Books of the Year, Day Four: Non-Fiction

Mornin' all, and wasn't Great Expectations good last night? Well done BBC. Now, on to non-fiction - I haven't been reading much of it this year (which is probably a Good Thing), as I've been slowly wading my way through Pepys, and mostly reviewing fiction, but here's the best of what I did manage, from Henrician poets through lobsters, porn (sort of) and beasts.

Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn (still alive)

1. Graven with Diamonds: The Many Lives of Thomas Wyatt by Nicola Shulman

A beautifully written, silver-veined biography of poet Sir Thomas Wyatt, this book shows life at the court of Henry VIII with a sharp eye for detail and a nose for wit.  Wyatt's poems come alive in Shulman's hands, her analysis is both involving and throws revealing light onto her mysterious subject and his codes. Breathe in the wrong place at the Henrician court, and on your head it really would be.  Plus it's worth it for the idea that some poems were read out with the use of a squeaky bladder.

2. A Life of Privilege, Mostly by Gardner Botsford

A dominatrix. Possibly.

This is an older book - it came out in 2006, just about the beginning of my literary career; it may be a little recherché for some, as it concerns the life of a New Yorker editor, but it is a book brimming with liveliness, poignancy, and insights into the world of letters - there is a priceless scene where the young Botsford returns home with a middle-aged couple, only for a tiger-skin clad dominatrix to burst out into the room with a whip. He fled in terror.

3. Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace

I finally got round to reading this collection of essays by the lamented David Foster Wallace (his unfinished novel, The Pale King, is something I've yet to tackle: sometimes I look at the pile of Books to Read in my flat and have a minor panic attack). Like many, I was hypnotised by Infinite Jest as a student (somewhat, even, to the detriment of my degree). It's impossible to read this book all the way through as it's a bit like being locked in a room with someone very pedantic telling you exactly what goes into making bricks - no wait, come back, I've just got to the interesting bit, DID YOU KNOW THAT.... but take each one as it comes and you'll find his ingenuity and style everywhere - whether he's at a porn festival or a lobster market. The best essay, to my mind, is the one about the English language, which should be read by anyone interested in how to make sentences.

4. Under a Canvas Sky by Clare Peake 

Mervyn Peake: Legend

This is a lovely, warm memoir about growing up as the daughter of writer Mervyn Peake and artist Maeve Gilmore. I had the pleasure of interviewing the Peake children this year (you can read it here), as it was also the year that Titus Awakes, a continuation of the Titus series by Gilmore, came out. Whilst Titus Awakes is interesting as a document about Maeve's own life, Clare's memoir shows a life enhanced by fantasy and overshadowed by the sad illness of Mervyn, which led to his death far too young. The Titus books stand as some of the most interesting post-war fictions to have emerged - they are sui generis - and this glimpse into the world of the writer, from 'under a canvas sky', as it were, is poignant and pleasing.

5. Vast Alchemies by G Peter Winnington

Read as research into the interview, this is a brilliant biography of Mervyn Peake, published by the redoubtable Peter Owen, fluidly written and with a fascinating slant on the creator of Titus. 

 

6. A Venetian Bestiary by Jan Morris

This is a lilting, kindly monograph on the role of beasts in Venetian art, with some passages of lyricism (as when she describes the Golden Stallions.) Morris is now on Tumblr, and posts deliciously observed vignettes often. 

Pip pip, then, till tomorrow, for fiction of the year...

Mervyn Peake Centenary at the British Library

After an infernal tube journey, in which I felt that I might have been working in the kitchens in Gormenghast long enough to become the revolutionary Steerpike, I emerged into the brick, brackish dullness of the British Library. It is a sterile place: but it holds the manuscripts of Mervyn Peake, some of which were on display in a private viewing. They are gorgeous, delicate objects, carefully cross-hatched, writing and drawings all spilling off the page as if Peake could never quite contain the forces within him. Organised chronologically, the exhibition went from Peake's birth in China (an enormous influence on the books) to his death. There were the originals of Gormenghast: Fuschia and Steerpike and Swelter and Flay, looming out of the pages as they had sprung out of the mind of Peake.

Here was a recording of The Rhyme of the Flying Bomb (which caused particular pleasure to one of Mervyn Peake's grandchildren, the singer Jack Penate); here were the original etchings of the Alice in Wonderland illustrations that so elegantly and weirdly complement Tenniel's. I overheard a very old lady say, 'well of course we never knew he was going in for grotesquerie, it was quite a shock'. I wonder who she was. There was lots of wine but no food.

All the children were there (Sebastian, Fabian and Clare), as well as a lineup of actors and writers who then gave readings and talks afterwards in the school auditorium-like and unromantic Conference Centre; however the romance of Peake was enough to overcome that. Miranda Richardson (currently playing the Countess in Brian Sibley's radio adaptation) read the death of Fuschia (which brought to my mind the death of Ophelia, and I wondered if anyone had explored the Shakespearean resonances in Gormenghast); Zoe Wanamaker read of the Countess, Titus and the Thing, in her smoky, elfin voice (she was Cora [or Clarice] in the TV adaptation); John Sessions read too (although I did not recognise him).

On the writerly side we had the shaven-headed and eloquent China Mieville. I must admit I have only read one of his books, King Rat, and I did not like it; but his speech was immensely interesting and well-argued. Gormenghast succeeds because it is almost familiar; Steerpike is a villain but we love him because he wants to bring change to the ossified rituals of the castle. Brian Sibley spoke too (tottering on stage with a stick) about the pleasures of adapting the books for radio, and we were treated to a section of it that brought shivers to my skin. The evening finished with a clip from the TV adaptation, in which the Ladies Cora and Clarice 'unbend' to Steerpike in the lake. It was very witty, and made me want to watch it all over again; alas I only have them on VHS, and no video player to watch them on. Back to the books for me, then.

Read my interview with the Peake children HERE

An Interview with Mervyn Peake's Children in the Daily Telegraph

Four Peaklets

A fortnight ago I went to the Battersea flat of Clare Penate (Mervyn Peake's daughter, and incidentally, mother of singer Jack Penate; she also, marvellously, has a son called Titus, after Titus Groan, the hero of her father's books), to meet the three Peake children, Sebastian, Fabian, and Clare and talk about publication of Titus Awakes (written by Maeve Gilmore, Mervyn's wife), and the other events of this centenary year of Peake's birth, as well as growing up with two furiously imaginative and artistic parents. Clare has also written a lovely memoir about her early years, called Under a Canvas Sky. It was a very exciting day. Mervyn Peake had a huge impact on my adolescent imagination; so much so that I called a minor character in my first book, The Other Book, Peake. (The other two were Murdoch and Munro, after Iris Murdoch and Saki, 'H H Munro'.) Peakeiana was everywhere; I even held three first editions of the Gormenghast books. The resulting interview is printed in the Telegraph today; alternatively you can read it HERE.