Q. What was the genesis of Red Army Faction Blues?

Football and rock music are the cultural glue for many people, myself included, but I’d never read a compelling piece of fiction about either, really, and was somewhat at a loss to explain why. Until The Damned United.

Besides being terrific, I found it both shocking and liberating in what it suggested in terms of potential subject matter and how to shine a new light on the immediate past. It’s about football, but at the same time, not at all. It’s about a real person, a well-known celebrity, turned symbol or cipher. Much of modern culture, for a number of reasons, appears to have been closed off to imaginative fiction and I think there is a hunger for alternatives to ‘official’ versions.

I was already corresponding with David Peace a little, and I’d mentioned the story of the first incarnation of Fleetwood Mac, how the band’s initial disintegration had assumed mythical status – become another symbol really, for the end of 1960s optimism and experimentation. In particular, what the surviving members of Fleetwood Mac in interviews referred to as ‘The Munich Horrorshow’, which they attributed to the start of the sad decline of Peter Green, the band’s original creative force.

I initially tried to make Green the protagonist, but it was hopeless – the known facts forced out any freedom and the clichés flowed!

Q. What was the source of your fascination with Peter Green and Fleetwood Mac?

As a kid I was a big fan of Peter Green and one of the first albums I ever owned was The Pious Bird of Good Omen – the one with the nun holding an albatross on the front. When I started to learn to play guitar it was Green I initially tried to copy. Perhaps because it seemed simple – deceptively so, of course. With hindsight, they were a very effective singles band, while never quite making the classic album they threatened to. But that run of singles – ‘Need Your Love So Bad’, ‘Black Magic Woman’, ‘Albatross’ ‘Man of the World’, ‘Oh Well’ and ‘Green Manalishi’ – is quite staggering in its breadth and originality. And then of course, what happened to the three guitarists is awfully tragic – even as Fleetwood Mac went on to being the best-selling band of the 1970s. The 60s ended when I was ten, so the story was initially skewed through the prism of childhood for me, when the generation above me all seemed to be speaking in magical and exciting codes I had only a very limited understanding of.

Che's monument in La Higuera

Ever since I read Che Guevara’s Bolivian Diaries in 1970, I had always wondered about that remote region where he fought, died, was buried, and his corpse was finally unearthed. When I was recently asked to translate a book by Argentine painter Ciro Bustos dealing with some of the events surrounding Che’s guerrilla movement in Bolivia, I thought ‘here’s my chance.’ I persuaded myself I needed to research the vegetation, terrain, topography in order to describe it better in the book.

First stop, though, was La Paz, the capital of Bolivia high in the Andes at 3,500 metres, far from the low agricultural region where Che fought but where I’d have a chance to talk to Bolivians whose lives were affected by the tragic episode four decades ago. When I recovered from two days laid low by the ‘mal de soroche’ (altitude sickness), I met Loyola Guzman who acted as liaison between Che’s guerrilla’s and the Bolivian Communist Party, then Antonio Peredo a well known journalist whose two brothers ‘Inti’ and ‘Coco’ fought with Che, and finally Carlos Soria another journalist who has spent a life-time studying the whys and wherefores of Che’s defeat and is one of the few people to have actually seen Che’s original diary kept in Bolivia’s central bank. In a field were so many people have so many different versions of events, his website gives as fair a rundown as possible.  www.chebolivia.com

(I also took the opportunity of a side trip to Lake Titicaca and in it the Island of the Sun where the Inca God/King Viracocha apparently appeared. It is the highest large expanse of water in the world, a bright blue surrounded in the distance by the white capped mountains of the Andes; magical on a sunny day.)

Identity politics and the conditions of production:
Reflections on writing Short Stories

A paper presented by M Y Alam at the 11th International Conference
on the Short Story in English, Toronto June 2010.

This article as a PDF.

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This paper is based on elements of my own professional, and to a large extent, personal and political identity. As such, it’s drawn from my practice as a writer and teacher of creative fiction as well as research and teaching endeavours which are grounded in the world of sociology and social policy.

I’ll start with something of a preamble as a means of situating the short story as an efficient and effective means of communicating every day life, including experiences and voices that may otherwise go unnoticed, hidden, or, as the literature would have it, remain marginal and perhaps marginalized. Of course, we all know that the short story presents writers with an opportunity to be heard, to leave a calling card that may elicit further engagement with their work; for some, a short story is more than an advert but the fact remains, it can serve as an invitation for our reader to discover more of the authorial same. Additionally, the shape, duration and, of course, the nature of the stories themselves – including questions of theme, genre and the audiences they aim to serve – are all part of the larger equation of what a short story is. As Susan Lohafer notes:

‘Whatever a story is, how it behaves, the important thing is what it reveals. It’s a magnifying glass for examining the techniques of impressionism, say, or the assumptions of postmodernism, or the social data caught in its prism. Famously associated with “submerged populations” and the “lonely voice” of the individual, the short story is the window on marginalized identities.’ (Lohafer, 2003: 1-2)

Q: Where did the idea for La Rochelle come from and what is the launch point for such a book?

A: The idea came from a dream my brother Paul told me, in the autumn of 2003. His girlfriend had been kidnapped by a criminal called ‘Whitby’. I agreed to do a swap for her, so we took a taxi down from London to the countryside, where Whitby’d taken her. In the taxi, the driver turned to us and said, ‘Can’t you see, the whole of London’s going down!’ Behind us, there were fires in the sky, falling cranes, etc. This was the starting point, the disappearance of a woman, and the name Whitby, which really stuck in the mind.

Q. It is quite an unconventional read. What is it you were trying to achieve with the book?

I was trying to write a novel that wasn’t too much like a ‘novel’. It had to have the qualities of life instead, such as thickness, abundance, presence, a degree of untidiness. I was after something baroque and dishevelled, with a coat of varnish. I also wished to write something that will last, so that readers may feel inclined to read it again (and even again).  Furthermore, I felt it was necessary to bring privacy back into fiction. Can anyone tell what the narrator’s problem really is in La Rochelle? This isn’t an issues book, and it isn’t journalism in disguise.

I was also trying to make people laugh, and worry.

Q. Could you elaborate on ‘This isn’t an issues book, and it isn’t journalism in disguise’?

A. I mean it isn’t a book in which the narrator’s problems have been formulated in advance, and in a manner that robs them of their particularity to him. They are problems that are being experienced through a sort of fog, rather than seen clearly, as something that ‘everyone’ knows all about these days. The narrator can’t see around his own corner, whereas journalism typically supposes it can.

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M Y Alam – Smokes and Dust
I’d completed a draft while my father was in hospital for nearly three months. He recovered for a couple of months before relapsing. It’s not that I felt obliged to write anything about or even for him, but the love of the word was something he cultivated in me from an early age, sometimes without even knowing it. Unlike me, the writing was a much deeper part of who he was. Writing kept him alive, I used to think, but like everything else, even that left him. Barely able to hold a pen, he wrote his final poem, one of the most beautiful pieces of verse I’ve ever heard, a few days before he died. The writing of this one was relatively easy, for a change.

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Sarah Butler - Leaving
Somewhat ironically, I wrote ‘Leaving’ just after buying a house with my (now ex-) boyfriend. I was struck by the amount of stuff we owned, and the physical effort that was required to move it. I am very interested in relationships, what makes some of them work and some of them not work, or some of them work for a while and then turn stale. I’m also interested in objects, and how – particularly when relationships are breaking down – we invest them with emotion. My own relationship ended messily, and I had to leave the house we had bought together, which was both traumatic and freeing. It’s funny looking back at the story now, because it is strangely prophetic. It’s filled with objects I ‘borrowed’ from my own life, which makes it even harder not to see the parallels!

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Journal One – 23 August 2009

Ann plays witness to the continued Israeli settlement and the subsequent evictions of Palestinian families, plus she describes the conditions at the Qalandya checkpoint between Ramallah and Jerusalem where 2500 Palestinians make their way through turnstiles and holding-pens each morning trying to get to work on time.

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Journal Two – 22 September 2009

Ann just misses Jimmy Carter, Desmond Tutu and Mary Robinson’s visit to a street camp, witnesses more evictions and demolitions and monitors the chaos at a separation barrier as Palestinians try and make it to Al Aqsa mosque for Friday prayers during Ramadan.

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Journal Three – October 2009

Ann reports on visit to Sderot, the town in southern Israel that bore the brunt of the Hamas’ Qassam rocket attacks in the six months leading up to the recent Israeli assault on Gaza. She chats with Israeli solidier, makes a trip to Haifa, visits Nazareth and samples beer at the Taybeh brewery.S a conversation she has with a soldier at the vehicle only Wadi Nar checkpoint, as an almost-encounter with the secret visit of British Chief of Staff Sir David Richard, visits Israeli settlements, canvassing Israeli views, and takes a road tour, including a visit to Nazareth and Sderot, the town in southern Israel that bore the brunt of the Hamas’ Qassam rocket attacks in the six months leading up tothe recent Israeli assault on Gaza..

Journal Four – October 2009

Ann travels to Yanoun for olive picking, a small farming community that was violently emptied of its inhabitants in October 2002. Back in Jerusalem she witnessess the bulldozing of a house and reports on the difficulties Palestinians face aquiring visas for foreign travel, illustrated by the refusal of her friend Abdul Karim Sa’adi’s visa for a series of talks in the UK. She also reports of being stripped searched at a checkpoint at Zaytoun as punishment for helping a group of Palestinians recover their confiscated documents.

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Ann Wright is an active human rights worker and lectures on the theory and practice of civilian protection. She has translated fourteen books from Spanish and French including Motorcycle Diaries, The Train of Ice and Fire and I, Rigoberta Menchu. Ann was previously in Palestine in 2005, to see her journals from that time visit – www.palestinejournals.co.uk

Q: What was the most difficult aspect of the script?

A: Imagining the main characters and central premise is always key to any story. Although there is a jocular tone between little Eric and Cantona, I was deadly serious about trying to envisage both Eric Bishop’s detailed history and mental state when we join him.  Incidentally, in the script when we open Eric is actually stuck on a roundabout going round the wrong way again and again.  Unfortunately, on the opening day of filming the stunt driver made a mistake and collided with Eric’s car on the first loop. We were very lucky no one was seriously hurt. Ken had bruised ribs for a couple of weeks and Barry got a knock too.  (Director of Photography)  Maybe this shows it is much easier to write a script than make the film.

Although Eric Bishop pretty much came to mind in a flash we were really keen that his psychological condition was absolutely coherent. The comedy only works if we are entirely serious about his pain. I read many books which were helpful, especially one by Andrew Solomon called The Noonday Demon. It is quite brilliant. He analyses himself with impressive honesty and insight and does an entire overview of the condition, even going back to the ancient Greeks. It is clear Eric is not in a deep depression otherwise he would not have been able to get out of bed, but he is certainly going through a significant crisis in his life.

]]> http://www.route-online.com/read/paul-laverty-looking-for-eric.html/feed 0 http://www.route-online.com/read/mourning-charlie-gillett.html http://www.route-online.com/read/mourning-charlie-gillett.html#comments Fri, 19 Mar 2010 12:06:42 +0000 idaley http://www.route-online.com/?p=3774 Former Route DJ and music writer Pedro ‘DJ Mestizo’ González mourns the passing of Charlie Gillett, a great populariser of the music of the world across Anglo-Saxon dominated airwaves.

World music broacaster and writer Charlie Gillett died yesterday. In his sixty eight year, he never lost his excitement for pop music, he just extended the territory of where to find it.

He was also a great connoisseur of the origins of the music that went to revolutionize the world. His essential book for anyone with a keen interest in rock music, The Sound of the City: the Rise of Rock and Roll was an informative book of how this music was formed, the protagonists and how the music industry worked in those early years.  He went on to become manager of the Kilburn & the High Roads (the former band of Ian Dury), and created his own record label, Oval.

For me, it was as radio broadcaster where his role was outstanding; he was a catalyst of a music scene and a pivotal figure in the promotion of popular music around the world. He is frequently mentioned as the man who gave the world the Dire Straits, which by now is, maybe, not something to be proud of. His music programming on Radio London under the name Honky Tonk included the airing of demos by new artists. One of them was ‘Sultans of Swing’ and the rest is history. Honky Tonk was one of the music programmes which united many musicians and served as a revulsive for a music scene against the pretentiousness of the progressive music of the time. Then he went to discover African music and with that a new horizon of music without frontiers started to reach his audience.

I was a keen listener to his BBC World series. Sometimes the music was far beyond my taste, but wasn’t indifferent. Never compare two great men but, if you let me pass this, I think Charlie was for world music what John Peel was for the indie scene. I remember when Ojos de Brujo came to tour in London for the first time, he brought DJ Panko to the studio to play some of the music that this band was influenced by. As I listened I objected to some comments made by Panko about the gypsy connection to the flamenco being the only one with real significance. My thoughts were that this music was not a question of race and, afterwards, I sent an email to Charlie, lecturing him about flamenco origins. He replied to me shortly and precisely quoting the origins of American popular music. Yes, he was right.

You can see that many times in music – as in other arts expressions – the underdogs are sometimes the people who open new forms of expression and, in this case, stretch the music wider. I will miss his programmes.

Ian Clayton answers questions about Bringing It All Back Home in a public house in the Castleford Potteries, a traditional drinking hole adjacent to a dilapidated old tin hut which was once home to a school where a young Henry Moore began his education.

Q: Can you tell us a little bit about why you wanted to write this book?

A: It’s just some stories that I’ve been telling for years and never written down. Most stories circulate in their own neighbourhood, you might call this a gang of stories bursting out of where they are from.

Q: The book is essentially about music, but in it you do talk a lot about the value of the stories and the power of storytelling.

A: It starts with sounds really. If you enjoy music it’s because you’ve enjoyed sounds as a kid. The sounds can be anything, from listening to birds whistling in the morning to listening to the sounds of the street where you live, to listening to arguments. In my case I listened to a lot of arguments because I grew up in a house full of them. I listened to what people were shouting to each other about. And it’s a learning thing then. Because I tried to understand what the arguments were about and in trying to understand what arguments are about I get an understanding of what people are about. So that’s the first part of it, listening to sounds, listening to noises. I always enjoyed listening to what was going on, it could be my old granddad telling stories, could be old neighbours telling ancient stories about what their lives were about and what entertained them.

Katherine Locke t

Q: Can you tell us a little about the inspiration behind Dog Days?

A: I love dogs! Writing is often a way in which we explore our relationship with others and our relationship with animals, dogs in particular, is constantly fascinating. Dogs are our companions, child substitutes, protectors, work mates, burglar alarms, excuse to get out of the house and a unique expression of our human need to communicate. Any of these ideas would make an interesting start for a short story. However, I was also interested in the duality of the phrase ‘Dog Days’. It can be interpreted literally (as above), or used to explore ideas around high summer. I think the introduction to the book goes into this in a bit more detail.

When we are looking for starting points for writing it helps to have something that can be interpreted in as many ways as possible and have differing meanings depending on context. I certainly wasn’t looking for a collection of stories about dogs, and in fact the stories that were about heat and the end of the summer were generally far more interesting. It is very hard to write about animals without becoming mawkish. What we have ended up with is, I hope, a balance between animal based stories and those exploring other themes.

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