About the Author

Paul has made the bold—and, in his opinion, underappreciated—life choice of remaining firmly rooted in the heart of Geordie culture in north-east England, a decision he stands by even if no one else seems to appreciate its genius. His household is a model of efficient minimalism: a wife, two cats of questionable loyalty, and a fluctuating number of errant daughters—known operationally as Thing#1 and Thing#2—who may or may not be in attendance depending on their own undisclosed schedules of peripatetic wandering.

The Wound at the End of the World is his debut novel, several of its pivotal scenes having spent over four decades rattling around loosely in his head—a fact he finds both impressive and slightly alarming. Given the statistical likelihood of a sequel, he estimates a release window of approximately 2066, by which time he’ll be 104, the cats will almost certainly be genetically identical clones of their originals, and his publisher—if such an entity still exists—should probably start planning now.