Ian Sales's Blog - Posts Tagged "whippleshield-books"
Adrift on the Sea of Rains reviews
The number of reviews of Adrift on the Sea of Rains that have appeared online has, I freely admit, astonished me. And all those reviews have been positive, which is even more astonishing. It certainly validates my decision to publish the book myself, though it does increase the pressure on me for the second book of the Apollo Quartet...
Anyway, I thought I'd post links to all the reviews that have appeared so far:
Weirdmage's Reviews
Val's Random Comments
Benjamin Judge
The British Fantasy Society
Global Junkie
SF Signal
Paper Knife
Alt Hist
The Automatic Cat
Glen Mehn
Jack Deighton
Michael J Martineck
Science Fiction 365
Dylan Fox
Tony's Thoughts
Solar Bridge
To the Last Word
The Singularity Sucks
Lavie Tidhar
Upcoming4.me
Anyway, I thought I'd post links to all the reviews that have appeared so far:
Weirdmage's Reviews
Val's Random Comments
Benjamin Judge
The British Fantasy Society
Global Junkie
SF Signal
Paper Knife
Alt Hist
The Automatic Cat
Glen Mehn
Jack Deighton
Michael J Martineck
Science Fiction 365
Dylan Fox
Tony's Thoughts
Solar Bridge
To the Last Word
The Singularity Sucks
Lavie Tidhar
Upcoming4.me
Whoosh
I was hoping to have a final draft of Apollo Quartet 2: The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself out to my beta readers by the end of August, but the novella is proving more work than I'd originally anticipated. So I've not even finished the first draft. Which means the finished article - hardback, paperback, ebook - is unlikely to hit the shelves at the end of September as originally planned. It's my own fault, of course. However, I'm not anticipating missing the deadline by much - a month, perhaps.
So as an apology, and to keep you keen, here's a flash fiction piece I wrote back in 2009 to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of the Apollo 11 lunar landing. It was originally published on my Space Books blog, but I think it serves another airing. Enjoy.
The Old Man of the Sea of Dreams
“Radar lights are out.”
“That’s a Verb 57?”
Capcom confirms, “You’re go for a Verb 57.”
LMP Gerald P Carr punches it in on the DSKY. The computer will now accept data from the landing radar.
“Descent rate 70 feet per second… passing through 36 thousand… pitch 72…”
Carr reads out the LM’s altitude and descent rate, while Commander Stuart Roosa, USAF, flies the spacecraft. Moments later, Houston signs off as the LM crosses the lunar terminator —
Apollo 20, the first mission to visit the dark side of the Moon.
The LM approaches the Mare Ingenii, a lava-flooded crater. It looks like a real sea. Except it’s grey, a flat featureless grey like an under-exposed black and white photograph. A collapsed rim resembles two fjords. Carr can imagine a fishing port at the shore, a cluster of monochrome houses, with a monochrome jetty and little monochrome dories. Carr is USMC, he knows boats.
“Okay at 20,000,” Carr says. “Computer and PNGS on the button. 1:20 to pitchover.”
He feeds flight data to Roosa. They pitch over and begin to descend vertically.
“Ready for touchdown.”
“20 feet… 10 feet… contact.”
Silence.
Not even a vibration through his boots. Carr feels a moment of vertigo, the moonscape visible through the window tips one way then the other. He blows out noisily; it’s enough to break the spell.
He says, “Engine stop, engine arm, command override off, PNGS on auto.”
Roosa says the magic words, but Houston can’t hear them:
“Centaurus has landed.”
Both astronauts want to go out onto the lunar surface, but they’re not scheduled for EVA for another three hours. First is a rest period, but they’re too keyed-up to sleep.
“What they used to call this?” Carr asks.
“Mare Desiderii.”
“Sea of…” His Latin isn’t up to it.
“Sea of Dreams. But it’s not a mare. Except this bit, so they called it Sea of Cleverness. Ironic, huh?”
“I guess.” Carr is not big on irony. He’s a marine.
“What’s that?”
Roosa bounces round to face Carr. “What’s what?”
“I saw something flash.” Carr points north-east. The rim of Thomson there is broken, forming inlets into the “sea” of the crater’s floor.
“A flash? Like a reflection off a mineral?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Worth checking out.” It’s some 12 kilometres away, so about an hour on the LRV.
The CSM is overhead, so Roosa tells CMP Paul Weitz their plan. He can inform Houston when he orbits back to the near-side.
“Be careful,” says Weitz.
Roosa acknowledges. He turns to look at the LM — bright silver, with its golden skirt. He got to come here, he marvels. Three days on the dark side. He made a first, he’s going down in the history books.
Like Neil Armstrong.
The floor of Thomson could have been made for the LRV, the going is so smooth. Roosa pushes the T-bar forward, and the speedometer needle creeps up to 15 kph.
“Boy,” says Carr, “we’re really motoring here.”
“Yeah. Who needs a Corvette?”
Carr directs Roosa to where he saw the flash. Roosa nudges the T-bar and the LRV arcs to the right.
Ahead, something sparkles. Sunlight spilling over the horizon makes the lunar surface a place of black shadows and grey twilight. But there’s something bright hiding in a fold in the tumbled-down rim.
From a kilometre away, it’s hard to tell what it is, though vision is sharp in the vacuum. Carr squints and makes out a suggestion of…
… something regular?
“You think it might be a Luna? One of those Russian probes?”
No, it’s too big. Carr has seen photos of the Luna probes: they looked like boilers on legs, like some robot from a 1950s B-movie.
The LRV slows to a stop. Roosa sits and stares at the object in the shadows. It’s a spacecraft. It lies crumpled against the slope, broken-backed, its engine bell towards them.
They disembark, and Roosa approaches the crashed spacecraft slowly. Is it alien? He’s heard of UFOs, of lights buzzing planes; but he doesn’t subscribe.
He can see the upper half of the craft. It looks familiar.
“Holy shit,” he says. “You’re not gonna believe this.”
It’s obvious now. Roosa can see exactly what it is:
A Mercury capsule.
Just like the ones flown by Al, John, Gus, the Original Seven. He can see the words “United States” on its side.
“Jesus,” says Carr. “How the hell did that get here?”
Roosa moves up the slope. The capsule looks undamaged. He’s close enough to see the hatch… and the curve of a helmet within.
“Stay back,” he warns.
There’s no movement, but it pays to be cautious. His breath is louder than the PLSS fans. The hatch is cracked open a few inches. He hauls it up.
Inside, belted into the single seat, sits a figure in a silver pressure suit. His head is slumped forward, hiding his face.
“No way is Houston going to believe this.”
The dead astronaut has the Star and Stripes on his shoulder. It’s impossible.
Roosa reaches in and shifts the body. Now he can see the nametag:
“Kincheloe.”
The only Kincheloe he knows of died back in 1958, killed at Edwards when his F-104 augered in. Could it be the same man? Maybe they faked his crash, maybe they sent him here instead.
“Jesus,” says Carr. “I found a flag stuck on a pole here.”
“Stars and Stripes?” asks Roosa. He’s still staring at the dead astronaut.
“Yeah.”
Roosa steps back from the capsule. He looks down at his feet, and sees his bootprints. They’ll last a million years. He sees more bootprints, not his. Kincheloe survived the crash.
“Know what this is?” Roosa remembers now. “I heard about it back at Edwards. Project Pilgrim. A one-way shot to the Moon.”
They actually went and did it. They sent a man to the Moon on a one-way ticket. He planted a flag here, then he died.
“Neil will be pissed,” Roosa says.
So as an apology, and to keep you keen, here's a flash fiction piece I wrote back in 2009 to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of the Apollo 11 lunar landing. It was originally published on my Space Books blog, but I think it serves another airing. Enjoy.
The Old Man of the Sea of Dreams
“Radar lights are out.”
“That’s a Verb 57?”
Capcom confirms, “You’re go for a Verb 57.”
LMP Gerald P Carr punches it in on the DSKY. The computer will now accept data from the landing radar.
“Descent rate 70 feet per second… passing through 36 thousand… pitch 72…”
Carr reads out the LM’s altitude and descent rate, while Commander Stuart Roosa, USAF, flies the spacecraft. Moments later, Houston signs off as the LM crosses the lunar terminator —
Apollo 20, the first mission to visit the dark side of the Moon.
The LM approaches the Mare Ingenii, a lava-flooded crater. It looks like a real sea. Except it’s grey, a flat featureless grey like an under-exposed black and white photograph. A collapsed rim resembles two fjords. Carr can imagine a fishing port at the shore, a cluster of monochrome houses, with a monochrome jetty and little monochrome dories. Carr is USMC, he knows boats.
“Okay at 20,000,” Carr says. “Computer and PNGS on the button. 1:20 to pitchover.”
He feeds flight data to Roosa. They pitch over and begin to descend vertically.
“Ready for touchdown.”
“20 feet… 10 feet… contact.”
Silence.
Not even a vibration through his boots. Carr feels a moment of vertigo, the moonscape visible through the window tips one way then the other. He blows out noisily; it’s enough to break the spell.
He says, “Engine stop, engine arm, command override off, PNGS on auto.”
Roosa says the magic words, but Houston can’t hear them:
“Centaurus has landed.”
Both astronauts want to go out onto the lunar surface, but they’re not scheduled for EVA for another three hours. First is a rest period, but they’re too keyed-up to sleep.
“What they used to call this?” Carr asks.
“Mare Desiderii.”
“Sea of…” His Latin isn’t up to it.
“Sea of Dreams. But it’s not a mare. Except this bit, so they called it Sea of Cleverness. Ironic, huh?”
“I guess.” Carr is not big on irony. He’s a marine.
“What’s that?”
Roosa bounces round to face Carr. “What’s what?”
“I saw something flash.” Carr points north-east. The rim of Thomson there is broken, forming inlets into the “sea” of the crater’s floor.
“A flash? Like a reflection off a mineral?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Worth checking out.” It’s some 12 kilometres away, so about an hour on the LRV.
The CSM is overhead, so Roosa tells CMP Paul Weitz their plan. He can inform Houston when he orbits back to the near-side.
“Be careful,” says Weitz.
Roosa acknowledges. He turns to look at the LM — bright silver, with its golden skirt. He got to come here, he marvels. Three days on the dark side. He made a first, he’s going down in the history books.
Like Neil Armstrong.
The floor of Thomson could have been made for the LRV, the going is so smooth. Roosa pushes the T-bar forward, and the speedometer needle creeps up to 15 kph.
“Boy,” says Carr, “we’re really motoring here.”
“Yeah. Who needs a Corvette?”
Carr directs Roosa to where he saw the flash. Roosa nudges the T-bar and the LRV arcs to the right.
Ahead, something sparkles. Sunlight spilling over the horizon makes the lunar surface a place of black shadows and grey twilight. But there’s something bright hiding in a fold in the tumbled-down rim.
From a kilometre away, it’s hard to tell what it is, though vision is sharp in the vacuum. Carr squints and makes out a suggestion of…
… something regular?
“You think it might be a Luna? One of those Russian probes?”
No, it’s too big. Carr has seen photos of the Luna probes: they looked like boilers on legs, like some robot from a 1950s B-movie.
The LRV slows to a stop. Roosa sits and stares at the object in the shadows. It’s a spacecraft. It lies crumpled against the slope, broken-backed, its engine bell towards them.
They disembark, and Roosa approaches the crashed spacecraft slowly. Is it alien? He’s heard of UFOs, of lights buzzing planes; but he doesn’t subscribe.
He can see the upper half of the craft. It looks familiar.
“Holy shit,” he says. “You’re not gonna believe this.”
It’s obvious now. Roosa can see exactly what it is:
A Mercury capsule.
Just like the ones flown by Al, John, Gus, the Original Seven. He can see the words “United States” on its side.
“Jesus,” says Carr. “How the hell did that get here?”
Roosa moves up the slope. The capsule looks undamaged. He’s close enough to see the hatch… and the curve of a helmet within.
“Stay back,” he warns.
There’s no movement, but it pays to be cautious. His breath is louder than the PLSS fans. The hatch is cracked open a few inches. He hauls it up.
Inside, belted into the single seat, sits a figure in a silver pressure suit. His head is slumped forward, hiding his face.
“No way is Houston going to believe this.”
The dead astronaut has the Star and Stripes on his shoulder. It’s impossible.
Roosa reaches in and shifts the body. Now he can see the nametag:
“Kincheloe.”
The only Kincheloe he knows of died back in 1958, killed at Edwards when his F-104 augered in. Could it be the same man? Maybe they faked his crash, maybe they sent him here instead.
“Jesus,” says Carr. “I found a flag stuck on a pole here.”
“Stars and Stripes?” asks Roosa. He’s still staring at the dead astronaut.
“Yeah.”
Roosa steps back from the capsule. He looks down at his feet, and sees his bootprints. They’ll last a million years. He sees more bootprints, not his. Kincheloe survived the crash.
“Know what this is?” Roosa remembers now. “I heard about it back at Edwards. Project Pilgrim. A one-way shot to the Moon.”
They actually went and did it. They sent a man to the Moon on a one-way ticket. He planted a flag here, then he died.
“Neil will be pissed,” Roosa says.
Apollo Quartet Book 2 cover art released
The publication date of the second book of the Apollo Quartet, The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself, is about a month or so away. I was hoping to have the book ready sooner, but it didn’t work out that way. That’s what happens when something turns out to be more ambitious than originally envisaged.
However, the cover art is now ready. And here it is:
Yes, the cover does sort of represent the plot of The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself. Yes, that is Mars. And yes, when the quartet is completed all four books will look very fine indeed on your book-shelf – in a signed numbered hardback, limited to 75 copies; or in paperback. There will, of course, also be an ebook edition, in MOBI and EPUB, and available on Amazon for Kindle.
However, the cover art is now ready. And here it is:
Yes, the cover does sort of represent the plot of The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself. Yes, that is Mars. And yes, when the quartet is completed all four books will look very fine indeed on your book-shelf – in a signed numbered hardback, limited to 75 copies; or in paperback. There will, of course, also be an ebook edition, in MOBI and EPUB, and available on Amazon for Kindle.
First Review of Apollo Quartet 2
The first review of Apollo Quartet 2 The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself has appeared online at upcoming4.me. They liked Adrift on the Sea of the Rains (“our favorite science fiction novella of this year”), and it seems they like this one too:
… once more amazing stuff from Ian Sales and we would go so far to say that The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself will likely be a contender for the best novella published in 2013.
The full review is here.
The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself will be available for purchase from the Whippleshield Books online shop, and on Kindle from Amazon, in January 2013.
… once more amazing stuff from Ian Sales and we would go so far to say that The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself will likely be a contender for the best novella published in 2013.
The full review is here.
The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself will be available for purchase from the Whippleshield Books online shop, and on Kindle from Amazon, in January 2013.
New Review of Apollo Quartet 2
Another review of The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself has appeared online, this time by Brian Baker of (SF) 365. He writes:
The Eye With Which… is a worthy sequel and impressive advance, a must-buy; if you don’t know Sales’s work, I thoroughly recommend it. It’s detailed, thoughtful, artfully constructed, and highly impressive sf.
The full review is here.
I have now made The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself available for pre-order in the online shop. Though it says the book is in stock, that’s just the e-commerce package I’m using – it will not be available until January 2013.
Incidentally, I have PDF advance review copies for anyone who is interested. Email me at sales (at) whippleshieldbooks (dot) com, if you’d like to review The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself.
The Eye With Which… is a worthy sequel and impressive advance, a must-buy; if you don’t know Sales’s work, I thoroughly recommend it. It’s detailed, thoughtful, artfully constructed, and highly impressive sf.
The full review is here.
I have now made The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself available for pre-order in the online shop. Though it says the book is in stock, that’s just the e-commerce package I’m using – it will not be available until January 2013.
Incidentally, I have PDF advance review copies for anyone who is interested. Email me at sales (at) whippleshieldbooks (dot) com, if you’d like to review The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself.
Adrift on the Sea of Rains wins BSFA Award
Sunday 31 April saw the awards ceremony for British Science Fiction Association Awards take place at EightSquaredCon, the annual UK Eastercon, in Bradford. Adrift on the Sea of Rains was one of six pieces of fiction short-listed in the best short fiction category.
And it won.
Here's a photo of the award:
The other winners were Jack Glass by Adam Roberts for best novel, the cover art of Jack Glass by Blacksheep for best artwork, and the World SF Blog for best non-fiction. Congratulations all.
And it won.
Here's a photo of the award:
The other winners were Jack Glass by Adam Roberts for best novel, the cover art of Jack Glass by Blacksheep for best artwork, and the World SF Blog for best non-fiction. Congratulations all.
Adrift on the Sea of Rains: the podcast
An audio version of Adrift on the Sea of Rains has just been published by Starship Sofa - see here. I didn't really believe the story would work as a podcast but, with some careful editing by Adam Pracht and myself, I think we managed it. Go and check it out and you'll see what I mean.
However, we couldn't really have the narrator read out the glossary, and since that's part of the whole Adrift on the Sea of Rains reading experience, I've published it on the Whippleshield Books blog, both as a blog post and a downloadable PDF. See here.
However, we couldn't really have the narrator read out the glossary, and since that's part of the whole Adrift on the Sea of Rains reading experience, I've published it on the Whippleshield Books blog, both as a blog post and a downloadable PDF. See here.
Ian Sales's Blog
- Ian Sales's profile
- 86 followers
Ian Sales isn't a Goodreads Author
(yet),
but they
do have a blog,
so here are some recent posts imported from
their feed.
