That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it? While I quite like the idea of 24-hour books, a vending machine isn’t exactly a satisfying shopping experience. You can’t get a feel of the paper, or skim-read the first chapter to see if it grabs you, or even read the blurb. And I don’t want to think about what the inside of a vending machine will do to that new-book smell.

John Marsden was our wonderful, much-appreciated guest speaker, and he gave a great talk on how to be a working writer in Australia. The crowd was way bigger than expected - about 70 people turned up - which was awesome. It was great to have so many people there, although I wish we’d expected it, cause we could have catered accordingly (so sorry, if you missed out on the canapes). 

Now that it’s been released, you should be able to purchase the book from any good bookstore (they’ll be able to order you a copy if they don’t have it on hand), or you can buy one from your local writers centre.

It’s like a handshake. ‘Hi, I’m a romance novel’. ‘I’m a textbook.’ ‘I’m a beautifully-written book about nothing in particular.’ It’s all about introducing yourself.

Science fiction blog io9 has collected a bunch of first lines from science-fiction novels, a genre which by definition can travel the scope of weird, intriguing ideas. As such, the first lines of these books have the room to be completely odd, but looking at the different ways each writer gets going can tell you quite a bit about the book to come:

"The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel." From Neuromancer, by William Gibson.

"The manhunt extended across more than one hundred light years and eight centuries." From A Deepness In The Sky, by Vernor Vinge.

 "In the summer of his twelfth year — the summer the stars began to fall from the sky — the boy Isaac discovered that he could tell East from West with his eyes closed." From Axis, by Robert Charles Wilson.

io9 does a great job analysing each of them; I recommend checking out the article.

Found via Westerblog.

The Australian has more details, and check out the CBCA website for the shortlist. 

Coverage from The ABC and the ABC’s Arts blog Articulate reveals that the problem arose when an advance copy of the book was sent to Texas-based professor of Islam Denise Spellberg, who apparently described the book as "poorly researched", "incredibly offensive" and practically soft-core porn. From a letter she wrote to The New York Times on Saturday 9 August:

As a historian invited to comment”on the book by its Random House editor at the author’s express request, I objected strenuously to the claim that The Jewel of Medina was “extensively researched,” as stated on the book jacket. As an expert on Aisha’s life, I felt it was my professional responsibility to counter this novel’s fallacious representation of a very real woman’s life. The author and the press brought me into a process, and I used my scholarly expertise to assess the novel. It was in that same professional capacity that I felt it my duty to warn the press of the novel’s potential to provoke anger among some Muslims.

Serbian Mufti Muamer Zukorlic also called the book "a work that absolutely stopped at nothing in order to desecrate something that all Muslims hold sacred."

Jones claims there are no sex scenes in the book, that she had nothing but the best of intentions, and only wanted to spread understanding of Islam by celebrating these key religious figures. 

Not having read the book myself, I’m hesitant to comment. I agree that there’s a fine line between censorship and sensitivity, and that pulling the plug on a book because of pressure from interest groups is a weak response from Random House. Fear of offending people isn’t a reason not to publish something (many writers would probably argue that it’s actually the perfect reason to publish).

However, cultural sensitivity is an important issue. I think it’s possible to see a parallel with the treatment of Indigenous myths and historical figures in Australian fiction, although here it becomes more about exploiting a minority. (On that, the Australia Council has put together some guidelines to help authors judge what is and isn’t appropriate when writing about Indigenous Australia, and a lot of it applies to anything outside a writer’s own cultural milieu.) Muslims are far from a minority, but tensions between Islam and America are, frankly, strained at the moment, and treading lightly on each other’s culture is probably sensible.

So where’s the line? When it comes to culturally sacred areas, who is allowed to write about them? Is a writer allowed to do what they want, as long as they research it properly, or are there some stories certain writers might not have the authority to tell? And if there are some icons that are still off-limits in today’s cultural free-for-all, should they stay off-limits, or should writers push the boundaries, and assume everything is there to be appropriated? 

The link is through a comics writing site, but Robert McKee’s 10 Commandments for Writing apply to all styles, genres and types of writing. Yes, even yours. For example, at number two:

Thou shalt not make life easy for the protagonist. Nothing progresses in a story, except through conflict.

Seriously, everyone recommends McKee’s Story (his textbook on writing). It’s good.

Another thing I received this morning was this little tidbit about a new re-make of Sherlock Holmes, by master of the British lad caper, Guy Ritchie. (Actually, this was news back in June, but we missed it). Updates have Robert Downey Jr as Holmes, and suggest Guy Ritchie will focus on Holmes’ physical prowess (which is something he hasn’t exactly been known for in the past).

More book-related movie news: the release date for the new Harry Potter flick has been pushed back almost eight months. Fans are outraged.

And scientists (or possibly academics) have adjusted the CT scan, used medically to photograph internal organs, to use on delicate manuscripts. According to this article, they’re extremely excited about the potential deciphering and translation of a library preserved by the explosion of Mt Vesuvius. It’s the only surviving library of Western antiquity, and, archeologically-speaking, finally reading the fragile, charcoaled works will be quite the thrill.