SIGNS OF THINGS TO COME

Professor Gloom never fails to surprise me. In between the hours spent deciphering the mysteries of the universe (and those of bridge and golf) he reads murder mysteries and Georgette Heyer historical romances. These I am accustomed to, but last week's book was Just Another Dead Boy by Kelly McCaughrain. It's a Romeo and Juliet-style Young Adult novel full of 'that heady cocktail of hormones, life force and jaded ennui' so typical of youth. And so untypical of septuagenarians. Apart from the ennui, that is.

Now, Kelly is an exceptional writer, who regards Gloom as her own tame astrophysicist when she needs scientific advice, but I wouldn't have expected him to give her book more than a passing glance. Instead of which, he was hooked. He even came along to a Belfast Book Festival event, chaired by Children's Writing Fellow Shirley Anne McMillan, which featured four YA writers with new books: Kelly, Sue Divin (Runaway Road) Jenny Ireland (French Kisses) - all of them award-winning writers - and Stephen Daly, whose first novel The Last Death Poet I also enjoyed - to my own great surprise.

The book festival took place at the Crescent Art Centre (which never fails to deliver extremely well-run programmes of events) and Belfast's much-loved No Alibis bookshop ran a pop-up bookstore in the foyer. Of course, the island of Ireland has always been famous for literary talent, but Northern Ireland punches above it's weight, and there were an encouraging number of local authors on display. Lucy Caldwell, Jan Carson, Louise Kennedy, Bernie McGill: they're all wonderful short story writers as well as novelists. But it's the YA writers who seem to be stealing the show right now, and there are others like Sheena Wilkinson and Angeline King whose books I've also enjoyed - again, to my surprise.

The book I've most enjoyed recently though, is Donal Ryan's wonderful 'Heart, be at Peace', and I have Maggie O'Farrell's 'Land' waiting. I also recently discovered someone entirely new: Sofka Zinovieff. I'd heard her interviewed on BBC Radio 3's Private Passions, Michael Berkeley's music programme that regularly throws up memorable guests, and I was so engaged by her (and her Greek connections) that I got hold of her novel Putney. It turned out to be an engrossing, and in many ways surprising, read. I'm very much looking forward to reading The House on Paradise Street next.

I'm also looking forward to Gabriel's Moon. Like me, William Boyd is in his seventies, and has African connections. And it just so happens that the title of the  adult novel I'm publishing this year is Gabriel's Angel. And my two new middle-grade children's books are Moon's Travelling Circus and The Voyage of the Molly Moon, so all these Gabriels and Moons I take to be a promising sign. (Probably of the sort of straws that writers clutch at.)

If only...

Being a writer is bad enough; having to plug your own books is  a nightmare. Especially if, like me, you loath the whole marketing /publicity business. But this time I've had a brilliant idea, because the one thing I always enjoy is having all my friends round for a party. They're warned each time, on pain of death, not to bring any gifts, and they never pay the slightest attention. But this year  marks our 11th wedding anniversary. It will also be my 78th birthday and Gloom's 79th, so what I plan to do is throw a great big launch /anniversary/ birthday party at home, and instead of bringing the usual wine, flowers, chocolates, etc, every guest will be obliged to buy a book. Or possibly two.

But to get back to Gloom's surprising enjoyment of a YA novel (and mine). I've always been ambivalent about the whole YA category: in my day you went straight from Enid Blyton to Agatha Christie, Sci Fi or Mills and Boon, depending on your tastes. But now I think the publishers might be on to an even better thing than they realised. Let me explain: I've never in my whole life had a stye in my eye, but in the last month I've had two nasty, oozing little lumps in rapid succession. My optician confirms that it's age related - much like adolescent acne. So it seems pretty obvious that both Gloom and I are now entering second adolescence, and it's therefore only a matter of time before second childhood kicks in. 

It'll be Winnie the Who? and The Grumpalo next.

LITERARY SHENANIGANS...

A year ago I was persuaded, against my better judgement, to take part in the first Women Aloud NI event at No Alibis bookshop. A whole clatter (a quire?) of women writers were going to celebrate International Women's Day by reading short extracts from their work (well at least they'd be short) but then we were all going to have to read together. That's bits of fiction, poetry, travel, biography, you-name-it, read ALOUD, at the same time, in a confined space.

It was obvious to me that the organiser, Jane Talbot, was a lunatic, but she was a persuasive lunatic, and I'd already agreed, so I turned up. I took the other two members of the Literary Ladies Get Slightly Drunk Society along with me for moral support, but in the end we all enjoyed ourselves hugely and I had to take back everything I'd said.

I didn't take part in this year's events, mainly because I was reading in three branch libraries on three successive evenings last week, and that seemed like enough excitement. Also, this year's shenanigans took place in public places - in Belfast and in Dublin - and I don't think I'm that brave. Not without dark glasses and a false moustache, which might have looked slightly out of place... But I take off my hat to all who took part (and to the indefatigable Jane) for their enthusiasm, and their dedication to making women's voices heard.

The library events were a pleasure. Lesley Allen, Angeline King and I read from our novels and answered questions at Newtownbreda, Banbridge and Larne libraries, and at all three we were made enormously welcome. The number of people who turned out to hear us was surprising - to me, anyway. I don't usually expect much of an audience - Professor Gloom, the Literary Ladies (suitably bribed), two drunks and a passing dog would be average. Mind you, the Literary Ladies provide a certain arty glamour, and Professor Gloom's furrowed brow and downcast eyes are generally taken for evidence of deep literary thought, when he is, in fact, playing Solitaire on his phone.

The other great pleasure of public readings is that you get to know your fellow-writers, discover the

things you have in common, and the books you've recently enjoyed.
Lesley, Angeline and I all loved Sarah Winman's When God was a Rabbit, and if you liked it too, then you might try The Land of Decoration by Grace McCleen: both books are whimsical, funny and touching. And we all three of us read, at least once, from the start of our own novels - which is hardly surprising: if your first few sentences don't grab the reader's attention, you're probably in trouble.

I'm a fan of clever, quirky novels myself, and three of my favourites (all by women, as it happens) have some of the most memorable opening lines in fiction.,

Dodie Smith's beguiling I Capture the Castle  - one of my all-time favourite books - begins 'I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.' 

Kate Atkinson kicks off Behind the Scenes at the Museum with 'I exist! I am conceived to the chimes of midnight...'

And then there is The Towers of Trebizond by the wonderful, witty Rose Macaulay, with her deathless opening lines:

'"Take me camel, dear," said my aunt Dot, as she climbed down from this animal on her return from High Mass.' 

I defy anyone to do better.

And the week ended with Jan Carson's short story Egg being read aloud on Radio 4. All in all, a good week here for women's voices.