Sunday, 15 March 2009

Self Indulgence in Writing

Many agents and publishers will come across this, where the writer can't bear to leave a passage out and is indulging him/herself because it should be excised. A friend described this to me using the old cliché about not wanting to kill your children, though I don't think this is a helpful image.

But I believe the problem can occur at the other end of the spectrum too, where the author is so well established that the editor doesn't try to edit out, or does try and gets knocked back.

A book I have in mind is 'Until I Find You' by John Irving, and I should say at the outset that this problem has nothing to do with hard work. The author is far from lazy. My edition of the text is 820 pages long and Irving wrote it twice. The first version was in the first person, but his wife persuaded him that it should have been written in the third and he rewrote it (mostly successfully, though tiny outcrops of first are still detectable).

Why is the book so long? The first section (125 pages) tells the story as the child Jack understands it. Unfortunately, he is being lied to by his mother and ends up many years later retracing his steps in an attempt to figure out what had actually happened. So the same sequence of events is narrated twice, once at the beginning of the book and again at the end. Telling the same story from different viewpoints isn't uncommon - Robert Browning went over the top with this technique in The Ring and the Book, and who reads that now? - but it is surely difficult to bring off.

This is not the only reason why the book is so long, but it is the single most important. Some time ago I attempted a detailed analysis of this title on Goodreads, but it was rejected because it was too long. I pared down the review and it was rejected again for the same reason. What I ended up posting was a shadow of what I had written. The one and only round to Irving!

Monday, 9 March 2009

Publishing in the UK

Let’s consider the simplest way to publish a novel in the UK. It’s easy - be well known, be a celebrity, then the publisher will rely on your name moving the book. And this will usually be without reference to its merits. So who are the favoured celebrities? Two groups: politicians and the rest. Consider the politicians who have had novels published. Okay, it started with Disraeli, but he wrote his before getting into politics. Moving on to modern times: Douglas Hurd, Edwina Currie, Helen Liddell (Stalin’s granny), Anne Widdecombe and, wait for it, yes, Iain Duncan Smith! I have only read extracts from their books, but none were inspiring enough to lead to a purchase, and this is a very polite way of putting it.


But certain other individuals are offered deals too and on the same basis, that their name being already in the public domain copies will walk off the shelves without too much help from the marketing department. I don’t know when this started, but the first case I can remember was the yachtswoman, Claire Francis (Night Sky, 1983). Though this novel left a lot to be desired, so do many others, and she had written three autobiographical books before she started it. She was/is an intelligent person who takes her work seriously.


How things change. With giant stride I move on to the present day. Take Jordan. Okay, don’t. But for those of you who haven’t come across her, she is a model tending to the pneumatic and, more recently, a ‘star’ of reality television.


‘Jordan, the glamour model and reality TV star, has secured her debut as a novelist with a six-figure advance before she has written a word. Random House, Britain's largest publisher, announced yesterday that it has signed up the model, whose real name is Katie Price, to write an autobiography and two novels. Better known for her appearance on the show I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here and subsequent romance with her co-star, the former pop star Peter Andre, Jordan is adding fiction to her CV at the suggestion of the publisher.’


Notice, folks, it was the publisher’s idea. Two novels have now appeared, Crystal and Angel. Her name is on the cover but I have no idea who actually wrote them. Not a Clare Francis, then.


Which takes us nicely on to autobiography. Staying with Jordan, her first sally into the field, ‘Being Jordan’, sold close to 500,000 copies and earned £4.7 million when it was published by Blake last year. The second, ‘Jordan: A Whole New World’, covers her wedding to Peter Andre (don’t ask, I have no idea either) and the birth of their baby. I don’t know how well it’s selling. Other comparable celebrities have published autobiographies, including Jade Goody (Jade; My Autobiography) and Jodie Marsh (wittily entitled 'Keeping it Real') All of this is fed by the tabloid press, both newspapers and magazines. I recently came across a magazine entitled Celebrity Bodies. I thought it was a joke – but it wasn’t.


Leaving these people aside ( and what a good feeling that is), we have that other group who never tire of producing autobiographies – sportsmen and women. Footballers come high on the list, though when England won the World Cup (Rugby Union) several members of the team hit the supermarket shelves. Another example from a different sport is Kevin Pietersen (Crossing The Boundary). Kevin plays cricket for England and felt impelled to zap us all with his story. I will major on a footballer, though, one Wayne Rooney. Wayne kicks a mean ball, I’m told. Having listened to him talking he should leave communication to his feet.


‘Manchester United and England striker Wayne Rooney has signed the biggest sports book deal in publishing history. The 20-year-old has agreed a 12-year contract with Harper Collins to write a minimum of five books for an advance of £5m plus royalties. Rooney's first book will hit the shelves at the end of July 2006 and will be an autobiography of his life so far, including this summer's World Cup.
The follow-up books will cover the rest of Rooney's playing career and there will also be a Wayne Rooney Annual published in the autumn of 2006, aimed at younger fans.’

I could go on, but I’m sure you get the idea.
The rest of this post concerns academic publishing and may safely be skipped.
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Publishing is sometimes required of academics to get on in their profession. Academics are supposed to conduct ‘research’, even when their subject is, say, English literature. In a subject such as this research isn’t possible. Two other activities are: scholarship and criticism. Both of these can be useful. A scholar might discover the commonly accepted text of a given author contains several errors, some of them serious. If these are corrected, that’s fine. A few critical books shed useful light on their subjects. Many do not. The first time I entered a bookshop near a university I noticed that the shelf-space devoted to poetry, plays and novels was dwarfed by the space given over to learnéd texts. One was written by my professor and included the sentence: ‘It is tempting to speculate on the unique felicity of tripartite division in complex works of art.’ Eloquent or what! The parasites were overwhelming their hosts.


In the sciences, things are more complicated. Genuine research is usually possible here, but not all research is useful. For example, recent research shows that shy men are more prone to heart attacks than less shy men. Fine, but why should that be? If it’s because they have less outlet for pent-up emotion than their more out-going counterparts then it’s hardly to be wondered at. Or suppose a shy man visits his doctor. What is the doctor supposed to say, ‘For God’s sake pull yourself together, Cedric, sake stop being so shy!’


In the UK a university’s funding is contingent, to an extent, on the research it carries out, so scientists can earn good money for their institutions. Nowadays, too, there are often spin-off companies which, if successful, are another valuable asset. But in both fields, the arts and the sciences, the fact that lecturers have published papers in academic journals or turned their theses into books does not mean they are capable of teaching. But I forget myself, what do universities have to do with teaching? With every passing year, less and less.

Tuesday, 3 March 2009

Books we don't finish

A while back, people in the UK were surveyed to discover which books they failed to finish. I have listed the fiction results here though, for the record, 'My Life' by Bill Clinton came in second on the non-fiction list.

Top ten books people cannot finish - fiction
1 Vernon God Little, D.B.C Pierre 35%
2 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, JK Rowling 32%
3 Ulysses, James Joyce 28%
4 Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis De Bernieres 27%

5 Cloud Atlas, David Mitchell 24%
6 The Satanic Verses, Salman Rushdie 21%
7 The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho 19%
8 War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy 18%
9 The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy 16%
10 Crime and Punishment, Dostoyevsky 15%


Of the reasons given for failing to finish a book, none related to the book itself , but I don't know what the questions were. Maybe there was no opportunity to address this question.


Top reasons for not finding time to read:
Too tired 48%
Watch TV instead 46%
Play computer games 26%
Work late 21%


So, do any titles on this list surprise you? Some surprise me. I'm amazed Ulysses is listed and Finnegan's Wake isn't. Maybe the reason people didn't fail to finish Finnegan's wake is that they were smart enough not to start it in the first place. War and Peace makes its expected appearance but Proust doesn't figure at all. Since I don't read books for peedie folk I can't account for Harry Potter. I'm also surprised to find The God of Small Things on the list. It seemed an excellent novel to me.


Arundhati Roy is an interesting case. Ms Roy is heavily into politics and I think it unlikely she will publish another novel. Is this a good thing? I don't believe it is. There are plenty of politicians out there and even more people taking an active interest in politics. But Ms Roy has a talent for writing which will go to waste if she doesn't use it. I'm reminded of Alexander Borodin. Not only did he divide his energies between chemistry and composition, he was in constant demand to join committees and often agreed to do so. Yet he had a natural talent for music and many of his melodies are instantly recognisable as coming from him. Not many people have that ability. (Life in the Borodin household is beautifully described in Rimsky-Korsakov's book, My Life in Music.)


Here's my question. If you wanted to add a title to the fiction list, what would it be and why?


Here's my answer. 'Underworld', by Don DeLillo. I started this book several times, failed to finish it each time, and gave it to a charity book-shop – which might not be deemed a charitable act. The first, lengthy section centred on a baseball which was hit into the crowd as a result of the winning strike. Who had it? Where did it go? A character in the book then makes it his life's work to track this ball down. Interesting or what! Now I realise that the search for the ball is a mechanism by which a range of environments and issues can be explored. But it's so boring! Yet apparently I'm in a minority of one. How do I know this? Because the marketing department went into overdrive for this title and had everyone from the Pope to the Dalai Lama extol its virtues as of it were the best thing since sliced bread. 'Everyone' includes a number of authors, and I believe I hear the loud and unpleasant sound of mutual back-scratching at work here.