Like the author's Canopus in Argos novels, this graphic novel is an exercise in speculative imagination. It marks a venture into new creative territory for Lessing, and is illustrated by the young British artist Daniel Vallely.
Doris Lessing was born into a colonial family. both of her parents were British: her father, who had been crippled in World War I, was a clerk in the Imperial Bank of Persia; her mother had been a nurse. In 1925, lured by the promise of getting rich through maize farming, the family moved to the British colony in Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). Like other women writers from southern African who did not graduate from high school (such as Olive Schreiner and Nadine Gordimer), Lessing made herself into a self-educated intellectual.
In 1937 she moved to Salisbury, where she worked as a telephone operator for a year. At nineteen, she married Frank Wisdom, and later had two children. A few years later, feeling trapped in a persona that she feared would destroy her, she left her family, remaining in Salisbury. Soon she was drawn to the like-minded members of the Left Book Club, a group of Communists "who read everything, and who did not think it remarkable to read." Gottfried Lessing was a central member of the group; shortly after she joined, they married and had a son.
During the postwar years, Lessing became increasingly disillusioned with the Communist movement, which she left altogether in 1954. By 1949, Lessing had moved to London with her young son. That year, she also published her first novel, The Grass Is Singing, and began her career as a professional writer.
In June 1995 she received an Honorary Degree from Harvard University. Also in 1995, she visited South Africa to see her daughter and grandchildren, and to promote her autobiography. It was her first visit since being forcibly removed in 1956 for her political views. Ironically, she is welcomed now as a writer acclaimed for the very topics for which she was banished 40 years ago.
In 2001 she was awarded the Prince of Asturias Prize in Literature, one of Spain's most important distinctions, for her brilliant literary works in defense of freedom and Third World causes. She also received the David Cohen British Literature Prize.
She was on the shortlist for the first Man Booker International Prize in 2005. In 2007 she was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.
(Extracted from the pamphlet: A Reader's Guide to The Golden Notebook & Under My Skin, HarperPerennial, 1995. Full text available on www.dorislessing.org).
Because I felt so enthralled to discover that one of my very favourite authors had created a short graphic-novel of course I wanted to love this book, but grrr, I absolutely and entirely did not; Doris Lessing and illustrator Charlie Adlard left me feeling cold and confused.
Here's the blurb from the back page:
'"I am Spacer Joe Magnifico Simpatico"
The irresistible power of a young man's faith in himself brings the sublime Francesca Bird to his aid. Together they play the game, hoping to rise far, far above the squalor where Joe began... Hoping for the whole squalid world to rise. Instead, at the throw of the dice...
Doris Lessing's compelling fantasy of a raw, urban hell, revealed by the dazzling and sinister illustrations, is a revolutionary even in the world of graphic novels. The powerful vision of Britains most highly acclaimed novelist is brought vividly to life. Playing the Game is a unique visual experience - and a profoundly moving story of love in a soulless world.'
This ingratiating synopsis baffles the hell out of me! I just do not 'get' it! From my perspective, it all felt somewhat gratuitous. And I seriously cannot accept that this short tale was so 'high-brow' that it went over my head...
I don't recommend that anyone bother reading this book, but if anyone does feel compelled to take a look please send me a message or post a comment describing your experiences of reading it. I cannot be alone in feeling this way, surely?
Doris Lessing scripted this messy fantasy comic that is crammed full of obvious clichés which take away all the space normally reserved for plot, original ideas and themes. It truly feels as if Lessing has written this somehow completely distracted by something else, investing zero personal involvement. She has proven her uncanny tendency to produce extremely uneven work ranging from brilliant to godawful many times. “Playing the Game” falls into the abysmally pointless and tedious part of the broad Lessing spectrum. I really wonder what has stemmed this project, so halfhearted is the execution.