Pegwell Bay by Russell Thompson – after A.L. Kennedy’s On Paper

Posted on May 16, 2012 by Russell

(Both HIM and HER have files of information about their next targets. Between reading these they read and write their letters. The words they sing are a ‘correspondence’ not necessarily happening in real time. The settings could be train station for HER and hotel room for HIM. But equally, the settings could change in a moment.)

 

HIM                                                 BOTH                                           HER

 

I took a train to Brighton

I almost went to Hove

I cannot say more now

We both should watch our words

I don’t intend to frighten

I’m stuck in Arnos Grove

I’m keeping sane but God only knows how

I’ll call you later if time will allow

I had a message from the top

Yes, I’ve had one of those

They think I’m losing grip

It’s not for fragile minds

I found him on the rooftop

No details, don’t disclose

I killed a man on deck a yellow ship

You have to turn your heart off – that’s my tip

They say I’m a bright star

Burning up to pieces

Shining in the dark

I used to be a child

Don’t start all of that

I once lived on the Norfolk coast

Just ask them for a break

And when the air was mild

Right now, though, I can’t chat

The beach was where I liked to be the most

Each day I get a letter from a ghost

If only we could meet

I’ve got some time in May

I have another job

Me too, in Aberdeen

I’ll sweep you off your feet

Yes, so you always say

I wake at night – the sound is like a sob

I once dreamed I was hunted by a mob

Just to make a connection

Just to somehow feel human

I always aimed for perfection

But this is far away

I have a train at five

I’m staying in my room

Tomorrow is the job

So many hours to kill

My hotel is a dive

The smell of cheap perfume

When staying by the sea I come alive

Write to me again when you arrive

It’s like the other places

I know just what you mean

I tell them I’m a salesman

The letter paper’s good

At night I see blurred faces

But my conscience is clean

I’m living every day from suitcases

I’d swap the lonely nights for embraces

Collecting bundles of letters

Re-reading them when I’m low

Tomorrow I could leave this life

But where on earth would I go?

They sent me to a place

I know we’ve hardly met

The name is Pegwell Bay

But you’ve not been yourself

It’s not a normal case

We take what work we get

It’s not a town where I can hide my face

We do our work then leave without a trace

It’s here that I was born,

We know this cannot work

It’s here I used to dream

But still I wish I knew you

It’s here my heart was torn

Together in the murk

I see the child I was and start to mourn

The lonliness we have must be our thorn

Collecting bundles of cities

On we go, on and on

Just one more year of the business

One more year and I’m gone

We are truly alone

There was blood and sand

We are truly alone

END

 

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Pierre et Jean by Guy de Maupassant

Posted on May 14, 2012 by Russell

While the French Impressionists were changing the face of art at the end of the nineteenth century, Guy de Maupassant was contributing the same in literature. One of Van Gogh’s favourite writers, he made an impact with his honest short stories and novels of French life.

Pierre et Jean is the story of two grown up brothers who live in Le Havre. Pierre has studied medicine and Jean law. They are naturally competitive with one another, and each has his own hopes and dreams. Then, unexpectedly, a family friend dies and leaves all he has to Jean, the youngest son. From then on, the story really belongs to Pierre. We are privy to his thoughts, feelings, and suspicions as he is excluded from the excitement and celebration in his family.

The story is a simple one, but it is told with exciting precision. De Maupassant has a gift for choosing the right words in his descriptions, never wasting a sentence. He gives the reader a taste of the busy port at Le Havre. He also gets inside the mind of Pierre, bringing a psychological edge to the book’s naturalism.

In some ways the story is like watching a train crash in slow motion. From the beginning we know the problems between these characters. All the tensions and resentments are there, and they can only get a lot worse.

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Review: The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes

Posted on April 23, 2012 by Russell

There’s a trend each year, which comes a few months after the Man Booker Prize has been won. The paperback version of the winning novel is published and suddenly everyone is reading the it – for many, it’s a rare detour into so-called ‘literary’ fiction. Whatever the prize’s merits, at least it gets headlines and makes people read.

Tony Webster remembers his school days, and three close friendships in particular. One friend, Adrian, was always an enigma to him. Years later, Tony looks back and tries to make sense not just of Adrian, but of an ex-girlfriend who was involved with both men. Then Tony receives a lawyer’s letter, which will force him to re-assess the past.

I was so underwhelmed by the first twenty pages of this book that I wondered whether I would get anywhere near the ending, let alone get a sense of it. It turns me off when there are passages reflecting on philosophical issues, which seem too separate from the movement of the story. However, this little story gains momentum.

I’m never one to underestimate an author, and I assume Barnes planned the story this way. At the start there is little to appeal to our curiosity. The real intriguing part – the lawyer’s letter, which sparks this whole thing – comes relatively late. But this book, if not a masterpiece, is the kind that lingers in the memory.

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Lost

Posted on April 13, 2012 by Russell

In 2002, two C.S. Forester fans bought a collection of his papers from an auction at Sotheby’s, London. They paid £1500, and it soon became apparent they had scooped a bargain. Amongst the papers of the author most famous for the Hornblower books was an unpublished novel, which was thought lost. It was written in 1935 and went missing after Forester’s publisher was sold.

Robert Louis Stevenson’s first draft of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde was burnt on the advice of his wife. T.E. Lawrence’s manuscript of The Seven Pillars of Wisdom was left in the back of a taxi and had to be completely rewritten. Conan Doyle’s first novel The Narrative of John Smith was lost in the post. He re-wrote it from memory and it has only recently been published. In August 2004 Louis de Bernières’ laptop was stolen from his garden shed. It contained the first fifty pages of his novel A Partisan’s Daughter. He offered a £500 reward, but ended up having to rewrite the beginning of the book.

The history of lost works is long, and a catalogue of missing masterpieces would include an abundance of works from the Classical world. This is simply a picture of time continuing inexorably and leaving pieces of literature behind, and this will always happen. But recent examples of lost works are more interesting because time cannot be held responsible. Carelessness or scandal or fire are involved.

The intrigue of a lost book is strengthened by our own imaginations. We begin to imagine the book might be a masterpiece. In a sense it does a book’s reputation a lot of good to be lost. As soon as it’s found and read, we see how ordinary it is; we critique it in the standard ways, pointing out its flaws and deficiencies. When an unpublished or lost manuscript is unearthed, we should know that it’s likely to be unremarkable. But something inside us says, ‘Maybe…’

The romance of the lost masterpiece will continue. For one thing, it’s good business for publishers. Similar to the issue of incomplete books, which I wrote about here, it creates a safe opportunity to produce a bestseller. In the case of the missing Forester book, The Pursued, it has been published alongside some of his other early thrillers. The book’s discovery made the newspapers, and, like the Conan Doyle book, it received a lot of free publicity.

The importance of these lost books will always hang on one question: Are they any good? In other words, do they have worth apart from the novelty of being ‘new’? Another question we could ask of books from living authors like de Bernières is – which version was best? The first, lost version, or the rewritten, published one? There’s no answer. And so the romance of the lost book will continue, and as readers we will keep asking, ‘What if?…’

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Review: The Cat Inside by William S Burroughs

Posted on April 2, 2012 by Russell

For those of us who know Burroughs for his controversial, drug-filled novels such as Junky and Naked Lunch, this curious little book comes as a surprise. Far from being filled with drugs, it’s instead filled with cats. It’s a record of Burroughs’ encounters with cats, dreams about cats, and second-hand anecdotes about cats. Yes, cats.

Each page is sparsely filled with a stand-alone, short accounts. There’s the dream about him taking his cat Ruski to the fair, losing him, then wishing he’d never brought him. Then there’s the story of a cat getting stuck up a tree, and someone having to get a ladder to get him down. These little snapshots seem to go nowhere, and often say nothing. Occasionally there are stranger, more ambiguous passages.

Who will like this book? Cat lovers might, but surely only weird ones (insert joke here). Fans of Burroughs might, but it’s largely out of step with his other books. I thought I would be cynical about it, but it’s so unusual, so beguiling, that it left me baffled. On one level, I strongly disliked it. On another I admired its audacity. Such an utterly absurd book is too easy to criticise, so I’m going to surprise myself and call it almost wonderful.

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Writing From the Grave

Posted on March 30, 2012 by Russell

The science fiction and comedy writer Douglas Adams died in 2001. He has just released a new book.

The book in question is a novelisation of a Doctor Who script he wrote in the 1970s. The writer Gareth Roberts has been brought in to turn the script into a novel. But it’s the name of Douglas Adams – and that of Doctor Who – which will sell this book. It raises the question: is this about telling an exciting story, or is it an idea a publisher had while scanning the latest balance sheets?

This scenario is far from unique, and the same question could be asked in every case. In 1998, the crime writer Dorothy L Sayers entered the bestseller chart with her first ‘new’ book since her death in 1957. Thrones, Dominions was based on Sayers’ remaining papers and notes, made into a full novel by Jill Paton Walsh. It received high praise, including from P.D. James, a lifelong Sayers fan, who said the narrative was “virtually seamless” in its imitation of the original writer’s style.

Years after Jules Verne’s death, it emerged that his son Michel had considerably revised some of his stories. Some had been revised to such an extent that it seemed Michel was being cynical. The idea of finishing a work in secret, with a touch of deception, is a million miles from the trend in modern publishing. A happier example of posthumous father-and-son collaboration is the work Christopher Tolkien has done on his father’s books.

There are some books which have been published unfinished, never to be given a final or complete ending. The most famous of all is The Mystery of Edwin Drood. Switching genres, we can find Hergé’s final Tintin book Tintin and Alph-Art. But who except the original creators could finish these? And as time goes by, opportunities are lost. If Wilkie Collins had been in good health, perhaps he could have offered an ending for Drood? Perhaps Hergé’s friend and contemporary Edgar P. Jacobs could have finished the final Tintin book? As time passes, it seems less likely that anyone could convincingly – or definitively – finish these books.

The commercial side of the matter is irresistible. Imagine the money that could be made if someone discovered a new book by Stig Larsson. Have no doubt – the publishing world is a desperately competitive one. There are publishers who would kill to have the next Millennium trilogy, or the next Hunger Games. And furthermore, big names with big fan bases sell books.

So back to the question. Is this a money-making idea from publishers? Or a treat for fans? There will be a different answer for each new book. Perhaps it’s both. But there is undoubtedly a lesson here for authors. If you don’t want someone messing with your work after you die, don’t leave anything unfinished. Easier said than done. But you have been warned.

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Review: Over to You by Roald Dahl

Posted on March 19, 2012 by Russell

After Roald Dahl left the Royal Air Force, he turned to writing fiction. His first published works were a novel, now long out of print and forgotten, and this collection of short stories. It appeared in 1948, and the subject matter of the stories is the war which must have still been fresh in the young author’s mind.

Dahl’s short stories are often grotesque, and the atmosphere of his tales menacing. However, this book is different. While it contains traces of the writer Dahl would become, it also contains a sensitivity and compassion which dissipated in his later adult fiction. Judged purely as a book inspired by the Second World War, and forgetting Dahl as the children’s literary giant he later became, Over to You is full of insight, loss, and reflection.

There is the sadness of ‘Yesterday was Beautiful’, and the unsettling ‘Beware of the Dog’. Many of the stories are surprising, and give little hint that Dahl is their author. If you want an insight into life as a fighter pilot, or into Dahl before he became the famous children’s writer, this beguiling collection is highly recommended.

If you wish to read this book, I strongly recommend you buy Dahl’s complete short stories, which for a few pounds more will give you all his short adult fiction.

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Review: Theatre by Somerset Maugham

Posted on March 5, 2012 by Russell

The theatre was a setting Maugham knew well. He was one of the most successful playwrights of the beginning of last century. It wasn’t uncommon for him to have several plays running at once in the West End and Broadway. With his sharp wit, he uses this novel to celebrate the excitement and lampoon the absurdity of life on the stage.

Julia Lambert is a famous actress, married to a successful actor-producer, and conscious that she is getting older. When a young man shows her attention she is amused and embarks on an affair for which, deep down, she knows there will be consequences. There are wonderful details about the callous nature of making art – how the artist cold-heartedly draws from life for the sake of recreating it right. For example, in the midst of arguments and important personal encounters Julia pays attention to her own gestures and intonations in case she could use them for a future role. Her husband does the same.

At its heart, this novel is the study of a character – Julia Lambert – and her all complexities, contradictions, and vanities. It’s about age, art, confusion, and the theatre. Maugham is always readable, and can describe characters, settings, and emotions with such precision that he’s a joy to read.

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The Literary Swiss Army Knife

Posted on February 24, 2012 by Russell

In May, Michael Frayn will publish a novel called Skios. It’s a comedy – a tale of love, confusion, and mistaken identity on the Greek island of Skios. Frayn is one of those writers who can turn his hand to almost any medium. He has been just as acclaimed as a playwright and journalist as he had as a novelist. He has gone from Fleet Street through the West End, to a Booker prize nomination.

This level of success in different mediums is rare. Usually writers stick to their own area. Playwrights Tom Stoppard and Ronald Harwood both started out writing novels, but quickly ditched the idea when success in the theatre came. Sue Townsend, author of the Adrian Mole novels, started in the theatre before her novels became popular and she focused her attention on them.

A career in the creative industries involves a lot of uncertainty. Some people get somewhere and make a living from their work, others don’t. Writers need to adapt to the opportunities that are out there. P.G. Wodehouse kicked off his career writing short stories for numerous publications. That’s no longer an option for an aspiring writer – there is now only a tiny market for short stories. Writers need to take the opportunities that come.

For the budding writer, it’s a great strength to have the skill to move between mediums. It increases your chances of success. If you can tell stories on the stage, the page, and the screen – and understand the requirements of each medium – you’re at an advantage.

There are curious examples from the past. A.A. Milne, well known for his Winne-the-pooh stories, also adapted The Wind in the Willows for the stage, and wrote a crime novel, The Red House Mystery, which is now seen as a minor classic of its time. Other writers have less prosperity in mediums which aren’t their first. Dickens was also a playwright, but you’ll struggle to find them published – let alone performed – nowadays. They are eclipsed by his reputation as a novelist.

Seeing the relative failure of other writers’ attempts to cross mediums makes Frayn’s achievements more impressive. He hasn’t just written plays, he’s won major awards – and the same for his novels and journalism. It’s a curious skill to switch mediums, but in some cases it’s come from necessity. Writers should develop all the skill and technique they can – you never know what opportunities might come.

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Leonard’s Rules

Posted on February 17, 2012 by Russell

Writing is all about communication. Good writing has clarity and a beautiful simplicity. The bad writer shoots himself in the foot with his own syntax; he unintentionally misleads the reader with poor phrasing, and causes amusement with a badly chosen adverb or inappropriate adjective.

When a car runs smoothly you don’t even think about the engine, only the journey. When it clunks and scrapes and whirrs and emits smoke, you think only about the engine. Good writers are like quiet engines.

Elmore Leonard, the great American crime writer, has given ten rules for writing fiction. They emphasize simplicity and could help a lot of writers improve their style. Personally I like the rules. The cynic might say, ‘Fine, but I’d rather not write like Elmore Leonard, thank you.’

Have a read of the rules yourself and see which you agree with. Meanwhile, instead of simply listing them, I’ve written an example. I’ve taken the opening paragraph of Theatre by Somerset Maugham, and ruined it. Maugham uses language with economy and precision. He gives you detail where you need it, and none where you don’t. I’ve re-written a passage of his and broken as many rules as I can. Below is the original, followed by the re-write.

Original:

The door opened and Michael Gosselyn looked up. Julia came in.

Over-written re-write:

The wonderful sunshine was boldly coming through the windows. The high, dark wood door opened bombastically, and Michael Gosselyn looked up with surprise. Julia marched in confidently.

No matter what some writers would like to think, writing is not about the author but the subject matter. The novelist should focus on the story and stay well out of the way. One of the greatest tricks a writer can pull off is invisibility. And writing in a style which is simple and clear is not a simple thing to achieve.

 

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