2 February 2016
Hello!
Welcome to our first newsletter of 2016. And although it’s February, and you probably thought you’d dealt with the whole new year thing weeks ago, I have to bring it up again: 2016. Which is 17 years since 1999. Which from the point of view of anyone who grew up listening to Prince is just too much. Soon there will be adults wondering around who were born after the year desribed by His Purple Shortness as the unimaginably and crazily distant future. What the hell must it be like inside their heads? Who are they? Who are we in comparison? How did time do this to us? How will we manage without David Bowie? And can we have him back now please?
Actually, let’s not start the first newsletter of the year on a downer. Let’s look to the future. Bernie Sanders is going to be US President. The Cure will one day release another album. And it’s only a matter of time until someone invents a cure for baldness, grey hair and the overwhelming desire to complain about the way teenagers talk.
Closer to home, I’m mighty pleased to tell you that we’ve got lots to look forward to at Galley Beggar Towers. We’ve just been very lucky to receive some Arts Council Funding to help us continue our mission of Bringing The Books To The People. Thank you world!
We’ve also just signed one heck of a writer. This is Preti Taneja and she’s written a novel called We That Are Young; a retelling of King Lear in modern-day New Delhi and Kashmir. It’s a wonderful, rich, smart, dark, ambitious novel. As so often with the books that we manage to grab, I find it hard to believe that it hasn’t been published already - that anyone else could have let it go by. But let’s not get hung up on anything others might have done wrong. What matters is what Preti’s done right. She’s written an astonishing novel. We had the joy of the first editorial meeting this weekend and I now can’t wait to press this book into your hands. I want to tell you all about it, but I also want to keep my powder dry and save a few surprises for next year when it blasts off. So let me just say for now, it’s another book that makes it all feel worthwhile. Like we’re bringing fine things into the world. Fine things crammed with delectable sentences…
And talking of fine things, I’m happy to say Playthings is still racking up the notices. Here’s a great review looking at the psychological insights in the novel. This one by Thomas Storey is also mighty. It’s so clever I can’t actually find a one-sentence pull quote. The ideas are just too complex to boil down - but anyone who’s read Playthings will find his notes on the perspective shifts and writing craft in the novel fascinating. As an editor you just long for people to look at novels in the same way you do. It's been thrilling to see that quite a few reviewers have really taken on Playthings, dug into it and discovered the gold that got Elly and I so excited in the first place. Alex Pheby. I feel like we should just give him the Nobel prize now and save everyone years of speculation further down the line. What’s his next book going to be like?!
Oh yes. Here's Alex in the New York Times too. Scroll down. Oh yes.
Elsewhere, and also, also talking of fine things, we’re entering the final stage of judging our short story competition. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m planning on bothering your inboxes again a little later in the month, when we announce the winner. For now, I want to focus on the glories of our shortlist and longlist. I’d be proud to edit any of these writers properly. There’s a lot of talent here. Here's a sample of a cover. They're currently all in our store, as ebooks, for £1 each - and I recommend you sample them. (Although - Galley Buddies! and Singles Club members , I hope you have received a link giving you access to them all. And I hope you're enjoying...)
Meanwhile, sorry about the lateness of the Singles Club release proper. I’m still working on edits. But it’s very beautiful. More on that with that extra newsletter in a couple of weeks too.
Before that big anouncement, sad news about Jeff Bezos. I hear that he’s recently taken to snatching teddies from out of toddlers’ pleading, grasping hands, pulling out their little glass bear eyes, ripping out their stuffing, and scattering the remains over the wailing children while screaming at them that they have to learn to “embrace disruptive technologies.”
He’s also been raiding parties, and interrupting games of pass the parcel to tear off all the wrappings, and snatch away all the presents for himself before lecturing the bawling birthday boy about the inefficiencies of bricks and mortar.
Someone else told me he likes hanging around in parks. I’ve heard he likes to lure labrador puppies away from their owners using drugged lumps of steak. He puts the puppies in a sack, laughs a mirthless laugh, picks up a baseball bat and… he…. Jesus Jeff! Can’t you hear their tiny howls? Fuck no! That’s… Afterwards, he says simply: “It’s just capitalism. Don’t h8 the playa, h8 the game.” He says it so that you can hear the ‘8’. I don’t know how he does that. But I’m sure you can guess how it grinds everyone’s gears.
In the evening, he spends most of his time drinking sweet, chemical lager and crying in front of old episodes of Friends. He wishes he were Joe but knows he’s Gunther.
Oh no! I’ve gone all maudlin again. So let’s end with something else to look forward to. I’m surprised and proud to say that I’ve been mistaken for a respectable member of society and will consequently be appearing alongside Alex Pheby at the British Library on Saturday 20 February. Please come along. We’ll be talking publishing, art, books, the great struggle. There’s a whole roster of talented people on the bill too, including Tony White, Susie Nott-Bower and Lynn Michell.
Talking of events, the wonderful Paul Ewen will be in Paris on 15 February at Shakespeare & Co. If you’re looking for an excuse to go to (possibly!) the world’s best bookshop, this could be it.
And once Paul has charmed you to little quivering jellies of delight, why not go back again? Because Alex Pheby will be there too on April 11. To make it even better, they’ll both be talking to Adam Biles, whose debut novel, Feeding Time, we'll be publishing in August. In Paris. Our authors. Allow me a moment of delight. They done good. They done good! And the world keeps turning.
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:
5. Hello people who read to the bottom for the music! The Suede album is mighty fine - but this month I’ve pretty much just been going all ave atque vale over Bowie and Blackstar. The New Career In A New Town harmonica sign off in I Can’t Give Everything Away is one of the most poignant things I’ve heard. The sound of someone going up the road. Makes me want to go chasing after him, begging him to come back. On a brighter note. Oh boy. What art. The closest thing to it that I can think of is Tarkovsky’s Sacrifice. And to go out with such defiant brilliance. When you’ve still clearly got so much more to offer. Anyway… On to the future.
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