Friday, 26 October 2012

FANTABULOUS FRIDAYS A-Z: S FOR SATYRS WITH PHILIP WOMACK


Scribble City Central's thirty-fifth Fantabulous Friday A-Z comes from Philip Womack, ace journalist, reviewer, blogger, Classicist and writer of two excellent novels for children. The second of these - The Liberators - brings the Dionysian cult of the maenads (or Bacchae if you're talking Roman gods) into a modern day London. 

Maenads have appeared in children's literature before - C.S.Lewis features a sanitised version in Prince Caspian, and, more recently Rick Riordan has them partying in The Demigod Diaries - but Philip's version of them goes back to the raw, dark, savage originals visualised by Euripides in The Bacchae. While I've never been the maenads greatest fan - objecting to the intemperate way they tore poor Orpheus apart - The Liberators is a book which I enjoyed immensely, not least because it's good to find another author who is as much of a Greek myth buff as I am.  It's hardly surprising that Philip really knows his myths, given that he has a Classics degree from Oxford, and I'm hoping there'll be more myth-based children's books from him in due course, because he can really write.  He's also an excellent person to give you the full lowdown on the party animals that are:

S for Satyrs
Sons of Silenus



PW: If you go to the Royal Academy whilst its fabulous Bronze exhibition is in place, you’ll see, dredged up from the bottom of the sea, a satyr, a member of the sacred band of Dionysus, the god of wine, dancing in abandon. He’s rather good-looking, and well-proportioned, for a satyr – you wouldn’t think he was one, were it not for the hole where his tail ought to be.
They’re a strange bunch, satyrs, flitting about the woodland, immortal and lascivious. Their father is the drunkard Silenus, whose fat figure can be seen in the background of Titian’s Bacchus and Ariadne, propped up on a donkey. Now there’s a man who knows how to have fun.


His  offspring are equally vivacious. They weren’t always goatish; they used to have horse-tails; and they were sometimes called Silens; but what is constant about them, if such a thing can be so, is their ambivalence. They are convivial, and accompany the mysterious god Dionysus; but they are also loutish and base. They are animals; and yet they are capable of making beautiful music. They prance and caper about; and yet they are repositories of wisdom. If you trap a satyr, or a faun (their close cousins) in your garden, he will tell you that the best thing for man is not to have been born; the second best thing is to die quickly. King Midas did it, and that’s what he learned.

It is thanks to satyrs that we have tragedy at all – the first Greek plays had choruses of the creatures. Their lusty, louche presence rounded off every performance of a tragedy in Athens, as they had their own genre – the satyr play, a burlesque in which heroes would be made to look a little less heroic. They sit on the sidelines of the world, grinning, mocking, fierce.

Satyrs are the first beings to taste the wonders of wine, to sing to the lyre of Orpheus, to pipe ghostly music in the moonlight.

My second book, The Liberators, features the Titian painting of Bacchus and Ariadne. The Luther-Ross brothers find the staff of Bacchus and use it to remove people’s consciences: they create their own band of glamorous but deadly satyrs. Of course they have nothing of the true, joyous Bacchic spirit, so they are overcome. Bacchus would not accept the Luther-Ross brothers in his band.
Satyrs are wisdom and wildness and wine. They remind us of our animal natures, and yet they show us that we can be more than that. They are us, and not us; they are the raging id; they enchant us with their frenzied music, but they can also destroy us. They embody the mystery and glory of Bacchus / Dionysus.
If you met that handsome dancing satyr in the middle of his ecstasy, he would no doubt tear you to pieces. But I’d still recommend going to see him, trapped as he is in bronze centuries old, and you’ll be able to feel the touch of the god in his eyes. Ask him a question. He might just answer.

Philip's blog is HERE and he is also on Tumblr 

SCC: Thank you, Philip - I shall certainly go and see the Bronze exhibition and ask that satyr a question.  It's good to be reminded of that strange dichotomy of the cult of Dionysus as both a glorious jolly party and a madly savage riot. I'm pretty sure that the god is hovering at the edges whenever there's a present day rave in a field - his satyrs would fit right in with the technobeat.  

If you like the sound of The Liberators, you can buy it HERE.

NEXT WEEK: I'm hoping the wonderful Michelle Lovric will be here to talk about S for Sirene, but if not, it will be me with a Spooky S for Surprise instead. 

Friday, 19 October 2012

FANTABULOUS FRIDAYS A-Z: R FOR RAVANA WITH SARWAT CHADDA


Scribble City Central's thirty-fourth Fantabulous Friday comes from Sarwat Chadda, author of two bestselling YA novels about kickass Knight Templar girl Billi SanGreal, and also of the recently published Ash Mistry and the Savage Fortress, which I've just read and loved.


None of Sarwat's novels are for the squeamish. There's plenty of guts and gore - and other deeply scary stuff like the Carnival of Flesh, which has me hugging the duvet and jumping at creaky floorboards (but then I'm a complete wuss).  I liked Billi very much indeed, but Ash is of a different order altogether, and I think a lot of teenage readers will relate to him.  We've all come across the slightly overweight boy in the playground, prey to the bullies, not tough enough to stand up for himself, not confident enough to approach the girl he likes. That's Ash in a nutshell - but, of course, there's far more to him.  Sarwat makes the arc of his transformation into ace kicker of demon butt completely believable - his bravery is motivated by love of his little sister - and I'm really looking forward to seeing more of him, Lucky and the delightfully cool and funny rakshasa Parvati in the next book, Ash Mistry and the City of Death.  I only disagree with Sarwat on one thing - the off-road capabilities of the Ambassador car.  Having gone over the Himalaya in one (on an unmade dirt road), I reckon they can tackle just about anything!

What this book also made me realise is that I really really need to delve deeper into the Ramayana and Mahabharata to further my shockingly scant knowledge of Hindu mythology.  The terrifying Ravana plays a large part in the former, and here's Sarwat to tell you all about him.


R for Ravana
Big Bad Demon King

SC:  Ravana, the demon king, is the BIG BAD of Indian Mythology. By a long way. Immortal, master of sorcery and the greatest warrior alive he cannot be killed by god or demon. He even once conquered Heaven and enslaved the gods. So wise that he wrote religious texts himself.

So we’re talking about brains, brawns and mystical powers.

He’s described as having ten heads (symbolic of his great learning) and twenty arms (equally symbolic of his awesome strength and fighting ability) and his body is marked by scars from his wars with the gods.

What I love about Ravana is that, even though he’s a villain, he’s honourable and his people love him. His city Lanka, is a blessed kingdom. One of the legends has him conquering the whole earth and bringing all the kings to his palace in chains to bow down before him.

But, like all villains, he has his weaknesses. Ravana had but two. Women and arrogance. When granted invulnerability he listed out all the things that could not hurt him. Gods, demons, beasts and titans. He didn’t bother to mention man, thinking humans too puny to ever be a threat to him. Big mistake.


Then he fell in love with Sita, wife of Prince Rama. He kidnapped her and snuck off to Lanka, hoping to persuade her to marry him. Big mistake Number Two. Rama just happened to be the greatest hero on earth and destined to be Ravana’s nemesis. As a human he bypassed Ravana’s shield of invulnerability and he was an avatar, a god in mortal flesh, which is just a bit special.

The tale of Rama and Ravana is recounted in the Ramayana, one of the two great myth epics of the Indian World. It’s got magic, mayhem and battles galore. Rama recruits an army of monkeys and the conquest of Lanka involves a war of unimaginable scale with Ravana wrecking havoc against Rama’s dwindling but heroic force. The book is about honour and above all guts. Standing up to Ravana. His army of demons, called rakshasas in Indian mythology, are not just a mindless horde. They are great characters themselves. Ravana’s brother, Vibeeshana, is good, and tries to persuade Ravana to hand Sita back, but even though he knows his brother is in the wrong he stays by his side to the bitter end, family loyalty exceeding all other duties and bounds.

I would compare it to the Iliad, both in scope and in humanity. Through the prism of Rama and Ravana we see the good and the bad overlap with all that is human, both the best and the worst. They are agents of destiny, like Achilles and Hector, but, in my mind, better matched. Hector’s doom is proclaimed loud and often and there is no doubt over Achilles’s superiority. There is no such certainly with Ravana. He is powerful. He is great. He is the perfect enemy, as wise, as heroic, as cunning as Rama.

SCC:  Thank you, Sarwat.  As I said above, there are now so many things I want to learn about and explore after reading both this and Ravana's starring role in Ash's story, and I hope others will as well.  All the great epics - whether Greek, Norse or Hindu - are not only wonderful stories of bravery, heroism and the triumphs and failures of both human and godlike natures, but also treasure mines for the writer's imagination to dig in.

You can buy all Sarwat's books, including The Ash Mistry Chronicles HERE 

Next week: Philip Womack chases after S for Satyr.  I expect there'll be wine and merriment.

Friday, 12 October 2012

FANTABULOUS FRIDAYS A-Z: Q FOR QUESTING BEAST WITH MARY HOFFMAN


Scribble City Central's thirty-third Fantabulous Friday comes from the marvellous Mary Hoffman, author of the bestselling Amazing Grace picture-books, and also of one of my favourite YA historical fantasy series - Stravaganza.  I've followed Luciano and Arianna's story since the beginning, and found it immeasurably satisfying to have lots of ends tied up in the latest (and, sadly, possibly last) book, City of Swords.  Mary has created the Talian world of the Stravaganti (time-travellers to a parallel Italy) with loving care, and her passion for Italy shows in the small but meticulous details hidden within her writing, not only in these books, but also in her excellent eponymous novel about Michelangelo's David.  What I particularly liked, not only in City of Swords, but in all the other books in the series, is the way Mary deftly interweaves the historical derring-do with some very modern teenage problems.  In City of Swords, it's self-harm, something I've seen addressed in a few YA books lately. Mary tackles it head-on, but in a sensitive way which, I hope, would encourage teenagers to talk about this very real problem. I think it's important that YA literature can sometimes act as a sort of catalyst in this way.



As far as I am concerned, Mary is the fount of all knowledge, being the person I would ask for answers about any esoteric question - especially about anything to do with Arthurian matters.  I often turn to her  story collection Women of Camelot for knotty problems of reference vis a vis the ladies of Arthur's Court.  The Arthurian beastie she writes about here is one I love, though I first came across its fewmets in TH White's Once and Future King rather than Malory.  It appears as the comical dwarf-steed Gladysant in my own Hootcat Hill, but its roots lie far back in literary history.  So, over to Mary to tell you all about:

Q for Questing Beast
Hound-bellied Glatyssaunte
Photo credit: Jess Barber

MH:   Here is a range of definitions from the Oxford Guide to Arthurian Literature and Legend by Alan Lupack (OUP 2005):
“a snow white beast, smaller than a fox, and which is terrified by the yelping of a packs of twelve dogs in her belly”
“a devil born to the daughter of King Hipomenes, who had intercourse with a devil” after her brother rejected her incestuous advances.
“the head of a serpent, the body of a leopard, the buttocks of a lion, and the feet of a hart.”
The source for the first descriptions is Perlesvaus, also known as The High History of the Grail, written in the early 13th century in France. The second, from the Post-Vulgate Queste del Saint Graal, dates from roughly the same date and place but is much more about a spiritual quest than it is an adventure story.

The third is from Sir Thomas Malory’s Morte d’Arthur and is where I first met the Beast (see below). It is from a century and a half later than the earlier sources and for me this is where the Questing Beast comes into her (or his) own.

In my first year of studying English at Cambridge, my Tutor for Medieval Literature set me an essay topic: “Malory, the least intelligent author ever to become a classic.” That was the way they rolled back in the ‘60s. I bought my precious copy of The Works of Thomas Malory, in the Vinaver edition, for twenty-five shillings, at a time when I had only thirty shillings a week to live on, and it rapidly became my Desert Island Book, the one I’d save first if my house was on fire.
The Vinaver Edition of Malory

I now have three other editions, including the beautiful Aubrey Beardsley facsimile, but it’s my chubby little green Vinaver with Roy Morgan’s woodcut on the front that I reach for first when I need a Malory fix. You see that essay didn’t quite work out as Professor Spearing thought it would. Instead of finding Malory “unintelligent” or in any way overrated by posterity, I fell deeply in love.

Not the place here to count the ways, but I stumbled upon the Questing Beast in Book 1, chapter  19:
“And as [Arthur] sat so, him thought he heard a noise of hounds, to the sum of thirty. And with that the king saw coming toward him the strangest beast that ever he saw or heard of; so the beast went to the well and drank, and the noise was in the beast's belly like unto the questing of thirty couple hounds; but all the while the beast drank there was no noise in the beast's belly: and therewith the beast departed with a great noise, whereof the king had great marvel. And so he was in a great thought, and therewith he fell asleep.
Right so there came a knight afoot unto Arthur and said, Knight full of thought and sleepy, tell me if thou sawest a strange beast pass this way. Such one saw I, said King Arthur, that is past two mile; what would ye with the beast? said Arthur. Sir, I have followed that beast long time, and killed mine horse, so would God I had another to follow my quest. Right so came one with the king's horse, and when the knight saw the horse, he prayed the king to give him the horse: for I have followed this quest this twelvemonth, and either I shall achieve him, or bleed of the best blood of my body. Pellinore, that time king, followed the Questing Beast, and after his death Sir Palamides followed it.” [Caxton text]

This is very early in the story, before Excalibur,  before  Guinevere, before the Round Table and the Company of Knights at Camelot. Thereafter it recurs like a glinting thread in a tapestry, leading first King Pellinore and then Sir Palomides a merry dance.
The Beardsley Beast
The Beast has a name, in various spellings of which my favourite is Glatyssaunte. It comes from an Old French word for “barking”, which is what the “questing” also means: the noise that hounds make when they scent their prey. So it could have featured under G, but I thought Lucy might be short of Qs in her bestiary.

So it is a beast both “questing” and the object of Pellinore’s and Palomides’ Quest. For me it represents the “idée fixe,” the object that cannot be resisted. And all writers of fiction are familiar with that idea! Maybe that’s why the Beast crops up in so many later versions too? (In Spenser’s Faerie Queene it is the Blatant Beast, but that’s not a comment on its immodesty, merely another version of the “glatisant” or “questing’ noise in its belly).

He, she or it (for the Beast is as elusive as to its gender as it is in appearance) crops up in many more recent stories, from  William Morris’s poem Palomydes' Quest of 1855 to Alasteir Crowley’s The High History of Good Sir Palamedes the Saracen Knight and of His Following of the Questing Beast of 1911 and T.H. White’s Once and Future King (1958).

When I told my husband that I was writing about the Questing Beast, he mentioned casually that he had cited it in a paper he had written about Charles Williams for the Anglo-American Literary Review, Vll. Duly impressed, I looked it up and it is in Vol 20 (2003) Metaphysical and Romantic in the Taliessin Poems by Stephen Barber.

Williams wrote a poem “The Coming of Palomides,” in Taliessin Through Logres (OUP 1938) at the end of which, when the knight has been smitten by the sight of Iseult, come the lines:
“I heard the squeak of the questing beast,
where it scratched itself in the blank between
the queen’s substance and the queen.”

Isn’t that fabulous? The very definition of an “idée fixe” is in that “blank between/ the queen’s substance and the queen.” (And the very definition of unrequited love, another mythical beast, to be filed under U).

The commentator (a.k.a. my husband) says “Williams makes Palomides’s endless futile quest for this beast, a standard theme in Arthurian writing, embody his obsessive and futile passion for Iseult.”

Some have speculated that the Beast coming where it does in Malory and trailing its associations of incestuous love, after Arthur has unwittingly slept with his half-sister Morgause and fathered the fatal Sir Mordred, symbolises forbidden combinations. I like that idea: that our most obsessive quests might be for the Thing that Should not be.

But actually I just rather love the Questing Beast (which for me is female). I love the idea of the prey which is constantly quested after and may not be caught, the idea that the bond between hunter and hunted remains pure only when not consummated.

Lucy asked whether I might write about her one day. Well, now that she has cropped up in the TV Merlin, (which Lucy enjoys but I cannot bring myself to watch), I’m not so sure! But I love the idea of writing about Broceliande, the enchanted forest and I’m sure that Glatyssaunte would lurk somewhere in its depths.

SCC: Thank you so much, Mary.  As always, I am in awe of your erudition.  I'm now reminded of how to spell Glatyssaunte properly, and you've inspired me to go and dig out my own Malory and have a browse through the forest of Broceliande.

You can find out more about Mary in the following places:
www.maryhoffman.co.uk
www.stravaganza.co.uk
http://bookmavenmary.blogspot.com
http://the-history-girls.blogspot.com
Twitter: @MARYMHOFFMAN
Mary is also  on Facebook at: Mary Hoffman Author Page; Official Stravaganza Page; History Girls Page and Luciano and Arianna Page.

If you'd like to buy any of Mary's books mentioned in this piece, you can do so HERE

Next Week: Sarwat Chadda goes head to head with the fearsome R for Ravana.  Swords at the ready, people!

Friday, 5 October 2012

FANTABULOUS FRIDAYS A-Z: P FOR PUCK WITH CELIA REES



Scribble City Central's thirty-second Fantabulous Friday comes from Celia Rees, one of Britain's best writers for teenagers. This is not Celia's first visit to SCC. In February I interviewed her about her latest wonderful (and gritty) novel, This is Not Forgiveness.  You can read that interview HERE.

This time round, Celia moves to different territory - the territory of Shakespeare's Dream, the dells and wild places where confused lovers trip over deliberately placed briars, where men are made asses, where the world is girdled in thirty minutes.  This untamed forest is (partly) the setting for one of my very favourite of Celia's books, The Fool's Girl, an eerily compelling take on Twelfth Night. I found Celia's depiction of the Forest of Arden one of the most lyrically beautiful pieces of writing I've read for a long time.  It is an exquisite woodland place within a timeless bubble, but make no mistake, its beauty is of the brooding sort underneath the dappled sunlight.  It has thorns, and dark things hiding behind ancient trees, ready to rip and tear.  Celia is therefore the perfect person to plumb the mysteries of Shakespeare's most recognisable fairy - the ever-michievous:

P for Puck
Oldest Old Thing in England


CR: I first met Puck as a ‘small, brown, broad-shouldered, pointy-eared person with a snub nose, slanting blue eyes, and a grin that ran right across his freckled face.’ The Puck of  Rudyard Kipling’s Puck of Pook’s Hill.  My father read the stories to me as a child and my love of myth and of history may well go back to those readings. Puck appears to Dan and Una, upon the eponymous Pook’s Hill and, sustained by Bath Oliver biscuits, he tells them stories about the history of Britain. The stories are not exactly historically accurate but what child cares about that?  They are exciting and more than a little uncanny and speak of a continuity of place, a record in the landscape of times gone by.  An idea that I found as intriguing now as I did then.
And see you marks that show and fade,
Like shadows on the Downs?
O they are the lines the Flint Men made,
To guard their wondrous towns!
Kipling’s Puck describes himself as ‘the oldest Old Thing in England’.
 ‘The People of the Hills have all left. I saw them come into Old England and I saw them go.’ 
Puck, Puca in Old English, the wild spirit of the woods, is both ancient and enduring and appears in many guises as Puck or Robin Goodfellow in England, as the brownie in Scotland, bucca in Cornwall, pùca in Ireland and pwca in Wales.

What conjures him in Puck of Pook’s Hill is a performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Shakespeare was writing before loss of belief drove the People of the Hills from the land.  In Elizabethan England belief in the supernatural was still strong and people would have believed in fairies, elves, supernatural creatures of all kinds and where better for them still to dwell than in the great Forest of Arden that still dominated much of Shakespeare’s native Warwickshire? Shakespeare’s plays are full of references to an active folklore and folk belief. It was there for him to draw upon as part of his lexicon of inspiration.  As far as I am concerned, this gives the lie to his plays being written by anyone other than a provincial commoner still close to the soil.  Puck serves Oberon, King of the Fairies. Oberon was the name for the King of the Breton Fairies.  Interestingly, the Queen of the Fairies has no name, so Shakespeare named her Titania.  Puck is playful, a trickster, but is also very powerful. He, like the other fairies, is profoundly ‘Other’, not human at all.

 I have always found this idea fascinating and a performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Stratford had a direct influence on the writing of The Fool’s Girl.  I took my main inspiration from Twelfth Night but I wanted to allude to other plays too, as if they were all swirling around in Shakespeare’s head, and I had to take him to the Forest of Arden so that my characters could encounter the folk who lived there. The Lord and Lady of the Wood are not quite Oberon and Titania but there is something uncanny about them and their servant, Robin.
‘There was a rustle in the branches above them and a boy dropped down from a tree to land at their feet. At least he appeared at first glance to be a boy … His stare expressed mild interest, mixed with amusement that could easily tip into malice. Despite his slight stature, he was no boy. His brown mossy hair was braided and wound with threads of different colours, hung with beads and shells. He wore necklaces made from beads of bone, tiny skulls, rough dark stones like petrified skulls.’ 
I wanted Shakespeare’s Arden to be place where magic still existed but there is precious little of it left now. Google will take you straight to a golf course.  The People of the Hills certainly left long ago, but I like to think that Puck is still there somewhere, lurking in the rough, playing tricks on the golfers, ruining their swing, hiding their golf balls.

SCC: Thank you, Celia.  I like to think the People of the Hills are maybe not completely gone, as Puck says, but only sleeping till their time comes again.  And sometimes, in certain woods, I hear things which make me think they are not very far away at all.

You can buy the books mentioned in this post HERE

Next week: Mary Hoffman, author of the brilliant Stravaganza series, hunts for Q for Questing Beast.  Be prepared for fewmets!



Friday, 28 September 2012

FANTABULOUS FRIDAYS A-Z: O FOR OWLMEN WITH SALLY PRUE



Scribble City Central's thirty-first Fantabulous Fridays A-Z comes from Sally Prue.  I read Sally's first book Cold Tom  (which won the Branford Boase) some years ago, and remember being very impressed by the seemingly effortless way she drew me into Tom's story, (and also delighted to find a new take on one of my favourite of all the British folk tales, Thomas the Rhymer).  The Guardian called it
"One of those rare, strange, wonderful books that makes you see the world through different eyes
and I'd certainly agree with that.


March of the Owlmen, the second in the wonderful Truth Sayer series is different, but equally entrancing, as is Plague of Mondays, the third and final book. I find it serendipitous that Sally's hero in these stories has the same name - Nian - as the scary Chinese creature which appeared here last week, courtesy of Saviour Pirotta!

The last time I read a series as good as this one was when I discovered (a little later in life than I would have liked) Diana Wynne Jones's Chrestomanci books.  Nian reminds me a little of Christopher Chant in The Lives of Christopher Chant.  He has that same air of endearingly puzzled confusion when he travels between the worlds, but he's very much his own thoughtful and determined boyish self.  The red-robed Tarhun are a work of comic genius (I never want to eat anything from the revolting Snerk's kitchen), and Sally is also a mistress of the art of inventing boggingly funny (and appropriate) swearwords - a rare skill in a children's writer.  Truly, I could go on and on about the excellence of these books for a very long time - they should most certainly be much more widely known, and bought for every reading child's bookshelf.

Sally's piece is rather different to the others in this series, in that she's writing about her own creation, rather than a beast or being from an established mythology. I have a theory that once a new creature springs into life in a writer's head (rather like Athena springing fully formed from the head of Zeus), it is in the world to stay, and takes on a life of its own.  Who knows where the sharp black lines of Owlmen will pop up next (oh Lord - please not on my bedroom wall!)?  I've found it fascinating to read about how these terrifying creatures came to be - and I hope you will too. Here's Sally to tell you all about them!

O for Owlmen
A Slice of Death

SP: What’s the scariest sort of monster?

One that’s big? Ravening? Vicious?

Or is it one that watches from the dark, one you can’t see properly, one that only moves when you’ve got your back to it?

I discovered the owlmen by accident, and I’m afraid they are going to be with me forever. That’s how it is, sometimes, with books.

And I’d started off so innocently. So happily.

But the owlmen creep up on you when you’re looking the other way.

****

The thing was, I’d written a book called The Truth Sayer, which is about an alien boy who arrives in our world only to find that his presence here is making the universe tear itself to pieces.

I ended up with a lot of respect for this boy, who’s called Nian (you say it NEE’n) and I was pleased to be offered the chance to relate some more of his adventures.

Unfortunately, I discovered that the being-in-the-wrong-world-causing-everything-to-disintegrate thing caused all sorts of problems. I wanted to write about huge terrifying monsters invading Nian’s world, but this couldn’t happen without the whole universe breaking up into inconveniently small pieces.

What could I do?

Well, I had a bit of wriggle-room because Nian can eat while he’s in a foreign world, so there was nothing stopping me having invading monsters as long as they weren’t any bigger in total than a few fishfingers and the odd packet of crisps.

So. Small monsters...

Attack of the killer gerbils?

Hmmmm...

Now, Nian’s home is an empty castle-type thing. In fact it’s so empty that I began to wonder about having the monsters drawn on the walls. That way they could be big and yet have very little substance.

Yes, they could be made of something a bit like paper.

Attack of the killer anaglypta?

Hmmmm...

Though, come to think about it, paper can give you a jolly nasty cut. Perhaps the monsters could have sharp edges...

I was doing a lot of staring into space at this point, but of course the trouble with space is that the stuff’s transparent, and you can’t help but see the things on the other side of it.

Now, there’s a bit of pattern on a rug in our house which looks exactly like Anubis the jackal-headed god of ancient Egypt.

(It looks, as it happens, like Anubis swinging on a trapeze, but the trapeze is neither here nor there.)

Anubis was just the sort of terrifying creature for which I’d been searching. Yes: I could give my monster the head of an animals.

Perhaps I could have a Hamster House of Horror.

Hmmmm...

No, it needed to be something dark, something deadly. Something that could stare out of the darkness with sharp focused eyes...

...brrr!

And as I searched for enlightenment the goddess of wisdom came to my aid. She was not Egyptian, as it happened, but Greek, and she was Athena, whose emblem is an owl.

An owl. A creature with the head of an owl. That was what I needed. Yes.



And that was the beginning of the owlmen. But it was only the beginning, because of course the owlmen developed during the writing of the book. For instance, I didn’t realise at first that each tall owl-headed image that appeared on the white walls of Nian’s home consisted of many owlmen stacked one on top of the other. I didn’t realise why sometimes one owlman would step away from the wall and stalk through the place, cutting through everything in its path in a frenzy of destruction.

I didn’t realise to whom the mind behind these dreadful creatures belonged, or what she wanted.

Most terrifyingly of all, though I could feel the cold aggression of the owlmen’s eyes staring at me through the darkness, I hadn’t a clue how to stop them.

The working title for the book was A Slice of Death, but later it became March of the Owlmen.

For march they do.

...there were so many, so very many. The owlmen’s eyes were invisible, but the malice of their gaze was tangible, threatening, as if needles were stabbing out of the darkness...
The fireball thumped into an owlman and might have killed it, but...there were more owlmen behind, more and more and more...

How could anyone stop them?

Look, just watch out, all right?

And don’t say I didn’t warn you....

SCC:  Thank you, Sally.  What a great example of how a writer's mind goes through the creative process.   I'm sure many of my Lovely Readers will learn a lot from this.

Want to read March of the Owlmen?  You can buy it HERE

Next Week: Celia Rees, author of The Fool's Girl, takes on P for Puck.  Be prepared for mischievous midnight doings! 

Monday, 24 September 2012

The Scribble City Interview: Keren David on "Another Life"

As I read a proof copy of Keren David's debut YA novel, When I Was Joe for the first time in January 2010, I knew that a new star had entered the writing firmament.  I found the whole plot so exciting that each time I had to put it down (because of husband's muttering about the late night light), I had a racing heart and I couldn't wait to find out what happened next. It was one of the best YA books I'd read that year (or any year), and I predicted it would be a massive winner. How right I was. To date it has won 5 awards, and featured on 15 other prestigious shortlists.



Ty/Joe is a fantastic creation - angst, bolshiness, fear, tenderness and intelligence are mixed up together in one intriguing 14 year-old package. He is believable - and almost more important - likeable. As a reader I really cared about what happens to him and that is a rare thing to achieve for any writer. I liked the sequel, Almost True, equally as much, and was very happy indeed when I got my hands on an early copy of Another Life, the just-published third book, which, once again, kept me turning pages into the wee small hours, such was my eagerness to find out what happened next.  It's a standout trilogy, and if you haven't read these books yet, I urge you not to wait a minute longer before doing so.

Keren has been kind enough to answer some of the

BURNING QUESTIONS 

I had about the books, and I'd like to welcome her to the Scribble City Central author interview chair.
KEREN DAVID
SCC: Having just reread When I Was Joe and Almost True, and read Another Life for the first time (in one glorious and unbroken KDfest), it’s clear that you wanted to portray two contrasting aspects of British society. Ty and Archie may be cousins, but they are very different characters and come from very different places.  What was it in particular about Archie and his quite privileged life circumstances that made you want to explore and narrate the plot from his side of things rather than Ty’s in the third book?

KD: I wanted the third book to do something a bit different, and I thought it would be good to see Ty from the outside and in a wider context. By contrasting Archie and Ty’s backgrounds I could write about middle class kids and the problems that can come from their privileges.
Julie Myerson’s books The Lost Child and Living with Teenagers were key texts for me, especially when creating the family of Oscar, Archie’s friend.  Then there was a tragic story in the news about a party in West London which ended in the death of a teenage girl when she took drugs belonging to her host’s dad – the parents having gone out for the night to leave them to party in peace.  These were all inspirations for Another Life.

Ty and Archie are very different, but they both share the same ability to do incredibly stupid things, and I’d like readers to think as much about their similarities as their differences.

SCC: A little information is a dangerous thing.  Archie in particular has few facts to go on in his quest for the truth about Ty, an alarmingly insouciant naivety, and a tendency to step into situations without thinking them through.  I’d be interested to know what your teenage readers make of him!  As an adult reader (and parent of teenagers), I tend to feel sorry for him and want to shake him, mostly both at the same time!  Did you find him easier or more difficult to write as a character than Ty, and why?

KD: Archie started off (in the second book, Almost True) as a plot device, to give Ty someone his own age to bounce off when he is staying with his grandparents. He was created to be spoiled and snobby and he annoyed me as much as he did Ty. But my daughter then aged 13, reading the book as I wrote it, thought he was very funny and kept on asking me to bring him back into the story. So I did, and Ty and I both learned to like him better. Ty is my favourite character to write, he’s my first fictional character, so really my default voice -  in fact I used to worry that I could only write in Ty’s voice!  Archie’s bounciness and recklessness came quite easily though – although he never lost his power to annoy me.

SCC: As an ex-journalist, you know the value of asking the right questions.  It’s what getting the truth out of people is all about.  One quote that struck me is this: “Maybe there’s no such thing as real truth, just lots and lots of different ways of explaining the same thing.” This seems to be a recurring theme in all three books.  Did you set out to give your readers the feeling that there was always another piece of the jigsaw, another angle, so that ‘the truth’ was always shifting their perceptions of what was really happening in the story past and present?

KD: This is really the theme of the second book, Almost True which examines both meanings of true – the elasticity of ‘truth’ and also how far one can be loyal to a friend. I try and contrast the attempts to establish the truth by authorities – teachers, lawyers, policemen, journalists and (most slippery of all) politicians - against the multi-layered, subjective, unreliable process of telling the ‘whole’ story.

SCC: When I read a KD novel, I am always blown away by your sense of pace, by how you manipulate the story arcs so that the reader just has to turn another page to find out what happens next.  Do you think that’s something which has been facilitated by your journalistic experience?  Has being a journalist helped or hindered you as a YA writer?

KD: I think it all comes down to being someone who is very easily bored! That’s why  I love journalism, especially news-editing, it’s very fast, very interesting, constantly changing.
As a reporter I’m used to telling stories in a succinct economical style, so I tend to throw in plot twists and turns to keep myself interested and also to fill up the space that other people use for descriptive passages and long discussions of people’s feelings.  I’m also always thinking about  my readers and what I want them to be thinking or feeling at that point – as I have such a low boredom threshold, I tend to assume readers will too.

SCC: Every writer has a different process.  Mine involves lots of thinking time, much tea and cake, and a mad headlong rush to deadline.  I also self-edit madly as I go.  Have you found that your process has changed from when you began to write When I Was Joe to the point where you started Another Life, and if so, what have you learned?  Anything weird and wonderful? Or just tried and tested tips and tricks of the trade?

KD: I had no idea at all how to write a book when I started When I Was Joe so I pretended it was a newspaper column, telling a story in episodes of 1,000 words each. Once I’d reached the end and knew how the story would end I embarked on the editing process.

I was incredibly disciplined when I wrote When I Was Joe. My husband and I were both working from home, sharing a laptop, and so I would book in time and write like crazy to get to my target of 1,000 words. When I started writing Almost True I had my own laptop, and I found it much more difficult to concentrate, because I didn’t need to be so disciplined.  Oh, and then I discovered Facebook and Twitter!

Then I got a contract to work as the Foreign Editor of a newspaper for a few months, as maternity cover, and although I loved it, it was even harder to concentrate on writing the book, as I found it used the same space in my brain.

Now I’ve written four books and I find I need to leave the house to write, switch off the internet, have strict deadlines and (sometimes) bribe myself with chocolate to get the work done.  Sometimes I think I’d be better off going back to sharing a laptop.

SCC: Do you have a plot template for each book – regimental chapter plans, mindmaps and all that?  Or do you just have a few scribbled down event milestones and let the rest evolve as you write?

KD: For When I was Joe I had the vaguest of plot plans (Boy witnesses crime goes into witness protection, meets disabled athlete girl, stuff happens, gives evidence, has to leave first identity but vows to meet athlete girl again) and one scribbled milestone (a fight in a swimming pool).  For Almost True I had a first line, the last line of Chapter 4 and the idea that Ty would meet his dad.  Almost True evolved in sections, and I only remembered right at the end that I had three people languishing in jail and I’d better put them on trial.

My methods changed a bit when I wrote Lia’s Guide to Winning the Lottery because I went to see the lottery administrators, Camelot, and from that meeting I had a long list of ideas which I put in chronological order to help create a plot.

With Another Life I’d written two thirds of it just in Archie’s voice, and then I read it through and realized it needed Ty as well, so I inserted his chapters and then wrote the end.

Now I tend to plan ahead a little more, and edit as I go along, partly because my agent demands an outline and a few chapters at the beginning of each project. I would never want to plan ahead too much though, I like it when the story or characters surprise me as I’m writing.

SCC:The Paralympics has been much on everyone’s mind this last month.  Ellie, Joe/Ty’s trainer, plays an important part in When I Was Joe, not least as a fantastic role model for both Ty and your readers, and she continues to feature (though less)  in the next two books.  What triggered the idea of including a disabled athlete as one of your main characters?

KD: I have to admit that Ellie was not my idea at all. I was taking a class in Writing for Children at City University (a course that I now teach), and we did a plot planning exercise which involved creating a character and then getting into pairs and weaving our characters together into a story. My character was Witness Boy and I was paired with Amanda Swift, the course teacher, who had thought of Paralympic Girl. Of course I asked Amanda’s permission to steal her character.  I thought of dropping Ellie for quite a long time, but she was always an integral part of the story. She’s in some ways based on my brother, who is disabled and although not an athlete is ferociously determined, impressive and successful.  I also read some interviews with the paralympic athlete Shelly Woods, so I was thrilled when she won a silver medal at the London Games.

SCC: A lot of research has obviously gone into these books – the psychology of how being in witness protection affects whole families is a huge and daunting subject to cover, and then there is how the whole criminal justice system works, knife crime, gangs, lawyers, boxing and a whole raft more.  Once you started on each book, did you ever have any serendipitous moments when the elusive piece of information you needed just at that moment appeared as if by a miracle?  Or was it all just hard, painstaking graft and talking to the right people?

KD: I’m very aware of the danger of too much research swamping the essential story, so I tend to write first and check later. I did research the details of witness protection in the UK and I have a friend who is a criminal barrister who checks all the legal stuff (he was exceptionally useful for the courtroom scenes). I tend to call on friends and contacts when I need help - one old school friend has been a police officer for 25 years, so I called her up when I needed to know exactly what happens when someone is charged with an offence. For Archie’s home life in Another Life I talked to a friend whose husband is a corporate lawyer, like Archie’s parents.  I was nervous about making Ty a Catholic, as I’m not even a Christian, but very reassured that both my editors were Catholics!

I don’t know if I’d call it serendipitous but when I was writing When I Was Joe in the spring/summer of 2008 there were lots of stories in the newspapers about stabbings in London, about teenagers being killed, joining gangs and carrying knives. Every day there was another tragedy. This definitely shaped the book, which I’d envisaged as being more about false identity than about knife crime. The final chapter, which draws on political responses to knife crime, is all taken from real life.

SCC: Finally, have you said all you have to say about Ty and Archie?  Might you be tempted, say, to write something about Archie’s dad as a boy?  Or are you off to creative pastures new?

KD: At the moment I’ve finished with them, although I’d never say forever. I have a vague idea about picking up the story in the future from the point of view of Alyssa, Ty’s little sister, or even giving characters walk-on roles in unrelated books.

I do have a soft spot for Archie’s dad (although I expect my teenage readers will hate him), but I can’t really see myself going back in time with him, because I know the end of his story.

I’m working two books at once right now. One is a contemporary teen novel for my new publishers, Atom, which is about siblings reunited years after one was adopted into another family. The other is historical, set in Canada at the turn of the century and completely different from anything I’ve ever written, except there is a murder and a confused teenage boy, so hmm….

SCC: Thank you so much, Keren.  I always love delving into other writers' ways of working and reasons for doing certain things in their books, so I'm hugely grateful to you for answering my questions so fully.  

If you'd like to read When I Was Joe, Almost True or Another Life just click on each title link to buy direct from The Scribble City Central Bookshelf



Friday, 21 September 2012

FANTABULOUS FRIDAYS A-Z: N FOR NIAN WITH SAVIOUR PIROTTA



Scribble City Central's thirtieth Fantabulous Friday comes from ace storyteller Saviour Pirotta.  I've admired Saviour's boundless enthusiasm for all things mythological for years, and it's a delight to have him on the blog for the first time.  Saviour has a way of including a tiny nugget of new information to brighten an old and familiar story which makes him one of the best retellers in this crowded field.  I particularly liked his last book, The Orchard Book of Grimm's Fairy Tales, which, along with excellent versions of Rapunzel and the Princess and the Frog, has lesser known tales such as Little Mouse and Lazy Cat.  Emma Chichester Clark's fabulous illustrations are, as always, a delight to behold, and I think this was an author/illustrator match made in heaven! (I'm also pleased to see that the stories are going to be available as a series of separate stand-alone books from January 2013).

Having started as a storyteller for the Commonwealth Institute, Saviour has a rich and rare treasure trove of global myths and legends to draw from.  I'm not ashamed to admit that the Chinese creature he is going to tell us about is not one I'd ever heard of before - and that made me very happy, because I'm always keen to add new mythological creatures to my own store of knowledge.  I'm delighted, therefore, to pass you over to Saviour to induct us all into the mystery of the elusive:

N for Nian
Hairy Chinese Beastie



SP:  The Nian, also known as the Nien, is thought to be one of the most ancient monsters in the world.  Its makes its homes in hard-to-reach mountain caves in faraway China, or in caverns deep at the bottom of the ocean.  Since only a handful of people have looked at the terrifying Nian and lived to tell the tale, no one is quite sure what it looks like.  Some say it is part ox, part lion and part unicorn.  Others insist it looks like a giant lion but has pointy horns on its head.  Yet others believe it is a massive hairy beast with small eyes that are always burning with rage.

Legend has it that every Spring the Nian used to creep out of its hiding place to devour livestock and people, usually children.  One year it stumbled across a small village where a wise man lived.  The hermit noticed several things about the Nian. It stayed away from people making too much noise, and it gave a child dressed in bright red a white berth. The monster hated noise, and was scared of the colour red!

At the next Spring festival, the people in the village were prepared for the Nian.  They had festooned their houses with glowing red lanterns.  Red banners flapped at every door and window.  As the Nian approached, growling at the lanterns, the gate to the mayor’s house opened and a dreadful, ear-splitting noise was heard.  A lion pounced out of the shadows, shaking its massive head and roaring. The Nian winced at the terrible racket. When the villagers leapt out of their houses, beating ladles and brooms on buckets and washtubs, he turned tail and fled.  No one, livestock or child, was devoured by the hungry monster that year.

The lion was, of course, the wise old hermit wearing an enormous mask, but the Nian had been fooled. Ever since then, the Chinese people have welcomed the New Year with a lion dance in which they make as much noise as possible, especially by letting off firecrackers.


I have to admit that, although I tell the story of the Nian in a lot of schools, I’d never heard of it as a child.  I first came across the monster while working at the Commonwealth Institute in London in the late 1980s.  We used to have festivals from around the world, and Chinese New Year was one of them. It was organised by a lady from Hong Kong and it was she who first told me the story.  Mind you, like with all famous tales, there are different versions in different regions including Singapore, Macau, Taiwan and Malaysia.  In one the villagers actually pay a lion to scare off the Nian with its roaring.  The ruse works until one year the lion gets a better offer guarding a king.  Unable to find a replacement, the villages hire an actor who constructs a massive lion mask out of paper and sticks, so introducing the tradition of the lion dance in Chinese New Year.

In another, more humorous, variant of the myth, a famous monk called HongJun LaoZu, seeks out the Nian in its mountain lair.
‘Why don’t you eat the snakes that live in the valley instead of children?’ suggests HongJun, hoping the poison in the vipers would kill the Nian.
The Nian gobbles up the snake but survives.
‘Now why don’t you eat the dragon on the other side of the mountain?’ HongJun says next.
The Nian survives the dragon too, despite the fire in its throat.
‘Now little man, it’s time I ate YOU,’ it growls.
‘Just let me take my robe off,’ replies the monk.  ‘You don’t want the cotton thread to snag on your teeth.’
HongJun peels off his clothes to reveal bright red underpants.  The Nian howls in fright and hastily backs off.  The monk, having discovered the monster's Achilles heel, hurries back to the village and instructs the people there to hang red lanterns at their doors and windows.

Later on HongJun captured the Nian and used it instead of a horse.  Since then, people in China have considered red a lucky colour. And every New Year they give each other lucky money tucked inside a small envelope – a red one, to scare off the Nian in case it has escaped from the brave HongJun….


When I was commissioned to write a book of Chinese stories for Hodder, I made sure I included the story of the Nian.  I love the fact that no one is quite sure what it looks like, allowing me to tailor its appearance to the audience I’m reading to in schools.  It’s also great fun asking children to draw their own Nians and see what animals they incorporate.  We hang up a red lantern at the classroom door, of course, just in case the monster is eavesdropping on us….

SCC: Thanks so much for sharing that, Saviour.  I've always wondered where the origins of the Lion dance lie, and now I know!  This one tale encapsulates so many familiar facets of Chinese culture which we see in passing without really thinking about them - the love of the colour red, the lucky money envelopes, the firecrackers - that I'm surprised it's not more widely known.  Has anyone here heard it before? Do tell!

You can buy Saviour's The Orchard Book of Grimm's Fairytales HERE
Saviour's new book, The Ghosts Who Danced will be published by Frances Lincoln in 2013 Next week: Award-winning author Sally Prue on how she created the terrifying O for Owlmen.  See you then! 


 
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