Guy Saville's Blog

 

Perhaps the most common question I get asked as a writer these days is, ‘When will Book 3 be published?’ I’m afraid to say the answer is not only complicated but, for legal reasons, I have to tread carefully.

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Today is a significant anniversary in my writing career. It is twenty years since I began a concerted effort to get published. Prior to that I had seen it as a hobby, writing for myself; from 1st July 1997 I self-consciously began to take it more seriously. In the years since I’ve completed seven novels, two works of non-fiction, and started at least half a dozen other projects that ultimately I didn’t pursue.

Which brings me to the ten thousand hour rule. Popularised by Malcolm Gladwell in his book, Outliers, the rule proposes that if you practice something – be it playing the piano, golf or whatever – for ten thousand hours you will become an expert. The specifics have subsequently been challenged, nevertheless there is surely a link between how much time you spend doing something and one’s proficiency.

In the past twenty years I have done a lot of writing. At a conservative level let’s say 5 hours a day, 5 days a week (25 hours). Because of other commitments, say I only manage to work ¾ of the year – so 40 weeks. Now multiply that by my 20 years as a writer and you get: 25 x 40 x 20 = 20,000 hours. That’s twice what Gladwell recommends, and a lot of time to spend at my desk! Yet bizarrely I feel I know less about writing now than when I started out. How can that be?

The irony of knowledge is that that more you acquire the more you realise just how much you don’t know. Those twenty thousand hours have made me more aware as a writer. Where once I dived in with the confidence (ignorance?) of youth, now I understand the technical aspects better which gives me a higher bar to aim for. In conjunction with this I’ve also read a lot more than I had done two decades ago. That throws up its own challenges. Sometimes I will read a sentence, for example by someone like Nabokov, and think: how can I write something even half as good? I’m more self-conscious of the process too. I can tie myself in knots worrying if what I put down on paper adequately conveys my intention. In my experience, it has become harder to be sure as the years go by, not easier.

Yet it’s not all gloom. It strikes me that my concerns are actually prompts to keep questioning and challenging the work. To keep getting better. There’s at least another 10 000 hours in me yet!

If you’ve read the ‘What next?’ section of my website you’ll know I have been working on three separate projects. I have now officially abandoned one of these after my editor couldn’t get his head around it. Since it’s now unlikely to see the light of day, I thought I’d share a few details with you.

I had pitched it as ‘Emirates Noir’ – a dark crime thriller set in Dubai. There was, however, a twist to it. I have always been fascinated by the idea that each age produces a city of great wealth that descends into decadence and excess. The best known is probably Sodom and Gomorrah from the Bible. In the present day the most obvious example must surely be Dubai with its materialism, impossible skyscrapers and gaudy excess. Any city that can build ski slopes, complete with snow, in the desert is asking for trouble.

So my thriller set was in a post-cataclysmic Dubai. As if provoked by the wrath of God, a tsunami had hit the city. While I was researching the idea I came across another interesting fact. Dubai is not sufficiently insured, so if it did suffer a major disaster there would not be enough funds to rebuild. In the aftermath, its institutions unable to cope, a foreign police force (similar to the private security contractors used in Iraq) takes over law and order. Into this half-submerged city came two cops: a British female detective (late 30s, recently heart-broken) who is partnered with a native of the Emirates, an extrovert Arab, resentful of having to work with a woman.

To give you the briefest taste of the plot, they are assigned to a murder case which leads to a trail of other bodies and a conspiracy that involves criminal gangs and corruption. With inadequate insurance to rebuild Dubai, it has become a rich source of materials to be stripped and shipped off to Asia. This illegal reclamation is worth millions. The heart of the story, however, is the relationship between the female detective and her Arab partner. Like the city, both are damaged, both need to rebuild themselves – but don’t have the resources. I thought it was a promising set-up…

Except my editor just couldn’t get the concept of a flooded city. He wondered if it was science fiction; JG Ballard’s Drowned World was mentioned. His lack of enthusiasm means I have now shelved the project. What do you think? From this briefest of pitches do you understand what I was trying to do?

On a more positive note, it now means I have more time to devote to my other two incipient books. Details about them to follow…

Oh dear, I really am failing miserably in my promise to blog once a month. Anyway…

The other day I was at a literary event, all warm white wine and surprisingly good canapés; thus is the life of a writer. I was talking to a fellow novelist and we got on to the subject of Andre Gide’s novel Les Fauxmonnayeur (The Counterfeiters). The person I was chatting with had recently finished it. I went through a Gide phase in my early twenties and read most of his work. We began discussing the novel and it soon became clear to me that I had barely any recollection of it. When I got home I pulled my copy off the shelf and had a flick through it. It was full of marginalia, and I had a few glimmers of recognition, but mostly it remained a blank.

On a similar note, I recently read Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia (partly as research for the project I’m presently working on). In another phase of reading everything by a writer, I devoured Orwell in my late teens. At the back of my edition of Catalonia is a list all Orwell’s other books and glancing through them I had another lapse of memory. In the space of a couple of months in 1992 I read Coming up for Air, The Clergyman’s Daughter and Keep the Aspidistra Flying. Yet as with the Gide, I have almost zero recollection of the first two books.

Which leads me to a question: can you truly say you’ve read a book if you don’t remember it? What do you think?

Despite not remembering much of Coming up for Air and The Clergyman’s Daughter, Aspidistra is still fresh in my mind. Given they were read during the same period why has one title remained while the others haven’t? I wonder if it’s to do with visual imagery: I vividly recall the aspidistra that Gordon (the main character) keeps, and even more so the grotty, sordid life he leads. We live in a visually orientated culture, so perhaps our visual memories are stronger than other parts of our recollection. If that’s true then maybe there’s a lesson for writers: keep it visual.

 

This is a supplement to my Top Ten Books to give you a little more insight into my reading habits. I believe the more you know about the reader, the more you know about the writer.

 

Favourite Format – There seem to be ever more ways to read books, from paperbacks, e-books, downloads to your phone and audio versions. I am a traditionalist: I prefer hardbacks, and will always read a book this way if I can. Which leads me to…

Favourite Place To Read – In the bath.  I can spend hours up to my neck in hot water and bubbles, which partly explains why I could never become an e-book convert. A close second favourite place is by the fire on an autumn afternoon. Silence is an essential quality. I can never understand how people can read in noisy places or – even more astonishing – while listening to music

Favourite Book – In this instance I’m not talking about the content, rather the physical object itself. I believe everyone should have a book that they treasure for its aesthetic appeal. Mine is a folio edition of Robert Byron’s The Road to Oxiana. It is a gorgeous hardback with a cloth binding and a gilted cover that depicts the patterned ceiling of the Sheikh Lutfallah Mosque in Iran. (See photo.) The paper is thick and crisp and it is beautifully illustrated with photos and hand-drawn maps. Just holding this edition can cheer me up!

Favourite Shakespeare – Julius Caesar. The politics and conspiracy of the play are fascinating, as are the displays of how rhetoric can manipulate the mob. However, the main reason this play has such a hold on me is the parting between Brutus and Cassius in Act 5, Scene 1. These are some of Shakespeare’s simplest lines but I have always found them painfully moving. Like other books in my Top Ten list I always keep a copy of the play on my desk

Favourite Poet – John Masefield. Poet Laureate from 1930 to 1967, Masefield has fallen out of fashion these days. There’s a longing and loneliness yet warmth to his best work that captivates me: ‘O how I longed for someone who had read / Even one book of poems to its end / Had noted what was living and what dead’ (From ‘Sitting Alone’, 1966)

Favourite Children’s Book – There are so many, from Roald Dahl to Angela Sommer-Bordenburg. Perhaps the easiest thing is to choose the book I read most as a child. That was an abridged version of Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days. You might be interested to know it plays a significant part in the novel I’m currently working on

Favourite Book as a Teenager – James Herbert’s Domain. Several years ago I re-read it for the first time in ages and was vaguely embarrassed by the actual writing. Nevertheless the narrative remains relentless and gripping, and its depiction of a post-apocalyptic world is pitch black. Between the ages of 13-16 I would read it several times a year

Favourite Auto/Biography – I tend to read several biographies a year, with an emphasis on historical figures and filmmakers, and zero tolerance for celebrity memoirs. The biography that has stayed with me the most is Peter Ackroyd’s magisterial life of Dickens. It completely changed my opinion of the Victorian novelist, from someone I was forced to read at school to…

Favourite Dickens – After the Ackroyd I decided to read a Dickens a year and although I’ve fallen out of the habit of late I did get through a considerable part of his oeuvre. My favourite is his last completed novel Our Mutual Friend. It has a wonderfully convoluted plot, though I remember it most for how it challenges social conventions and its wonderful murky atmosphere

Favourite Book About Film – I read a lot of about film and even have a dedicated bookcase for the subject, everything from the silent era to ‘makings of’, biographies of influential directors and a stack of BFI Guides. My favourite though is Michael Ondatjee’s The Conversations, a series of discussions with Walter Murch about the ‘language’ of film editing. I found it unputdownable. This is essential reading for anyone interested in cinema

And finally…

The One Book I Should Have Read But Haven’t – People are always surprised when I confess to having never read Austen. The 19th Century Russians are another big omission. But the one book I feel I really should have read but haven’t is Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie. I’ve had a copy for years, so am not sure why I’ve never got round to it. Perhaps I should stop writing this blog and take it off the shelf…

If you’ve read the ‘What next?’ section of my website, you’ll know I’m currently working on three different books. Although I’m not yet ready to go into any detail, what I will say is that all three books are in different genres. One of them is a (sort of) thriller but none are alternative history. This has already caused some consternation with my publisher. Ideally they’d like another alternative history thriller (and even better, one with victorious Nazis). In other words, what they really want is more of the same.

Which brings me to a hero of mine: Stanley Kubrick. One of the things I admire most about Kubrick is how much he shifted from one genre to another. In 1962 he made Lolita, an adaptation of Nabakov’s novel. After that he moved to black comedy, then sci-fi, dystopian fantasy, 18th Century period drama, horror, war and finally to Eyes Wide Shut which defies easy classification altogether. I cannot imagine a novelist being given such free reign.

OK, so Kubrick was working at a different time, in a different medium; he was a genius. Nevertheless, I look at his example and feel frustrated.

I understand why publishers want more of the same: it’s a way of building a brand and making money. Plenty of writers are happy to work this way. But I find it shackling. I want to go where my imagination takes me and that means a disregard for categorisation. Quite how I will square this circle is an issue I’ve yet to work out. When people ask me what I’m currently working on, perhaps that should be my answer: trying to satisfy my needs as a writer with those of the business… something Stanley never had to worry about.

On the ‘About Me’ section of the website you’ll find a list of the writers who have had the biggest influence on me. Now, here are my ten favourite books (in alphabetical order by author):

Le Père Goriot by Honoré de Balzac – As anyone who has followed my writing knows, I’m fascinated by the ‘fantastic realist’ style: that fusion of the everyday realism with bathos, the grotesque and fantastical. (NB – it is not to be confused with magic realism, a different genre altogether). Balzac is a master practitioner; his Paris is full of comedy, horror, bizarre characters, and events that seem sprinkled with the supernatural. Goriot is in many ways a reworking of King Lear and its protagonist, Eugène de Rastignac, is a role model for anyone wanting to better themselves. It has my favourite line in all literature, as Rastiganc throws down the gauntlet to society at the very end of the novel: ‘À nous deux maintenant!’ [I leave it in French not to be a pseud but because its exact translation is so contentious.]

Any Human Heart by William Boyd – Told in diary form, AHH recounts the life of Logan Mountstuart, a failed novelist, as he witnesses some of the key events of the 20th Century. This would be my Desert Island Discs book choice. I keep a copy of it on my desk and whenever I’m lacking inspiration, I’ll open it at random to see what Logan is doing. For me, no novel better captures the ‘human condition’, what Boyd describes as this ‘peculiar, fascinating journey we’re all on’. It is funny, profoundly sad, soulful and ultimately uplifting. Published in 2002, it is the most recent book on this list.

The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell – I couldn’t decide whether to include this or not. In recent years Campbell has become almost insufferably trendy. Partly this is due to George Lucas acknowledging its influence on Star Wars, but the main culprit is Christopher Vogler, a former movie executive, who wrote a bastardised version of Campbell’s theory that has become essential reading for anyone in Hollywood. However, as a writer fascinated by myth and why we need to tell stories, I can’t deny the hold Hero has on me. I first read it during the school holidays of 1988 and must admit most of it went over my head. I picked it up again during my A-levels and since then it has become richer and more insightful on each new reading. Campbell’s belief was that all stories – from plays to novels, films and beyond – are essentially one story: a ‘monomyth’ with a shared structure of what he calls ‘The Hero’s Journey’. It’s a compelling hypothesis and although I maintain a degree of scepticism about it, I’ve yet to find an exception. Every book listed here conforms to it.

Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad – Imagine a Greek island at night with a thunderstorm raging outside and the windows lashed with rain. That was the setting the first time I read HoD; I recall it vividly. I was seventeen and Conrad’s novella left a huge impression on me. Several years later I wrote my undergraduate dissertation on it. It’s one of the few books I re-read every decade. The older I get the more disturbing and insightful about the fragility of our social constraints it becomes. Its brevity means it can be read in a single sitting. Combine that with the density of the prose and you have a truly immersive experience. As with Any Human Heart, there’s always a copy on my desk.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald – The first time I read this it didn’t leave much of an impression, but given Fitzgerald’s reputation I made myself re-read it some years later. The second time round it clicked and each subsequent reading enthrals me more. I find two things especially striking: the precision and clarity of the prose; each sentence is like a piece of polished cut-glass. And Fitzgerald’s ability to pack a story that feels so huge – an epic of love, loss and the Roaring Twenties – into such a slim volume. It’s only two hundred pages.

Fatherland by Robert Harris – Quite simply, the finest thriller there is. I’ve read it more than a dozen times and it never ceases to keep me turning the pages. It’s not just the clever, twisting narrative; it’s the recreation of Nazi Berlin in the 1960s and the vibrancy of the characters. Xavier March feels like a real person to me. Harris’s subsequent novels became more ambitious (I’m a big fan of his Cicero trilogy) but in my opinion he has never bettered his debut. Another one I always keep on my desk and not only because I’m writing about Nazi Africa.

The Odyssey by Homer – This is a book that has been with me for so long I literally cannot imagine a life without it. It was first recounted to me by my Greek grandfather as it was in ancient days – spoken aloud, the story changing each time it was retold. Later I moved on to a children’s adaptation, and at school studied it in the original. Since then I’ve read several translations. When I was younger it was the creatures and monsters I loved (especially the Cyclops). As I’ve grown older it is the capricious politics of the Gods that fascinates me and Odysseus’s wit and sheer determination to survive. One can argue that it is the blueprint for every story told (I’m sure Campbell would agree). I can certainly see its influence in everything I’ve written.

The Alchemist by Ben Jonson – I’m not sure this is strictly a favourite, but no top ten list could be without it. This is probably the most influential text I’ve ever read. Jonson structures the play like a house of cards (this is meant as a compliment). Remove any scene and the whole thing collapses: each piece is essential to the integrity and forward thrust of the story. This is the structural basis for all my novels. Take any of them, including the unpublished ones, and if you remove any chapter, the plot will begin to fall apart. The same cannot be said for every book published. I believe all would-be writers should study Jonson.

1984 by George Orwell – Like many people I first read this at school. I came back to it later and now feel compelled to read it every few years. I’m not entirely convinced it’s a novel: it’s too polemic, with Orwell’s attention clearly on the satire rather than the plot or characters (both of which seem secondary). But what a satire! It’s pitch black and eerie in its prescience even though the original target was the Soviet Union. Given the subject matter and how the book ends, it should be depressing and yet every time I read it, amidst the despair I’m left with an unexpected flutter of hope. The system may destroy us but people will always stand against it, even insignificant, cowardly people like Winston Smith. Amongst Orwell’s many targets is ‘Newspeak’, a form of reductive English, that serves as a warning that the manipulation of language is always political and extremely dangerous. We should be on guard for it – a lesson for any writer. The book’s own prose is simple, almost bare, and there lies its authority.

The Time Machine by HG Wells – In many ways a companion piece (or antidote) to Heart of Darkness; they were published four years apart. It has a wonderful late Victorian naivety about it, yet its depiction of a divided world – with the haves enjoying easy lives above ground and the have-nots lurking in an industrial underworld – is more relevant than ever. I love its vernacular (‘Confound it!’ said I) and sense of adventure. The Time Traveller is an explorer the equal of Livingstone or Stanley. The scene as the world ends and falls into eternal darkness never fails to move or chill me.

As a rule I’m not one for ‘best of’ lists, so this is the first time I’ve ever drawn together my favourite books. What’s most striking to me is that with the exception of The Alchemist, Any Human Heart and Gatsby, I first read these books before I was twenty. I’ve also read them all multiple times and on each occasion the book has become richer and revealed more of itself. These books are like old friends. We’ve changed and grown-up together, and I couldn’t be without them.

 

My previous blog (The A to Z of THE AFRIKA REICH TRILOGY, click here if you want to know more) was almost exclusively about the Afrika books. This new blog will have a more ‘personal’ tone – it is guysaville.com, after all. And what better way to start than with Star Wars.

I see myself as part of the ‘Star Wars generation’. It was one of the first films I ever saw and was a profound influence on my childhood. As the years have passed, however, that attachment has waned. The prequel trilogy diminished my interest further and now, with the first of the new Disney films about to be released, I feel a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

There’s a buzz around The Force Awakens and quite possibly I will change my views entirely in the space of a couple of hours (I’ve already booked my ticket for the BFI IMAX), so I thought I’d write something before I see it.

Why this lack of excitement? I’m aware I’m in a minority. Everyone else seems keen with anticipation, which suggests it’s not an age issue or a wariness that comes from the dire prequels. Was there ever a more disappointing film than The Phantom Menace?

My overwhelming sense at the moment is one of vague exploitation. I feel there’s something cynical about the whole affair. The Star Wars story was finished in Return of the Jedi. Satisfyingly finished. There was no obvious plot thread that cried out for a continuation. I get no sense from any of the people involved in the new film that there is a story screaming to be told. So why is it being made? Money. Disney have invested heavily in buying the franchise and want a cash cow. The planned films (I’ve read there will be one a year from now till 2021) are in many ways extended advertisements for a tsunami of new toys, merchandising, even theme parks. I feel the nostalgia for my childhood pleasures has been commodified.

Part of this process requires catalogisation: every character, droid, creature, ship, planet, weapon etc must be described, partly to satisfy the hardcore fans but also so Disney has more merchandise to flog. When I was growing up, we had the films and some toys but much of the Star Wars universe was only glimpsed. You had to imagine everything else. The interaction between films and fans required an active process. Now every detail is given to you in a great, unending dollop served on a tie-in plate. Nothing is elusive or a mystery. But wasn’t that part of the enjoyment? To create your own Star Wars world from the building blocks the movies gave you.

The Force Awakens is also part of a larger trend in the entertainment business that sends cold shivers through me. Hollywood studios, and indeed publishers, seem ever more reliant on existing franchises. Rather than invest in new artists or projects, everything is concentrating around the successes of yesteryear. I understand why this is done – it’s a safer investment and millions do want more of the same – but I find it depressing. If this is the future, how will the next George Lucas emerge?

As I said at the beginning, I might be thrilled and excited by The Force Awakens in a way that makes me forgive what I’ve written above. I’ll let you know after I’ve seen it…

 

Addendum – so I saw the film last night. I thought it was a passable bit of entertainment, there were some decent actions sequences, plenty of laughs and a few thrills – but there was no magic. At least not for me. I felt it was trying to capture a time that has long since passed. So I guess everything above stands.

To kick off the blog to my new website, and as a supplement to the ‘About Me’ section, I thought I’d share ten things about myself that you probably don’t know:

I was named after the French novelist Guy de Maupassant; see the picture above. I’m still working on the moustacheMy first memory is of the smell of the carpet in the Dominion Theatre on Tottenham Court RoadMy nose has been broken twice – both times because someone has hit me; hence why it often looks a bit bent in photographsI don’t own a Kindle or any type of e-reader; I much prefer real books. In fact at the time of writing, I don’t own a laptop, tablet, ipod or smart phone etc. I must confess technology doesn’t much excite me. My one concession is a blu-ray playerI’ve read The Odyssey in the original Ancient Greek (benefits of a classical education)I once met Russell Crowe in the lobby of the Swiss Hotel in Quito, Ecuador. We chatted briefly… and I had absolutely no idea who he was – though in my defence this was before GladiatorMy favourite animal is the camel, I guess because they plod on through the desert but always reach their destination in the end… rather like myselfI don’t own a suit. I’d be perfectly happy if I got through my life without changing this state of affairs. Nor do I own any ‘proper’ shoes – only boots and trainersAbove the door to my office are the words ‘Potest ex casa magnus vir expire’ – ‘Even a great man can come from a cabin’ (Seneca)I have two ambitions: 1) to see The Ring at Bayreuth 2) to visit all fifty US States; so far I’ve been to sixteen of them. Actually, I have a third – to witness the test detonation of a nuclear bomb, though I doubt I’ll ever to fulfill this one!