In The Mail

I wouldn’t blame my postman if he hated me. He’s never given me cause to believe that he does, on the odd occasions when I actually see him, but I wouldn’t blame him. I got home last night to find one of those we-tried-to-deliver-but-you-were-out cards, with a tick in the too-big-for-your-letterbox box, and a big “X 5!” written in marker pen next to it. So I collected the above pile from my local sorting office on the way to work. The haul:

From bottom to top: that’s Nova Swing and The Green Glass Sea (loans being returned by Chance), Sharp Teeth by Toby Barlow (Clarke submission; “an ancient race of lycanthropes survives in modern L.A. … Sharp Teeth is a novel-in-verse that blends epic themes with dark humour, dogs playing cards, crystal meth labs, and acts of heartache and betrayal in Southern California”); The Execution Channel by Ken MacLeod, Saturn Returns by Sean Williams, Glasshouse by Charles Stross, and Dark Space by Marianne de Pierres (Clarke submissions all, from Orbit; now, if we can only persude Gollancz to be as efficient); and three Shaun Hutson novels (review copies, for Strange Horizons). Not pictured: my Amazon order, which did get left for me, and consisted of The New Space Opera and Mister Pip. Oh, and that thing in the background is an Orbit messenger bag, “to mark the launch of” their new website. Guess they’re trying to create some buzz after all.

2 thoughts on “In The Mail

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