Slow-builds, Weird fiction and publication day for New Gillion Street!
An exclusive interview with Leeds author Elliot J Harper and an extract from New Gillion Street!
Happy Friday Scribblers,
Hello from a very wet and windy Manchester. I had a great time this week at House of Books and Friends, giving a talk about how Fly on the Wall Press began, and how it has evolved. It was a lunchtime lecture so it was heartening to have such a big audience, and I even had a chat with fellow publisher Guts Publishing afterwards!
Today is the publication day for our first-ever science fiction novel from Leeds author Elliot J Harper: ‘New Gillion Street’. We will be launching the book at Truman Books (95 Town Street, Farsley, Leeds) on January 31st from 6.30pm. Tickets available here.
Set on the politically-neutral planet of Neo-Yuthea, New Gillion Street follows Albert Smith, whose quiet life is upended when Mr Zand, an agent of extra-terrestrial chaos, launches his mayoral campaign and unsettling times ensue. Albert and his neighbours must unite to resist oppression and fight for freedom before their world collapses.
A gripping sci-fi novel that delves into themes of politics, power and human resilience. What I love most about ‘New Gillion Street’ is its sense of fun. The extract I’ve chosen for you is near the start, when Albert is a little drunk, and angry about Mr Zand’s campaign for Mayor and how it is affecting the peace of the planet, and so he befriends a garden gnome…(Who later starts to talk, but not in this bit!) Enjoy.
PLUS:
10% exclusive discount off the book when you use code NEWGILLIONSTREET10 here.
And scroll for a super interesting interview with Elliot about writing craft, the science fiction genre and loving ‘slow build’ narratives.
I’d never been a drinker, and I’d had my fair share of the wine on offer. It was something I must have inherited from my father’s side. He and my grandfather were poor drinkers, apparently. So was I, and although we shared no DNA, it appeared that I was going to carry on that infamous family tradition.
There was a drop left in the bottom of one of the containers, so I poured that final splash into my cup and downed it in one go, mumbling to no one in particular. “Waste not, want not.”
I giggled to myself and looked at the mess. “Forget it. I can do it tomorrow.”
I didn’t know who I was talking to, so I let out another snicker, and then swept my lolling head around the garden, my vision coming in and out of focus, where it rested on the garden gnome.
“You, you bastard. What’re you looking at?”
Wobbling with every step, I collected him from his spot and brought him to sit by me. My head swam with the effort.
“What do you make of all this shit, eh? Gnome? Bloody awful, if you ask me.”
He provided no answer.
“Not much of a talker, are you? Not like Mr, fucking high and mighty, Zand. That man could talk your little gnomey ears off… do you have ears underneath that hat of yours?”
I tried to prise off his red pointed hat, but it was part of the statue and couldn’t be removed. “All right, then, keep your bloody secrets.”
I placed the gnome on the table. I didn’t know how much he knew about what was going on, so I filled him in.
“New Gillion Street isn’t the same, my gnomey friend,” I said. “It’s going to the dogs… that’s something they used to say in Gillion, by the way, according to my old gran anyway. Of course, we don’t have any dogs here because they didn’t travel well in the ship, so it doesn’t really make any sense to you, but still... what a bloody mess.”
The gnome remained on the table, stoically ignorant of my boozy talk.
“The thing is, gnomey, me old mucker,” I continued, “that bastard Zand has got this whole place tricked. Someone needs to give that awful man a piece of their mind… in fact, I’m bloody well going to do that this very bloody minute.”
I stood, violently swaying, and nearly toppled over, but righted myself at the last moment. I tapped the side of my nose to let the gnome know what was what.
“Right, come on, then. Let’s bloody do it. You’re coming with me as well, you gnomey prick. You can watch my back.”
I scooped up the little fellow, lodged him firmly underneath my left armpit, and kept my grip tight. I then staggered out of the garden gate. I made my way up an empty Street, the hour being late, but the ground appeared to be moving underneath my feet because I nearly pitched over on more than one occasion. The very earth itself had set out to sabotage my journey, but I wouldn’t be stopped. I was on a mission, and that was the bloody end of it.
By chance, none of the Security Team was on patrol, possibly exchanging shifts or patrolling the grassland, but I wouldn’t have cared if they were. They would have to mind their own bloody business, guns or not. I soldiered on, my gait a tad on the wobbly side.
“Nearly lost it there, my good gnome, but never fear,” I said, after slipping down the curb, tapping the gnome on the head so that he knew it was all alright.
I made my way across onto the Odd side of the Street. The going was tough, primarily due to the bizarre sudden spinning of the world. I wished someone had told me in advance, so I could have prepared for it. There were no lights on in any of the houses and the Street was shrouded in darkness. All the curtains were drawn, which was a shame, as I’d have liked to have given everyone a piece of my mind as well. I only slowed once when I bounced off one of the garden walls, which was a bit of a surprise, as I was sure that it hadn’t been there before.
I arrived at Number 13 and marched up to the door. I stepped up to the frame, but before I had a chance to knock, my head began to spin. I tried to shake my head to set it right, but swayed and nearly fell backward. I regained my balance with my hand placed on the door for support, which, confoundingly, swung inward, nearly toppling me inside. I hinged forward, my right hand on the doorstep, and somehow remained balanced in that half-press up, stable enough to look upwards. The house was silent, but the lights of the lounge were on. I got back onto my feet and gave the gnome a tap on the head.
“And still we march on, me old gnome,” I told him, but he seemed nonplussed by the whole endeavour.
Well, if there were lights on, that meant someone was at home, so I lurched inside the house and went straight to the lounge with a mind to give Zand what for. There, I found that the lamp was on, but the room was vacant. There was no sign of the occupant of Number 13 anywhere.
“Where is the old bastard, gnomey?”
The divisions between the "Odds" and "Evens" on the street are central to the tension unfolding. What made you want to structure the community this way?
As a lover of weird and speculative fiction, my influences always come from the unusual, especially those stories that are unique. NGS was heavily inspired by Ursula le Quin’s Hainish cycle of sci-fi books, specifically, The Left Hand of Darkness. Le Guin’s writing and style should be an inspiration for anyone. She created a society where people can change their sexes at will, back and forth, and that just blew my mind! It’s such a unique and innovative idea, throwing genders out of the window. And that was written in 1969!? She truly was ahead of her time.
NGS doesn’t tackle anything that startling, but it’s worth bearing in mind that I had just read that masterpiece before I wrote the book. So that’s why we get a colony split between different sides of the street that’s culturally and biologically diverse. I wanted to write a society that is unusual and different.
My other influences are always the New Weird, mostly the works of China Miéville, especially The Scar, which is set on a gigantic floating city. Anything that strange and original stays with me.
Protagonist Albert Smith has some reticence and doubts about the political changes proposed by Mr. Zand, though Albert would rather have an easy life and not rebel against the system unless he really has to... How did you develop Albert's character and how does his personality create conflict in the plot?
Albert is a simple man, really. He would love nothing more than to potter about the garden and drink cups of tea. He, like most people, is averse to change and conflict, preferring to either ignore it or gossip about it at home with friends. No one wants conflict. Most sensible people will avoid it at all costs. But in signs of stress or major upheaval, you eventually need to speak out or act. We live in such tumultuous times with the rise of the far-right again, but it is impossible to just act straight away. You need a moment, or a series of moments, to really get angry. Albert embodies that wait-and-see in all of us. He isn’t happy with the situation from the start, but it takes extreme events for him to finally get angry enough to do something about it.
You drop hints early on of something sinister going on with disappearances and severed body parts being found. What appeals to you about slowly building up the mystery and sense of unease?
Elliot: I’m a fan of a slow build, which might be out of fashion at the moment. The Netflixification of storytelling dictates that we are dealt a big explosion of excitement in the first few minutes of a story, so that we stay to see what happens until the end. That can sometimes come as a flash forward, where we then have to wait until the final episode to see how it turns out, or just simple action to set the scene. I’ve got nothing against that in fiction, but I like to develop a little mystery. I love that slow burn, especially when it comes to strange stories.
NGS is a weird world, and it becomes even weirder as the tale develops, I drop hints, or easter eggs to use modern parlance, to try and cultivate that tension, with the hope that the pay-off is satisfied enough that the reader will get that buzz when things unravel.
The history of the colony's origins and the indigenous people who helped them is explored. What more can you share about how that backstory shaped the current community and Albert's worldview?
I wanted to create something that is a shadowy reflection of our society, but also different enough that it gives people pause to consider what a novel civilization could be like. New Gillion Street is a single-street colony, so their society is based around that division of Odds and Evens. It’s the human condition to distrust others, it’s hardwired into us, and it takes a great deal of effort to not fall into that trap. New Gillion Street is idyllic, but people will always distrust those they perceive to be different, and in such a small colony that’s those who are on the other side of the street.
Clearly, and I would imagine most people can see that, the story is allegorical. Roughly speaking, left and right politics (although I don’t believe anything is that simple). Fashioning the world that way meant that I could give a commentary on the problems we have in our world, the division that politics creates. The residents work in harmony, even if they don’t like each other, but it takes another, a “strong-man” politician, to upend years of cooperation by using the traditional tactics of the far-right, demonisation of another group, preferably one that can’t defend itself.
Thank you for reading Scribblers!
Until next Friday,
Isabelle x