I’m a big fan of Serif software – I’ve been using their PagePlus DTP program since v2 – which came out sometime in the mid-90s. Since then I’ve also added two other Serif programs, Photoplus and Drawplus. I’m happy with the performance of all three and use them all the time; I do the entire Elfin Diary in PagePlus, for example. But until now, I’ve never bothered with their web design program, WebPlus. That’s because I’m entirely self-taught in web design and consequently learned to code in Notepad and other text editors and never had any need for a WYSIWYG editor like WebPlus. Continue reading
Looks like I might need a new title for this blog – we’re moving house.
“Turn left at the bridge” is actually part of the directions for finding our current abode; from the end of next month, it’s going to be something like “Keep straight on, we’re the first house on the left.” Which is a tad too long for a blog title, I think. So I’ll keep the present title.
We’re not moving far, just a few miles. I hope we don’t have to do it again for a few more years – I’m stressed out already!
I read Stephen King’s Under The Dome when it first came out a couple of years ago; for me, it really was one of those books that you don’t want to stop reading. So when the recent TV adaptation came out, I made sure to start watching.
I nearly stopped watching after that first episode – the adaptation spiralled away from the book’s plot less than 15 minutes in; yes, a mysterious impenetrable dome dropped down over the town and trapped a diverse selection of Americans inside. But that, along with the names of the principal characters, was was pretty much the only similarity with the book. Characters changed drastically; for example the book-hero was a rootless Vietnam vet who just happened to be in town, while the TV-hero was a hired killer in town to carry off a hit. More disturbing was the change to the character of the teenage boy villain; in the book, he was just plain nasty, with an undiagnosed brain tumour making him even nastier. In the TV series, he was little more than a mixed-up kid with bad parenting, who just needed the love of a good woma- rather, girl. Not a good message to give out to impressionable young females!
I forced myself to watch three or four episodes, but just couldn’t get involved what was basically another attempt (like the pathetic FlashForward) to copy the formula of Lost. i.e., a multi-cast mystery/thriller with strong supernatural/SF elements, plus a plot that diverged ever further from the book.
The final straw came when I went online to read recaps of episodes that had already been shown in the US and discovered it just got even worse, with magic butterflies and mysterious crystals – plus, apparently, a second series!!
Nope. Enough was enough.
It doesn’t look like I’ll be abandoning WordPress yet. The beta version of Ghost was released the other day and I promptly downloaded my freebie copy. However, I had second thoughts when I read the install instructions; simply getting it working on my development server required me to download four further pieces of software, including Python and MS Visual Studio. I downloaded them all, but got errors when I tried installing them. Since I’ve not got the time for debugging, I’ll leave it until the 1-click installer gets rolled out.
EDIT: Just tried to find the install instructions that I read and instead found this; turns out, it doesn’t require VS or Python after all, just node.js. It all looks very simple, so I’ll try it later.
A Departure – Tom Ward (2013)
The cover strapline for this book was one of the things that made me think it might be worth reading. “Possibly the best young writer in this country – Tony Parsons”. After reading this load of nonsense, I’m wondering if Parson’s following line was something like “And possibly I am a tulip”. Another factor that made me click on the Buy button was the price; even for a Kindle book, 77p is amazingly cheap; all I can say is that I’m glad I wasted only 77p.
Also, I’m a sucker for apocalypse literature, the sort where global disaster strikes and the few remaining human survivors have to struggle to survive. In A Departure the catastrophe is a mysterious airborne contaminant that, in the space of minutes, kills most people in the UK and possibly globally as well.The book then follows Micheal Taylor, the hero, as he journeys from the North of England to the Sussex coast, in order to escape to France.
It’s not a completely terrible book. It’s readable – there are no typos, the grammar is correct, sentences are properly constructed, there are no noticeable continuity errors. But, oh my, what a lumpen read! It’s the sort of book that an 18-year old literature student would attempt after reading lots of Hemingway and Mailer. The 18-year old literature student hero is an obvious Mary Sue; there are lots of gory bits, lots of fighting, and the women are all caricatures and stereotypes – no, scrub that last. ALL the characters are caricatures and stereotypes; it’s just more obvious with the women. Either they’re helpless mums looking for a protective man, dotty old bags who despise teenage males, or fight-ready hotties straight out of an online game.
There are some delightful Throggisms such as “The boy tilted back his head to scream at the sky and words erupted from the hole in his face like sewage from a burst pipe.” And he describes the Sussex downs as “craggy hills”!
What’s even more annoying is the lack of world-building. If you’re going to write fiction that turns on a huge disaster, then you have to at least think about what effect this will have on the characters’ world – not just the lack of power and communications, the transport difficulties, how to get food and so on, but also the government’s reaction, the military’s reaction, the overall attempts to restore order. You might even do a little research – find out what measures the government has already prepared for large-scale emergencies, how long the national power grid and water supply is likely to last without humans, what sort of diseases are likely to break out, what happens when millions of corpses are left to rot in the streets.*
Ward seems to have hardly troubled himself with such matters; his characters don’t try to find working communication and power sources, or re-establish a working local government, or band together to protect food and medical supplies; none of them even come down with food poisoning. It’s not as if there aren’t already plenty of disaster novels to give him some ideas – The Stand, On The Beach, I Am Legend, Day of the Triffids are just the ones I can immediately think of; has he really never read any of these classics of the genre, noted how their characters reacted to the collapse of civilisation?
And none of his characters seems to have any idea of how to use the resources they do have. For example, when Micheal and the stragglers he has picked up suddenly come across a supermarket that still has full electricity, do they go “Find the staff kitchen, grab some of those microwave meals, we’ll have some hot food at last. And find out if the water’s still running – if not get those bottles of water and some electric kettles and heat up water for washing. Then we’ll find out where else the power is still on.”? Nope. They open up some tinned and packeted food and settle down in the aisles for a night’s snooze. To be fair, Michael does say that perhaps they should find a computer and see if the internet is still running, but another character tells him not to bother – and that’s that. That’s the only mention of the internet in the whole book btw, and I don’t think anybody even has a mobile. If it wasn’t for that, and a reference to global warming, the action may as well be taking place in the 1980s.
Michael is a hugely annoying character. In the first few chapters he constantly moans about having only a bottle of warm Coke to drink, when there’s nothing to stop him from taking bottled water from the shelves of the nearest grocery shop, or scooping up some water from one of the many streams and rivers he’ll have passed as he drives around. And he sleeps in the car when the countryside he’s going though is full of empty barns, farm buildings and holiday homes. It’s possible that Ward is trying to portray him as a typical clueless townie teenager who’s further rendered hard of thinking by stress and hunger. But if so, he failed; unfortunately, it comes across as cluelessness on the part of the author.
This authorial cluelessness is emphasised by his treatment of David, the other main character, who is introduced as a teacher of history. This should have presented Ward with a splendid excuse to tell us, via David, about previous disasters and about the extensive preparations every modern government makes for disaster – alternative means of power and communication, the sequestration of fuel and food sources, the establishment of an emergency governing committee, the role of the military and so on. But no. There is never another mention of history, or any indication that he was even an academic – only thumping great clues that he may actually be a Bad Man (this isn’t a spoiler; the clue-dropping starts early on and they’re hidden about as well as Chekov’s gun).
The book ends with Our Hero and his hot escapee-from-an-online-game girlfriend preparing to sail to France. Why? We’re not told (or maybe we were, in one of the tedious bits that I skipped over). Since there’s every indication that the rest of the world has gone the same way, it seems a pointless waste of time; it does, however, make a good hook for a sequel. If so, let’s hope that he has a good editor for it, somebody who can tell him to write about real people and real situations. And do some damm research.
*I remember an episode of the original TV series of Survivors, where somebody looking out from the top of a London tower block at night sees flickering phosphorescent gases rising up from ground level and is told that it’s “corpse gas” from all the unburied bodies. That’s an example of world-building research.
It’s quiet and calm outside, nine-thirty and still full daylight. The solstice is past now and I’m conscious that the nights will very soon start lengthening again, racing inexorably towards the hours of darkness at next sun stand still. At my age, that’s no longer something to look forward to, it’s too much of a reminder of the dying of the light, the fate that waits for us all. Even though it’s still summer and there’s still greenery and warmth to enjoy.
I’m far too melancholy these days.
Update on the audiobooks: The Kindle cable I ordered finally arrived yesterday, a full week after I’d ordered it. When I went to the audible.co.uk site to find out how to download my book, I had a distinct Homer Simpsom moment – I’d been so determined to download onto my Kindle that I’d completely missed the several places informing me that I could download books onto my Ipod!
So that’s what I did. It was still a fiddle-faddle to set up, downloading the requisite software, telling it to download my book, then telling it to copy the file into the Itunes library. But 45 minutes later I had it and spent most of last night listening to the first part. It was as good as I had expected, with James MacPherson displaying a wide range of voices and accents, making it easy to distinguish characters. I think I may very well be buying more audiobooks.
Onto other matters: I’ll be changing the blog in the next few months. It’s been on WordPress ever since I started blogging properly, in January 2004; although I’m still happy with WP, the software is now getting big and complex for just a simple blog. So I’ll be moving it to the Ghost platform. It’s been developed by a team led by John O’Nolan, who I’ve been following on FB, Twitter and other sites for years. He’s been a WordPress developer as well as working on a number of highly successful commercial sites. I’m confident that he knows his stuff, which is why I stuck a tenner into his Ghost Kickstarter project. For that, I’ll get a copy of the Ghost software as soon as it’s released. It will be able to import WP blogs, so you’ll still be able to enjoy my archives of wit and wisdom.
So I’m having some eye trouble at the mo – I’m constantly getting dry eyes, so that I have to limit my time reading and at the computer; I’ve already got through three tubes of carbomer gel in the last week.
So I thought I’d explore the possibility of text-to-speech (TTS) stuff, so that I can at least keep myself entertained through my ears – even watching TV is a strain. First stop was my Kindle Fire; deep in the settings, I discovered an option for turning on TTS software for TTS-enabled books. I was delighted, as I have several e-books half-read or waiting to be read. But, o dear, when I tried it out….
The software is technically very slick – it was quite hard to immediately tell that the pleasant-sounding American woman speaker wasn’t human. A mere minute or two of listening, however, and it was obviously mechanical. The speech rhythm was arbitrary and didn’t correspond to the text rhythm – there was the same length of pause between paragraphs, sentences and words, and no longer pauses for taking a breath; the tonal range was narrow, with no emphasis or inflection placed where it was obviously needed; the American pronunciation was jarring. That last was especially irritating as the text I was testing it on contained several instances of “apparatus” and the drawn-out middle syllable was making my teeth ache; it was fortunate that there was no mention of “aluminum” as well, as listening to “the appa-RAHH-tus was made of ah-LOO-min-um” would have had me breaking something. It was also fortunate that I was testing it on a rather dry history book (dealing, in that chapter, with “state apparatus”); I don’t want to even think about how Amazon’s robot would read out a British thriller novel.
So I looked at what was available in human-read books; voice actors are passionate about doing justice to an author’s writing. Going to audible.co.uk, I made a pleasant discovery – an extremely wide range of books, together with a no-strings offer of a free audiobook on signing up for a free months trial. An offer too good to turn down! So I signed up and went to download my free book. It was Ian Rankin’s Standing In Another Man’s Grave; having got it out of the library and then finding myself unable to read it, I was looking forward to spending several evenings listening to Detective Michael Jardine’s smooth Scottish tones narrating it.
But, of course, there was a snag. Since Amazon owns Audible.co.uk, I was expecting that I could download their audiobook straight onto my Amazon-owned Kindle, as I’d done with my ebooks. Amazingly, though, it appears I can only get an audiobook onto a Kindle by downloading it onto a PC and transferring it via a USB cable. Now, my Kindle had of course come with such a cable – but never having had to use it, I’d thrust it away somewhere and forgotten it. And could I find it again? Hah!
So here I am, waiting for a new cable to arrive and wishing desperately that my eyes would just sort themselves out.
So this morning, for breakfast, I decided on a change from my usual rather boring porridge and yogurt.
So here it is – scrambled eggs, a banana, and thick-sliced toast with yeast spread; there’s also a glass of apple juice that I forget to get in the shot. Pretty much all the nutritional requirements are there; I shouldn’t really be eating eggs, but I accidentally bought too many of them last week and I hate wasting food. There’s not much Vit C in evidence; but then, I’m a pretty weird sort of vegetarian. I loathe most fruit (except bananas) and I’m not especially fond of most vegetables (except for potatoes). But my diet’s been pretty much unchanged for nearly forty years, so it works for me.
“Whatever works for you” is pretty good guidance in life, I’ve found.
I got on the bus and went to Dumfries. The car is very poorly and will have to be replaced soon, hence the bus trip, to get some shopping.
Having done the stuff I needed to, I found myself with an hour to while away until the return journey. It was a long way from breakfast and I was getting hungry, so I bought a sandwich from the Spar – something cheap in one of those plastic triangular wrappings. The sun was out, so I plonked my rear end on a bench overlooking the river and prepared to eat.
However, the sandwich packet refused to co-operate – there was no tag to pull on, my nails couldn’t get through the plastic and my teeth are now too few and too blunt to get through anything much tougher than the cheese sandwich nestled enticingly within. I was considering rooting through my bag for something sharp and pointy (I normally carry a pencil or three) when a couple of smart-looking men came along, clutching leaflets and thick little books and dressed like Men in Black minus the shades.
So, missionaries for sure. Christians? Possibly, though they’re usually older and scruffier. Mormons? Maybe – Mormons always dress conservative and a little old-fashioned. Scientologists? Perhaps – the younger one looked the spit of Tom Cruise.
Spotting me, they launched into their spiel: “Would you be excited to learn that there is a prophet on Earth who is speaking the Word of God??”
“Not really. But I wouldn’t be at all surprised – there’s a lot of them about nowadays. I go on the internet a lot, you know. There’s plenty of them out there, on the web.”
“Ummm…” You could hear their brains working – quick, what’s the script for this? Then: “Ah! Would like our card? It has a website address on it!”
“No thanks. Look if you guys want to be useful, one of you could open this sandwich packet for me. I’m really hungry.”
They looked at each other. Another short pause for brains to shuffle frantically through scripts. The older MiB nodded silently at Tom Cruise, who took the sandwich packet and spent a good thirty seconds manfully ripping it open.
I bestowed a genuine smile of gratitude on him as I took the packet back (I really was hungry). “Thank you!” I beamed, “You’ve just done a good deed. Now go away do do more good deeds!”
And I settled down to eating and waved them off.
I generally try to be nice to missionaries. Being nasty to them only makes them feel that they’re persecuted; for them, feeling persecuted means that they’re in the right. In the past, I’ve argued with them, but that’s usually a waste of energy; the ones who are picked for evangelism are chosen for their unwavering belief in their religion. But it’s often fun to mess with their heads a little and go wildly off-script.