Last week, LC and I went to the wrong Tesco. This shocking lapse was responsible for many woes, not least that I forgot to reclaim my pound from the trolley, but it also led to an interesting discovery: a novel called "The City" by Stella Gemmell.
My immediate response to this was "excellent!" See, for many years my favourite author was David Gemmell. Sadly, he died, leaving his latest trilogy unfinished. However, his wife Stella picked up the baton, and brought the final novel, and thus the trilogy, to a very fitting end.
And that was the end of that, I thought. Since then, I have identified a couple of other favourite authors (being Bernard Cornwell and Conn Iggulden. Oh, and Terry Pratchett, of course).
So, when I saw that Stella Gemmell had written her own first novel, and seen also that it seems to fit into a similar niche as her husband's writings, I found myself looking foward to it.
Having given the matter just a little thought, it became pretty obvious that this was a somewhat foolish reaction. Because, of course, just because her husband was a favourite of mine, it by no means indicate that she can do an equivalently good job. She might; she might even be better, but there is no guarantee that this will be the case.
Anyway, the book is only available in hardcover, so I've got a year to wait for the paperback, and will have a chance to read the reviews. Still, I thought it was blog-worthy.
#22: "Pathfinder: The Frozen Stars", by Matthew Goodall