Greetings friends, pards and fellow travellers.
October is upon us, the nights are drawing in, the temperature here in the hills of Bradford is cooling, so I’m wearing trousers and, rather astonishingly, Breakfast in the Ruins is seven years old!
SEVEN EARTH YEARS!
It was back in October 2019 that we first decided to bag some gear and set off along the Moonbeam Roads, and somewhere around 150 episodes, a pretty immense reading pile, a great many beers and countless hours of rambling conversations later, we’re still here. I didn’t imagine when I kicked this off with Phil, Loz and Tash that we’d still be at it seven years later, much less that we’d have accumulated such an ace community of listeners, contributors, guests and friends along the way.
There have been some wonderful conversations, unexpected discoveries and bonds made along the way, and I’m enormously grateful to everyone who’s joined us for any part of the journey.
And we’re not done yet. Not by a long chalk.
I’ve been giving some thought to the future of the podcast, how we present ourselves and how we make seven years’ worth of material a bit more accessible. The website, in particular, is overdue a bit of attention. It has served us reasonably well but, like its proprietor, it’s getting a bit creaky around the edges.
So, I’ve been tinkering with plans for a refresh, including a much more useful episode archive, better navigation and the ability to find shows by author, subject and series without having to disappear down a WordPress rabbit hole. Nothing too revolutionary, but hopefully a more welcoming and useful home for the pod, particularly for anyone discovering us for the first time and wondering where on earth to begin.
As for the podcast itself, our intentions remain much as I outlined in July. We’ve still got an awful lot of Moorcock to cover, not least those remaining Elric stories and his 1970s output, which we’ve only just started to scratch at, and there are plenty of other writers, books and curiosities that deserve a bit of our attention. As ever, I’m also happy to follow my nose into the stranger and sometimes less reputable corners of popular fiction.
Which brings me to something I’ve been thinking about quite a bit recently.
We’ve recently recorded a show about Guy N. Smith’s Bamboo Guerillas, and I think it’s fair to say it left me and my co-hosts with rather more to chew over than we expected.
Those of you who’ve been following us for a while will know that I have a considerable affection for the more lurid end of British popular fiction, particularly the paperback boom of the 1960s, 70s and 80s. But affection doesn’t necessarily imply approval, and revisiting some of these books with contemporary eyes can be a complicated business, and Bamboo Guerillas is a case in point. I also find myself increasingly conscious of the responsibility involved in discussing them, particularly when the subject matter is as unpleasant as it is with that particular book.
Graham, our No 1 Guy N. Smith enthusiast, couldn’t make the recording, so it was Phil, Miles and me wrestling with all of this. Part of that involved us reflecting, post-recording, and examining our own responses and assumptions. It’s one thing to enjoy the outrageous excesses of vintage pulp fiction, but quite another to consider what certain aspects of it say about the world in which we grew up, and the extent to which some of those attitudes have persisted. Particularly when it comes to violence against women, where I’m not convinced we’ve progressed anything like as far as we’d like to think. In fact, we appear to be regressing as a society. There’s more than enough evidence of that in the news at the moment, so no need to labour it here.
Breakfast in the Ruins is a form of entertainment (I hope), not an exercise in moral philosophy, even if we might touch on some of this stuff from time to time.
We did Gor after all.
Anyway, more on that when the episode emerges, although (after consulting my co-hosts) I’m leaning towards releasing it as a Patron Exclusive. Fortunately, the immediate itinerary offers some welcome opportunities to exchange uncomfortable social commentary for more traditional horrors. Although, knowing us, we’ll probably manage to find something deeply troubling in those too.
We’re kicking things off with a return to the mighty Robert E. Howard and two of his more interesting tales, The Valley of the Worm and The Gods of Bal-Sagoth. Joining me for this one is returning guest Andy Darby, whose latest book, Sword Songs, is now out in the wild.
After that we’re heading into rather different territory with Freeze Tag by Caroline B. Cooney, a slice of 1990s teen horror from the enormously successful Point Horror range. This one was recommended by our mate Gemma, a longstanding enthusiast for the series, who’s joining us to explore the phenomenon and revisit a book from her youth.
And finally, it’s back to the sewers where Graham and Phil return for another encounter with the hideous, voracious and thoroughly objectionable creations of Shaun Hutson.
Yes, we’re revisiting the world of Slugs with its sequel, Breeding Ground, a suitably disgusting way to round out our Halloween offerings.
Before I wrap up, I want to give a shout-out to friend of the show Jonathan Sharp, whose musical alter ego, The Heartwood Institute, has been producing superior atmospheric electronica for more than a decade. The latest full-length album, Plague Dogs, is inspired by the 1977 Richard Adams novel of the same name.
Those of you with a taste for the more melancholy and unsettling corners of British speculative fiction should find plenty to enjoy therein. I’ve had it on all afternoon. Better still, proceeds are supporting Animal Rescue Cumbria, which seems particularly fitting given the source material.
Beyond all that, there are more recordings planned, more Moorcock to tackle, and an ever-growing stack of books threatening the structural integrity of Derry & Toms. Seven years in, I still get a tremendous amount of pleasure from all of this. Particularly the conversations, the friendships and the unexpected directions in which a simple discussion of an old paperback can take us. And, sometimes, discovering that a book we thought we’d enjoy leaves us wondering what the bloody hell we’ve just read. More of that to come in November with a most baffling read.
Long may that continue.
So thanks again for coming along for the ride, whether you’ve been with us since those first tentative steps into the multiverse in 2019 or only discovered us last week. Do keep the recommendations, comments and correspondence coming.
Right. That’s enough navel-gazing for one afternoon. Take care out there, and I’ll see you on the Moonbeam Roads.
