Tag: fiction

  • Baillie Gifford winner of winners James Shapiro: ‘I draw a very sharp line between fiction and nonfiction’

    Baillie Gifford winner of winners James Shapiro: ‘I draw a very sharp line between fiction and nonfiction’

    [ad_1]

    Serendipity dictated that the American writer and academic James Shapiro received the Baillie Gifford prize for nonfiction’s Winner of Winners award, given to celebrate its 25th year, at a ceremony in Edinburgh. In his teens and early 20s, Shapiro tells me as we talk over Zoom the morning after his victory, he would often hitchhike from London to the Edinburgh festival as part of his immersion in the plays of Shakespeare. This period in his life sowed the ground for his acclaimed book, 1599: A Year in the Life of William Shakespeare, first published in 2006. He was, he explains, recovering from the “awful experience” of studying the playwright in middle school; every summer for several years, he would save up enough money to come to the UK on a Freddie Laker plane, “where you could fly from New York to London for $100 round trip and sleep in church basements and for 50p see spectacular productions”.

    In London, Stratford and Edinburgh, he’d see 25 plays in as many days, “and they’re all tattooed inside my skull to this day. The greatest one I saw was Richard Eyre’s Hamlet at the Royal Court in 1980 or so. Richard wrote me a note this morning, and it was so moving to me because that’s where it came from, seeing productions like his.”

    Shapiro is passionate about viewing Shakespeare through the lens of performance, the better to understand how central political and social context is to his work. He is currently advising on Tony Award-winning director Kenny Leon’s production of Hamlet for the Public Theater in New York, set in a post-Covid 2021 and starring Ato Blankson-Wood as the prince. It is, says Shapiro, “a Hamlet that speaks to the now. And I have the street cred, as we say in Brooklyn, to tell Shakespeare purists, whatever that means, that these plays have always spoken to the moment. And to think that what Olivier did or Kenneth Branagh for that matter is where Shakespeare stops, is to be as unShakespearean in one’s thinking about Shakespeare as possible.”

    James Shapiro with his Baillie Gifford winning book 1599.
    James Shapiro with his Baillie Gifford winning book 1599. Photograph: The Baillie Gifford Prize

    His vision for 1599, a microscopic look at the critical year in Shakespeare’s life when he was working on Henry V, Julius Caesar, As You Like It and the first draft of Hamlet, was not initially endorsed. His application for a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities in the US in the late 1980s was turned down twice, he remembers. “I wasn’t discouraged by that. I just felt they didn’t understand that I was trying to do something different.” The “something different” was to understand the immense anxieties of the age: the country poised on the brink of invading Ireland with a 16,000-strong force; the fear that Elizabeth I’s reign was approaching its end with no clear successor in sight; the strengthening possibility of another Spanish Armada. It’s no coincidence, says Shapiro, that Hamlet opens with men on the ramparts, nervously watching for hostile forces.

    He was also frustrated with an academic orthodoxy that relied on speculation and anecdote, as well as an outmoded concept of the playwright: “The Shakespeare that existed when I was writing that book was still very influenced by Coleridge’s sense that Shakespeare was from another planet, or Ben Jonson’s line: he was not of an age but for all time. And that just struck me as completely wrong.” Instead, Shapiro wanted to ground Shakespeare in reality, finding out what the weather was each day of that single year, who he met, where he travelled.

    Shapiro is also a judge on this year’s Booker prize for fiction, and he is fascinating on the distinction between his work and that of novelists. He admires “the way that creative minds can tease out things that are less visible to those of us who deal in facts”. How does he feel about historical novelists – indeed, about a work such as Maggie O’Farrell’s Hamnet, a reimagining of Shakespeare’s family that has just been adapted for stage by the RSC?

    He reveres Hilary Mantel, who was, he says, “a great historian, as well as a great novelist.” And he is, he replies, very happy for O’Farrell: “She deserves great success for that and for her more recent book, but it’s not a book that I can read comfortably, because it’s fiction.”

    skip past newsletter promotion

    “I draw a very sharp line between fiction and nonfiction,” he adds. “I think that the danger of fiction is to sentimentalise. So that’s one of the things that I’m extremely careful as a Shakespearean not to do. On the other hand, I understand how deeply people want to connect with Shakespeare the man, with Anne Hathaway, with Judith Shakespeare: they lived, they died, their internal lives went largely unrecorded. And it takes a talented writer to bring that to life. But that’s not the stuff that I do. I don’t write that; but somebody needs to.”

    His next work is called Playbook, and will focus on America’s Federal Theatre Project of the 1930s, a progressive attempt to bring drama to mass audiences that was targeted by the House Committee on Un-American Activities. Then, as now, and as in the 16th century, theatre is powerful, and Shapiro intends to do everything he can to defend it.

    • 1599: A Year in the Life of William Shakespeare by James Shapiro (Faber & Faber, £14.99). To support The Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.

    [ad_2]
    #Baillie #Gifford #winner #winners #James #Shapiro #draw #sharp #line #fiction #nonfiction
    ( With inputs from : www.theguardian.com )

  • Han Kang: ‘One year I couldn’t bear fiction and read astrophysics instead’

    Han Kang: ‘One year I couldn’t bear fiction and read astrophysics instead’

    [ad_1]

    My earliest reading memory
    When I was a child, my father, a young and poor novelist, kept our unfurnished house packed with books. A deluge spilled out from the shelves, covering the floor in disorderly towers like a secondhand bookstore where the organising had been put off for ever. To me, books were half-living beings that constantly multiplied and expanded their boundaries. Despite the frequent moves, I could feel at ease thanks to all those books protecting me. Before I made friends in a strange neighbourhood, I had my books with me every afternoon.

    My favourite book growing up
    What I read in my early childhood were children’s books by Korean writers such as Kang So-cheon or Ma Hae-song. I remember being mesmerised by the story of a photo studio that printed pictures of people’s dreams. And the image of a child feeling sorry for the trees sleeping standing up at night and singing: “Oh tree, oh tree, lie down and sleep.” A particularly unforgettable translated children’s book is The Brothers Lionheart by Astrid Lindgren.

    In my late teens I was absorbed in reading Russian literature, especially the long, tenacious novels by Dostoevsky. Death of a Poet by Pasternak was also a favourite I’d read multiple times.

    skip past newsletter promotion

    The book that changed me as a teenager
    At the age of 14, I read Sapyong Station, a short story by Lim Chul-woo. It depicts a rural train station in the dead of a snowy night, and there’s no protagonist; the inner monologues of passengers waiting for the last train combine like a medley. One coughs while another tries to strike up a conversation, and someone else throws sawdust into the stove and looks into the flames. I was enthralled by this lively story and decided to become a writer.

    The writer who changed my mind
    About 10 years ago, I read WG Sebald’s Austerlitz and came to dwell on the way he penetrated deeply into the inner world to embrace collective memories. Since then, I have read most of his books; The Emigrants is the one I cherish.

    The author I came back to
    There was a year when I could neither write nor read fiction. I could only watch documentaries because fiction films were unbearable. I spent my time reading mostly astrophysics books. But somehow Jorge Luis Borges was an exception. I revisited and savoured the volumes by him that I’d flipped through in my 20s, such as The Book of Sand and Shakespeare’s Memory.

    The books I discovered later in life
    The Periodic Table by Primo Levi. Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino. Dubliners by James Joyce. The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy. Nox by Anne Carson.

    The books I am currently reading
    Dictee by Theresa Hak Kyung Cha and The End of Days by Jenny Erpenbeck.

    My comfort read
    Most books I read before bed are about plants, such as Jane Goodall’s Seeds of Hope or Peter Wohlleben’s The Hidden Life of Trees. The book I turn to when I need silence is Glenn Gould Piano Solo by Michel Schneider.

    Greek Lessons by Han Kang and translated by Deborah Smith is published by Hamish Hamilton (£16.99). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.

    [ad_2]
    #Han #Kang #year #couldnt #bear #fiction #read #astrophysics
    ( With inputs from : www.theguardian.com )

  • Menage a quatre: why most poetic biopics are romantic fiction

    Menage a quatre: why most poetic biopics are romantic fiction

    [ad_1]

    How do you make the life of a poet work on screen? It helps if they had scandalous personal lives (Rimbaud and Verlaine in Total Eclipse, Dylan Thomas in Last Call and The Edge of Love). Robert Graves was last seen on the sidelines of Terence Davies’s biopic as the friend of the first world war poet Siegfried Sassoon (Benediction). Now the tables are turned, with a cameo of Sassoon in a film about the early career of the man who would go on to bag the prize of being anointed poet laureate.

    Graves is an unfashionable figure today, known chiefly through I, Claudius, the TV serialisation of two of his novels, starring Derek Jacobi as the Roman emperor. But he regarded himself first and foremost as a poet, memorably declaring that “prose books are the show dogs I breed and sell to support my cat” – a line that William Nunez, writer-director of The Laureate, reluctantly had to excise from his script because none of the show dogs had yet been born in the years he chose to cover.

    Daniel Craig as Ted Hughes and Gwyneth Paltrow as Plath in Sylvia (2003).
    Daniel Craig as Ted Hughes and Gwyneth Paltrow as Plath in Sylvia (2003). Photograph: Bbc/Allstar

    Those years, between 1928 and 1930, turn out to be a gift for a film that follows in a hallowed tradition of lit-pics in which the introverted act of creation comes second to the “creativity” of writers’ love lives – think Gwyneth Paltrow and Daniel Craig as Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes in Christine Jeffs’ 2003 Sylvia, or Emma Mackey and Oliver Jackson-Cohen in last year’s Emily, directed by Frances O’Connor, the glamorously fictionalised portrait of the least romantically inclined Brontë.

    The Laureate gives us that most exotic of domestic arrangements, a menage a quatre. Tom Hughes’s Graves is in his mid 30s, shell-shocked and struggling to write, when the bucolic life that he shared with his artist wife, Nancy Nicholson (Laura Haddock) in an Oxfordshire cottage is turned upside down by the arrival from the US of the intellectual adventuress Laura Riding (Dianna Agron). Their unconventional relationship evolves into a four-person game of swapsies, after Riding reels a starstruck young Irish poet, Geoffrey Phibbs (Fra Fee), into what they called their “holy circle”.

    With cameos for Sassoon, TS Eliot and Edmund Blunden, as well as publisher Jonathan Cape, this is a goldmine of vintage literary gossip – but how true to life is it? “If you’d said it was like Downton Abbey, I would have said great, because everyone’s going to say, ‘Oh, it’s a movie about poets’,” says Nunez, who makes no apologies for the occasional detour from biographical fact. For instance, Graves and Nicholson had four children when Riding arrived in their household, but in the film they only have one. This was in part a pragmatic decision. The vast majority of the people who see the film will watch it as a straight drama, Nunez points out. He didn’t have a huge budget to play with, “and if it had four children, I’d have to write something for them to do, so that was an economic decision”.

    But he admits that is not the only reason. In terms of the story, “I think, no matter what day and age we are in, a man leaving his wife with four children is a tough one to get sympathy for, and I wanted people to go along with Robert’s journey. It’s really a film about the power of creativity, and, you know, it all comes at a cost for any writer, painter or musician.”

    Jeremy Irvine as Ivor Novello and Jack Lowden as Siegfried Sassoon in Benediction (2021)
    Jeremy Irvine as Ivor Novello and Jack Lowden as Siegfried Sassoon in Benediction (2021) Photograph: Roadside Attractions/Laurence Cendrowicz/Allstar

    In an age of male artists being called to account, Nunez’s candour is disarming. In briefing sessions with Hughes – “a big Beatles fan” – he drew a parallel with John Lennon. “I told him just to look at this part, as when John Lennon was with the Beatles, and he was successful, and he was married to Cynthia Lennon. And then all of a sudden, he met Yoko Ono, who was a polarising figure, but he made the conscious decision to go with her and he became a different artist. His ability to write great music didn’t go away, just like Robert Graves’s writing didn’t go away, but his trajectory went another way.”

    Nunez discovered Graves as a teenager in New York through the TV serialisation of I, Claudius and his mother’s book of the month club collection of novels, only later moving on to his poetry and to the war memoir that made his name, Goodbye to All That. “There are people who like the war poems and others that like the novels, so if you ask me if he sold out or not. I’d say, No, he just became a different artist that maybe more people enjoy.”

    Equally contentious, for fans of Laura Riding, who was a poet and critic of some renown in her own right, was the portrayal of her as a marriage-breaker and good time girl who led everyone on, including Nicholson, and jumped out of a fourth floor window when she didn’t get her way. The window incident is a matter of fact, Nunez points out, as is the fact that Graves jumped out after her, only from a lower window.

    His cast includes the poet’s de facto godson, Julian Glover (playing Graves’ father), who met Riding when they were living in Mallorca, where they ran their own influential publishing imprint until the Spanish civil war forced them to leave. “She was such a polarising figure – probably a better editor than an artist. They [Riding’s defenders] can’t deny that, and it is part of the allure of the story,” says the director.

    Emma Mackey in Emily.
    Emma Mackey in Emily. Photograph: Michael Wharley

    Riding had no children, and none of the four that Graves had with Nicholson are alive, but three from his second marriage, to Beryl Hodge, turned out for the film’s premiere in Mallorca. “They were relieved, because of course, no one wants to see their own dirty laundry,” says Nunez. “But what’s interesting to me, and this is just my supposition, is that they were fine with it because it obviously happened before any of them were born.” Graves continued to have his “muses” in New York, while married to Beryl. “I wonder whether they would have been as happy if I wanted to pursue that angle of an old man chasing young muses around in New York.”

    If the film is relatable to people who would never pick up a book of poetry then it will have done its job, says Nunez, who attributes his biggest compliment to a “British gentleman” who went up to congratulate him after the Mallorca premiere. “He said, ‘I served two tours in Afghanistan. And when I came home, I had the exact same problems reconnecting with my wife, and I started having an affair, and it totally tore us apart. And I didn’t know anything about Robert Graves, but now I’ll read something.’”

    The Laureate is released on 5 May.

    [ad_2]
    #Menage #quatre #poetic #biopics #romantic #fiction
    ( With inputs from : www.theguardian.com )