The System knows everything... except this.

Coming 2nd November.

GNOMON is nearly here

And this is the jacket photo. The whole vibe is supposed to say: Okay, this is me, and...


Near-future Britain is not just a nation under surveillance but one built on it: a radical experiment in personal transparency and ambient direct democracy. Every action is seen, every word is recorded.

Diana Hunter is a refusenik, a has-been cult novelist who lives in a house with its own Faraday cage: no electronic signals can enter or leave. She runs a lending library and conducts business...


Lester Ferris, sergeant of the British Army, is a good man in need of a rest. He’s spent a lot of his life being shot at, and Afghanistan was the last stop on his road to exhaustion. He has no family, he’s nearly forty and burned out and about to be retired.

The island of Mancreu is the ideal place for Lester to serve out his...


All Joe Spork wants to do is live quietly. He repairs clockwork and lives above his shop in a wet, unknown bit of London. The bills don’t always get paid and he’s single and in his mid thirties and he has no prospects of improving his lot, but at least he’s not trying to compete with the reputation of Mathew “Tommy Gun” Spork, his infamous...

About Me

I love stories.

I love stories told between stops on the bus, and stories that require a thousand pages of onion skin paper. I like stories that are acted, sung, spoken aloud or printed. I like the stories in videogames, paintings, TV, movies and music. I’m a story junkie, or some kind of story grazing animal which follows an endless migration through the world looking for new things and old things to take in and digest.

(That gives me an idea. Hang on… … Ok.)

I blame my parents, basically. They’re the same. My whole life, as a kid, was bounded and informed by stories. We told stories as a way of answering the question “how was your day?” When my brothers came home from university or when friends came to visit, we traded stories. When I had bad dreams, my dad would draw them and kidnap them so that the monsters became my friends and by the next night I’d be happy to see them again, and they’d stand guard over me while I slept.

I think stories are an expression of the identity of the teller, a crazed cross-section, however compressed, of who that person is and what it means to be them. I think when you read, that compression unfurls inside you and shows you the thing we otherwise don’t get to see, the interior world of someone else.

Plus: adventures. I love those, too.

My personal adventure started in the early seventies in a place down in Cornwall so remote that the next house to the southwest is in America. I went to sleep each night hearing the wind tear in off the sea, and I still feel content and safe when a gale blows up and whistles around the corner of my home in London.

I’ve won a couple of prizes recently, which confuses and delights me. I’ve never been the guy who wins before. I’ve always been the solid second (though people tell me it was more like the sold seventeenth).

I’m married, and I’m a dad. You want to talk about adventures, that one’s the best, and the most extreme. New life! Wow.

This is my website. You can find my books here, and some media about me. The main page will always show you my most recent posts on Twitter and elsewhere. Please come and say “hello” if you want to.

Drop me a line

Drop me a line! Forgive me if the response is not immediate - I tend to get rather behind. If something requires my rapid attention, please tweet me or get in touch through my agent, Patrick.

Cheers, NH





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