Hi all:

It’s Friday and after our culinary interlude, I’m going back to writing about guest authors and their books. Today, it’s the turn of Chris Rose, who is a member of one of the groups of authors I belong too and visit often, ASMSG,and who shares with me his love of translating (in his case mostly French and in a more professional capacity) and a cracking sense of humour. (We’ve also discovered I’ve worked in the city were he was born for quite a few years).

But well, enough chit-chat, here is Chris:

Author Chris Rose

Author Chris Rose

Born and bred in the city of steel: Sheffield.

Spent – or misspent, whichever your viewpoint – the majority of his ‘young’ years on the Northern Soul circuit. It’s around this time and place that his novel is set – Wood, Talc and Mr. J’

His academic education came much later, from scratch, in a sense. In time, he fell in love with the idea of languages, French in particular, and went on to get a BA Hons in French Language and Literature with subsidiary Spanish, at The University of Sheffield. He was a ‘mature student’, though maybe not as mature as he would like to think, looking back…

After which, he moved down south – mid 90s – and eventually further still to the South of France for a few years, where he taught English. He then moved up to northern France to do much the same thing.

But it was here where he also began to write, or experiment with writing.

He came back to England in the mid-00s and lived in North London for five years, teaching and writing again.

And for the last four or five years, he’s lived in Norwich, where he’s completed a Masters in Literary Translation, at the UEA – he likes to believe he’s most definitely mature now!

He’s now working his way toward making a living by writing, with a little translation on the side…

He tends to be picky about books, and take his time reading them; he expects each word to count; something he can go back to, read again – and again. Things witty, satirical, poetic… Moving. Favourite writers of late? Maybe Markas Zusak. Anna Funder, her ‘All That I Am’. Actually, he’s only just discovered Kurt Vonnegut, and read ‘The Slaughterhouse Five’.

Soulful writers, and their soulful things. And maybe he tries to emulate them.

Same goes for his taste in films, music… and people.

Chris is currently working on a sequel to his debut novel, Wood, Talc and Mr. J, but the title of which he prefers to keep a secret for the time being. he is also collaborating with his illustrator on a series of children’s stories…

Here are some of his links:

Amazon author page:

http://www.amazon.com/Chris-Rose/e/B00LW3RIRM/ 

Website – please like my home page!

http://woodtalcandmrj.com/

Goodreads: 

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7868651.Chris_Rose

Facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/WoodTalcandMrJ

 Twitter:

https://twitter.com/WritingOnACloud

 Rebelmouse:

https://www.rebelmouse.com/Chris_Rose/

Authorsdb:

http://authorsdb.com/authors-directory/14198-chris-rose.

And this is his novel:

Wood, Talc and Mr.J by Chris Rose

Wood, Talc and Mr.J by Chris Rose

A look back. Without the rose-tinted spectacles, but with hindsight and humour, and with poignancy and affection. 1978. The North. Phillip sees life in a simplistic if passionate way: up or down, us and them, black, white and nothing in-between. When not doing his ‘thing’ in Wigan’s Casino Club – voted ‘The Greatest Disco in the World’ by Time Magazine – Phillip hates the world. Or at least he thinks he does. He longs for the weekend, or a greater, permanent escape from the daily grind of factory life in an industrial town. With a little imagination, he might realise things midweek aren’t that bad: there’s the loving family, the secure job amid mass unemployment, a relationship with the perfect young woman… Or maybe he realises too late. And all he’d deemed important was only ever an illusion, his reflected image included. Coming full circle by way of loss and more loss, you would hope lessons are learned… The book progresses through myriad dream sequences, interwoven song-themes, a father’s philosophical ramblings, ever blackening wit, leitmotif – or seemingly recurring scenes; is someone laughing at our hero? And Phillip’s own, lyrical, strut-like, black or white manner. Dancehall adventures via train rides to Heaven, scooter cruising almost coast to coast. Beneath the pier encounters with the opposite sex, et al… set against the birth of Scargill and Thatcher feuding…

Link:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LOWZJTK/

Thanks so much to Chris for visiting, thanks to you all for reading, and you know the drill, if you’ve enjoyed it, like, share, comment, and please, CLICK!