On UFOS and Genius
Does anyone else feel as if the whole global zeitgeist is slipping into some terrible Dickensian gothic nightmare, temporarily relieved (more so for Americans) by the two-day respite of Obama’s inauguration celebrations?
This apocalyptic landscape was encapsulated by the front page of The Times newspaper London, who really cheered up its readership by published a black and white (or should I say funereal tinted) photograph of London post blitz: literally the only building (on closer introspection) that appeared to be left standing was St Paul’s Cathedral – whether the German bombers baulked at the thought of flattening such a revered building remains to be seen (certainly the Allies did not pay the same compliment back in relation to Berlin, Dresden, or Cologne). The image was yet again another cynical marketing ploy to sell papers. It took me about five minutes to figure out the image dated from the 1940’s and wasn’t some reference to a potential terrorist attack. No – it was just another piece of ‘recession porn’, the new trend of daily bombarding the audience with the bleakest news possible - with almost a kind of schaden freude smugness. Newsworthy coverage of rather more hopeful events i.e. Obama reaching out to Iran, a boom in retail sales, actual jobs created (okay in the lower end of the professional market i.e. fast food chains, supermarkets et – but hey they’re jobs!) seemed to be buried under an avalanche of either companies that have gone bankrupt, or things that could go wrong, civil unrest or the latest parable of corporate greed.
This negative impact on both the national psyche and the marketplace was raised here and certainly I believe it does have an effect – personally it is hard for the thinking individual not to feel somewhat paralysed by the notion that if the global recession doesn’t get you, climate change will and failing that some ghastly 3rd world war triggered by events in the Middle East. Makes staring at the alarm clock just that little more challenging in the morning.
Interesting enough I’ve also noticed an increase in reportage of UFO coverage on the net recently. Definitely recession related and probably wishful thinking – like beam me up now Scotty, ET or whoever is at the wheel of those curious generic cigar case flying objects (yeah, like alien technology has not evolved since the 1950’s?) some of us homo sapiens have had enough. But I also think that at times of economic strife, and huge transition - when the world is mutating so fast it feels as if the ground and the very tenants of society are shifting beneath you – sci-fi and fantasy both as an projection and escape come to the fore. I’m thinking about how science fiction, a sudden swell of interest in spiritualism and the occult all peaked around the time of the industrial revolution.
I suspect that we are now at the onset of several revolutions – a change in constructs of capitalism, an information revolution and a re-evaluation of values: both spiritual and material. As the song says – you ain’t seen nothing yet.
Speaking of Sci-fi, I have recently started reading Michael Moorcock’s The Nomad of Time (published in the 70’s). Moorcock – an enviable and ridiculously prolific fantasy writer of the 1970’s – is worth reading, especially if you’re a Philip Pullman fan (I am). The Nomad of Time has extremely similar ideas about the notion of a multiverse – parallel worlds in which the same people play out a variety of destinies, time travel – or window into these multiverses as well as the same steam-punk aesthetic as Dark Matters. There is also a similar English literary tone to both authors’ voices. Pullman is the better writer, but Moorcock’s energy and imagination is certainly worth a read. It made me think that literary conceits have a kind of family tree. For example Moorcock has steam driven airships very similar to the wonderful airships Pullman describes. One could probably draw up a genealogy of such a concept back to the 17th century and Da Vinci’s inventions passing through HG Wells and a plethora of other writers along the way.
We are all influenced by other books, other writers; at the very best great writers remind people like myself as to why I bother writing at all. Roberto Bolano’s 2666 – and I know this book really doesn’t need any more promotion – is one such book. An extraordinary mixture of magic realism, acute political, psychological and visual observation – gloriously unruly (I mean this guy has sentences that run for a whole paragraph!) it was the one thing this week that stopped me climbing up on the roof and hitching a ride on the next silver-cigar case shaped steam-driven alien flight out.
Writers Block
Having delivered the final draft of the next novel I am now in the strange perilous no-man’s land between projects; a time when one’s imagination takes to treading water and if left too long to it’s own devices either becomes paranoid or neurotic.
It’s not that I don’t have the next projects outlined (I do) and I’m off to Glastonbury in a week to begin some research on Druids and the general mystical history of the region, but there is an exhaustion – a kind of existential draining of the creative well that hits one after such an intense period or writing - In the case of SPHINX two and half years on the one novel.
I had a conversation recently with a fellow writer (actually he was a screenwriter) about writers block, something I’ve never suffered from, and we both agreed it was far easier to experience writers block when writing on spec (in other words non-commissioned).
I’ve always made a living from my writing, and there is a practical paradigm behind the creativity. Writing knowing there is an audience waiting, or meeting a deadline gives one huge psychological incentive - however there are a few strategies one can apply to avoid that paralysing free-fall.
Firstly avoid at all costs the tyranny of the blank page. Staring at the blank screen trying to visualise a gripping opening hopefully to convince an editor at a publishing house to immediately bid on the book is both terrifying and counter productive.
Imagine that you are about to build a house – you have to have the foundations laid, the bricks, mortar and building material at hand, an architectural plan to follow and be prepared to commit hours of tedious labour.
I never sit down to a blank page. I will have character breakdowns (half a page to a page of the psychology, physicality etc of my protagonists) a treatment of my plot, and piles of research material (photos, taped interviews, historical interviews Etc) actually sitting around me on the desk.
So by the time I actually begin typing I have started a journey on which I have the map, I know who’s sitting next to me, and I have a pretty good idea about how the landscape is going to look as I pass through it.
I know this might sound unromantic and a little like a bricklayer, but having these tools does not preclude the ability to allow the imagination to elaborate or soar or sometimes take a plot detour.
The secret is to strike a balance between the original written treatment and how research can influence that original treatment.
For example in SOUL, I had the idea of the geneticist being a victim of her own genetic heritage, but after interviewing a geneticist who told me the US defence department has a huge database of genetic information that is often used by geneticists in their research, I introduced the idea that my protagonist would be commissioned by the US Defence department to genetically profiled men who didn’t suffer from Post-traumatic Stress Disorder and that her own genetic heritage would involve a propensity toward violence. This in turn led to the invention of her great grandmother having possibly murdered her husband. And immediately you have suspense.
Another very importance strategy is to finish the first draft AT ALL COSTS, so that you have the whole shape of the novel/narrative outlined. This will make re-writing far more pleasurable and approachable. No one, trust me, no one, publishes their first drafts, the finished novel is often the tip of the iceberg, under the ice are many many drafts.
Many first-time novelists make the mistake of starting a book then wasting a lot of time by going back to the first paragraph/chapter and polishing and polishing it obsessively to the point that it takes so much longer to finish the whole novel. It’s vital to realise there are usually structural rewrites one can only see once one has the whole first draft written.
Another thing to avoid is showing your draft prematurely to friend/adoring parent or subjective lover. Don’t get readers in until near final draft, even then select them carefully to reflect your potential reader-ship. And if you have written about a certain subject, location, industry or era it is also good to get experts in to fact check – assuming you have done your research - There are no short cuts.
Infectious Happiness
My eye was taken by an article in the New Scientist: 3rd January issue – by Michael Bond entitled ‘Three degrees of contagion’ – the article describes how apparently they’ve proven that moods and emotional states such as happiness, depression and possibly even diseases such as obesity and a propensity to suicide can be ‘caught’ from one’s friends. It describes how waves of influence can travel through circles of friends infecting the individual and that one is more influenced by emotional state of a friend of the same gender than one’s partner. Even more extraordinary was the notion that it wasn’t only one’s immediate friends that had influence over one’s emotional state but friends of friends. It seems that happiness is contagious. This would make a strong argument for far more cohesive community action and ‘village’ style life. Not easy in a large city. Part of this phenomena is because people unconsciously mimic the facial expression, posture etc of their friends and this in turn doesn’t only create empathy it actually alters one’s own emotional state - and the stronger the expression the stronger the influence.
The notion of ‘toxic’ friends then arises. I couldn’t help thinking about the nauseatingly upbeat life coaches I’ve had the misfortune encounter in my life and that perhaps there might be something in the notion of positive thinking after all as well as the old adage ‘its not what you do but who you know.’
I remember a Czech theatre director I used to work with who used to believe that unlike, Stanislavski, an actor can access the emotional core of his/her character through the surface just as easy as from the inside. In other words if you mimic misery you will feel it sooner or later.
One wonders about the broader implication; i.e. the psychology of gatherings. Religious gatherings, pop concerts, political rallies all seemed to have collective emotions that swept through such crowds. Many years ago when I was researching for my play Miracles I watched some home videos of a miracle worker in Italy ‘curing’ the lame and the diseased. Certainly even through the television screen the scenes of mass hysteria and sheer energy was palatable. It was easy to see how someone with a bad knee or leg might momentarily be buoyed up by such energy and walk.
Again, given the current appalling global economic state (not to mention the terrible things happening in Gaza) I wonder about the morality of the media’s ‘beat-up’ of bad news. I am very aware of economic realities however bad news sells copy. The Americans have the redemption of Obama’s inaugation, Europeans do not – instead we have Putin holding Europe to ransom. But there still is good news – it’s just usually buried on page three. If the emotional state of our friends influences our own emotional state God knows what the current incessant bombardment of doom and gloom is doing to the global psyche. Just how viral is this recession?
I am reminded of my stepson who on the play station game FIFA 2000 would secretly set the morale of his opponent’s foot team to the ‘SAD’ setting so they wouldn’t play as well – it worked! To finish with an upbeat note – at least it looks as if there might be life on Mars (okay probably single cell subterranean organisms farting wildly into the atmosphere but hey – it’s still life!).
Reading The Reader
A couple of weeks ago I got taken to a preview of Stephen Daldry’s new film The Reader – book by German writer Bernhard Schlink. I was excited to see the film as I had loved the book as a rare exploration of the psyche of the first post-war generation of Germans dealing with the moral (or lack of) legacy of their parents: The so-called ‘sandwich’ generation. Schlink does this beautifully and the book is as much a love story as an kind of oedipal wrestling as the central character discovers how his father was politically implicated in the atrocities of the Nazis by dint of apathy – or head in the sand – mentality. This is pushed further by the metaphor of illiteracy of the ex-prison guard (the young protagonist’s older lover) who takes the rap for condemning 300 Jewish female prisoners to death when she passively allows herself to be tried and condemned for an order she could not have written. It is a simplistic plot device which examined closely doesn’t really work as frankly, she is guilty of not opening the doors of a burning building thus allowing the deaths to occur anyway, and she has worked as a guard, regularly and knowingly sending women to their deaths so who cares whether she’s guilty of writing the order or not. It is only shame over her illiteracy that stops her from defending herself, no great moral protest or innocence there.
But because the book is really from the young boy’s pov and concentrates more his own shock and getting of wisdom in relation to the true extent of deliberate adopted ignorance of the actual workings of the holocaust by his elders you forgive the weakness of this central device.
Unfortunately the film highlights this weakness by refocussing the story onto the seduction and love affair of the 15yr old and not the broader political issue. I know sex sells but really it is a discredit to the nuances of Schlink’s writing (and philosophical ambitions) to simplify the narrative to such banalities – especially from such notables as Sir David Hare (screenwriter) and Mr. Stephen Daldry. Peter Bradshaw of The Guardian wrote a review I thought encapsulated the problems.
I saw Bernhard Schlink speak live in LA in the late 90’s just after the book was hitting the circuit. He came across as a shy self-effacing intellectual and likeable. Interestingly enough, my partner at the time – A Dutchman (whose parents both had suffered in the 2ww) – found him to be an apologist, a judgement I thought harsh – but European sensibilities differ and obviously one’s own historical perspective has influence.
Nevertheless I felt the film did sentimentalise and sanitise the female prison guard and, as we are given no insight into her psychology or flashbacks to her actual behaviour as a prison guards, it is far too easy to feel sorry for her.
Having had the confronting experience of going to visit Auschwitz myself (my mother lost her grandfather and uncle and several branches of her family in the camps) with a holocaust denier in the tourist group I was walking around with, let me tell you – A film set it isn’t. When evil is depicted within a narrative it usually has moral perimeters and there is usually redemption –- real evil has no moral perimeters or redemption – it just is.
Adaptations are always tricky, and it is well known that often-bad books make great films. Notable exceptions would be Ridley Scott’s Bladerunner (Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?) The Tin Drum (and I was a huge fan of Gunter Grass) and The English Patient – I was around pitching in Hollywood when this screenplay was floating about and I was astounded that anyone in their right minds would attempt to adapt such a complicated and convoluted story, but Anthony Minghella was a wonderful playwright and screenwriter as well as director. And I actually think the film is more powerful than the book. It certainly is more linear in structure and this makes it easier to emotionally track and empathise with the characters.
Personally I would never adapt my own books into screenplays. There is so much culling involved in squeezing a novel into 110 minutes that it would involved too much heartbreak. Again, this is why so many film adaptations were originally short stories - One of the great ones being Brokeback Mountain.
Fire on Snow
This week I’m on holiday with my family in Zermatt, a picturesque skiing village at the foot of the Matterhorn. Until the end of the second World War, Zermatt was a small farming village specialising in goats, cows and sheep, although there had been a skiing resort since 1910, it really took off in the late 40’s changing the landscape and social infrastructure of the town permanently. It now has a residence population of about 4000 – half of which are the original Swiss families who have been here for generations the other 2000 hospitality workers (mainly from Portugal) servicing the many hotels that function all year, with the remnants of boutique farming (goats cheese etc). It’s a polyglot of tourist; at breakfast it’s mainly German, French and some Poles – apparently the Russians arrive next week big time – for the Russian Xmas. The movies available on the hotel TV are a wonderful illustration of this. We sat through one of the worst films I’ve had the dubious pleasure of viewing – a Russian film about ‘a chalk of Fate’ that once belonged to the legendary Tamerlane. Straggling about four genres (Sci-Fi, detective, historical fiction and vampire) it was an low budget incomprehensible mesh-mash that arbitrarily threw in odd things like tango dancing, lingering close-ups of beer (product placement?) stilettos heels ascending stairs and the two middle-age protagonists crossing into other dimensions via what looked like large stretched clear sheets of plastic! It was just missing the obligatory soft porn encounter. The fact it was in English did not help.
There is an English church (probably to service tax exiles and the occasional avalanche victim), a Catholic church and no doubt a Lutheran church somewhere. All of which started pealing madly at 10am on New Years day for one whole hour (not great with a hang over) and again at five the same day. We spent the decisive hour (midnight New Year’s eve) on my tiny roof terrace watching the maniac and wonderful unco-coordinated firework displays. They were coming from all angles and all places throughout the village. Huge numbers of them lighting up the snow covered mountain slopes and creating swathes of pink and red smoke. It was like being in a war zone, with explosions ricocheting off the mountainside.
I don’t ski; actually I’ve only donned skis once in California to go cross-country, being naturally accident prone, with bad balance and one shoddy knee it was only sheer willpower (one thing I have large amounts of) that kept me vertical. And frankly, I’ve never been interested in the glitzy culture that surrounds skiing, however I do love landscape, and hiking around the slopes of the Swiss Alps is stunningly beautiful. And once passed the yellow snow, euro trash, hydro dams etc, you find yourself in the muffled glorious isolation of snow scape. Particularly exotic for an Antipodean (did hear one Australian accent hiking) Forests with fir tree laden with snow, tiny bridges crossing rivers with banks studded with foot long icicles, the occasional mountain goat (although one tends to smell them rather than see them). And fantastic hamlets of tiny wooden chalets originally used by local farmers when summer grazing their livestock. It’s Narnia during the reign of the ice queen and utterly magical.
The physical exertion involved in the hiking kind of switches off the mind and the imagination, and one falls into the kind of meditation that you know will lead to some sudden insight/story once back in familiar surroundings. But boy, was it glorious to emerge exhausted and sweaty to hit some mountain restaurant for a gluttwein and zuppe before turning back.
I was again reminded how wonderful location can be when serving as character. A couple of recent huge bestsellers have great examples of this – one is Twilight (great young adult fiction and Ms Meyer deserves her success). The author’s choice of location – a permanently foggy and mysterious, isolated rural community immediately sets the reader up for a supernatural experience. It also, of course means that the writer can control the number of characters and even the plausibility of events. The other genre book I’m recently read was the crime thriller The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Again, the protagonist visits an isolated rural community to investigate a possible murder and again, the physicality of that location (rural Sweden) feeds into the atmosphere and incestuous ess of the wealthy industrial family he is investigating. It’s an old device but a good one, and certainly out here in Zermatt, it is easy to imagine anything from a second World war story about resistance fighters fleeing fascist Italy over the mountains, to werewolves living high up above the villages, to Russian oligarchs dying mysteriously on the slopes.
Back to mundane reality and the political maelstrom that is the rest of the world on Sunday.
photography - J.Asher