Children’s stories and CS Lewis

CS Lewis once said that a children’s story that can only be enjoyed by children isn’t a good children’s story.

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I don’t think he meant that children were undiscerning and couldn’t tell a good story from a bad one. I think what he meant was that the best, and indeed the most popular children’s stories, appeal to an inner child in adults as well as to children themselves.

The enduring popularity of the very greatest children’s stories stands testament to this truth. Everything from Swallows and Amazons to Winnie the Pooh, Harry Potter and indeed Lewis’s own Narnia books reach out to the adult reader, inviting them to experience again the magic of childhood with all its wonder, fear and heroic dreams, as well as its inevitable, bittersweet transition into adolescence – often fearlessly touching on all manner of difficult themes along the way.

Adults often enjoy children’s stories on a completely different level to children. Mary Poppins is a case in point, both book and film. In fact, speaking of film, the Toy Story movies – particularly Toy Story 3 – provide yet another example of this principle.

When I have written children’s stories I have always tried to bear CS Lewis’s comment in mind. So far I have yet to encounter a single adult reader who has dismissed my novels as “kid’s books”. Quite the opposite in fact, with many reviewers insisting Uncle Flynn, Dr Gribbles and the Beast of Blackthorn Lodge, George goes to Mars and George goes to Titan contain many adult themes (no, not that kind).

These reviewers are quite right. My novels mentioned above touch on overcoming fear, the dangers of mollycoddling, playing God, the insanity of the Cold War, greed, religious fundamentalism, sexual equality, bullying, post-traumatic stress, grief, death and the responsibilities of leadership, amongst other things.

In other words, they are what I hope CS Lewis would call good children’s stories.

My upcoming novel George goes to Neptune – the third and final instalment in the George Hughes series – is no exception. The story, particularly in the final chapters, goes to some quite dark places.

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George goes to Neptune is released on the 25th of October. You can pre-order the Kindle download from Amazon by clicking here. Print copies will be available from the 31st of October.

Film Review – Everest

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Never let the facts get in the way of a damn good film, as Oliver Stone might say. Sadly, with Everest, based on a disastrous 1996 ascent of the world’s tallest mountain, the facts rather do get in the way of this undeniably spectacular but ultimately indifferent film.

Let’s start with the positives. The cinematography is magnificent and director Baltasar Kormakur stages some genuinely vertigo-inducing shots and set pieces. If you are going to see this at all, see it on the biggest screen you can.

Then there’s a talented cast doing their best to vie for attention. The likes of Josh Brolin, Keira Knightley, Sam Worthington, Jake Gyllenhaal, Robin Wright and Jason Clarke give it their all, with Emily Watson proving particularly impressive, but they are hamstrung by an earnest screenplay that cannot entirely escape disaster movie cliché (including tearful phone calls to relatives at home). That these sequences are based in fact does not help the film.

Another factual spanner thrown in the works is that so many characters are involved. One longs for the narrative clarity of, say, Touching the Void. Consequently certain loose ends aren’t properly clarified, and the viewer ends up lost in the blizzard, unable to figure out who is who. This robs the film of emotional power as we don’t really get under the skin of these characters.

It isn’t a total disaster (no pun intended), but despite occasional powerful moments and genuine spectacle, Everest feels like a bit of an expensive letdown. In the mountain survival adventure stakes, I much preferred the afore-mentioned Touching the Void, or Frank Marshall’s underrated Alive. With Everest, the facts really do tend to clutter the film.

George goes to Neptune – the cover

Here is the cover for my upcoming novel – the third and final instalment in the George Hughes trilogy, George goes to Neptune.

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My incredible designer Charles Bown presented a number of options, but in the end we settled on something in keeping with the previous cover designs, emphasising a colour scheme that complemented them but also could be distinguished in its own right. Ultimately the covers for the George Hughes series are what might be termed “adult covers” for children’s books (akin to the Harry Potter adult covers). One day, I would love to give these books “children’s” covers, perhaps akin to the original Harry Potter artwork. But for now adults are my primary readers, and obviously the George Hughes series can be enjoyed by all ages.

For a fuller interview with Charles Bown from last year, click here.

You can follow Charles on Twitter here.

In addition to the cover, here is the blurb from the back:

In this spectacular sequel to George goes to Mars and George goes to Titan, George Hughes faces his most dangerous adventure yet.

Following the Titanian invasion, a deadly and very personal threat forces George to undertake a voyage to a top secret Martian research base on Neptune.

On this remote outpost, he uncovers a diabolical plot. But George is too late to prevent the catastrophe.

A catastrophe that will change his life forever…

George goes to Neptune is released on the 25th of October on Kindle. It is currently available to pre-order at Amazon here.

Print copies will be available from the 31st of October.

Film Review – Legend

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An extraordinary double performance from Tom Hardy as both Kray twins dominates Brian Helgeland’s Legend, a slick, entertaining but flawed gangster pic.

Peter Medak’s 1990 film The Krays centred on the twins relationship with their mother, but this time the focus is on Frances (Emily Browning), who ultimately married Reggie. Her narration of their rise and fall is a bit forced at times, but it does provide the gel for a compelling if baggy piece of work. In contrast to Medak’s film, this is a shinier, more glamorous affair, with lots of dark humour amid the obligatory strong language and even stronger violence.

In spite of Legend’s undoubted merits, and in spite of a superficial crime-doesn’t-pay morality, something about the lurid fascination with the Kray twins has always bothered me, to the point that I feel with both this and Medak’s film can’t entirely escape the nagging sense that the swinging sixties London gangsters are being celebrated as much as reviled. One occasionally feels like a spectator watching Christians being fed to lions. Of course, western culture always celebrates its anti-heroes, even Jack the Ripper. Why do we find these vicious loonies so compelling?

Legend looks great but the film is definitely too long. Support performances from the likes of David Thewlis, Christopher Eccleston and Paul Bettany are another asset, but in the end it is unquestionably Hardy who dominates. One simply thinks of him as two separate, entirely convincing individuals – the charming, roguish though morally bankrupt Reggie versus the Ronnie’s schizophrenic, psychotic, yet occasionally sensitive Ronnie. It’s a tour-de-force that represents the best portrayal of twins this side of Dead Ringers and could well end up Oscar nominated next year.

In short, there are ultimately two reasons to see Legend: Tom Hardy and Tom Hardy.

Action scenes

Action scenes in novels or films are a notoriously tricky thing to pull off. In fact, I find they are actually the hardest thing to write in either a screenplay or prose.

There are several pitfalls to avoid. Too little action in a story that demands it will feel flabby, often with a second act that seems to drag. Too much and it feels overblown, and character empathy is lost. Writing prose compounds this issue, as simply reading description – of a battle for instance – doesn’t work the way it might in a screenplay which will ultimately be filmed.

How then to approach action scenes in prose? I try to always emphasise the senses – smell, taste, touch, the noise, etc. Also describing the emotions experienced by the character helps a great deal, as do various other methods. Take the afore-mentioned battle scene problem. In The Lord of the Rings Tolkien dealt with this by building suspense. For example, the Minis Tirith siege is experienced by characters within the walls, slowing observing the advancing menace from Mordor. It is handled very differently in the film version, but the novel mostly stays with Pippin and his point of view.

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It can also be a good idea to keep battle scenes in books brief. The Battle of Five Armies in The Hobbit is essentially dealt with in a few lines, whereas the film version went on for the best part of an hour. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s simply about making the right choice for the right medium.

There are various ways I approach action in stories that demand it. Sometimes it can be fun to bookend a story with large action sequences, providing a sense of full circle. Other times it is good to gradually build action scenes (what I call the Die Hard approach) with each outdoing the last. This is generally my method with the George Hughes series. There is normally an action scene fairly early on – in chapter 2 – before the main plot kicks in properly, and the scale of the action becomes bigger and increasingly outrageous.

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George goes to Neptune, the final novel in the George Hughes series, obviously features plenty of action. It is released on the 25th of October for download on Kindle, and can be pre-ordered here. Print copies will be available from the 31st of October.

Film Review – Me and Earl and the Dying Girl

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Playing like an offbeat, indie version of The Fault in Our Stars, Me and Earl and the Dying Girl works to a point. The whole dying-of-cancer subgenre pic isn’t one I have ever cared for (give or take Shadowlands), but here at least mawkishness and crass sentimentality are kept largely at bay. My reservations are more to do with the arch, slightly self-consciously hip tone perpetuated throughout by Alfonso Gomez-Rejon. Then again, to some that will be the entire point.

Jesse Andrews’ screenplay adopts his own novel, retelling the story of Greg (Thomas Mann), a high schooler with low self-esteem. Greg spends most of his time trying to be invisible in high-school by skilfully remaining on good terms with key cliques. However, his world is rocked when his mother insists he spend time with Rachel (Olivia Cooke), a classmate who has been diagnosed with cancer. Slowly but surely a friendship develops between them, and eventually he enlists the help of his friend Earl (RJ Cyler) to make a film as a tribute to her. Greg and Earl are film buffs, and have been making spoofs of their favourite movies for years.

There are good things here; principally winning performances and genuinely funny (and quite highbrow) movie spoofs – A Sockwork Orange, Senior Citizen Cane and others, including some genuinely hilarious Werner Herzog gags. The relationship between Rachel and Greg remains refreshingly platonic, and there are other amusing elements of note (including a recurring gag involving an animated moose).

However, as a whole the film may be a bit too offbeat for some audiences. I liked it, but didn’t feel fully emotionally engaged in the way I do during, say, Wes Anderson’s best work, which exists in similarly offbeat environments. Me and Earl and the Dying Girl is certainly a notable curiosity though, and I can imagine certain audiences will love it.

How to make a segment in an ongoing story individually satisfying

One distinct advantage to writing a series of books with the assumption that the latest will be the last is that it provides a safeguard to ensure that each is individually satisfying. This was the case with all three of my George Hughes adventures, and the third instalment, George goes to Neptune, provides a definitive ending to the series.

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Conversely, the recent trend in film of either dividing the source text for the sake of greed rather than for any good artistic reason; or being too lazy to come up with a proper ending and instead assuming the audience will attend the next film in the series, drives me mad. Breaking Dawn, Mockingjay and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows are examples of the former trend. Prometheus is another example of the latter. Mind you, the entire screenplay for Prometheus made no sense, so the lack of a proper ending was merely the icing – or lack of it – on a very poorly baked cake.

That isn’t to say the to-be-continued thing can’t work. For example, The Empire Strikes Back features an absolutely first-rate climax and feels wholly satisfying even though it leaves plot threads dangling. In a similar way, dividing The Lord of the Rings into one film per volume made perfect sense.

Ultimately, my approach with the George Hughes series has been akin to the current Marvel movies, with each one being essentially a standalone tale, despite references to earlier subject matter and a post credits sequence to set up the next movie. In the George Hughes series, my short epilogues perform the same function as those post credits sequences.

That said, sequels are notoriously tricky things, especially if they aren’t planned. The idea for George goes to Titan occurred to me after I had written George goes to Mars, but because George goes to Mars felt so complete in its own right, I was reluctant to write it. In fact, it took me six years to finally give in to the nagging voices in my head, urging me to write the sequel.

I was even more surprised to find, at the end of the second book, that the idea for a third cropped up. Again, I wrote an epilogue for the second, this time knowing I wouldn’t wait so long to write the third.

The result is George goes to Neptune – the final book in this series – which will be out on the 25th of October. It can be pre-ordered to download on Kindle from Amazon here. Print copies will be out from the 31st of October.