Mike French is an author and the owner and senior editor of the prestigious literary magazine, The View From Here which has been called many fine things since it started in 2007 including, "Attractive, informative, sparkling and useful" by the late Iain M. Banks and for having a “great passion and drive” by Booker shortlisted Tom McCarthy.

Mike’s debut novel, The Ascent of Isaac Steward came out in 2011 with Cauliay Publishing and was nominated for The Galaxy National Book Awards which due to an unfortunate clerical error was awarded to Dawn French.

Born in Cornwall in 1967, Mike spent his childhood flipping between England and Scotland with a few years in between in Singapore. Splitting his time between his own writing, editing the magazine, running workshops and working with atp media in Luton, Mike is married with three children and a growing number of pets. He currently lives in Luton in the UK and when not working watches Formula 1, eats Ben & Jerry's Phish Food and listens to Noah and the Whale.

Mike's second novel a dsytopian sci-fi called Blue Friday was released in 2012 by Elsewhen Press and was nominated for the Arthur C. Clarke award 2013. Convergence, his third book, was released in October 2013 from Elsewhen Press and was also nominated for the Arthur C. Clarke award 2014. 

waterstones and The Fridge

This saturday I will be at waterstones in Milton Keynes signing my novel The Ascent of Isaac Steward

A few years ago I wrote this short piece of fiction about my dreams to see my novel in waterstones - back then I'd kind of given up any hope.

I walk towards the white door. Around its edges light bleeds into the darkness. All is silent apart from the hum of the fridge. I open the door. Like water from a burst dam the light escapes and floods the twilight edges of the kitchen.

Cold air fills my nostrils as I look inside.

Reaching in, I pick up a bottle of milk. I need to quench my thirst. Put out the fire at the back of my throat. I try to slot into order the sequence of events: the book deal that appeared and then winked away like a dying star, the white gloves and the brick through Waterstone’s window; my novel lying in the shop front in a bed of glass.

My head hurts. The characters in my mind are arguing. Damn them for waking me, demanding centre stage. Their chatter grows in volume as they follow stories across ice reflecting my inner voice. They find their rhythm and produce a hum that accompanies the fridge motor.


Wiping the milk from my lips, I tilt my head sideways and hold my ear over the lip of the glass bottle. With my free hand I strike the side of my head facing the yellow stained ceiling. They resist at first, but as I increase the fever of my attack the voices let go and fall through the light.

I watch my creations sink into the milk. I had loved them. Shared such intimacy with them and yet. Yet here they are severed from me drowning in three-day-old milk.

I replace the milk bottle and shut the fridge door. Darkness returns. The nine to five beckons and I head up the stairs. On the banister my white gloves lie folded.

I will never write again. It is over.

Below me in the kitchen, my fridge hums.


It's a strange, wonderful world ....

waterstones, Milton Keynes
Sat 3rd September 2011
10AM onwards
Unit 72
,Midsummer Place,Milton Keynes MK9 3GA, UK

For the facebook Event for Saturday click here