Hello! You've found the home page of the Climbing Tree Books website.
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We specialise in readable, enjoyable, entertaining, long, short fiction, fact, fantasy - any kind of storytelling that catches our attention and keeps us reading. Some of it we publish; some of it we review; and some of it we just write ourselves and upload to save time. If you're looking for the blog - it's further along on the menu above. [Shouldn't we put in a link? - Ed.] Or you can click this link.
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Climbing Tree Books, UK company number 8061252, operates out of an old, run-down warehouse at the bottom of a narrow cobbled street that doesn’t twist up from the sea to the high street in Falmouth’s Old Town.
This imaginary building, with its narrow corridors, creaking oak floors and high-beamed open spaces, would be the ideal setting for our company’s idiosyncratic combination of antique printing machinery and new-ish technology. Our staff – a dynamic, lively team of self-starting elderly compositors, younger typesetters, very young layout artists, bearded IT gurus, troubled-looking administrator (one) and wild-eyed editorial types in patched jackets – would feel right at home there. But it isn’t like that at all. In keeping with the mission statement, we’re making it all up as we go along. Believe some of what you read here.
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Climbing Tree Books is part of a sinister mind-control experiment run by an un-named UK government agency. It operates from a shabby utility building round the back of a derelict warehouse not far from the waterfront in an industrial complex on the furthest edge of London’s docklands. [What is this nonsense? – Ed.]
If you know the combination to the suspiciously shiny padlock, you push open the metal security door – it took a lot of time and money to get that creak just right – and you’re met by a more-or-less authentic janitor with a mop (poisoned blade concealed in the head) and a bucket (sorry, it’s just a bucket). Get past him, and you go through another door. This one is heavier than the first, and it closes with an ominous click. It took a lot of time and money to get that click just right. You’re in an air-tight lift. Assuming the work-experience guy doesn’t hit the button to suck out the air, and assuming maintenance has fixed that glitch in the lift’s accelerator mechanism, you’ll now descend (at a survivable speed) to the offices of Climbing Tree Books. [Finally! – Ed.] Your weapons will be confiscated (don’t even think about it; the work-experience guy might be an amateur, but the woman beside him is a werewolf), and you’ll be invited to step through the frosted-glass double doors to the waiting area. [Who wrote this? – Ed.] This is a wide gallery overlooking a cavern about the size of an aircraft hangar (big aircraft). There are sofas, chairs, low glass tables and even a visitor’s book. Thick carpet underfoot, big terracotta pots containing not-so-small trees, and even a hanging basket (about the size of a double hammock). The creepers hanging down remind you of snakes. But what really catches your attention is the smoke-stained roof of the cavern far above your head. This space is vast (and smoky). As you walk across the gallery to the railing, you notice that there are flames billowing from fissures in the rock walls of the cavern. Really vast. And hot, too. [Is this somebody’s way of pitching a book? – Ed.] For the first time, it occurs to you to wonder just how far you’ve descended into the earth. Is that molten lava down there, or just some kind of light show? And surely that isn’t – It can’t be – Very, very quietly, you step back from the railing. Holding your breath, you walk very, very carefully, about as quietly as you’ve ever walked, back to the sofas. You sit down on one of them, just on the edge of the cushion, very carefully, and with your eyes closed, you take a pair of (slightly bent) noise-reduction headphones from your satchel and put them on your head. [I thought we just wanted some text for the catalogue? This isn't bad, but what about the books? – Ed.] You hear nothing, and see nothing, as a vast shadow crosses the roof of the cavern and the air fills with the leathery beat of wings. You have already reached forward and picked up one of the books from the table. You have opened the book, and then your eyes, in that order, and now you have focused your whole mind on the page in front of you. Luckily, it’s a Climbing Tree Book, so good that even in this situation, you’re able to forget your surroundings. You’ve heard of the author before, Patricia Finney, and when you turn the book over to read the blurb and the author biog., you know why. [Aha! - Ed.] She’s the author of a lot of books that you’ve enjoyed over the years, and now here she is bringing them all out again, in new editions, with extras, with Climbing Tree Books. They’re available as ebooks too. The book you’re holding is Lucky Woman. It’s the first of Patricia's contemporary novels - not a mystery exactly, but a lot of fun. You close it for a moment – it’s difficult to stop reading, but you manage it – and you pick up another of the books on the table. Patricia again. A Lady of Earth & Sunshine. What would this be about? You flick through – oh! Interesting. You don’t put it down – the book has caught your attention. You lean forward, engrossed. You forget everything but the book and the story it tells. On the table in front of you, out of the corner of your eye, you can see Simon Minchin's Viscera. You want to read that too. But this Lady is so compelling. And then – a hand drops onto your shoulder. You open your eyes to find yourself lying flat on your back on the floor between the sofa and the table. You fainted? Your headphones have fallen off. But the man hasn’t moved – you can’t have been out for too long. You scramble to your feet. “Uh, sorry.” He gives you a faint smile – maybe he’s used to that reaction from visitors. You get your first proper look at him. Now you know what “gaunt” really means. “I thought you might like this,” he says. His voice is surprisingly gentle. You take the book he’s holding out. Escape Mutation: A Journal of the Plague Years by William Essex. Didn't you just live through that? Or is there more to come? Before you can open Escape Mutation, the man offers you another book. Silverback by Simon Minchin. “More where these came from,” he says softly. “I really must go,” you murmur. You need to find somewhere quiet to start reading. You realise that you haven’t actually bought anything yet. The man reaches behind the sofa and produces a large bag. “Would you like to take them all?” he says. “They’re available from good bookshops, or online, or you’re welcome to visit us again.” He hesitates. “If you can find the door twice,” he adds softly. You’re not leaving without these books. They’re so well written. So absorbing. You see the logo on the bag, and wonder for a moment what it means. But that isn’t the important question right now. “How much?” you ask. He tells you. So very affordable, too. Once you’re back in the lift, you put down the bag and open another Climbing Tree Book. This time it's The First-Novelist's Guide to Getting Started by William Essex. You start reading. Luckily, it’s a long journey back up to the real world. [I liked it. Clever way of working in so many of the books. Pity not to get in a mention of Ten Steps to a Bedtime Story, though. - Ed.] |
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