Review
There is no faulting Cockayne's story telling. His style is direct and simple, yet very engaging. He seems as equally comfortable writing pathos and humor as he is at dealing with myths and violence. (SFREVU.COM )
A heady fusion of well-known fantasy tropes and the quiet oddness of everyday life, with a dash of social satire for good measure. (ZONE-SF.COM )
A laudable and immensely readable debut from a sparkling new voice (DIVERSEBOOKS.COM )
Steve Cockayne has created something fascinating and strange. It is intricate, important and moving (CHINA MIEVILLE )
A heady fusion of well-known fantasy tropes and the quiet oddness of everyday life, with a dash of social satire for good measure. (ZONE-SF.COM )
A laudable and immensely readable debut from a sparkling new voice (DIVERSEBOOKS.COM )
Steve Cockayne has created something fascinating and strange. It is intricate, important and moving (CHINA MIEVILLE )
SFX
'A compelling read'
STARBURST
'Startlingly original… and important new writer has arrived on the British scene'
DREAMWATCH
'An absorbing Fantasy'
Book Description
Highly original fantasy debut from a new British author. With masterful storytelling, great characters and a world full of magical surprises, it is destined to become a classic of the genre.
Product Description
In the secluded house, an invisible presence watches over Victor Lazarus as he carries out the instructions of an unknown benefactor ... In the village, Rusty Brown encounters a strange girl who tells him a secret that will haunt his dreams and lure him to the dark underworld of the city ... In the city, Leonardo Pegasus tinkers with the Multiple Empathy Engine - a bizarre contraption of his own invention that enables the user to see the whole world without going anywhere ... An old man, a young boy and a magician. Three tales beautifully intertwine to create a wonderfully original story of magic and mystery, of secret pasts and forbidden futures - of wanderers and islanders. Look out for more information about this book and others at www.orbitbooks.co.uk
From the Publisher
Wanderers and Islanders is a highly original fantasy debut from a new British author.
'Steve Cockayne has created something fascinating and strange. It resonates like a sudden memory - one that is intricate, important and moving' China Mieville --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
About the Author
Head of Cameras & Lighting for the BBC for 5 years, Steve Cockayne is now a lecturer in Media and Production studies. He is currently restoring and reviving the family business, a Marionette Theatre, some of the characters from which provided the inspiration for the characters of this novel.
Excerpted from Wanderers and Islanders (Legends of the Land) by Steve Cockayne. Copyright © 2003. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
‘What is the first thing you can remember?’
I suppose it must have been the leg of the kitchen table. Yes, that was the first thing, and I guess the chain must have been the second thing. But that table leg, now that was something I got to know very well indeed. When I was very small I seemed to spend most of my time underneath the table, and I got to know every scratch and scar and knot-hole of that leg. When I was bored, which was most of the time, I used to rub myself up against it, and I suppose I used to dribble on it and wipe food on it, at least when my father remembered to feed me. I suppose it must have been square at one time, when the table was new, but it had become smooth and rounded with all that rubbing, and the grain and the knot-holes stood out in relief. It formed a sort of miniature three-dimensional world for me, and it was quite a while before I got to know any wider sort of world. After I was taken away from home, I never saw that table again, but I’m sure if you put it in front of me now I would!
still recognise it. It’s funny how these things can take you back. The chain? Yes, I’ll come to the chain in a minute…
…No, he didn’t hit me. He had his faults, plenty of them actually, but he never raised his hand to me. Oh, except for that one time of course, but I’ll come to that later. No, his way of punishing me was with the chain. That’s why the chain is the second thing I said I could remember, and that’s why I must have spent so much time under the kitchen table. It was when I was starting to crawl, I suppose, and I used to roll about on that dirty old red and white mat, and that was when he used to say that thing about getting under his feet. So back I would go, under the table, and when I got bored playing with the table leg, there was always the chain to play with. And when I got bored with the chain, then there was the table leg again.
At the time I never thought that there was anything unusual about the chain, I never realised what power it would come to have in my life, and I didn’t find out till years later that he’d made it himself, but after a while I did get to know that chain pretty well. It was made of some sort of black metal, and the links were a sort of square shape, rather nicely designed I suppose, with little faceted corners and things, and I used to like the feel of it – it was heavy, of course, and the links felt smooth and slightly oily, I used to suck them sometimes, they had a spiky, slippery sort of taste.
Of course, the chain wasn’t there all the time to begin with, I think my father only brought it out when I’d been bad. He used to fasten one end of the chain to the table leg. He used a padlock, I think. And of course the other end of the chain went round my neck. It was attached to an iron collar that opened with a hinge. And that was fastened with a padlock as well. So that was why I never strayed very far from my little world underneath the kitchen table. And that’s why the table leg and the iron chain are the first two things I can remember.
I suppose it must have been the leg of the kitchen table. Yes, that was the first thing, and I guess the chain must have been the second thing. But that table leg, now that was something I got to know very well indeed. When I was very small I seemed to spend most of my time underneath the table, and I got to know every scratch and scar and knot-hole of that leg. When I was bored, which was most of the time, I used to rub myself up against it, and I suppose I used to dribble on it and wipe food on it, at least when my father remembered to feed me. I suppose it must have been square at one time, when the table was new, but it had become smooth and rounded with all that rubbing, and the grain and the knot-holes stood out in relief. It formed a sort of miniature three-dimensional world for me, and it was quite a while before I got to know any wider sort of world. After I was taken away from home, I never saw that table again, but I’m sure if you put it in front of me now I would!
still recognise it. It’s funny how these things can take you back. The chain? Yes, I’ll come to the chain in a minute…
…No, he didn’t hit me. He had his faults, plenty of them actually, but he never raised his hand to me. Oh, except for that one time of course, but I’ll come to that later. No, his way of punishing me was with the chain. That’s why the chain is the second thing I said I could remember, and that’s why I must have spent so much time under the kitchen table. It was when I was starting to crawl, I suppose, and I used to roll about on that dirty old red and white mat, and that was when he used to say that thing about getting under his feet. So back I would go, under the table, and when I got bored playing with the table leg, there was always the chain to play with. And when I got bored with the chain, then there was the table leg again.
At the time I never thought that there was anything unusual about the chain, I never realised what power it would come to have in my life, and I didn’t find out till years later that he’d made it himself, but after a while I did get to know that chain pretty well. It was made of some sort of black metal, and the links were a sort of square shape, rather nicely designed I suppose, with little faceted corners and things, and I used to like the feel of it – it was heavy, of course, and the links felt smooth and slightly oily, I used to suck them sometimes, they had a spiky, slippery sort of taste.
Of course, the chain wasn’t there all the time to begin with, I think my father only brought it out when I’d been bad. He used to fasten one end of the chain to the table leg. He used a padlock, I think. And of course the other end of the chain went round my neck. It was attached to an iron collar that opened with a hinge. And that was fastened with a padlock as well. So that was why I never strayed very far from my little world underneath the kitchen table. And that’s why the table leg and the iron chain are the first two things I can remember.
From The Iron Chain by Steve Cockayne
