Robert Rankin
Robert Rankin
Robert Fleming Rankinis a prolific British humorous novelist. Born in Parsons Green, London, he started writing in the late 1970s, and first entered the bestsellers lists with Snuff Fiction in 1999, by which time his previous eighteen books had sold around one million copies. His books are a mix of science fiction, fantasy, the occult, urban legends, running gags, metafiction, steampunk and outrageous characters. According to thebiography printed in some Corgi editions of his books, Rankin refers to his style...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth27 July 1949
Too afraid of plagiarising someone, so I stopped reading fiction in 1981.
When you write, you hear the characters speaking to you as you take dictation from what they say. And obviously, they had particular personalities when you hear them.
I always had a problem when I did the audio books myself because they weren't made to have me doing all the voices. And to hear established actors, and you think, 'Wow, that sounds like it's supposed to sound,' is great. They've got the right inflections, which is an enormous skill.
Yes, I have over the years done a lot of the audio books, which are just plain reading.
Only if I am going to die, I should prefer to die as I have lived, drunkenly.
Because I'm a special gatekeeper. I'm the head gatekeeper. Because, although, as you can see, I'm only a head, I'm also the gatekeeper. Which makes me the head gatekeeper. Which makes me very special, don't you agree?
Oh dear,' said Eddie. 'We'd better hurry. Tinto, call me a cab.' All right,' said Tinto. 'You're a cab.
Have you ever head this theory about drinking yourself sober?' Eddie asked. 'It's a very popular theory. Amongst drunks, anyway.
Now, it's a fact well known to those who know it well that prophets of doom only attain popularity when they get the drinks in all around.
Jack, get a grip of yourself.' I have a grip of myself.' Jack took a grip of himself. It was a most intimate grip; not the kind of grip that you usually take of yourself in public.
It was joy, joy, happy joy. Happy, happy joy. A big fat smiley sun rose above the rooftops and beamed down its blessings onto the borough known as Brentford.
Everyone misbehaves,' said Eddie. 'That's nature. Everyone gets away with as much as they can get away with. And the more they can get away with, the more they will.
What is believed to be a fact is only a fact until another fact supersedes it. Science is only a fashion. Nothing more.
I know that if I have been working on one paragraph and I have written it three times, it goes in the bin. Unless it comes straight out, it is wrong, it is awkward, it does not fit.