Eureka! Where Science Meets Story

23rd October

To many people, science and literature could not be further apart, working in different worlds in different ways. Yet, as the Manchester Literature Festival draws to a close and the Manchester Science Festival kicks off, one event ties them together and makes them inseparable. Comma Press and the Institute of Physics united in an effort to bring writers together with scientists to develop stories around the “Eureka Moments” that become legendary in science.

The event began in the wooden Godlee Observatory, which was built with money from Francis Godlee, a prominent cotton baron in Manchester during the 19th century. In a cramped, octagonal room, a winding iron staircase barely wide enough for an adult reaches up through the ceiling to the original refracting telescope originally installed for 1903. Posters of the sun and the stars adorn the plain walls, and all gatherings are overseen by a picture of Godlee himself, bearded with a long pipe clamped between his teeth.

In groups of seven, we were admitted into a world as magical as Harry Potter’s, climbing the narrow staircase up to admire the telescope, which still boasts its original wooden box camera. The stairs are ornate, but not for the faint of heart. From the top, the view down into the room below is giddying, while above the telescope itself is held on girders, rather than the wooden floor. A modern computer still collects data for the Manchester Astronomical Society, which boasts at least one member nearly as old as the telescope itself.

Once we had all been given the chance to see the telescope, we were ushered into a teaching room for the readings. Writers Zoe Lambert and Stella Duffy read from stories composed by working directly with scientists and historians of science for the Eureka Commissions. Zoe’s story was a very immediate take on the struggles of Lise Meitner, a member of the team of scientists who discovered nuclear fission, while Stella Duffy created the impression of being a train speeding through the developments in space-time theory from the late nineteenth century into the twentieth, following the life of the mathematician Hermann Minkowski.

Zoe’s story was a clear, conventional narrative, covering Lise Meitner’s life and work in Germany during the 1930s. She handled the complex physics brilliantly, unafraid to use detail in conversations about the deeper mechanics that the physicists would have discussed. There was no attempt to gloss over anything complicated, and would have made a brilliant learning tool for those wanting to discover more about the development of nuclear fission. She interwove the story with the politics of the age. As a woman, Lise had struggled to gain recognition as a nuclear physicist, and just as she found her place alongside Fritz Strassmann and Otto Hahn, she then faced barriers because of her Jewish background. The flow was so seamless it was impossible to tease out the scientist from the woman dealing with the pressures of discrimination for both gender and race.

Stella Duffy’s approach was entirely different. Rather than relating a strict narrative story, she presented a work in a prose poem that travelled like a train through history, pausing at stations where significant events were described in detail. Like Zoe, Stella wove together the personal and the scientific completely seamlessly, making the scientists not gods of their discipline, but humans with their own foibles and struggles with the wider forces of society and relationships.

What both stories brought out was that the idea of a single heroic character suddenly experiencing a flash of inspiration that changes the world is false. From Isaac Newton’s apple tree encounter to Otto Hahn’s revelation about nuclear fission, the stories that we tell about great scientific breakthroughs hide the hard work and dedication of not one, but many individuals who are often lost to history. Both writers had chosen individuals whose work went largely unrecognised; as James Sumner, a historian of science and collaborator on the project, pointed out, many of the people who have contributed to great breakthroughs have been forgotten. In other cases, such as Einstein or Newton, it is because society highly values their findings that they become giants of science.

The evening highlighted the way that story has become just as powerful a part of science as it is of literature. Stella Duffy remarked during the debate that followed the readings that its a natural human thing to boil down events and memory into story, and that this has spilled over into science. James Sumner was keen to emphasise that this is often highly useful, especially when people (and indeed, scientists) are learning about the history of science. If they had to learn every single detail of every breakthrough, they would get lost. Synthesising is essential; the downside is that it means that the work of many scientists remains unseen.

Sumner describes himself as being there for the scientists who are written out of the story. The effect of the project, judging by the subjects chosen by both writers, has been to re-write the great eureka stories from the perspective of those who missed out on awards and recognition the first time around. From both stories and the discussion afterward, it was clear that what drives both writers and scientists is a passion for their work that overrides almost everything else. Yet rather than cutting them off from others, this passion spills over into every aspect of their lives.

The debate itself covered many angles, from the women “computers” who processed calculations for scientists in basement rooms to the difficulties of collaboration between scientists and writers. Zoe described herself as being about as easy to collaborate with as a cat, but Stella “felt my brain expanding” during the process. What has been created is work that presents a new telling of vital moments in science, giving the spotlight at last to the complexity of the scientific process. It will be interesting to see what the final book presents from other writers on the project.

by Joely Black

Joely is a freelance writer and author who writes epic fantasy and drinks large quantities of tea. Two of her books, The Execution and The Inheritor, are available as ebooks from Smashwords.

Manchester Cathedral International Poetry Competition 2010

21st October

The Manchester Cathedral’s Religious Poetry competition is in its twelve year, and is an opportunity for poets of every faith and none to compete for a £400 prize. As organiser Rachel Mann informed us as she opened the event, this is a competition that focuses on the spiritual essence of religious faith, on how it informs and affects every aspect of our lives. As such, the competition has been won by individuals of every possible faith, including a Jewish winner, a Buddhist and a Muslim from Katmandu.

Canon Albert Radcliffe, who is stepping down this year from running the competition, gave us an insight into its original foundation. Advised as a young pastor “not to have too many good ideas”, he had then gone on to set up the competition when he arrived at the cathedral. Each year, the competition has grown, and makes a small profit that is donated to the Booth Centre for the Homeless. This year’s donation was £600.80. Past judges have included Archbishop Rowan Williams and Professor Michael Schmidt of Bloodaxe Books.

This year’s presentation event was held in the echoing cathedral itself, with a buffet and celebratory wine provided for the occasion. The highly-respected poet Vona Groarke acted as judge, and offered a reading of a very varied selection of her own work, including the surrealist sonnet “Family”, and the intriguing “Oranges”. This was followed by the presentation of awards to the runners up, winners and first prize. The first and third place winners and one of the runners-up also gave readings of their work.

Nabila Jameel, one of the commended poets, spoke first, offering congratulations to the other competitors and winners. Her work is inspired by her Islamic faith, and she seeks to use her writing to de-mystify a religion that is currently highly controversial. Her poem “The Last Prayer” describes the wealth of the afterlife and the power of love.

Helen Evans then read “Night Crossing”, the second place poem, a short but intense piece of work. A features writer from Exeter, she has just completed a one year course in creative writing and has demonstrated that she has learned well. The poem itself was inspired by crossing to the tidal island of Lindisfarne. She says that the “poem’s further meanings are in your hands.”

The overall winner, John Lindley, is no newcomer, having been 2004 Poet Laureate of Cheshire. He has appeared at the Edinburgh Fringe, and teaches creative writing workshops to a variety of groups. “Annunciation”, his award-winning poem, opens with the arresting line, “You come with your bad news ticking in your mouth”.

Finally, Canon Radcliffe gave his farewell speech, keen to emphasise both the international and the interfaith nature of the competition. This year they received over 900 entries from more than 300 poets, sending in from as far afield as New Zealand, Australia and America. Despite complaints, the competition has remained one that is concerned with faith of all kinds in every day life, rather than being strictly Christian or doctrinal. As a well-respected poetry event in Manchester, which has become the UK’s “second city of poetry”, this is definitely one to consider entering, whatever your level of experience.

by Joely Black

Joely is a freelance writer and author who writes epic fantasy and drinks large quantities of tea. Two of her books, The Execution and The Inheritor, are available as ebooks from Smashwords.

The Noël Coward of Communism

20th October

Most people go to the gym to get their abdominal muscles to ache. During Manchester Literature Festival, we just go and see Alexei Sayle at the Met in Bury.

The Met was packed for Alexei Sayle’s reading of his new memoir, Stalin Ate My Homework. Most of us were of the generation who at least remembered Alexei Sayle’s Stuff, which appeared on the BBC in the 80s and 90s, and he had lost none of his humour and capacity to entertain. He has made a successful transition from light entertainment and comedy into writing, and his work is both quirky and funny but also expertly observed.

He began with a reading from Overtaken, an earlier novel, about guest books. The scourge of hotel visitor books everywhere, Alexei explained that he had transitioned from the nondescript “everything was very nice”, to leaving dramatic, melodramatic, or even cryptic messages. Or, simply, “the pies, the pies…”

He went on to read from Stalin Ate My Homework, a memoir about growing up with his extremely Communist parents. His mother, Molly, and his father, Joe, were in thrall to the Communist ideals of the 1950s, naming their son Alexei in tribute to their devotion to the Soviet Republic. By the age of six, Alexei had developed a sense of the ridiculousness of it, calling himself a “six-year-old Noël Coward”, which sowed the seeds for his later comedy career. He describes Stalin as a “heterosexual Jewish Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit.”

His childhood was definitely unusual. Like all children, he was desperate to fit in, but was constantly thwarted by his parents’ ideals. Instead of seeing Bambi, which is parents disliked because of Walt Disney’s associations with Senator McCarthy and feared would traumatise the young Alexei with the scene where Bambi’s mother is killed, he was subjected to Alexander Nevsky, a 1938 Russian film featuring several scenes of ritual child sacrifice.

He has brilliantly captured his parents’ oddities, just as he has done with fictional characters in Weeping Women Hotel and Overtaken. As Communists, they were infinitely paranoid, and so fearful that the local “petty bourgeois” taxi company would not rate them as worthy as the Royal Family, that they would call every half an hour to remind them that they had booked a car for holiday trips. Then, of course, they would take the bus anyway.

Arms flailing and pacing up and down the stage, Alexei gave the audience a mix of gags, anecdotes and readings from both the new memoir and its follow-up, on which he’s still working. He is just as lively and energetic as ever, but his temper has mellowed. This was definitely more of a literary than a comedy event, but Alexei kept the audience laughing, his reading brilliant, engaging and at times thunderous. He would occasionally pause during readings to elucidate a point, which was always funny and appropriate.

After reading a short piece from his current work, Alexei took questions. The audience was just as lively as him, one woman even offering him a “comedy tip” that he should “stand still.” Alexei managed questions about his current political beliefs in the manner of a union official of the early 1960s, a being with which he had great familiarity during his childhood. His father’s work as a railway man and strong political beliefs meant that Alexei never missed annual union events.

He also covered questions concerning his difficult relationship with Ben Elton, his time on The Young Ones, his role in Indiana Jones - which involved spilling sauce on the crotch of his gabardine suit right before meeting Steven Spielberg, and his greatest extravagance. He revealed that he once owned nine bicycles, and that his parents had once spent £1000 compensation on a cabin cruiser to take a two-week holiday to Nantwich. In fear that the boat would be stolen, they took the outboard motor home on the bus.

It was a revealing, and thoroughly entertaining evening. Alexei Sayle still has the ability to keep an audience thoroughly engaged, and without the aggressiveness of his earlier years, he’s an excellent author both to read and see live, but you will laugh so hard you hurt.

by Joely Black

Joely Black is a freelance writer and author who writed epic fantasy and drinks large quantities of tea. Two of her books, The Execution and The Inheritor, are available as ebooks from Smashwords.

Beatlemania and fire alarms

Lars Saabye Christensen, 19th October

Lars Saabye Christensen is an award-winning author, whose acclaimed novel Beatles was published in Norway in 1984, but only reached the UK in translation by Don Bartlett in 2009. His work was translated into English after a meeting between his Norwegian publisher and Arcadia Books at the Gothenburg Book Fair. Beatles has been highly successful and critically acclaimed since its release in English by Arcadia.

NICE Nordic Festival of Art and Culture and Manchester Literature Festival’s day of events focused on international writing and translation kicked off in the richly decorated Lord Mayor’s Parlour in the Town Hall on Albert Square with a discussion of translation and writing by Lars and his publisher. Although he has been writing in Norway since the early 1980s, Lars’ work has only recently been translated into English.

The event began with a reading in English and Norwegian by Lars, which gave us a sense of how different the two languages sound. Lars then discussed his views on writing, translation, and his other passion, music. To Lars, “translation is a fragile thing, a transportation of stories to other countries”. He described translation as a difficult craft, and translators as “ambassadors of literature”. When asked by an audience member how he felt about how accurately his work should be translated into other languages, he was clear that a bad translation could spoil a good novel, but that he felt that capturing the essence of a story, the “atmosphere of the building of the story” was more important than getting every word exactly right.

He decided to become a writer at the age of thirteen, he laughs, when he lost his hair. You don’t have a history at thirteen, he says, “you’re empty”, but he also began writing seriously with a group of adolescents who shared his love of poetry and literature, kept secret and possibly reflected in the four boys in Beatles and their adoration of music.

He describes timing as crucial to writing, completing Beatles at the end of the 70s, when he said the memories were still strong but he had the distance to appreciate the time without bias. However, when asked why he wrote the book, he laughs again and says, “I wanted to get revenge.”

“On who?” asks Gary, his erstwhile publisher.

“All my teachers, girls,” says Lars.

“And did you?”

“No,” he says.

He is a master of the anecdote, demonstrating the key skills of a great author lie not just in beautiful use of language but in the ability to pluck all manner of events both dramatic and mundane and make of them stories.

So far, Lars’ experience of Manchester has largely involved unexpected fire alarms. After an early morning wake-up call with an alarm at his hotel, he was interrupted halfway through his own event at Manchester’s sumptuous Town Hall by the screech of a fire siren going off. What makes Lars a great writer was what happened after we had all tipped out into the rain with the attendees of a tea dance in the main hall opposite.

Once we had all settled back into our seats, Lars told us the story of how he had been awoken by a fire alarm. When a fire alarm goes off, like most people, he looked around trying to decide what to take with him. None of us follow the instructions to leave immediately, getting dressed and picking up possessions to take with us. Lars described how he had pottered about the hotel room, selecting items to take. This, he tells us, is what writing is all about: taking experiences, “collecting them”, and saving them up for some moment when they can be taken out and used in writing.

Suddenly, a distraction that might have spoiled the event, actually provided a live example of how a writer works. While the organisers were cringing in embarrassment, Lars was amused and turned the whole thing on its head. We were also treated to what must be every writer’s worst nightmare: the loss of a handwritten manuscript in a suitcase on the way back from France. This, he said, was the point where he became a serious writer as he waited three days for the return of something that simply couldn’t be replaced.

His passion for writing is only matched by that for music. He described the two as completely contrasting, and yet also complementary. “Writing is a very private thing,” he says, but after ten months of isolation with his work, “it’s time to play,” and he turns to music and public performances. His love of music spills over into his writing, and many of his metaphors are musical. It’s clear from both his writing and speaking why he’s been such a success both in Norwegian and in English, and we look forward to seeing more of his work translated.

by Joely Black

Joely Black is a freelance writer and author who writes epic fantasy and drinks large quantities of tea. Two of her books, The Execution and The Inheritor, are available as ebooks from Smashwords.

Libraries, Literature and Love: The Elizabeth Gaskell Tour of Manchester and Knutsford

Elizabeth Gaskell is probably the writer most associated with industrial Manchester of the 19th century. Her works, from Mary Barton to the unfinished Wives and Daughters, covers a great variety of Victorian life, but it is her books based in and around Manchester that are the most famous and most instantly associated with the smoky world of the north of England during its manufacturing heyday.

On Sunday, 17th October, fans and admirers of Gaskell’s work gathered for a tour organised by New Manchester Walks and led by Ed Glinert, author of the The Manchester Compendium. Assembling outside the Cross Street Unitarian Chapel, the tour was very popular and blessed with brilliant autumnal sunshine. Ed Glinert was a friendly and relaxed speaker, introducing us to the place where Elizabeth Gaskell’s husband William was a minister, and relating the history of the site and the building, which was rebuilt after the Manchester bombing of 1996.

The tour kept up a good pace, taking in a variety of related political and literary sites in Manchester, such as the birthplace of Thomas de Quincey, most famous for his early 19th century work, The Confessions of an Opium-Eater. Ed treated us to some comparative quotes on opium from both de Quincey and Gaskell, whose views were understandably quite different. While de Quincey was entertained by the effects on the minds of adults, Gaskell was more concerned that it was bought by poor mothers to subdue children rather than food.

The final leg of the Manchester section of the tour took in the Portico Library, tucked into the impressive building now known as The Bank pub on Mosley Street, where William Gaskell was chairman for a number of years. The Library Society once occupied the entire building, but is now installed into a few rooms, reached by a narrow series of stairs, giving the whole place an added sense of mystery. Its main room is lined with dark oak shelves and venerable volumes.

Modern librarians would probably raise their eyebrows in wonder at the system of organisation here. Each wall boasted its contents in gold lettering above the shelves, with the more predictable “Biography” taking up the back wall, a section devoted to “Fine Arts” and “Travel and Voyages”, but two walls devoted entirely to “Polite Literature”. These were books suitable for reading in polite society, apparently, and included two volumes on “The Wives of England” by Elliott, “Gisborne on the Female Sex”, Stewart’s “Elements of the Philosophy of the Mind” and bizarrely, “Principles of the Warming and Ventilation of Public Buildings” by a man named Thredgold.

After a brief talk from Ed on the provenance of the library society in the early nineteenth century, one of the librarians treated us to a glimpse of the borrowing records of William Gaskell, which is used to estimate the reading of his wife. The society did not admit women members, but according to her letters, Elizabeth was able to take advantage of her husband’s chairmanship to borrow books and journals through him. The library itself has excellently preserved many impressive volumes and is still open for membership now. The atmosphere recalls the intellectual and scientific fervour of the period, with displays on the RSA and examples from their collection including diagrams of engines from P Henry and a letter from John Harrison the horologist.

Once we’d had a chance to absorb the atmosphere of the library, we were taken by coach down to 84 Plymouth Grove, the house William and Elizabeth Gaskell shared until her death in 1865. They bought the impressive Regency-style house in 1850, and it is now surrounded by large plane trees, shielding it from the modern redevelopment that dominates the landscape. The outside had already been restored to a soft beige, and the tour was lucky to have a chance to see the unrestored inside.

Despite the bare walls and holes in the plaster, it was possible to get an impression of what life was like there back in the mid-nineteenth century as we sat in the large and airy drawing room with the sunlight streaming in on us. The Friends of Plymouth Grove went to a great effort to make us welcome even with only basic facilities to supply tea and coffee. Original shutters around huge windows admit sharp light into the drawing room where we were given a short talk by the chairman of the society, who read some of Elizabeth Gaskell’s letters and gave a brief insight into her private life with her husband and family.

The tour kept to a strict timetable, and before long, we were in Knutsford, where Elizabeth Gaskell spent much of her adolescence. Although she was born in Chelsea, London, Elizabeth moved to Knutsford to live with her aunt, Hannah Lumb, after her mother’s death. After lunch, Ed treated us to a tour of Knutsford, taking in Heathwaite House, Hannah Lumb’s home, Edward Higgins’ house, the Ruskin Rooms commissioned by Richard Harding Watt, Elizabeth Gaskell’s frankly baffling memorial tower, and her grave at the Brook Street Unitarian Chapel. In amongst offering us tidbits of her personal history, we were given an insight into the possible inspiration for her work in the more gossipy details of her life.

Our tour of Knutsford began at the Ruskin Rooms, close to Tatton Park and constructed in the early 20th century for the benefit of local people by Richard Harding Watt. Its unusual Spanish architectural style stands out in the small market town, but without being an eyesore. Just a few steps further on, we passed the house of Alison Uttley, the children’s writer. We spent a few minutes learning about the history of Tatton Park in the Second World War, then moved on to the imposing Heathwaite House where Elizabeth Gaskell grew up with her aunt. Set behind a high hedge, the house is still occupied, so it was impossible to see inside and we processed past, peering over the garden gate. Just a few steps further on, we found the white-fronted house of Edward Higgins, a highwayman described by Thomas de Quincey in his work. Here, we had a chance to tie together strands from the first moments in the tour when we passed the author’s birthplace in Manchester.

The tidy, well-to-do home in Knutsford had its own secrets, which Ed suggests may have inspired some of Elizabeth’s work. We heard that Elizabeth Gaskell’s early life in Knutsford was far cry from her adulthood as a respectable, middle-class minister’s wife. After her mother’s death, she moved to live with her aunt, Hannah Lumb, and was lucky in this respect. However, she had no independent wealth and her future was uncertain. This cannot have been helped by the discovery that Hannah Lumb’s husband was a bigamist who kept a secret second family. Ed also read us letters from Elzabeth Gaskell describing outings, sights of horse races taking place on the common outside her home. Even at an early age, her writing is captivating in its descriptions of events and surroundings.

We also had a chance to see the Gaskell Memorial Tower, another building commissioned by Richard Harding Watt. The folly is now an upmarket restaurant, its walls engraved with all the kings and queens of England in their respective houses, not to mention all the books completed by Elizabeth Gaskell. It is an odd memorial in design and like the Ruskin Rooms, stands out amongst the more traditional architecture of the town. However, Ed Glinert was clear in his explanations of these oddities, with a brief detour into the architectural world of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. From here, we moved on to the chapel where the Gaskells married, climbing its steep, tree-lined walk up to learn that despite being Unitarians, their marriage was only legally recognised at the time if it took place in a Church of England chapel.

We ended the day at the Brook Street Unitarian Chapel, where Elizabeth Gaskell and her husband are both buried. Gaskell was only 65 when she died, and with an overcast sky, and fresh lilies on the grave, it was a solemn end to the day.

As one of the attendees commented, the tour was “snappy and interesting”, and kept to time very well, with a balance between direct talks and the opportunity to absorb the atmosphere of the places we visited. Ed Glinert was a good speaker, very relaxed and clearly well-informed about his subject. He threw in plenty of detail about the time, especially architectural details. It was a shame we couldn’t see places that had directly inspired her work, but the Victorian slums which are so well remembered in Mary Barton have long since been demolished. To make up for it, there was plenty of time in Knutsford, the setting for Cranford. It was an excellent way to spend a Sunday and for fans to learn more about the life of a local prominent author whose work still provides a fascinating view of early to mid-nineteenth century Manchester.

The Gaskell Society: http://www.gaskellsociety.co.uk

The Friends of 84 Plymouth Grove: http://www.elizabethgaskellhouse.org/

by Joely Black

Joely Black is a freelance writer and author who writes epic fantasy and drinks large quantities of tea. Two of her books, The Execution and The Inheritor, are available as ebooks from Smashwords.

Maternity wards, public transport and murderous friendship

What’s the number one piece of advice given to aspiring writers?

Watch, and listen. Or, to put it more specifically: eavesdrop.

Countless writers have used the clever, odd, funny or even mun

dane quips of strangers as inspiration, but never as obviously as this. The Bugged Project finally brought the secret out into the open with a challenge for writers both new and established. Their mission, should they choose to accept it, was to listen out on July 1st 2010, and use something they heard as inspiration to create, whether it be poetry, fiction, scripts or flash fiction.

The result, the Bugged book, was launched in the packed Becker Room of City Library on Deansgate. It was the first official event of the Manchest

er Literature Festival, and despite it being a lunchtime, the launch packed out the oak-panelled room on the first floor, and not just with writers who had participated and submitted work.

A varied and lively audience was introduced to a selection of participating authors by writer Jo Bell, who made a very entertaining compère and kept the event ticking along at a cracking pace without spoiling our chance to appreciate the work itself.

After a brief introduction, several authors were give

n an opportunity to read their work. At some anthology launches, this might have placed the spotlight on the big and recognised names, but Bugged is different, giving as much attention to those who had had their work published for the first time in the book as to those more familiar authors in the collection.

It wasn’t just the writers who were varied in their experience. Having set out with a broad brief, they had taken everything from the funny, the outrageous, even the mundane, and transformed it into excellent writing.

The varied nature of the event meant there was never a dull moment, and the audience was kept keen by a tight timetable of three minutes per author. We were given a glimpse of the delights in the book by authors who proved to be just as good at speaking as they are at writing. From the regal Dorothy Burgess, reading her poem inspired by neighbours’ conversation, to the lively Cathy Bryant and her inspiration from “love, death and public transport”, each writer brought something unique to the event, including, in Jenn Ashworth’s case, a baby to provide punctuation to a story set in a maternity ward (presumably not a prop).

Eavesdropping had taken place in all manner of different locations, covering all manner of subjects, and demonstrated that the most unlikely sayings can provide inspiration. Alicia Ogg, a first-time author, had used a simple response overheard on a train to inspire a short story with an incredible, unexpected twist including a suicide. All this from somebody talking about putting pork chops out to defrost. Emma Morgan, on the other hand, spent the day at an airport and had turned the mission on its head, choosing to describe and invent stories about the people she had seen waiting in the Arrivals lounge rather than recount something specifically overheard.

Stories were sourced from all manner of daily events, proving just how varied life can be. Ian Marchant, an established writer who has run the Arvon Centre and written the travelogue “The Longest Crawl” about the ultimate pub crawl, offered the audience not words but music. His story detailed a couple coping with a twenty-something neighbour obsessed with Fleetwood Mac. Phil Williams, on the other hand, gave us the reportage of the neighbours’ teenagers trying to get into their house without a key.

The creations themselves were each as different as the authors. We were treated to a tale of murderous friendship from Callam Kerr, coffee shop dating from Lynsey May, humour from Cathy Bryant and Emma Morgan and tragedy from Alicia Ogg. It made for a very unusual event, breaking from the tradition of the book launch offering the chance for a single author to read an extended passage. The snippets stirred very different responses and made for light relief. A friend who’d come with me immediately purchased the book afterward and said he would have to spend the afternoon reading, since he’d been hooked by what we’d just heard.

It was an excellent way to kick off the festival, and a great way to spend a dreary Thursday lunchtime in Manchester. True to Jo Bell’s stated mission, we all listened very hard, and we definitely had a “bloody good time”.

For more information on the authors and to get the book, check out the Bugged site here

Joely Black is a freelance writer and author who writes epic fantasy and drinks large quantities of tea. Two of her books, The Execution and The Inheritor, are available as ebooks from Smashwords.