To me. And the other hundreds of thousands of people who share my special day. Which was, I’ll admit, yesterday.
But the drinking is tonight, so who cares?
Blow my candle.
WillQ.
The Blade Itself
Joe Abercrombie
May 2007
The first in what looks set to be a thrilling trilogy, “The Blade Itself” takes you on a roller-coaster ride through a fantasy world that seems at times both strangely familiar to our own history, and also completely alien. Following a number of distinctly different characters, each with a very different yet strongly personal narrative voice, you end up with a vibrantly rich tale that’s both very personal and staggeringly epic. Shying away from the usual “four adventurers” mold, you are instead faced with characters as varied as a crippled, viciously vindictive Inquisitor (the loathesome yet utterly human Glotka) to a brashly arrogant and yet still subtle Mage (Bayaz, first of the Magi), to the weak and self-absorbed anti-hero swordsman and accidental Champion of the Empire. The characters show great depth, and the story telling is broad enough to trap even non-fantasy enthusiasts, yet still satisfyingly magical enough to grip any lover of swords and sorcery. It’s also one of the most gratuitously violent novels I’ve read in a long time, which doesn’t pull any punches. Literally.
Everybody loves holidays. You can either use them sprawled at home watching endless episodes of the latest tv series, catching up on sleep, work, and relaxation, or you can burn them up in the furnaces of fun having an absolutely sinful blast of a time. I pretty much decided to do the latter, and considering that I haven’t really partied hard in some time, combined with the important fact that I get a lot of free invites to functions with lots of free booze and old friends, it was a good choice.
It’s amazing how much fun you can push yourself (and others) into having if you just decide to go with the flow, and do it all. Case in point – most people have a cool night out, then think they need to sleep it off, and not push themselves too hard. I’ve discovered that if you don’t concern yourself with little things (like sleep, illness, inebriation and liver damage) you can have a rip roaring time day after day.
So, in no particular order, I spent my long weekend judging the futures of Malaysian men, drinking bottles of reasonable white, running in the rain, going to the skankiest place in KL, bartending, rubbing shoulders with top models (well, my ears rubbed their shoulders), performing live with a piano and getting great kudos (and not getting things thrown at me) for it, drinking vodka off of underwear models, being a tour guide, rainmaking for a friend in drought, learning that nipple rings hurt and so do belly button rings (if you poke yourself in the forehead with one), and discovering religion in an Angel of some sort. Sounds like fun? It was!
Now it’s back to the daily grind. And I’m fully energised (well, ok, I’m not, but who cares). Speaking of which, go buy FHM May 2007, which is on newstands now, and features Natasha Hudson in black plastic. Spot which bits you think I did (tip – it’s not just the bits with the typos).
Queens of the Stoned Aged?
WillQ.
