A rare occasion. No, not the book launch attendance. And no, not the gate-crashing of the post-launch drinks affair with the posse of Burgers and Tweeps (although, technically, if you ask the author “can I crash the post-launch drinks?” it doesn’t count as gate-crashing).

The rareness came from actually going to a  book launch for an author whose books I’ve read. And whose blogs, tweets, and high-brow journalism articles I’ve read. And you know, whose writing has had such an impact on my own worldview and writer-like aspirations.

Mr. Birmingham knows how to talk. But more importantly, he holds his own. I mistook the stool that held the microphone for an interviewer’s seat, and so was surprised when he pulled the chair over and sat down alone, and told us about the writing process for his Axis of Time trilogy, as well as After America and its preceding book Without Warning. And when he peppered this talk with advice for baby writers (although if you read Mr Birmingham’s blogs, he’ll always take an opportunity to share wisdom with the baby writers). He’s also good at answering questions. The first question of the  night came from a young gentlemen who, with an accusatory tone, asked Mr. Birmingham what made him go from blogs (and yes, Felafel was a blog of sorts), to “trashy airport novels”, and the response was dignified, and even a little defensive of the doomed first-question-asker, who had elicited outbursts of disapproval from the devoted crowd. The question reeked of wank. Not because he used the word ‘trashy’, but because of the tone behind the question. And I have low tolerance for irritating questions at author events.

And after learning that scathing literary reviewers of Mr. Birmingham’s books apparently go onto a list, and are ruthlessly murdered in the next part of the series, I’m actually tempted to read After America and post a meanypoo bitter review of it. Just to see what happens. Not that I consider my reviews here to be that high on anyone’s radar, but it’s a worthy aspiration, right?

He’s a proud father, and didn’t miss an opportunity, given the arse-kicking aspect of his fiction books, to boast a little about his daughter’s mean ju jitsu skills. I don’t know her name, but as a result of his anecdote, have come to think of her as Yoshimi (a la the Flaming Lips song, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots).

The next part of this write-up refers to something that is not so much a rare, but rather a common occurrence. I have essentially no  money to my name. And as such, I lined up, like a douchebag, to say “hello, I have nothing for you to sign”. This being a book launch and all, the writer was able to relate to my situation all too well, and despite being stocked up on the free wine, I was shouted a couple of drinks at the post-launch do. I promise you, reader, that these free drinks had no bearing on this post, apart from the obvious alcoholic residue that I like to occasionally use to polish my book launch posts.

So if some poor sod ever decides to pay me for a piece of writing, that pay cheque is going to go first and foremost towards paying back Mr. Birmingham.

Oh and I have one complaint of the evening. The toddler-sized stools that they expected us to sit on over at Ariel. I stood during the event because I knew that to be seated would tempt the gods of breaking chairs, and  my red face wouldn’t just be a result of too much wine.