that as a tenuous link into a masterpiece about the sad case of Paul Schreber. Playthings, Alex Pheby’s novel is starting to find readers – and better still readers are starting to find it as mind-blowing as Elly and I did. Here are a few of my favourite recent review quotes:
"If Playthings is a neuronovel then it's arguably the best neuronovel ever written, particularly in its depiction of memory and the instability of personality. But it transcends any such category and is simply a superb novel tout court, Kafkaesque in its nightmarish fluency and a powerful exposition of Kant's celebrated view that 'the madman is a waking dreamer.'" –David Collard, Literary Review
"Throughout this compelling novel... the space between reader and Schreber becomes a sombre reminder of how alone we all are." - Chris Power, The Guardian
"Creating something out of this nothing is not an easy task but with this most unusual novel, the author has succeeded in doing just that." –Sarah Gilmartin in The Irish Times
"Plan to read Playthings in one intense sitting…Alex Pheby achieves absolute dramatic irony: Schreber, in crisis, does not understand how grim his situation is. The reader does, and hopelessly wills it to improve. Pheby evokes the isolation, first mental, then physical, of a man whose concerns go unacknowledged. We are continually made to question what is and is not real in the story, particularly in the appearance of Alexander, a figment of Schreber's imagination who seems to have a tangible influence in the world." - Kelley Swain, The Lancet
"An incredible work of fiction, all the more fascinating for being based on an actual case. The writing is taut, intense, the everyday world a phantom which Schreber tries so desperately to attain. His disturbance of mind is not so much explained as experienced. This story is powerful and moving; I would recommend it to anyone with an interest in the humanity behind mental illness." Zeudytigre, Neverimitate
Please also click here to have a look at a review by the brilliant Neil Griffiths. He calls it “writing of the highest order” - but it’s the way he explains why that makes this one so special. (If you want to improve your day further, have a look at his other reviews while you’re there. If you can listen to his review of Pond and not want to run out and buy it, well... )
As is customary, I have to remind you we've got signed first editions in our store.
Okay. Into the brown stuff:
She threw herself into the mud and started to writhe around in fish movements. Her hair and face were lacquered in the gruel of mud, her eyes the only whites.
I’ve been proud to release a lot of weird and wonderful stories into the wild in our Singles Club range over the years – and it’s saying something when I say that this is one of the strangest. It’s entirely unlike anything else. It’s haunting and difficult and beautiful. It’s got a lot of mud in it. I have ideas about what it’s about… But I don’t want to foist them on you before you read it. Before you submerse yourself. Before you dive into the mud…
Okay - onto our big news.
From 2016 onwards, we’ve decided to make our lovely black flap books a bit more precious by limiting their number. Instead of printing them as as long-run editions, we’re going to change to a 400 print-run for each title.*
Beautiful - and increasingly rare...
The black flaps won’t ever be reprinted, no matter how popular the book; once they’re gone, they’re gone – and, in addition, they’ll no longer be available for sale in many bookshops. This means that the black-flaps will only be available to purchase directly, through our website. They’ll be available on pre-order for a few months before publication on a first-come, first-served basis – the one proviso being that a certain number will be set aside for Galley Beggar Buddies. So, as a Friend – to us, to our writers, to literature in general – from 2016, you’ll be the only people in the world guaranteed a black-flap edition of our titles.
We’re changing our Galley Buddy scheme slightly to reflect this. All details are available here. We’re hoping that this will make it an even more enjoyable club to belong to - and add extra value for our friends. It should also make it an even more special gift. Not to mention, an investment.
(*Shops will still have copies of our beloved authors and our books, but not as the black-flap editions. We'll be printing a separate run of b-format editions for most bookstores. And we'll be selling them on our website too. So everyone will be able to get the books.)
(Also, in big news, we are about to launch a project called Refuge with our friends at Salt Publishing. But I'll tell you about that in a special bonus letter...)
Okay, back to Bezos
This week, buried among all the other horrifying world events, came the astonishing announcement that Jeff Bezos has completed the ultimate James Bond villain move and built himself an actual rocket that goes to actual space. Who needs 70% discounts when you have GIANT RED SPACE LASERS. The publicity material states: "At Blue Origin we believe now is time to open the promise of space to all." Didn't he say something similar about publishing back in 1998? And look where that got us. I don't even need to make jokes about this. Jeff Bezos could be in charge of the mission making First Contact with alien civilisations we might otherwise be able to befriend.
Finally, talking of all the bad news, the mad pronouncements, the no-platforming, religious intolerance and intolerant religion, and the slow creep towards a new kind of old-fashioned totalitarianism, a useful message from Lin Yutang:
The scamp is probably the most glorious type of human being. In this present age of threats to democracy and individual liberty, probably only the spirit of the scamp alone will save us from becoming lost as serially numbered units in the masses of disciplined, obedient and regimented. The scamp will be the last and most formidable enemy of dictatorships. He will be the champion of human dignity and individual freedom, and will be the last to be conquered…
Don't forget to pack a whole case full of 'fuck-you' in other words. We're going to need it, wherever we're going...
Fondly,
Sam
PS 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 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, this week I’ve been listening to the smooth sounds Aaron Neville, and the unsmooth sounds of Seamonsters. That one sounds even better now than it did in 1991. And back then it sounded like David Gedge was playing like the whole world was exploding around him. (Talking of the end of the world, Neil Young has the best advice, as usual.)
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