"Shinsengumi", by the marvellously monikered Romulus Hillsborough, tells the true story of the ruthless group of two-sworded killers assembled by the Tokugawa Shogunate to stave off rebellion against its rule. It is not perhaps the best starting point for a history of 1860s Japan, but for those already familiar with the basics of that period this is an extremely well-researched addition to the English language record, if not always the smoothest of reads.

By late 1862, nine years after the enforced re-opening of Japan to the outside world by Western military power, two and a half centuries of Tokugawa rule were in serious danger of coming to an end due to the Shogunate's inability to resist this foreign interference. Like many a regime before and after, the selected response to internal threat was of extreme violence, in this case through a hand-picked group of obsessively loyal, murderous samurai. The result was a five-year reign of terror on the streets of Kyoto, the Imperial capital, during which many of the Shogunate's enemies were slain. Whether this bloodshed slightly accelerated or slightly delayed the demise of Tokugawa rule, which came in 1868 despite the Shinsengumi's best efforts, is a moot point.

Mr Hillsborough's scholarship is impressive. His Japanese language ability allows him to draw on a wide range of original source materials, many of which are referenced for the first time in an English language history, while his feel for the period is sure throughout this book's two hundred or so pages. The shortcomings lie not in the research but in the writing. The subject matter is unavoidably complicated, but not every effort is made to simplify where possible. The more flowery, introductory passages to each chapter are I think a stylistic error, tending to be overblown and frequently relying on Orientalist references to the fickle "Sun Goddess" of fate. Profiles of the main Shinsengumi figures are dumped on the reader in one deluge, rather than sprinkled through the book where appropriate for ease of absorption. In some places unnecessary reference is made to the year using both the Christian and the Japanese Imperial calendars, while in others only the month is given when from the non-linear narrative it is not clear which year is being discussed. For these reasons and others there are times when the reader is confused or distracted and the flow of the story is lost.

So don't read this if you are new to the history of Japan at this time, nor if you want to be carried along by a rollercoaster of a historical narrative. Do read if you want to delve deeper into the historical detail and learn about one of the last bloody throws of the dice by the Tokugawa Shogunate.

One of the interesting parts of the self-publishing experience has been seeing how friends and acquaintances have reacted to the news that I have written a novel. It’s been a great pleasure to see the overwhelmingly positive response, both before and after they read the book. Naturally all first-time authors are concerned how their friends and family will react. Most of all we hope they will buy and read the bloody thing. Next, we hope they will like it. Beyond that the ideal is for the friend-as-reader to enjoy the book to such an extent that they become a cheerleader. Many thanks to those who have done all or part of that.

An unexpected lesson has been that there is little if any correlation between the intimacy of the friendship and the propensity to purchase my novel. I have been pleasantly surprised by those whose links to me are not such as to confer any expectation, but who have been excited by the news and spent their own hard-earned money on my scribblings. Nobody is under obligation of course, but it is odd the contrast with a few people I know much better who have shown limited interest and not bought “Milligan and the Samurai Rebels”. “[So-and-so] bought my book and she doesn’t even like me!” you feel like saying.

The willingness to pick up the metaphorical pom-poms also seems weakly connected to the degree of connection with the author. I have been touched by the promotional efforts made by close and less close friends, and in some cases by those who I am only linked to through my Facebook author profile and have never met. Just this last week a work contact with whom I am friendly but only see a handful of times a year was singing the praises of my novel to other colleagues and saying “I don’t understand why you haven’t bought it!” on more than occasion to the group. I think the answer lies in one of the responses to this colleague: “I don’t really get the time to read these days”. My best guess is that it is not the degree of friendship that is crucial but the extent to which the person in question is a reader of novels in general. Someone who has little interest in reading fiction is unlikely to break the non-habit of a lifetime on my account.

Let's talk about you and me. Let's talk about all the bad sex writing there may be. It's that time of year again when the Bad Sex awards honour (sic) the worst writing about you-know-what of the preceding twelve months. Winner Nancy Huston seems to be critically well regarded in general, which illustrates a point often revealed by these awards - writing about sex can be disastrous even for otherwise excellent authors. Indeed, John Updike, Sebastian Faulks and Norman Mailer are all previous winners.