Two families, both alike in infamy

If you’re reading this, it means we’re not all dead.

A Game Of Clones: A pitch to publishers everywhere.

Looking for the next Song of Ice and Fire? Well, fret not, you’ve found it. Here are the forthcoming dozen violent, sexy and confusing time-travel thrillers starring the Tempus Fugitive himself, Justin Thyme. They’ll be written as soon as a publisher gets in touch and waves a massive advance my way.

A few uncensored thoughts about Dorian Gray…

The Picture of Dorian Gray has always been, for me, a disappointing novel. Oscar Wilde is one of my favourites, and his importance should not be under-estimated, but there is a distinct dearth of great works from the man. (There are reasons or excuses for this, and he did die young, I know, I know. […]

Some advice for Gaddafi: read Night Watch …

If I were a dictator somewhere in the world right now, I’d be reading Terry Pratchett. I’d need all the help I could get, and I might as well get the best advice.

The Art of Non-Conformity: an economist’s review*

On one hand, this is a book I should hate. On the other hand, this is a book I should love. Naturally, it ended up being neither.

By the bar at #mwf …

Quite a few of the free Melbourne Writers Festival (hereafter known only as #mwf) events are at Feddish, awkwardly located in part of that awkward part of the city, Federation Square. Plonked, I found myself this afternoon, on an unfortunately shaped, and disconcertingly high, wicker chair by the bar. Soda water with a hint of ginger […]

Without a Hitch …

To coincide with the launch of his memoir, Christopher Hitchens appears to be dying. For publicity purposes, this is something of a masterstroke. All things considered, however, being diagnosed with metastasized esophageal cancer is not a good thing. And not just for Hitch, either. Truly.

The Birmingham issues …

Without warning, the rain fell as I was on my way to the designated target. The Wheeler Centre, to see John Birmingham on a cold and bitter Melbourne evening. But my wimpishness was only reinforced when, having braved a bit of winter rain on the arduous trek up the hill, the man otherwise known as […]