I’ve been raving about Lou Anders and Jonathan Strahan‘s Swords & Dark Magic anthology for a while now, and I’m gonna continue to do so, I expect, until the book’s been recieved, read, reviewed and shelved. I mean, seriously, look at this Table of Contents, just revealed by Anders and Strahan:
“Introduction: Check Your Dark Lord at the Door” – Lou Anders & Jonathan Strahan
“Goats of Glory” – Steven Erikson
“Tides Elba: A Tale of the Black Company” – Glen Cook
“Bloodsport” – Gene Wolfe
“The Singing Spear” – James Enge
“A Wizard of Wiscezan” – C.J. Cherryh
“A Rich Full Week” – K. J. Parker
“A Suitable Present for a Sorcerous Puppet” – Garth Nix
“Red Pearls: An Elric Story” – Michael Moorcock
“The Deification of Dal Bamore” – Tim Lebbon
“Dark Times at the Midnight Market” – Robert Silverberg
“The Undefiled” – Greg Keyes
“Hew the Tint Master” – Michael Shea
“In the Stacks” – Scott Lynch
“Two Lions, A Witch, and the War-Robe” – Tanith Lee
“The Sea Troll’s Daughter” – Caitlin R Kiernan
“Thieves of Daring” – Bill Willingham
“The Fool Jobs” – Joe Abercrombie
While there’s always someone else who could be in a book like this, we’re delighted with the quality of the stories we received, grateful to the authors for being involved and to our publisher for supporting the book. It’ll be out next July and is fabulous! Oh, and there’ll be a limited edition done by Subterranean Press too, which should be awesome in its own right.
Seriously, if you’ve ever been curious about the Sword and Sorcery subgenre, this looks like the prefect place to dip your toe in. Oh yeah, and according to Ander’s (via Facebook), the tome clocks in at 155k words (which means ‘pretty bloody long’, for those of you who aren’t sure about word counts). So, June 22, 2010. Mark your calendars.
Well, it’s done. All the major roles in the HBO adaptation of George R.R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones have been cast. Thanks to The Live Feed, we’ve got a handy look at portraits of the cast members, including ros, a character created specifically for the show. (Why they have to create new characters, when the series has dozens already is not something I going to waste brain cells trying to figure out, alas.)
Not included in that handy cast list is the newly cast Jason Momoa, who’s set to play Drogo.
My reaction? Squeee!
And the synopsis from risingshadow.net:
After centuries of calm, the Nameless One is stirring.
An army is gathering; thousands of giants, ogres, and other creatures joining forces from all across the Desolate Lands. In the Crayfish Dukedom they are forging weapons night and day. By the next spring, or perhaps sooner, the Nameless One and his forces will be at the walls of the great city of Avendoom. Unless Harold, master thief, can find some way to stop them.
Harold will be accompanied on his quest by an Elfin princess, Miralissa; ten of the Wild Hearts, the most experienced and dangerous fighters in their world; and the king’s court jester. These companions will form a bond of friendship and honor that must carry them over a series of frightful obstacles before they can reach their goal: Hrad Spein, the mysterious Palaces of the Bones. Only there will they find the key to undoing the ancient curse that hangs over their world and ridding the land of the Nameless One forever.
Reminiscent of Michael Moorcock’s Elric series, Shadow Prowler is the first work by the bestselling new generation fantasy author Alexey Pehov to be translated into English.
The work was translated from Russian by Andrew Bromfield, best known as the translator of the highly successful Night Watch series.
Sounds traditional, if that’s your thing. I’m always curious about novels that are deemed good enough (and successful enough) to warrant translation and overseas release. I also appreciate a foreign look at the genre, in the hopes that a new light can be shone on old tropes. In any case, I’ll be keeping my eye on this one over the coming months. It is set to be released by Tor Books on February 16, 2010.
The Happiest Days of Our Lives
Author – Wil Wheaton
Pages: 160 pages
Publisher: Subterranean Press
Release Date: December, 2009
I first became aware of Wil Wheaton (outside of his acting, of course) a couple of years ago (or maybe around the time I joined Twitter. I can’t remember) and could never really figure out what the big deal was, or why nerds (Trekkie or not) were ready to kiss the damn ground he walked on. Sure, I was damn jealous of the traffic his blog gets, and that he was going to be on Season Three of The Guild, but Wesley Crusher? Come on, nobody liked Wesley Crusher back in 1989, so why would that change now, 20 years later?
Well, for one, it turns out not even Wesley Crusher liked Wesley Crusher all that much (Wheaton appreciates the success of the show, but was never too fond of the material given to him by writers), and it also turns out that Wes– er… Wil Wheaton has a whole lot more to offer outside of Wesley Crusher and Gordy from Stand by Me.
The Happiest Days of our Lives showed up unannounced on my doorstep the other day, an advance copy from the good people at Subterranean Press that wasn’t ever really on my radar. It couldn’t have come at a better time. After coming over a marathon read of Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn trilogy, I picked up Junot Diaz’s The Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel that promised to be a geek’s dream, but left me feeling confused, alienated and a little depressed. Inevitably, it became hard not to compare Diaz’s novel to the one I read next. To follow that uneven experience, I picked up the quiet little novelette by Wheaton, a collection of non-fiction pulled together from writing for his blog, WWdn and found everything little misinformed me wanted The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao to be.
Two weeks ago, I interviewed Jesse Bullington, author of the soon-to-be-released The Sad Tales of the Brothers Grossbart and part of that interview included (in what I suppose is this blog’s premier as a publishing platform) an exclusive piece of Flash Fiction from Jesse, written exclsively for A Dribble of Ink!
The lewdly titled Fucked In Fucking: A Mildly Morose Tale of the Brothers Grossbart is a fun, 500-word story that gives a fun glimpse at the world of Jesse’s upcoming novel, and a look at the Brothers Grossbart themselves as they invent one of today’s most popular terms of passion and cursing, all while getting up to know good in everyone’s favourite Austrian village, Fucking!
As one can probably already tell, the story is not for the feint hearted, or anyone who has issue with strong language (but then… you’ve probably already stopped reading by now, haven’t you?) So, as Jesse put it, ‘How about a bit of backstory, along with an etymology of everyone’s favorite profane F?’
Fucked In Fucking: A Mildly Morose Tale of the Brothers Grossbart
“This ain’t what it looks like,” said Hegel, pointing his muddy spade at the open grave Manfried stood in.
The citizens of Fucking had fanned out in the churchyard while Manfried was bickering with his brother that any unease Hegel suddenly felt was the result of the torrential rain now soaking them and not, goddamn it, any kind of horse sense or witch sense or what sense. A good hunch was a good hunch, however, and peering over the lip of the grave and seeing the angry Fuckers lit up by lightning Manfried resolved to give his brother’s hunches more credence in the future. First, though, there was the grave to extricate himself from, which would have been much easier before the downpour filled the hole up to his knees with a slurry of gravedirt and rainwater.
“Looks like you’re robbing the dead!” shouted the boldest Fucker, waving at his fellows to tighten the circle around the Grossbarts.
“Well, maybe it is what it looks like,” admitted Hegel. “But you come at me with that hayfork I’ll bust you in the head.”
“Get me out this hole,” Manfried said in the Bart-cant that only his brother understood, and Hegel casually extended his spade. As soon as Manfried grabbed the tool and Hegel began hauling him up the Fuckers charged. Hegel did not want his brother to fall back into the grave, but he did not want to be impaled on a pitchfork, either, and so he swung his spade to the side and sent his brother crashing into the lead Fucker.
The Battle of Fucking was one long remembered by Fucker and Grossbart alike. The Fuckers shuddered to recall how the graverobbers had begged their Dark Master to aid them in fleeing the combat, the fiends hopping from gravestone to gravestone and gaining the wall before justice could be served. The Grossbarts, by comparison, always laughed to think of the way Hegel had, indeed, busted one of the Fuckers in the head, and the catalogue of curses the brothers had bestowed on the lousy serfs as they had subsequently cut a tactical retreat would not be forgotten by the Virgin, who would doubtless see that at least two or three were carried out. Remembering was for the future, however, and as the Brothers Grossbart fell over the cemetery wall and hoofed it for the treeline the mob of Fuckers gave chase.
“Fuckin’s a quiet enough spot,” Manfried aped his brother’s voice as they ran.
“Don’t look like rain to me,” Hegel shot back. “Then when it is and I get a whiff a trouble despite it, quit blubberin, just the rain givin you chills.”
“Those Fuck—” Manfried slipped in the mud and would have fallen if Hegel had not caught his arm. “Fuck…Fuck. Mint that shit, brother a mine, from now on I say fuck to Fuckin, and fuck to the Fuckers what fuckin fuck there!”
“But ain’t Fuck just a name?”
“Not no more, it ain’t—fuck Fuckin.”
So there you have it! Now, go wash your ears out with soap or something. Jesse’s already got a mouthful of it…