CityLife

Rise of the saga louts

HE has written about drugs, sex and compulsive promiscuity, and is feted and castigated for his unflinchingly real portrayals of teenage life.

But his latest novel, Bloodsong, delves into a fantasy world, albeit it one which, skewed Burgess-style, sees the Icelandic Volsunga sagas reset in a devastated futuristic London.

Born in Sussex, now based in Manchester, Burgess's enthusiasm for Norse myths stems from the books his father would bring home from his publishing job. "I remember one called Tales Of The Norse Gods And Heroes which included the tale of Sigurd," says Burgess. "It's a cracking story."

It is, indeed. Award-winning Bloodtide, published in 1999, introduced the Volsons, one of two rival families destined to rule if they can survive annihilation by their enemies. Bloodsong continues the saga with Sigurd, the last of the Volson line, who becomes a god, fated to unite the people, but at a hefty cost.

Not only are they breathtaking stories, masterfully told, they also revitalise myths lesser known but more relevant to us than those of the Greek and Romans. "As you get older you realise that they're our native hero myths. The Greeks had Hercules and we had Sigurd."

In Burgess's hands, fantasy is far from fanciful. He's updated the legends with relish, creating a world thick with invention and contemporary resonance in which dragons are power-hungry men modified by viruses and Vikings are inner city gangs.

The protagonists, teenagers driven by destiny, are complex and sympathetic, experiencing sex and power for the first time just like normal teens.

"The way I approach fantasy, characters do change, they are real," Burgess explains. "I imagine what it would be like if this were really happening."

This habit of pursuing what's real, rather than what's acceptable, has seen Burgess regularly hoisted into the headlines, the word "controversial" dogging (and possibly helping) his career. "It's really all just to satisfy a few self-proclaimed moral guardians who wield too much power," he argues.

Press

"Often, I feel, because it makes a good story in the Press.

"They always manage to drag up some barking mad old bag, who seriously thinks teenagers don't know about this stuff. And that's quite an extremist view nowadays."

With violent titles, bloody dust jackets and quotable passages of carnage and gore, you might think this series would be inciting headlines, too, but no. "Some schools and libraries had concerns about Bloodtide but it never made the Press. They like kicking up a fuss about drugs and sex, but violence is unattractive, and nobody makes a fuss about unattractive things."

The novel's gritty approach will enthral teenagers and adults, and parents needn't fret; there's as much moral exploration as there is murder.

And though Bloodsong is arguably more grisly than its predecessor, Burgess points out that he's only doing justice to the source material.

"The dragon pulling open his own ribs comes from a thing the Vikings used to do called the blood eagle. They'd put you face down on the ground, hack your ribs open and pull your lungs out so they were like wings. They were bloodthirsty times."

He's not kidding.

With Bloodsong likely to attract huge critical praise, has he any plans for a third novel?

"Well, the thing about sagas is they go on and on," he laughs. But he admits he is keen to write more adaptations. "To place these stories in a different setting you learn how to put things together. You're learning at the feet of the masters."

And just when you thought he has lost his taste for controversy, it seems he wouldn't mind having a bash at updating another old book. "There are some good stories in the Bible," he suggests innocently, "aren't there?"

Melvin Burgess launches Bloodsong at Deansgate's Waterstone's on Thursday, September 1, from 6pm to 8.30pm. Ring 0161 837 3000 for details. He will sign copies of the book at Borders, Trafford Centre, on Wednesday, September 7, from 6.30pm to 7.30pm.