I wrote 64 blog posts altogether last year. Some, obviously, were about my books; some were reviews of other people’s books; some were serious essays on historical themes; some were mostly photos of Wales and one (which will come as no surprise to those who know me) was about tango. But what did people read?
Inevitable tango photo
Of the top ten blog posts, four were book reviews. But of the ten least read, three were book reviews. That suggests that a lot of my blogs were book reviews but of the 64 posts, only 11 were reviews. That’s quite a lot, but not nearly as many as made the top and bottom ten. Here’s a thought that might interest authors. (I just put it out there as a possibility.) My regular readers aren’t that interested in reviews (and I suspect that goes for readers of lots of blogs) but reviews get read if, besides my mentioning them on social media, the authors make a fuss too. If that’s true, step forward Gilli Allan, Jennie Ensor and C C Humphreys, shameless (and effective) self-publicists all.
Guest posts are popular too (anything to get away from stuff by me). Grateful thanks to Carol McGrath for her piece on Eleanor of Castile’s Property Portfolio and to Penny Hampson for her robust defence of Bridgerton against historical purists. Both posts made the 2021 Top Ten.
Two of the most popular posts of the year were historical pieces. One was about the history behind the film Edge of the World. I had hoped that Edge of the World would generate lots of interest in The White Rajah as both the book and the film are based on the life of James Brooke in Borneo. Sadly, Edge of the World was one of the many 2021 movies to go straight to DVD as cinemas around the world closed because of Covid and The White Rajah will have to wait for a place in the best seller lists. The other (and easily the most read blog post of the year) was about the sensitivities surrounding the words we use to describe the events of 1857 in India. Was the bloodshed that features in my book, Cawnpore, a mutiny, a rebellion or a war of independence?
Posts on Indian history have always been popular, so you can expect to see more in 2022. Other treats will include my wife’s ‘Journal of the Plague Years’ which will provide a handy reminder of exactly how limited our lives were on each day that our Prime Minister was having a party. It’s interesting to see, though, how it all looked at the time. For example, two years ago, with the country about to be plunged into crisis, there is no mention at all of any concerns about a potential plague. Let’s see how that unfolds.
What about you? What would you like to see me write about? Let me know. After all, as I was told as a child, “Those who don’t ask, don’t get.”
Every year I say that I am cutting back on book reviews and in 2021 I have managed to make a start in that direction. There were only 18 book reviews on my block last year (including one that just snuck into the beginning of 2022). A lot of people reported that, contrary to expectations, they read less during lockdown than they would usually and I think I have been no exception to this. Still, 16 book reviews is more than one a month, so it may be helpful to do my annual summary that provides convenient links for anyone who might be interested in reading my take on any of the year’s choices. (Click on titles to go to my original review.)
Historical
In 2021 only nine of my reviews were historical novels. These ranged from two very different approaches to the 17th century right up to World War II, which is particularly popular with historical fiction writers at present. Here they are in roughly chronological order.
Elizabethan spies. Mary Queen of Scots. Gripping stuff in stunningly well-written novel by someone who certainly knew their Elizabethan history. Brilliant characters, (largely) convincing plot, loads of lovely period detail. A model of how to do it.
The second story here set against a Civil War background. Two strong female characters, a suitably chilling villain and a story that positively romps along, helped by fluid prose that’s a pleasure to read. A lot of fun.
Definitely one of the best books I read last year, Deborah Swift’s story of a surprisingly sympathetic mass-poisoner in 17th century Naples blends fact and fiction in the seamless way she has made her own.
Humphrey’s hero is fighting in the American War of Independence, but the book is very like the Burke series in its mix of espionage and carefully observed accounts of some key battles. If you like James Burke, you’ll love this.
Now we are fully into James Burke territory with a plot to kill Napoleon in 1801. I enjoyed seeing how another author covered territory not that different to the latest Burke adventure. (Burke and the Pimpernel Affair is set in 1809.) It’s an exciting story with a convincing historical background.
It’s 1864 and the hero of Vanner’s Dawlish Chronicles is a young midshipman when he finds himself caught up in a plot to provide unofficial military aid to the Danes who are at war with the Austrians and Prussians over the Schleswig-Holstein question. As ever, Vanner is fascinated by the technological advances of his chosen period and the effect that these are having on the conduct of war. He is unsparing with the details of the early days of modern warfare. It’s not an easy read, though Vanner writes well. It’s the subject matter, not the prose, that wears you down. There is an awful lot in this book and most of it depressing. It’s true, though, that war really is hell and books that are honest about this are a valuable antidote to a lot of the romanticised versions of war that you read in so many novels. It’s a must-read for fans of naval history in the early years of steam.
Up to the First World War now and another of Alan Bardos’ excellently researched books. This is the sequel to The Assassins. We’re back with his anti-hero, Johnny Swift, with a brilliant summary of why the Allies were attempting a landing at Gallipoli and why it was doomed.
Moving on to World War II we have Deborah Swift’s book about the ‘Shetland Bus’ ferrying resistance fighters between German-occupied Norway and the Shetland Islands. It’s a little-known part of the war and will appeal to people who enjoy war stories.
How come I’ve a tenth title here when I said that only nine of my reviews were historical novels? The answer is that Lucky Jackis not a novel but “a sort of a memoir”. It’s an account of the life of a West London cobbler, put together from family records and Jack’s own writings by his grand-daughter, Sue Bavey. Jack was born in 1894 and died in 2000 and he fives an ‘Everyman’ perspective on the whole of the 20th century. This is a wonderful book, which I recommend wholeheartedly.
I don’t often write negative reviews: life’s too short. But I’ve enjoyed books by Ragnar Jonasson before and the publisher sent me a copy of this to review, so I felt I had to. Long story short: don’t read it. (Definitely not the book and probably not the review either.)
Jane Austen for the 21st century. Highlights include the middle class house party from hell (probably my favourite bit of the book and a reminder that thanks to covid we’ve all been excused some ghastly evenings) and the detailed descriptions of décor. Each of the main characters lives in a very different kind of house. All of them are dripping with money but all are in a diverse style. Just reading about their furnishings immediately places the characters. “Oh yes,” says my beloved of one of them, “That’s the house I’d live in if I had the money.” She’s right of course: it belongs to the most sympathetic character in the book.
Traditional cosy crime story, enlivened by having one character who is a ghost (but who doesn’t help solve the murder, thank goodness). Undemanding well-written fun.
A friend who had read my urban fantasy, Something Wicked, said that it reminded him of Rivers of London so I had a look at it on Amazon and it’s rather wonderful. And, yes, there are definite similarities to Something Wicked. Perhaps Aaronovitch’s familiarity with the supernatural (the story does suggest quite a lot of research) means that he read Something Wicked and then moved back through time to write Rivers of London.
Like Something Wicked the story starts with the discovery of a body that has been the victim of an unusual murder. In this case it has been decapitated. There follows a lot of detail of police procedure but the appearance, fairly early on, of a ghost as a witness to the crime suggests that things are going to get very weird very quickly. While my detective finds himself working alongside Chief Inspector Pole, a vampire from the mysterious Section S, our hero here, Chief Inspector Nightingale, is a wizard working for Economic and Specialist Crime. Pole and Nightingale share a preference for working alone from their homes and both seem to take an unhealthy interest in mortuaries, but while Pole’s brief sticks to the vampiric, Nightingale covers all the ghosties and ghoulies London has to offer. It makes for a complex plot but it makes sense as you read along. It’s helped by a wonderful sense of place, with lots of details of London geography that pin it firmly to reality. Above all it is funny – often laugh-out-loud funny. It’s a wonderful mix of horror and humour and glorious British eccentricity at its best. I do recommend it.
With the end of January only days away, it’s a bit late to be talking about plans for 2022, but the first weeks of the new year have been busy. Indeed, I’ve already passed my first landmark of 2022 with the publication of the latest James Burke book: Burke and the Pimpernel Affair. 2021 was a fairly grim year and Burke’s last adventure (Burke in Ireland) reflected the mood of the times, being very dark indeed. It seemed time to have something that was more light hearted and fun and Burke and the Pimpernel Affair definitely fits that description. It finds James Burke in Paris where (with a definite nod to Baroness Orczy’s books) he is trying to free British agents from a French gaol. He’s helped by William Brown, of course, and there are several historical figures who have roles to play, including the Empress Josephine. (The real James Burke probably met Josephine, though not in the circumstances of this story.)
I’m editing another Contemporary Urban Fantasy about Galbraith and Pole. A lot of people said they would like to see a sequel to Something Wicked, so I’ve obliged. It’s a story that’s been at the back of my mind for a while and I started writing it last year, but if I tell you that it features a werewolf and the House of Commons, you may see why I’m in a hurry to get it finished. It’s got the same sardonic humour as Something Wicked but there’s a definite satirical edge and I feel that for once I may be riding the zeitgeist.
Of course, if The Bookseller is right and 2022 is going to be all about historical novels, I may be riding that zeitgeist as well. Can you ride two zeitgeists or is it like trying to ride two horses and unwise to make the attempt?
I’m also involved in a short book of short stories. Four of us with stories set in the 19th century are putting them out together for 99p in the hope of reaching new audiences. It should be out in March. I’ll keep you all informed.
Here on the blog I’m going to try something different from February. My beloved is a big Jane Austen fan and keeps a regular journal. With all the fuss lately about exactly how many parties you were allowed to have and when, we realised that the details of two years of on-again, off-again restrictions had faded. She began looking back at the journal entries about lockdown and we realised that here was a record of an extraordinary period of English social history. (The Scots and the Welsh have their own, slightly different, stories.) So we’re going to take a look at what was going on two years ago. I’ll keep going until you all demand I stop – though I’ll probably run it alongside my regular blog rather than instead of.
Beyond March, I’m not sure where I’m going. I’m finding it difficult to promote existing books properly and write new ones at the same time. (Hence the gap in output while the John Williamson books were being published.) The temptation is to say that I write for fun and just concentrate on that but the fact is that it is only fun if people read them, and with thousands more books being published all the time, people only read them if you jump up and down and talk about them. So what to do?
I know I’m not alone in worrying about this. The sad fact is that writers will write only as long they think people are reading what they produce. (That goes for the blog too.) It’s one reason why reviews are so important, but any sort of feedback is appreciated: comments on this blog; contact on Twitter (I’m @TomCW99); anything really. (One fan of The White Rajah gave me a miniature kris in pewter, which was amazing, but you don’t need to get carried away.)
My nicest fan letter
If (and it’s a big ‘if’) I don’t write another novel, there’s a possible non-fiction about Waterloo. Or maybe I’ll just concentrate on improving my tango. (I can offer lessons if you want them.) Whatever happens – recession, lockdown, the collapse of capitalism, global warming, or the end of civilisation as we know it – I’ll still be writing or dancing or something. Stick with the blog and help me enjoy the ride – and a Happy New(ish) Year to you all.
I was given a copy of this book from NetGalley. It appealed because I have been reading a few stories set around the British Civil War lately and another book in this period looked fun. The blurb mentioned a supernatural element, but I thought that might be interesting too.
I struggled with the opening. The story starts in 1703 but we are plunged straight into an account of events in 1628 which are obviously in some way supposed to relate to the rest of the book. It’s an account of a shipwreck and there are suggestions of something unnatural about it, but then we moved to the second chapter set in 1643 where a young man is returning home after a battle. Although we are soon to meet allegations of witchcraft, there is nothing as dramatic or spectacularly supernatural as the shipwreck.
We get to the shipwreck later – much, much later – but its insertion at the beginning just confused me. It seems part of a trend – presumably in response to suggestions that modern audiences have short attention spans and must have their interest piqued immediately – to putting a dramatic start to books, whether or not the story actually starts dramatically. It’s annoying. It’s particularly unfortunate as once we get to the young man returning home we find ourselves in a nicely observed account of the times. When he is faced with allegations that a servant girl is a witch, he is sceptical. In fact, much of the interest (and tension) of this part of the story comes from his trying to decide if the girl is guilty or if there is a natural explanation for the events surrounding her – a tension that is, if anything, rather undermined by the opening chapter.
The writer explores attitudes to witchcraft and how people respond to the idea that a woman might be a witch. We also see how the process can be abused by those who see possibilities for personal advantage from a witch’s fate.
Our hero is young and naïve but has to grow up fast as he navigates these difficult waters. He is helped by John Milton. It’s interesting to bring such a well-known historical figure into the story, but I felt he was rather wasted. It could have been an unknown John Smith and nothing much would have changed.
There are twists and turns to keep your interest and the whole thing is really well written. I found myself caught up in the story right to the end, but quite what happened at the end and what it all meant in the wider scheme of things was less than totally clear. Overall, I’d say that this is an entertaining read but it never lives quite up to its promise. If you’re interested in supernatural tales and life in the 17th century, it’s definitely worth a look.
As the end of January rushes towards us, it’s perhaps a bit late in the day to be doing my review of 2021, but it’s been a busy few weeks so here we are. I was tempted to skip the retrospective, but it’s a tradition and traditions are worth keeping up and, besides, 2021 has been quite an eventful year for all that we spent so much of it locked in our homes and most of the rest with all the things that usually mark out eventful years not generally available.
With so many possibilities closed down, I’ve been concentrating on my books.
I started back in February with the publication of Something Wicked, my second foray into Contemporary Urban Fantasy. It’s a vampire story, but not like you’re used to. My sophisticated 21st century vampire hero isn’t allergic to garlic, is quite comfortable being photographed and can’t be changed into a bat. He does drink blood, though, and is effectively immortal. He is also very fond of the tango (which is convenient because so am I). It’s a rather tongue-in-cheek crossover between a police procedural and a vampire story. It was huge fun to write.
Burke in Ireland came out in March. Although it was the fifth of the Burke stories to be written, it’s chronologically the first of Burke’s adventures in espionage (so a good place to start if you don’t want to read Burke in the Land of Silver for any reason). It’s set in 1793 and it’s easily the darkest of the Burke stories. The history of the British in Ireland is not a pretty story and this is not a pretty book, but (like all the Burke stories) it has moments of humour. It also sees Burke falling in love for the first time. He’s very young when the story starts and his experiences make him grow up fast and explain some of the cynicism he shows in the other books.
Over the summer I republished all three of the John Williamson books. I appreciate that they will never be as popular as James Burke, but I wanted to get them out there under my own imprint because I am genuinely proud of them. At a time when we are constantly being told that we should look harder at our history and what is often called ‘the Empire Project’, here is a trilogy that sets out to do just that. I think there is an important role for historical fiction in coming to terms with our past. I was happy that Historia (the magazine of the Historical Writers’ Association) published an article of mine on this subject towards the end of the year.
As lockdown lifted there was a lot of catching up to be done and much less writing happened. We were able to go dancing and see friends and travel about the country without any drama. Wasn’t it lovely? And we finally had some good weather too. So, to finish, here are some of my photo highlights of the year.
Want to see these pictures bigger? They are on Flickr in my 2021 album.
