Thoughtful and funny – that’s this Noah (No, not that Noah!)

The Flood by David Maine

floodI introduced this book to you a few posts ago here, where I explained why I wasn’t going to go and see the film Noah. Now I’ve finished it, and I found it to be a delight from start to finish.

You all know the basic story so I won’t bother with that – and Maine remains true to the essential narrative in Genesis (chapters 6-9 plus the begats in chapter 10), indeed many of the chapters are prefixed with the appropriate verse from the bible.  Where this book really succeeds is in how Maine fills the basic tale out, so we get the back stories of Noah/Noe’s three sons, Shem, Ham and Japhet (here called Sem, Cham and Japeth), and their wives. The three sons are very different – Sem, the oldest is the stay at home farmer and married to Bera, Cham is a shipbuilder who lives by the sea married to Ilya, Japeth is only sixteen (with a fourteen-year-old wife Mirn), and thus being still a teenager needs his sleep, or is lazy depending on how you look at it.

Genesis 6.4 says “There were giants in the earth in those days,” and Maine takes this phrase literally, having Noe visit the giants to ask for help in supplying the gopher wood and pitch needed to build the ark, and we get a poignant moment:

The dimpled one, not smiling now asks, If we are to be destroyed, then why should we help you?
For a moment Noe wonders how to answer. Then something tells him.
– So you are not forgotten forever, he says. – So that when we survive to tell our story, and our sons and grandsons do the same, your memory will live on within us.
No one speaks for a while then, while the sun rains down on everything.

The chapters alternate between the different voices with Noe, his wife, the sons and their wives all taking their turns to move the story on.  I particularly liked Ilya and Bera, the wives of Sem and Cham who are sent north and south respectively, back towards their homelands to collect animals. Both are strong independent women, Ilya especially:

Men are so amusing. Show them a pack of wolves, dominated by the males, and they will say, See? It is natural for men to rule.
Fine. But produce a beehive, controlled by the queen, with males used for menial labor, and they protest, Human beings are not insects.
Yes, well.
Show them a she-cat nursing her kittens, and they will say: Ah ha! Women are meant to care for the children. But remind them that that same cat ruts fifty different males in a three-day heat, and they will answer, Would you have us live like animals?

Noe however is weak and indecisive, but he is six hundred years old. It’s actually amazing that everything comes together, the ark gets built, the supplies get loaded, the animals arrive – and then the rain comes and they’re away.

They settle down to life on board the ark. Noe’s wife cooking, Cham checking the boat, Japeth being seasick or rutting his wife (rutting being Maine’s preferred term). Ilya and Bera look after the animals mainly. As for Noe, he gets ill after staying on deck for a week – and Sem stays by his side praying. It may rain for (just) forty days and forty nights, but it will be weeks more before the waters start to recede. Life on board gets very smelly and cramped, Sem updates us:

The whole ship is starting to crumble. There are lizards sunning themselves up on deck with the birds. A drowned rabbit in one of the water barrels. A tortoise in the family cabin one morning, two cubits across at least. How on earth did a tortoise climb the ladder, I would like to know…
We try and keep things in their places but it’s not easy. There are spiders in every corner, salamanders between the boards, tadpoles in the drinking water. Raccoons have claimed one corner of the chicken stall, while Japheth and Mirn have taken to sleeping in the chryalis room. What next? Cham and Bera in the elephant stall, I suppose. Mother and Father with the baboons. Everything is starting to break down, the barriers are coming unglued. Any way you look at it, this is not a good sign.

One thing I really loved about this book was that it wasn’t a satire; it did respect its source material, yet added to it in a way that was supportive, even introducing a moment or two reflecting our modern knowledge about the evolution of the earth and all its creatures.  It is whimsical and funny – never before has a family had so many pets to care for.  As we’ve seen, it also has many moving moments especially as Noe’s faith is tested, and his wife (never named) is always there to ground him.

The Flood is Maine’s first novel (published as ‘The Preservationist’ in the US in 2004). He’s gone on to write two more biblical-themed books and a handful of others. I’d definitely like to read more. (8.5/10)

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Source: Own copy. To explore further on Amazon UK, please click below:
The Flood by David Maine, pub Canongate 2005, paperback 259 pages.

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Annabel elsewhere – The Gospel of Loki

For the past couple of months, book reviews have been a bit thinner on the ground because I’ve been reading a lot for the first issue of Shiny New Books. In subsequent issues, we hope to spread out the reviewing a bit more amongst a whole host of wonderful bloggers who are also writing for us. (If you’d like to join the gang, do send an email to info@shinynewbooks.co.uk).

gospel-of-lokiBut I can now do some linky posts … Today I’d love to direct you to my review of The Gospel of Loki by Joanne M Harris (yes there is an ‘M’, and yes it’s the same Joanne Harris as Chocolat). Click here to read the review and feel free to leave comments here or there or both.

The Gospel of Loki is a really fun take on the Norse Myths and I loved it. It is totally different to A.S.Byatt’s Ragnarok which I recently read and reviewed here.  For all it’s lightness in the way Harris tells the story of Loki, Odin, all the other Norse Gods and Ragnarok, the underpinning myth is all there though.  It also has the most gorgeous cover with a myriad of little gold leaf highlights which don’t show up on the picture. (8.5/10)

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Source: Own bought copy. To explore more about this book on Amazon UK, please click below:
The Gospel of Loki by Joanne Harris, pub Feb 2014 by Gollancz, 320 pages, hardback.

 

“It’s the end of the world as we know it” …

Ragnarok by A.S.Byatt

The Myths series of books by Canongate, is a set I’ve been collecting since their inception in 1995 – I’ve read maybe half of them so far though – something I must address! Every year or two, Canongate are adding titles in the series – short novels by esteemed writers. The latest – by Natsuo Kirono based on the Japanese myth of Izanami and Izanagi was published in January.  Each of the books takes a tale from world myth and re-tells it. You can read some of my other reviews from this series here, here, here and here.

However, to tie in with my reading of Joanne (M) Harris’ new novel The Gospel of Loki, I turned to A.S. Byatt’s more conventional narrative of the Norse myths and the twilight of the Gods – Ragnarök.

ragnarok

Whilst some of the other authors in this series have brought their chosen myths right up to date, Byatt uses a different style – a framing device to tell the old tales in new covers so to speak.

A thin young girl is evacuated during WWII. She is missing her father and struggling to understand her enforced relocation. One day she is given a copy of an old book about the Norse myths, and it transforms her life, allowing her to transport her worries and make sense of everything. All of life is to be found in Asgard and the Gods, or her other favourite book Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress.

The thin child walked through the fair field in all weathers, her satchel of books and pens, with the gas-mask hanging from it, like Christian’s burden when he walked in the fields, reading in his Book. She thought long and hard, as she walked, about the meaning of belief. She did not believe the stories in Asgard and the Gods. But they were coiled like smoke in her skull, humming like dark bees in a hive. She read the Greek stories at school, and said to herself that there and once been people who brought ‘belief’ to these capricious and quarrelsome gods and goddesses, but she herself read them as she read fairy stories. Puss in Boots, Baba Yaga, brownies, pucks and fairies, foolish and dangerous, nymphs, dryads, hydras and the white winged horse, Pegasus, all these offered the pleasure to the mind that the unreal offers when it is briefly more real than the visible world can ever be. But they didn’t live in her, and she didn’t live in them.

WagnertheAshYggdrasill

Yggdrasil – The World Ash. Engraving by Carl Emil Doepler

The thin child, she is always referred to thus, reads the book and reflects upon it, the idiosyncracies of its author, and the parallels between the stories and her life. At this point, I should add that Asgard and the Gods (adapted by M.W. Macdowall from works by German Wilhelm Wägner) is a real book. It was published in 1886, as a primer in Norse myths for older children. Amazingly, it is still in print – hopefully with its engravings in tact – several of which are reproduced in Ragnarök (see right), and this book was the inspiration for Byatt too. She says in an accompanying essay at the back, “my childhood experience of reading and rereading Asgard and the Gods was the place where I had first experienced the difference between myth and fairy tale.”

So we go through the creation of Asgard, the installation of the gods and godesses led by Odin.  Then we meet Loki whom the thin child likes as ‘alone among all these beings he had humour and wit‘, even though the clever trickster, Odin’s problem-solving adopted brother, often created as many problems by his actions as were resolved.

I felt sad for the thin child when we got to Baldur’s tale. Baldur being a beautiful god who was doomed to die…

Baldur went, but he did not come back. The thin child sorted in her new mind things that went and came back, and things that went and did not come back. Her father with his flaming hair was flying under the hot sun in Africa, and she knew it in her soul that he would not come back.

As Byatt says, “Myths are often unsatisfactory, even tormenting.”  The thin child sees the parallels between the War, the Blitz, her believed loss of her father and the destruction of her normal life and the downfall of the Norse Gods which stems from the death of Baldur, bringing chaos back to the world. Although she comes to believe her father is doomed too, there is a grim satisfaction to be had from the scale of the destruction involving all who touch it, schadenfreude as Wägner would probably say. What the thin child doesn’t know at this point, is that after the battle, the world will be reborn anew.  As REM sang “It’s the end of the world as we know it.“!

The Norse myths are more than just heroics though, the creation of their world was anchored out of chaos by Yggdrasil – The World Ash, and the force of nature is as strong, if not stronger than that of the gods. The myths abound in biological detail, and the thin child notices the flowers and animals surrounding her too, they help her feel alive. At one point Byatt almost goes overboard letting the thin child enjoy the glories of late spring – a list of which takes over two pages, but I’ll forgive this as from daisies to tadpoles, they’re worth it – mother nature in the form of Yggdrasil has it sorted.

I’ve felt rather stifled by Byatt’s full length novels previously and couldn’t even get started on The Children’s Book, but this shorter form being written from a child’s eye view and all about myths was perfect for me.

Ragnarök is both an accomplished novel and a fantastic primer for the Norse Myths, brilliantly retold. (8.5/10)

See also: Desperate Reader and Tales from the Reading Room for other reviews.

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Source: Own copy. To explore further on Amazon UK, please click below:
– Ragnarok: the End of the Godsby A.S.Byatt, pub 2011 by Canongate. Paperback, 192 pages including Appendices.
– The Goddess Chronicle (Canongate Myths) by Natsuo Kirino, pub 2014 by Canongate. Hbk or pbk 320 pages.
– The Gospel of Loki by Joanne M Harris, pub 2014 by Gollancz. Hardback.
– Asgard and the Gods: The Tales and Traditions of Our Northern Ancestors, Forming a Complete Manual of Norse Mythology Work (Classic Reprint) by Wilhelm Wägner.

A Russian fairytale

The Year of Miracle and Grief by Leonid Borodin, translated by Jennifer Bradshaw

miracle-and-grief

Leonid Borodin was a writer, Soviet dissident and Christian. He was born in Irkutsk – one of those areas of Russia only familiar to me through the board-game Risk! He was imprisoned twice, the second time after the English publication of his writing in the mid 1980s. He died in 2011. Quartet books have recently republished The Year of Miracle and Grief in a handsome quality paperback, and I was sent a copy.

One summer, a twelve-year-old boy comes to a railway town on the shores of Lake Baikal in Siberia, where his parents are to teach at the school. He soon makes friends with the other local children, and spends most of his time outdoors, fishing, swimming, making rafts, building dams, doing boyish things until suppertime.

He is mesmerised by the beauty of the lake and mountains, and keeps finding his eye drawn to a lonely crag with a straggly pine tree on it. The rocky outcrop is known as Dead Man’s Crag – his friends warn him against going up there however the boy, (who is unnamed) feels compelled to try. He scrambles up to the ledge only to discover an wizened old crone sitting there. Once she’s scared him half to death, she introduces herself as Sarma, great grand-daughter of the Great Sibyr. She forces him into a cave, telling to go down to the bottom and return to tell her what was happening.  He goes in, down many stairs before arriving in an immense hall:

On a high-backed throne set on a small rocky platform sat an old man. At least he seemed to me to be very old under the thick white beard which fell to his chest. His clothes, halfway between a smock and a cloak, were navy blue, and against this background the white beard looked like sea foam…  White eyebrows covered his eyes. The face looked sad and austere.
At his left hand, her head leaning on the armrest of the throne, sat a little girl of eleven or twelve. Her dark chestnut hair was hanging down from the armrest and the old man’s hand was resting on the child’s knees. The armchair she was sitting on was somewhat smaller than the throne, but its back was just as high. On the little girl’s left, with his head resting on outstretched paws, lay a small black dog with a brown patch above his eyes.
And all three of them . . . were asleep.

Sarma had flooded the valley to make Lake Baikal in retribution for the Prince who lived there accidentally letting her son die. Ever since she has held the Prince and his daughter Ri captive, unable to forgive, still grieving. The boy, naturally, falls for Ri and begs Sarma to let him come and visit again. After many visits he tries to persuade Sarma to set Ri free, and Sarma bargains – accepting her terms will change his life totally.

Rooted in local myths of the origins of this bleak and beautiful landscape this fairy-tale is, like all the best of its kind, strong on the consequences of dealing with magic. There is a price in suffering to pay for changing the equilibrium. Borodin was a Christian, and so the fairy-tale almost becomes a kind of parable about forgiveness and grief.

Where this book excelled for me though was in the descriptions of the ever-changing moods of the lake and its environs, going from transcendent beauty to stormy waves to icy danger. The translator, Jennifer Bradshaw has done a great job here. For instance, one day:

The water no longer looked like glass. I had the feeling that an immense blue tablecloth had been stretched out between the four points of the compass and that beasts were walking underneath it, unable to reach the shore. The smooth shining waves were not lapping against the bank but flowing on to it in a film of transparent sky blue.

From the start, we know that the boy survives all his trials, as the story is recounted by an older and wiser self. This degree of hindsight and first-person narration gives a totally different slant on what happens, it’s not as immediate as a certain other tale I’ve read recently involving magical sleeping beings in a cave deep under a hill I can think of (Alan Garner’s Weirdstone of Brisingamen that is); they do share the love of landscape though.

If you love Russian landscapes and fairytales this story, at first deceptively simple but then complex underneath, may be one for you. (8/10).

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Source: Review copy – thank you. To explore further on Amazon UK, please click below:
The Year of Miracle and Grief by Leonid Borodin, Quartet paperback, 190 pages, republished Nov 2013.

Rediscovering Alderley Edge’s Old Magic

The Weirdstone of Brisingamen & The Moon of Gomrath by Alan Garner

After going to see a lecture given by Alan Garner, reported here, I naturally wanted to read more by him, and especially to (re)read the Weirdstone Trilogy. In this post, I will look at my re-reading of the first two books, I’ll deal with the third another day.

Brisingamen 1Gomrath 1The Weirdstone of Brisingamen was Garner’s first novel, published in 1960, followed in 1963 by The Moon of Gomrath.

I read them in as Puffin paperbacks in the late 1960s and can well remember the covers pictured, although my own copies are gone.

Both concern the adventures of Colin and Susan, ten-year-old twins, who have been sent to live with their mother’s old nurse while their parents are away working abroad. Bess and Gowther Mossock live on a farm near Alderley Edge in Cheshire, a large hill which is the scene of local myths and legends.

Garner starts The Weirdstone of Brisingame with an account of the legend of Alderley Edge, in which a farmer taking his white mare to sell at market sold it to a wizard who appeared on the path over the edge. The wizard took him through iron gates into a cave where sleeping knights and their white steeds lay waiting to be called in the hour of need, but were one horse short. The farmer was allowed to cram his pockets full of treasure, but of course was never to find the cave entrance again.

Susan has a bracelet with a ‘tear’ jewel on it, which had come to her as an heirloom, and unbeknownst to her – it is the missing Weirdstone stolen centuries before. When her bracelet comes to the attention of the local witch Selina Place, the children find themselves hunted by the minions of the evil Nasrond, who had been banished centuries ago.  They find all this out from Cadellin – the Wizard of the legend and his friends the dwarves, who rescue them. Cadellin is then forced to let Colin and Susan be part of the action to rid the Edge of Nasrond and his ilk once again and restore the weirdstone to Fundindelve where the sleeping knights lie.

In The Moon of Gomrath, Colin and Susan are set to have another adventure when the elves borrow Susan’s replacement bracelet.  This is a powerful amulet given to her by Angharad Goldenhand the Lady of the Lake at the end of the first book. Being without the bracelet’s protection, Susan is possessed by an evil spirit, the Brochallan, which had been released when well-workings outside the pub set it free. Colin, with the aid of the dwarves has to seek the mythical Mothan, which only flowers at moonrise on the Old Straight Track – a path of the Old Magic to cure Susan.  More Old Magic is later set free by Colin and Susan when they light a fire to keep warm on the beacon on what happens to be the night of the Moon of Gomrath. This awakens ‘The Wild Hunt’ – the mythical wild horsemen and hounds of legend. To pile on the agony, Colin is abducted by the evil Morrigan and its goblin folk. A pitched battle ensues, primarily between the elves and the Morrigan, and Colin is rescued, but the Old Magic must still be set free.

'Druid's_Circle'_The_Edge,_Alderley_Edge_-_geograph.org.uk_-_43508Garner lives and breathes the landscape, mythology and history of Alderley Edge. All the places named in the book exist – like the Druid’s Circle, (which he claims was created by one of his forebears – a mason), and the Wizard pub.  It was rich mining area for metals, so the hills are dotted with tunnels. Now run by the National Trust, you can walk the trails and see magnificent views from the top of the escarpment.

Traditional Celtic folklore provides the basis of all the fantasy elements of the novels, and after the MoG, Garner explains where some of this comes from and gives some references including The White Goddess by Robert Graves. The spells are all from real texts – but are incomplete, he adds – just in case.

Around all the mythology is woven the adventures of Colin and Susan, a plucky twosome whose idea of fun is to go out roaming and exploring the edge all day every day.  They were obviously fit and healthy and thought nothing of walking or running miles at a time. Gowther and Bess give them this total freedom, with just little admonitions to come home for supper, or don’t go roaming on the Edge without a torch in the dark. Gowther and Bess understand the power of the place.

Reading these two books as an adult, it’s the mythological content I concentrated on, but as a child – they were such great adventures; grittier and more real than the world of Narnia. By letting the old worlds of magic and the modern age collide, the peril is much greater – there is no option of going back through the wardrobe.

Of the two, The Moon of Gomrath is the more accomplished and, the need for scene-setting over, there is more space for fantasy. The Elves, or lios-alfar, are particularly tricky folk – Albanac, a human who dwells with the Wizard Cadellin explains:

Remember, too, that no elf has a natural love of men; for it is the dirt and ugliness and unclean air that men have worshipped these two hundred years that have driven the lios-alfar to the trackless places and the broken lands. You should see the smoke-sickness in the elves of Talebolion and Sinadon. You should hear it in their lungs. That is what men have done.

What price progress, eh?  Cadellin, a couple of pages on, explains more about how the worlds of humans and magic have diverged:

“Why do you think men know us only in legend?” said Cadellin. “We do not have to avoid you for our safety, as elves must, but rather for your own. It has not always been so. Once we were close; but some little time before the elves were driven away, a change came over you. You found the world easier to master by hands alone: things became more than thoughts with you, and  you called it an Age of Reason.

“Now with us, the opposite holds true, so that in our affairs you are the weakest where you should be strong, and there is danger for you not only from evil, but from other matters  we touch upon. These may not be evil, but they are wild forces, which could destroy one not well acquainted with such things.

“For these reasons we withdrew from mankind, and became a memory, and, with the years, a superstition, ghosts and terrors for a winter’s night, and later a mockery and a disbelief” .

I like Garner’s explanation very much – and wish it were so in a way. The rationalist in me can’t believe in magical worlds, but I do love to let my imagination soar by reading books where magic is allowed to live in our world.

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Source: Own copies. To explore further on Amazon UK, please click below:
The Weirdstone of Brisingamen by Alan Garner, Harper Collins paperback, 288 pages.
The Moon of Gomrath by Alan Garner, Harper Collins paperback, 224 pages.
Boneland (Weirdstone Trilogy 3) by Alan Garner, pub 2013, Fourth estate paperback, 160 pages.
The White Goddess: A Historical Grammar of Poetic Myth by Robert Graves, Faber paperback.

A lecture by Alan Garner

This week I went to see the ‘Magical Books: From the Middle Ages to Middle-earth’,  exhibition at the Bodleian Library in Oxford during its final days (it finishes tomorrow) – I’ve been meaning to go all summer ever since Alex at Thinking in Fragments alerted me to it in this post. Alex described the exhibition which concentrates on the works of ‘The Oxford School’: JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis, Philip Pullman, Susan Cooper, and Alan Garner, together with many medieval manuscripts and a first edition of the first Harry Potter, annotated by JK Rowling, brilliantly, so I won’t go into detail here.

Garner-BYU-85

I will say though, that it felt like a room of power in there, I’m so glad I didn’t miss the exhibition.

I was particularly interested in parts relating to Alan Garner, for I read his books alongside Lewis’s Narnia series. Both authors were hugely influential to me around the ages of eight to ten, but Garner’s novels, being only published a few years before I read them, felt more contemporary and edgy.

The picture on the left from the exhibition shows a little of Alan Garner’s manuscript for Carnegie-winning novel The Owl Service (1967). There were also pages from his MS for The Weirdstone of Brisingamen (WB) – his first book published in 1960. The handwriting on these showed lovely calligraphy in an almost runic style – slightly reminiscent of Tolkien’s Elvish script. It appears that had worn off by his fourth novel though!

Alan Garner

My visit also alerted me to the fact that there had been a lecture series running alongside the exhibition, most were lunchtimes so I wouldn’t have been able to go anyway, but the final one was last night at Magdalen College, given by Alan Garner himself. Now aged 79, he doesn’t speak often, and they still had a few tickets available, so I went!

This was the first time I’ve been to an author event which was a formal lecture, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, and Garner is an alumnus of Magdalen, having studied classics and greats. He entered from stage right, looking slightly frail, and took out a sheaf of papers from his briefcase. The lecture was entitled “A Bull on my Tongue” – which Garner explained was from Agamemnon by Aeschylus. At the start Clytemnestra awaits Agamemnon’s return from Troy, (translation from an Open University text).

Guard:
And may it be my master, when he comes,
will clasp this hand with his love-hallowed hand.
There’s more, but I won’t say it. The saying goes:
“My tongue’s become where the trampling oxen stand.”
You could ask the house. If this house had a mouth,
this house would speak.
I mean my words just so.
They’re dark to those in the dark: not to those in the know.

However, he soon put us at our ease, recounting his days in the Magdalen Players before getting into the real meat of the lecture. “Creativity and its expression in modern English fiction” – telling us of his own journey as a writer over 57 years (so far), and in particular how fifty years after he wrote WB and its sequel The Moon of Gomrath, he was inspired to make it a trilogy. I was also grateful to finally find out how to pronounce Brisingamen – ie: Bri-ZING-gamun, not BRIZZing-GAMmon as I had always said as a child.

bonelandAfter deciding to become a writer, and writing two novels about the adventures of twins Colin and Susan, he was totally fed up of them – he gave us a hilarious alternative ending!

Instead Garner left unfinished business, and in the noughties he was inspired to think of what would happen to children who’ve experienced another dimension, but then had to grow up and live in the real world. CS Lewis had a way of dealing with that, he quipped, he killed them off.  In 2012’s Boneland, the third part of the trilogy which I’m longing to read – he wrote about the adult Colin and Susan – for adults, bringing things to a close.

He went on to tell us about his writing process – describing crafting a book as an archaeological excavation of ideas. ‘I’m a spectator – I watch‘ and write it down.  He emphasised several times during the lecture that he sees creativity as a pathological state, not a job, and quoted Jung, and many great poets to support this.

Then he asked, ‘So what have I learned about language after 57 years as a delver in the word-hoard?‘ (love that phrase).  He told us about his preference for words with Germanic, romantic roots finding them clearer, and how unless it is part of the fabric, he won’t use the same colourful word even twice in a novel.  To him, adjectives are superfluous, so when he uses one it has more impact, and adverbs mean I haven’t thought about what I want to say, he told us. He believes strongly that you need to learn grammar and syntax etc, in order to break the rules well.

He also told us about his experience adapting his novel Red Shift for BBC TV in the late 1970s. This was his fifth novel, and he’d moved on to a more dialogue driven style of writing. So not much work needed to make a screenplay out of it he thought – Wrong! ‘The word in the air, is not the same as the word on the page.‘  On the page, the dialogue has to tell what’s going on around it.  In the air, the TV camera is doing half of that job for you, so less is more.  This technique now influences writing on the page more directly.

And finally (she said, deliberately breaking a grammar rule or two), he brought us back round to that Magdalen Players production, alongside Dudley Moore no less, and the bull on his tongue.

Sadly, given Garner’s age, there was no Q&A or book signing, but there was an opportunity to write down questions which will be responded to by email via The Blackden Trust, which Garner set up with his wife to celebrate arts, crafts and heritage in their corner of Cheshire. I wanted to ask about the runic handwriting in the WB manuscript – so I await my reply with anticipation.

Being linked to the Bodleian exhibition, I had been expecting a talk about the myths and legends that Garner has built into his novels rather than exploring his writing process and its evolution. No matter, it was lovely to hear him deliver this erudite and witty lecture. Now, I can’t wait to read the WB trilogy in its entirety, alongside revisiting and reading all his other works.

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To explore Garner’s books on Amazon UK, please click below:
The Weirdstone of Brisingamen (50th anniversary edition), paperback
The Moon of Gomrath
Boneland (Weirdstone Trilogy 3)
The Owl Service