Atom Bomb Angel

FOREWORD

Welcome to the second novel I ever had published, back in 1982. I was cutting my teeth on my craft then (although I guess I still am!) so please forgive any rough edges and, hopefully, enjoy Atom Bomb Angel for the period piece it now is.

Although it was the second novel I had published, Atom Bomb Angel was actually my fifth novel: there are four that I wrote in my late teens and early twenties that, fortunately, never got published — although the first got me an agent — and these manuscripts will remain for ever in a trunk in the attic.

Through an odd quirk of fate, Terry Pratchett gave me some research help on this novel — or rather didn’t! You will notice if you read the Acknowledgements that one is to the Central Electricity Generating Board: atomic energy and nuclear power stations are key components of the plot of Atom Bomb Angel and in 1981, as part of my research, I made an appointment to visit the Press Officer of the Central Electricity Generating Board, a Mr Terry Pratchett — then a completely unknown fledgling writer himself. As I sat down and explained my story — and that I wanted to have access to a nuclear power station — he said to me, very pragmatically, ‘Well, I cannot possibly give you any help. Look at it from my perspective: if I help you with this book and then when it’s published it frightens people off nuclear power, then the whole industry could go into decline and I could find myself being made redundant.’ And he was not joking! It was a very short meeting. He gave me a CEGB brochure (which I gather he had written) which argued in favour of nuclear power stations by pointing out that, in Victorian times, an average of one person per week died by drowning in a mill-pond, whereas there had been only one than death caused by the entire British nuclear power programme since the opening of Calder Hall in 1956 — the world’s first nuclear power station!

Atom Bomb Angel is a book that had a profound impact on the way I was to research my novels from then on. I needed some short scenes in Namibia but I was short of money, so instead of going out there I gleaned all my information from books (this was before the Internet) and from talking to someone who had worked there. When Atom Bomb Angel was published, I was asked about my experiences in Namibia in one of my first newspaper interviews. With my face bright red, I fibbed and squirmed my way through the interview, mumbling about it being quite hot and a lot of sand, and surprisingly lush in places.

I vowed then and there that never again would I write about anywhere that I had not visited, nor anything that I had not in some way experienced — death excepted! I think that has helped the authenticity of my writing hugely, although it has also led to many moments of terror — perhaps the worst being when I was incarcerated in a coffin with the lid screwed down, for thirty minutes, during my research for my first Roy Grace novel, Dead Simple. And I am very deeply claustrophobic…

Through this novel, I also learned a lot about publicity. One of the most exciting days of my life had been the day, back in 1979, that I got a call from my literary agent telling me that WH Allen, then one of the leading publishing houses, had accepted my first novel — Dead Letter Drop — for publication and wanted to make a two-book deal. It was followed a year-and-a-half later by one of the most disappointing days of my life — publication day for Dead Letter Drop.

Early that morning, I got up and went into Brighton, rushing around looking in each bookshop window in turn, and could see no sign of my book in any of them. Worse, when I went inside and mumbled, ‘Erm, do you have a novel called Dead Letter Drop by the author Peter James?’ none of them had heard of it!

I then found out to my dismay that a mere 1,750 copies had been printed, of which about 1,600 had gone to libraries. WH Smith, God bless them — I will eternally be grateful to them — had been the only bookstore chain to buy it, with a whopping order of thirty copies. Or, to put it more positively, twenty per cent of the entire available print run after the libraries had bought their share! WH Smith had them all in their flagship store in London’s Sloane Square, but nowhere else.

Feeling very downhearted, I picked up a copy of the Bookseller magazine and began browsing through it, looking enviously at the success stories of other authors and at the bestseller lists, showing each of the names listed selling many thousands of hardbacks of their titles. Then I came across an article on independent publicists, and it was a light-bulb moment for me. Yes! Publicity! That’s exactly what I needed!

There was one firm — Pengelly-Mulliken — which got a bigger mention than all the others, so I made an appointment to go and meet with the two bosses, Carole Pengelly and Tony Mulliken. It was to be a fateful meeting. Today Tony Mulliken is one of my closest mates, and his firm — Midas PR — have been my brilliant publicists for many years. But it didn’t start too well.

I explained that there was a lot of controversy in the UK about the siting of new nuclear power stations and, with a clever publicity campaign, we could stir up a lot of interest in the novel. Carole and Tony agreed enthusiastically. Then came the cruncher. How much would it cost, I asked.

‘Well, a full nationwide tour, including Scotland, would be three thousand pounds,’ Tony replied.

I then explained, rather embarrassed, that my entire advance for the book was only two thousand pounds — not a big sum even back then. The two of them left the room, then returned a few minutes later. Tony said, ‘If you could drive yourself — or better, have your wife drive you — then we could do it for two thousand!’

So, the following year, starting on publication day, I began the most intensive UK publicity tour I’ve ever done. The nuclear issue was a hot ticket not just in the UK but around the globe; every VW Beetle and Camper on the planet was stickered-up with the yellow smiling-sun symbol and the words ‘Nuclear Power — nein danke!’

Tony Mulliken and his team had earned their money. I was on the road for three weeks, and in those days you did interviews in every town and city in England, Wales and Scotland, on both BBC radio and the local commercial station, as well as two or even three newspapers, plus television appearances. By the time we had finished I was exhausted, but excitedly and expectantly looking at the Sunday Times bestseller listings. But my name was nowhere to be seen. A few days later I found out why.

My publishers had yet again printed a meagre 1,750 copies. Yet again 1,600 of those had gone to the libraries. At least good old WH Smith had not let me down — they doubled their order to a whopping 60 copies! That left just 90 for the whole of the rest of the UK!

A salutary lesson learned, very early on: behind every successful author there is a publisher with faith in them. It was some years before I was to find that publisher…

There is a standing joke among authors that the rarest thing in the world is an unsigned copy of one of their books. But I guess in the case of those early copies of Atom Bomb Angel the joke is probably true. I hope you find it fun to read.

Peter James

Sussex