Surprising Discoveries in the Early Hours

This story needs a little scene setting. I'm going away for a few days to visit a friend and, naturally, the most important choice I'll make is what books to take with me. I'd already settled on Claire Tomalin's biography of Charles Dickens but I wanted a novel to go along with it. I seem to be drowning in everything but novels at the moment but I was determined nonetheless.

I switched off my computer just before two o'clock in the morning and sat looking at my oldest bookshelf (mostly dusty university books I rarely look at) then I shuffled closer. I wondered if my copy of The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy was behind that scary looking letter from HMRC. It was. Now, although the novel is on my list for the Classic Challenge I'm participating in this year I haven't quite got round to it (probably because it was hidden behind that scary letter). Decision suddenly made, I plucked The Mayor of Casterbridge from the shelf. All clean and unruffled except... Hmm. There was something squeezed in between the last page and the back cover. Very odd for a book I've never read since I bought it five years ago.

A little examination revealed three worn pages of an exercise book with barely legible handwriting on them. My grandfather's handwriting. The odd thing is that he never touched this book and that the notes relate not to The Mayor of Casterbridge but The Return of the Native, which we don't have a copy of. The only logical answer is that I found the notes in another book when I was sorting through his collection and deciding which books I wanted to keep and the only Thomas Hardy novel I had in reach was The Mayor of Casterbridge. I'm just surprised I forgot doing it.

It's strange. In more dismal moments I forget that I have actually got a tradition of academia in my family. While my grandfather didn't climb as far up the ladder as I'm attempting to, he maintained a genuine interest in literature up until the end of his life. That's something that's vital, I think. If you don't have a real passion for your subject then you have no place working for your doctorate in it. Actually, I'd go further than that - if you're not passionate about your subject you have little hope of gaining your doctorate. You need a certain level of enthusiasm to get you over the speed bumps that research constantly throws up.

I've never read The Return of the Native but having taken a look at these notes then I want to. There's a particular paragraph that strikes me which is either borrowed from a critic or is his own:

"Though the descriptions are uncommonly good, the movement is uncommonly slow, the personages are uncommonly uninteresting, the action is uncommonly poor, the conclusion is uncommonly flat."

Is that an accurate description of the novel?! I'll definitely have to read it and find out. Oh, and on the back of one of the pages was this sketch, something that surprised me:

Classic Film Review: The African Queen (1951)

Starring Katharine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart, The African Queen tells the story of a bereaved missionary and a riverboat captain who plan to use their small boat to sink a German warship during WWI. Rose Sayer (Hepburn) is out for a little revenge after her brother was all but murdered by German soldiers as they passed through their village. Although rather prim and proper, she is very determined and concocts a plan that leaves her new companion Charlie Allnut (Bogart) completely astounded. They aim to get to the distant lake where the boat patrols - only white water rapids, a German fort overlooking the river, bugs, crocodiles and thick reeds stand in their way.

I'm not sure I can explain how much I enjoyed this film. Although the opening section with Rosie's brother (Robert Morley) preaching and singing with a group of natives didn't much appeal to me, as soon as Allnut mentioned the war in passing things sped up. After the brother's death, Allnut returns and agrees to take Rosie with him on his boat, despite their differing personalities. This personality clash leads to some amusing moments - particularly when Rosie pours every single bottle of Allnut's gin supply into the river - but they eventually realise they've come to like each other during their adversity. This ramps up the tension as love complicates their plan.

The narrow focus of this film could potentially make it boring. After all, the majority of the action takes place on a very small boat. However, Hepburn and Bogart's combined abilities, along with some wonderfully directed action moments make it as tense as any film I've seen from this era. Rosie's tenacity is unflagging and very believable while Allnut's change of heart is well constructed too. It's a classic tale of opposites attracting while their world collapses around them. It builds to a stunning conclusion which I won't spoil but felt fitted the characters and the film perfectly.

Classic Film Review: The History of Mr Polly (1949)

Starring John Mills as the title character, The History of Mr Polly is an adaptation of a story by HG Wells. Alfred Polly is a somewhat directionless dreamer who we first encounter being sacked from his job for being late (he was busy reading elsewhere). When his father dies he comes into a little money and finds himself marrying a woman he barely knows and starting a shop. Fifteen years later, their marriage is stale and painful so Alfred decides to kill himself. When he can't do that right, he just leaves but as he walks away from one problem he walks straight into another.

This is a very episodic film which flits around a fair bit with various jumps in time. As such, it can be difficult to know anyone but Alfred Polly himself. The supporting cast is huge but each have their own little moments to shine. My personal favourite was Uncle Pentstemon played by Moore Marriott, an Albert Steptoe figure who seems to appear just at funerals and weddings. Sally Ann Howes also marks her mark as Christabel, a schoolgirl who climbs over a wall and makes Alfred fall head over heels in love with her. Unfortunately, she isn't quite as serious as he is.

There are some wonderful little moments in this film and Mills is perfect as Alfred. Nevertheless, the time shifts do make it tricky to warm to, although the scenes where he tries to kill himself are nothing less than hilarious. I enjoyed this one for the comedy and Mills combined together. Watch out for the 'bit of arson', the barge crossing and the nightgown chase.

Book Review: The Afterparty by Leo Benedictus

I was fortunate enough to win a copy of The Afterparty via a giveaway on David Hebblethwaite's book blog. I'd urge you to have a look at his blog and if you're a short story lover you may want to join in with his 'Sunday Story Society' where you read and discuss short stories from various authors - I'm currently trying to find the time to participate! Now on to the review.

A literary agent receives the first few chapters of an intriguing new novel written by William Mendez. It tells the story of a journalist attending the birthday party of a film star. During the evening he also encounters the film star's drug-addicted supermodel wife and an X Factor contender from Leeds who has found himself moving in unbelievable circles. By the end of the night tragedy has occurred and the literary agent is hooked by the manuscript. But the case bears a startling resemblance to a real-life case and Mendez refuses to even meet prospective publishers.

The story is told through the emails between the agent and Mendez and the chapters he sends her. The blur between reality and fiction makes it arguably a post-modern masterpiece, you've got Elton John and Gordon Ramsey at the party for instance. I think my reasons for struggling with it are mostly personal. While the world is described with a satirical bite to it, I am one of the (perhaps few) who doesn't give a damn about celebrity culture. Although the book is intended to be a mockery of the culture, I found that even the satire didn't hold my interest at first. This altered around half way through when the 'crisis' occurred and I read the second half of the book much more quickly than the first.

This is certainly a different kind of novel than I've read before and I'd recommend it on that count alone. However, beware of the decadence and debauchery. Inevitably, the book drowns in them at times.

First Draft Hiatus

I'm a big fan of pushing on with first drafts and I've made that known in the past. However, in March I discussed a problem I was having with my first draft. I needed to change something fundamental but was a little anxious about stopping and rewriting because I thought I'd lose momentum. Well, I did. In May I stopped writing that story and other things took their rightful place at the head of the queue. Little things - PhD work, rewriting another novel following advice from my agent, blogging for 2020UK. I wondered then if forcing myself to stop and go over 'old' ground with the first draft had led to me losing interest in it. In fairness, I'm not sure that was it.

You see, two weeks ago I opened up the document and started writing again. I was on a bit of an unauthorised break (I'd kidded myself I was waiting for feedback to give myself some downtime) and wanted to have a crack at one of the four first drafts I've started and abandoned in the last few years. I chose this one because it's still the one that's closest to my heart, it's still the one I've thought about most in the last few months despite the pressing obligations of others things. And you know what? I got straight back into it. I've written ten chapters, effectively doubling the length of the draft. It's now up to 36,000 words. And now I've stopped again.

There's one main reason why with several parts. I've just gone back into 'extremely busy' mode. I've got feedback from my agent so need to crack on with rewriting the other twenty three chapters of that novel. I've also got a lot of secondary reading for my PhD to get on with along the theme of disability within Victorian fiction. Then, when that reading is out of the way, I have to finish writing the disability chapter with a long and complicated analysis of at least three Victorian novels. All in all, my plate's looking a little full.

My ideas for this first draft haven't dried up as such. But they're not clear cut. I couldn't give you a breakdown of what's going to happen in the next few chapters and, unfortunately, I haven't got the time to spend working it out. I'll just have to do what I did before: get on with everything else and wait for the characters to talk to me. They get bored of waiting for me to come back to them eventually and make themselves known.

I suppose the moral of this post is that you should always try to finish a first draft in one painful gulp. But if you're a bit busy that might not be possible so don't be afraid to let it go. If it's a good story you'll want to come back to it.

Book Review: The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel by Deborah Moggach

I came to this book after watching the recent adaptation starring Judi Dench, Maggie Smith, Bill Nighy, Celia Imrie, Tom Wilkinson and Penelope Wilton (beat that for a cast!). Although the film took a little creative licence with some of the events and characters, the essence of the book was kept and that's the most important bit. The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (originally titled These Foolish Things) tells the story of an eclectic group of pensioners who travel to India to live out their retirement. The idea comes about after Dr Ravi Kapoor searches for a way to get his father-in-law, Norman, out of his way after he's been kicked out of numerous residential homes. Norman's joined by Evelyn (financially in peril due to her son), Douglas and Jean Ainslee (seemingly happily married but there are cracks under the surface), former civil servant Graham, former BBC worker Dorothy, man-hunter Madge and unfortunate Muriel (in search of her son). In addition, we come to know some of their children.

This diverse collection of characters was perhaps the only difficulty I had with the novel. It flits around a lot and I found myself thinking that I didn't much care what was happening to Christopher (Evelyn's son). However, the whole is important because there are two sides to every story. The younger perspectives helped accentuate the generation gap, even bridging it at times.

This book is essentially about how we view and treat our elderly, something perhaps more important today than ever before. Whilst Indians take on familial responsibility, we Britons are happy to be rid of our elderly family members and, more generally, people cease to be useful when they pass a certain age. This novel struck a chord with me because it deals with those issues head on. I think it's best explained in this paragraph from Dorothy's point of view:

"In recent years chronic pain had made her short-tempered. What was happening to the world? Had she missed something? People seemed to have pulled up the drawbridge and retreated into their own solipsistic little lives. Half of them didn't even bother to vote. In a way, Dorothy couldn't blame them. The rot had started with Thatcher; there's no such thing as society, but a worse betrayal was committed by her own party which had mutated into something so repellent that she was tempted to up-sticks altogether and leave the country. Even the BBC, once so familiar, was now unrecognisable. The phrase 'market forces' had, like a cancer, eaten into the organisation she had most loved. That it was elderly to think this way only made her more irritable. Newspapers were full of interviews with people she had never heard of, famous for being celebs; what had they done, what was the point of it all? No doubt Tussaud's was full of them now. At some defining moment a sea-change had occurred - around the time when train passengers were renamed customers, when ordinary dogs disappeared overnight, to be replaced by pit bull terriers. It was as if she were performing in a play and realised, quite suddenly, that the cast had been replaced by actors she had never seen before." (p49)

I don't know if this is a book of our times, whose references and insight may be lost on future generations, but, if it is, then it's one that merits a read by anyone who wishes, like Dorothy, that things hadn't changed for the worst.   

Television Review: Best of Men

Best of Men, based on real life events, tells the story of a German refugee at the end of WWII who starts work with partially paralysed patients who have basically been left to rot. Dr Ludwig Guttman (Eddie Marsan) gathers enemies around the hospital (and makes himself unpopular with the men) as he begins a new regime to make the men fit for living again in their new circumstances. He realises that there is something missing from their new lives and begins wheelchair sport contests which will eventually lead to the establishing of the Paralympic Games. Amongst the accomplished cast are Rob Brydon as Corporal Wynne Bowen, Niamh Cusack as Sister Edwards and Nigel Lindsay as Mr Heath.

This was supposed to be an inspirational and heart-warming piece of drama and it succeeded. That's not to say that it doesn't examine the vicious after-effects of war because it does. The first few minutes particularly, where paralysed Private William Heath (George MacKay) dreams of how life used to be and then comes back to reality, are especially hard-hitting but there are moments like this throughout. Bowen's character is an interesting one - someone who's very sarcastic but hides behind it to mask how uncertain he is of his future with his wife and children. He's adamant he wants a divorce because he can't live with his family in his disabled body but Guttman won't let him off so easily. Equally, Heath is being swept along by the plans of his father to put him in a residential home but Guttman warns him of what life will be if he agrees to that.

There are comic touches in what could've been a very heavy drama. Guttman becomes embroiled in a war of his own with fellow doctor Dr Cowan (Richard McCabe) who, it transpires, is happy for the injured men to be hidden away and forgotten. Although his relations with his own staff are strained at first, Guttman wins them round and eventually they are as convinced of his methods as he himself is.

I enjoyed this, even if I had difficulty with Marsan's heavy German accent at times.