Robin Robertson's Hill of Doors

Bacchus is, naturally, my favourite divine being (see The Liberators): so I was well pleased to see him play such an important part in Robin Robertson's excellent Hill of Doors, which I have reviewed for The Telegraph, here.

Creative Writing Workshop at Greycoats Hospital

Is she happy or not?

To the pleasant streets of Victoria today, for an intense Creative Writing Workshop at Greycoats Hospital school. The school is a large, ancient and pleasant building very near to Victoria Station. It's a girls' school, and I (having arrived late, and slightly flummoxed) was talking to four groups (one after the other) about the basic structuring of writing a story. It was exhausting, but also exhilarating. I talked about the importance of sources - for me the Titian painting of Ariadne and Bacchus as a major point of inspiration for The Liberators. The girls impressed me with their mythological knowledge of Theseus and the Minotaur, and also of myriad other subjects including Romeo (and Gnomeo) and Juliet. Influences as diverse as Slumdog Millionaire, Cinderella and Pygmalion came up (the latter causing some to burst into a rendition of Eliza Doolittle the pop singer). We also talked about how inspiration can be found in the most mundane things - a dead pigeon, a postbox - and the supreme importance of plot and believable characters, as well as the necessity of figures of speech, and the girls came up with some lovely similes. I hope that they took a lot away from the event - in terms of the need for structure, rigour and hard work in the business of writing - and I would like to extend my thanks to the school for the warm welcome I received, and especially to Melissa Hanbury for inviting me.

The Liberators by Philip Womack, read by Tim Bruce: review

legousi d'hos tis eiseleluthe zenos
goes epodos Ludias apo chtonos
zanthoisi bostruxoisin euosmon komen

An outsider has come, they say,
Howling out enchantments: a sorceror, from Lydia.
His hair smells sweet, his golden curls like lightning. (The Bacchae, Euripides, lines 233-235, translation by PW.)

Unlocking the inspiration for any book is an impossible task: there are usually several strands, some of which the author may not be aware of until even years after he or she has finished a book. But one cornerstone of The Liberators was always The Bacchae. In it, Pentheus refuses to believe in the avatar of Bacchus (pictured, looking as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, by Simeon Solomon), and meets a bloody death, torn apart by his own mother. Thus was born the idea of a positive force misused for evil.

The dramatic origins of The Liberators were brought to the fore of my mind as I listened to Tim Bruce reading it (six CDs, six days). The recording opens with my translation of the lines from the play which describe the arrival of Bacchus - a stranger with golden hair who promises enchantment. (I was very glad that they chose to do this; not least because one of the reasons I wrote The Liberators was to bring Ancient Greek to children in a digestible form).

One listens to an audiobook as if one were a child: entirely. Thus the scenes that I wrote appeared in my mind in glorious detail. In fact, I think I am going to hire somebody to read out my manuscripts to me as it makes one alive to nuance in a way that is impossible when you are reading it on the page, or even (as I sometimes do) reading it out loud.

Tim Bruce's voice is rich and mellow, capable of ranging from a very haughty Olivia Rocksavage, through the looser tones of the teenagers, to Strawbones' fake cockney, and Julius' harsh, barbaric accent. Strawbones shifts nicely from charismatic to monstrous. One thing that was very effective was the way that Bruce made the ecstatic cry of the Liberators sound. In his hands (as it were) it was a lilting, quasi-religious song, with two long, descending tones. I'd always imagined it as a fiercer, more brutal sound, but it was chillingly good.

Bruce also conveyed brilliantly changes of pace; Ivo's meeting with Julius in his flat was terrifying. It is also rather wonderful to hear the faint crackle of the recording, as if the static makes it authoritative and real.

Hearing the book has also made me notice things I hadn't before; for instance, Ivo's breaking of Strawbones' painting after he's destroyed the Liberators is a manifestation of rage that he should have controlled. There are still lessons to be learned; it's not all finished yet. But, as Ivo thinks as he approaches the end, 'there is a pattern in the world, there is a way into the future.' Listening to the book has been immensely rewarding and enriching; the syllables flowed over me warm and exhilarating. I hope that all who hear it will enjoy it too.

When I Was Ivo: Keren David on The Liberators

Keren David, author of two heart-stopping, gimlety thrillers, When I Was Joe and Almost True, which follow the adventures of a teenager called Ty who becomes involved in a stabbing, has written about The Liberators. I am glad that she likes Strawbones - my own favourite. I think that Ivo and Ty would get on very well together. We should arrange a meeting. Here's what she said:

'On the surface, it's a fast-moving, exciting adventure, with well-drawn characters that you care about - and intriguing sinister baddies,whose seductive charm is irresistible. It would make a wonderful film - the riot on Oxford Street, and the final scenes in the National Gallery make great use of London as a setting.
But it goes so much deeper. I was extremely impressed by the way you conveyed Dionysian ecstasy in a way that a young audience would understand - particularly the sexual undertones, which were suitably subtle but definitely there - and the conflict between Dionysian and Apollonian philiosophies. So often nowadays we see mythology raided for storylines, but stripped of its essential meaning.
I also loved the way that Ivo, Felix and Miranda were unapologetically posh and privileged - learning Greek, going to boarding school and living with servants. I wrote a post on Norm Geras's blog recently about the importance of boarding school books for those of us who did not go to a school where Greek and Latin were taught. I learned a great deal from reading books about boarding school children - not only about poetry and the classics, but about how the upper classes lived - extremely useful information in later life!
I only have tiny criticisms - much as I loved the image of Charles and Camilla at the party, I did wonder about the security arrangements. And at the beginning I was a little bewildered by all the characters and had to go back and check who was who a few times. But once I'd got everyone straight in my head, and particularly when Strawbones appeared, I was completely hooked.

Now I must get hold of The Other Book (great title).

Kx'

That Naughty Verres, and A Certain Mr Satoshi

I was reading some Cicero the other day, in particular his superlatively nasty speech against the general Verres, on trial for extortion and being the worst possible governor of Sicily ever. He used to swan around in a litter filled with rose petals, and set up an enormous tent to which were brought various ladies of ill (and worse) repute. Here is a description of one of his parties:

'itaque erant exitus eius modi ut alius inter manus e convivio tamquam e proelio auferretur, alius tamquam occisus relinqueretur, plerique ut fusi sine mente ac sine ullo sensu iacerent.'

Which translates (in rather bad English, but you get the drift) as:

'And so, there were exits (to the party) of such a kind that some would be carried out in the arms (of the other guests) as if from a battle; others would be left as if for dead; most would sprawl on the ground without any idea or sense of where they lay.'

Now I don't know about you, but all this sounds like it could be rather fun. It looks like Verres was heartily enjoining the worship of Bacchus. I wonder if Cicero was just jealous because he never got invited and was too busy writing epic poems about himself?

I attended a party (which didn't end like that) for the launch of Jonathan Lee's Who is Mr Satoshi?, which is his debut novel and looks intriguing. The party was in a pub in Islington; as far as I know nobody was carried out as if from a battle, but it was certainly enormously enjoyable.