This is an article I wrote for 'Writing Magazine' exploring how I created thechimpanzee characters for my novel, ‘The Angel of St Piran.’

‘Never work with children or animals,’ That was WC Field’sadvice. They will upstage you. They will forget their lines. They willmisbehave on set. But this advice was aimed at actors. It can’t apply towriters. Can it?

Let’s dispose of children first. We all know they arenotoriously tough. Unless you live with a ten-year old, it can be fiendishlydifficult to write convincing dialogue for children this age. "You know what a stroke to me such a suspicionwould be," says little ten-year-old Miles, torturously, in Henry James’‘The Turn of the Screw.’ Well maybe Miles was unnaturally precocious. 

Animals, of course, are easier. We don’t have to createdialogue for them. Or do we?

Well of course we do. Talking animals are an absolute stapleof literature, and not just for children. Don’t ask me to list examples. Oh,all right then. Animal Farm, Wind in the Willows, Watership Down, The JungleBook, Black Beauty… and that Norwegian book they made into ‘The SheepDetectives.’  And how about, ‘Pidge,’ a 2024 debut novel by KathrynLomer which won all sorts of critical acclaim despite the fact that it featuresa talking magpie. And I bet you can name dozens more. In fact I’ve just thoughtof, ‘The Labrador Pact,’ by Matt Haig which I haven’t read yet, but Ireally want to because, as I understand it, the tale is told by a familylabrador (ok not strictly a talking labrador, but one who is capable nonetheless of telling a story) who has to obey the rules set out for the breed in the LabradorPact, which sounds so delicious I’m almost ordering it already. But then Ido have a soft spot for labradors.

The rules for talking animals in literature are fairlybinary. Either it’s a children’s book (in which case the animals reallytalk). Or it’s an allegory (in which case the animals are representations ofpeople, or they are metaphorical vehicles to enable the telling of a humanstory, or they exist in some kind of metaphysical dream). Take your pick.  

But what if animals really could talk? In my novel, ‘TheAngel of St Piran,’ Angel Restorick is a primatologist who lives in anAfrican forest, with a study group of wild chimpanzees. After some months inthe forest, Angel convinces herself that the apes can talk. Sort of. They arenot forming sentences. They don’t use adjectives or nouns or grammar. But Angelbelieves they can communicate intent and describe situations with a complexcombination of noises, facial expressions, gestures, and movements, and shebelieves she can understand them, and even talk back. This communication is theessential heart of the story. For Angel’s forest is invaded by four super-richtrophy hunters who have come to bag themselves a chimpanzee. Only by mobilisingthe chimps can Angel keep the animals safe from the hunters – and who knows –maybe settle some scores.

So how did I create the chimpanzee characters to populatethis novel? Reader – I cheated. For several years in the 1980s and 90s my wifeSue was a council member of Chester Zoo. Chester is home to Europe’s biggest groupof chimpanzees (currently around 22 individuals). One day a week, while Sue wasbusy in the zoo doing whatever she needed to do, I would park myself by thechimps and watch them. I grew to know them all – their personalities, theirliaisons, their predilections. And they were utterly fascinating. Sofascinating in fact that I’ve borrowed them for the novel. Boris was the mostfamous of Chester’s chimps. He was famous before he even came to Chester. Hehad been discovered as an infant in a New York pet shop by the writer HesterMundis, who raised him in her Brooklyn apartment, and he became the subject ofa book with the wonderful title, ‘No, he’s not a monkey, he’s a Chimp andhe’s my Son.’ Boris was the alpha male all the time I was watching chimpsat the zoo. He was charismatic, intelligent, and sociable. But his role wascoveted by at least three other males. Wilson was a wiry, contemplativecreature, quite strategic in his relationship with Boris. He worked hard to earnthe alpha’s trust and to act as the second in command. Contrast him with Nickyand Bolden, two large and boisterous chimps with very little cunning orimagination but with plenty of strength and quick tempers. Bolden was broodyand temperamental. Nicky was over-excitable and full of energy. These two hadjust one strategy to win the top job. They would fight for it. Thesepersonalities were a gift to me while writing ‘The Angel of St Piran.’ Therewere strong characters too among the female chimps. Meg was in her mid-thirties,one of the oldest chimps in the world at that time. She was the matriarch ofthe group, and it was usually she, not Boris who kept the youngsters undercontrol. A younger female, Heidi, was loved by all the young chimps. And by allthe adults too. In my story Meg and Heidi merge to become Hootha, and Boris becomesGaffa, and this helped me to picture them while I was writing.

Animals are people, really. That’s probably the only lessonyou need to know about creating animal characters. Keep them faithful to thebehaviour of their species, and after that, have fun with them. There is noreason why they shouldn’t be capricious, cantankerous, conspiratorial, resourceful,or caring. Or all of these things. Or none. Just make them real and we willbelieve in them. Well, I surely will.