| 1.
You've just finished turning Billy Elliot into a novel (to be
published by The Chicken House in April to tie in with video release
of the film). How did you find the process of 'novelising' a film,
and do you think the experience will influence your future work
as a writer of fiction? |
|
I'm still at it, actually - finished the first draft before
Christmas, and now we're looking at re-writes. The whole thing
has to be done ridiculously quickly, in just a few months, and
interrupted by Christmas, by a tour to launch the paperback
of Bloodtide and various other commitments. I was asked at the
beginning of December and did more words per day than I ever
had - forty thousand in three weeks. Complete madness and I
was just a goner at the end - absolutely dazed. It was only
possible because the whole thing had been thought out so well
- characters, situations, drama, story, all there for me. I
just had to pick up the characters and run with them.
I've
used multiple first person narrative, as in Junk and Bloodtide,
as it seemed the best way to show a side of things that a film
can't do. It brought home to me very powerfully how much film
"shows" rather than opens things up. Everything about character,
motive, feelings, thoughts and so on is inferred. In this sense,
film is a very minimalist form of writing - odd in a medium
that uses up such vast amounts of resources in its production.
I've come away with a better awareness of just how much the
viewer does infer, without sometimes being aware of it. The
process of writing down what a character might be thinking and
feeling revealed just how carefully and accurately the screenplay
was thought through. The only area that I've trouble bringing
a character to, so to speak, is Dad trying to scab. Dramatically
it's such a very important part of the film - the central point
in many ways - but somehow the character on my pages didn't
want to do it. But I've been in touch with Lee Hall, the script
writer, who's revealed to me a bit of the story that ended up
on the cutting room and I think I can see my way through, now.
I don't
know how much it will influence me. I have read a number of
screenplays before, including Bladerunner, which was visually
an influence on Bloodtide. All I can say is, it made me want
to have a go myself.
|
| 2.
Bloodtide is just out in paperback with the type of cover that
should encourage booksellers to display it alongside adult titles.
It hasn't, as yet, received the same acclaim as that highly successful
novel about drug addiction. You've observed that Bloodtide is
a tragedy and that tragedy is not popular, especially today. Yet
the book intentionally, and very successfully, mimics computer
action games and comic adventures, as well as being based on a
Norse saga. So is it just adult reviewers and award judges who
misread it? Have you had much reaction from teenagers who had
earlier read Junk? |
|

These
types of books do suffer from booksellers not always knowing
where to put them. Bloodtide is violent and vivid, with these
big themes of love, revenge, hatred, passion and so on, and
doesn't sit easily on shelves for children. It has actually
been extremely well reviewed - I think I've had my best ever
reviews for it - but of course people only buy hardbacks for
very special reasons, so we must wait and see what the paperback
does. Penguin have been very supportive and put a lot behind
it, so I have high hopes for it.
One
of the hopes I had for the book was that, being a fantasy, it
might cross-over between teen and adult readers. The fantasy
and Sci-fi shelves are the only ones where both younger and
older people browse freely together. As for adult reviewers,
none of them touched it, although it had a mention in the New
fiction part of the Times this Saturday. I'm sure refusal to
look at young people's books is just part of the general snottiness
in the adult book world. People in children's books think its
aimed just at them, but I think an awful lot of them are just
snotty, full stop.
The
award judges - well, I hate these sort of questions because
I have to infer that my book deserved a shortlisting, and that's
not up to me to judge. Whether Bloodtide is good enough to win
or be shortlisted, I don't know - there has been some comment
from various quarters that it should have. Over the years, as
my books have wandered into more and more extreme areas, I've
found that the Carnegie judges in particular have followed me
all the way, often very much to my surprise. My work does tend
to split committees - there are usually a few fervid fans, and
a number of shrinking violets. Bloodtide is full of things to
disapprove of, so maybe the shrinking violets won the day. To
tell the truth, I'm not entirely sure that that's entirely a
bad thing. I want to do fiction that people disapprove of.
One of the best things anyone said about Junk was Nina Bawden,
who said that it was just the sort of thing she would have hated
her mother to catch her reading. Reaction from people who've
read Junk has generally been good. Bloodtide is a book you either
love or hate. I've actually had people who hated Junk but think
Bloodtide is great. I've had people who are shocked by it, but
love it for that very reason. Being a hardback, it's mainly
been in schools and libraries, and I'm looking forward to getting
some more feedback in the coming months. The big question on
my mind at the moment is - shall I do Bloodtide 2 and 3? I'd
like to hear from people. Writing a book like that is a huge
commitment - it took me three years. There's plenty more where
that come from, believe me.
|
| 3.
Your latest hardback from Andersen, The Ghost Behind The Wall,
is (despite the misleading cover picture suggesting it is a boyish
adventure) a disturbing story about senile dementia and the acknowledgement
of an impulse (in an essentially good character) towards antisocial
behaviour. There's a question about old age coming up below, so
this question's about the depiction of boys' characters in children's
fiction. I get the impression you think it's too black and white
- the good characters too good, the bad too bad etc. Have you
a comment on that? |
| Well,
I do enjoy a good baddy, and a good goody if it comes to that.
Traditional fantasy is a fight between good and evil and that's
a lot of fun, there's a lot of drama in that. But if you like
your books to involve real feelings, real people, real decisions
- even in a highly fantastical setting - then you have to look
for the drama elsewhere than in a direct clash. I get a great
deal of pleasure hunting out the good in the bad and the bad in
the good. So often they're not what they seem, and there's a drama
in that sort of story which seems to me to be at the heart of
all the best fiction. It doesn't have to be true to life in the
literal sense - you might have a dragon or a wizard struggling
to come to terms with their loyalties in a difficult situation,
and it still speak to us directly about ourselves. |
| 4.
In the fascinating discussion that you had last summer with Robert
Cormier you remarked that something you wanted to do in a future
book was write a teenage novel that fully acknowledged the power
of sexual longing. Is this something you've already begun? You
also mentioned that your book Loving April had attempted to do
this but that boys hadn't read it, partly because of the cover
(the original paperback - not the one shown below- showed a wistful
watercolour of the deaf and dumb girl, but no boy) and partly
the title (you joked that you should have called it Shagging April).
|
|
 Yes,
Shagging April is now well underway. Sexual longing, lust, desire,
love and often just plain friendship are all tied up together
and it seems to me that no one has really dealt with the lust.
I
have a couple on the go at the moment - Lady is out in the autumn,
I hope. I'm just finishing off the final changes as soon as
my busy Penguin editor gets back to me. Lady is an odd book.
I've had this theme of animals running through my work and this
one is a bit more Kafka-esque than before. It's also a comedy,
which is new for me. The basic theme is a girl being turned
into a dog, but a real dog - a sniffy, licky, shaggy bitch.
She goes home - her parents don't recognise her, which is typical.
She has to run away and hide. Soon she meets other dogs who
try and convince her how much better a dog's life is. No responsibilities,
no kids, no work. OK, you only live a few years, but during
that time, the pavement is alive with scents, there is hot blood
in between your teeth and every urge only has to be felt to
be followed. The book runs through her dog-days with flash backs
to her life as a girl - for instance, she comes on heat and
runs off with a couple of dog-friends to the cemetery to do
it doggy-style over and over, and recalls when she lost her
virginity as a girl. She talks about her boyfriend, her girlfriends,
her parents and so on, and at the end she has to make a decision
as to whether be a dog or a girl.
The
other one, still under way (working titles are Grope, Feel and
Knobster - who knows?), is about boys. Boy meets girl books
are always girlie books, but this one is definitely not. Deno
(I'll have to change the name) is at the centre of that group
of boys (everyone knows them) who are it at school. They might
not be the cleverest, or the wittiest or the best, or even the
best looking, but they are it, and it's very annoying. He's
going out with the best looking girl at school, and she won't
let him sleep with her. This drives him mad - she's had a boyfriend
before who she slept with, why not him? Of course the answer
is that he's such an arrogant idiot, but he's so sexy, she just
can't help herself. There's another one of these boys having
an affair with a teacher - sorry, had to put that one in - another
going out with a girl who his mates think is unattractive ...
and so on. I want it to be sexy and erotic, full of those teenage
hormones, but at the same time to strike the genuine notes in
terms of feelings and relationships. I'm finding it very hard,
mainly I think, because it's not my usual kind of thing. I tried
at first to make it very narrative-led, but it just doesn't
work. It wants to be exciting, but more of a meander that a
direct line. But it's getting through - I hope to have it done
in a few months.
|
| 5.
Cormier devoted his writing life to his special audience - adolescence.
I sense that you feel this is your essential audience as well.
I've always thought that the reason Junk hit such a nerve was
not that it was about drugs (although that was why it was so keenly
taken up in some quarters) but because it was actually something
a lot rarer than we're led to believe - an authentic teenage novel.
|
|
 Yes,
I agree. When I started writing I was told I was producing teenage
fiction, but I soon realised that what people meant was fiction
for people aged no older than fourteen, fifteen at the very
outside. Books really written for true young adults are very
rare indeed - which is such a pity, because it's just at that
age that I feel books can really come into their own in terms
of helping you define yourself, or even just entertaining you
on a level that they never could be before. I suppose it's difficult
- culture for teenagers is often brash and loud and colourful
and dangerous, and that fits awkwardly into the bookshelves.
Is it children's literature, or adults, or what?
I
remember when Junk was made into a TV film, the production company
said they'd like to make it into a movie but if they did that,
it would be an eighteen and the audience it was aimed at wouldn't
be able to see it. Well, it sounds like a good point at first,
but actually it's unreal - of course kids of as young as fourteen
get into cinemas to see movies. If they can't see them there,
they get them out on video later on. So there's a real hypocrisy
in our society about what young people can and can't see. I
just think that a real literature for teenagers and up needs
to ignore those conventions and go straight to the point of
what we all know people that age really do know …
|
| 6.
Having said that, your picture book The Birdman was one of the
most intriguing of last year. How closely did you have to work
with the illustrator Ruth Brown in order to create the series
of tantalising textual/visual questions such as 'Why is the man
masked? Is it significant that the boy has a red shirt, the same
colour as the bird's breast?' |
|
 Ruth
asked me years ago to do a story .. "and I'll do the pictures
…" I tried and tried but just couldn't do it. In the end, The
Birdman was an accident in this sense. My children were living
in Germany and I sent them a story every week or so. Among those
stories was The Birdman. A year or so later, Ruth again - for
about the xth time - asked me if I could produce a story so
I sent her some of the ones I'd done, and to my delight she
picked this one. So I've done a picture book story but I still
have no idea how to do a picture book story.
I
took the attitude that I would follow Ruth's lead in how to
edit the text. There were various bits and pieces she wanted
drop, because she was putting them in the pictures. The idea
of setting the story in an Italian carnival was hers after she'd
seen one on holiday. The boy's red jacket, the man's mask, all
these things are her ideas. In the original the Birdman has
horns under his hat at the beginning and wings at the end in
Jarvis's room - I didn't need to mention them as the pictures
show them. The wings are still there, but the horns have changed
into hair, giving just a feeling of how sinister the man is.
It was a wonderful experience watching how Ruth works. I'm a
big fan of hers, and I'm now wracking my brains how to get another
one she'll be willing to do …
|
| The
remaining questions were put to both Melvin Burgess and Robert
Swindells (ACHUKA's other Special Guest for January). Their answers
are shown side by side, as in the transcript of the Burgess/Cormier
discussion, which has proved one of the most visited sections
of the website... |
|
MELVIN
BURGESS
|
ROBERT
SWINDELLS
|
| 7.
Do you think that books for young teenagers could be marketed
to better effect, and if so, how? |
|
The whole
thing needs to be more direct. I'm very pleased with how Penguin
are dealing with Bloodtide - postcards in cinemas for example.
I do think in general that teenage fiction needs to be detached
somewhat from children's fiction and given it's own place in
the sun. Music stores, magazines - all these areas are much
neglected.
|
I don't
think about the marketing side. I suppose my publishers do their
best and I can't complain.
|
| 8.
What has been the most significant editorial influence on your
work in the past couple of years? |
|
Audrey
Adams from Andersen Press has been my editor since I began and
I trust her judgement very much. She has the ability to judge
a book with such clarity, not matter what form it takes.
|
Jane
Nissen, at Hamish Hamilton. She's a picky editor who knows what
she's doing. When she retires, I retire.
|
| 9.
If you were a 13 or 14 yr. old boy now, what would you be reading?
|
|
David
Almond. Phillip Pullman. Anne Fine. Robert Swindells. Robert
Cormier. Gillian Cross...
At that
age I read very widely both above and below my age, so I would
be enjoying Jacqueline Wilson, Brian Jacques, Thomas Harris,
Stephen King. The list could be endless, there's so many fine
writers about of all kinds.
|
I'd be
reading Melvin Burgess, Malorie Blackman, Pete Johnson, Anne
Fine, David Almond...
Also
Charles Dickens, J.D. Salinger, Jack London...
|
| 10.
How does film and television influence you? |
|
Film
and TV influenced me a good deal in Bloodtide. The Alien series,
the Terminator series. Films like Bladerunner, too - very important
in my vision of the ruined city of the future. I do think a
great deal about films. Another aspect of Bloodtide is that
it's a love story, and I learned from The Night Porter that
you can have a love story in the most unlikely of circumstances
- even murderous ones. Favourite directors include Stanley Kubrick,
Ridley Scott, James Cameron (sometimes), Quentin Tarantino.
There are a host of others, who I only know by their films.
|
 
Not at all - consciously at least. I like the cinema, especially
British and Australian films. I think TV has lost a lot of its
quality, its cutting edge, though Channel Four has made some
good stuff for the big screen.
|
| 11.
Your styles are very dissimilar. In Melvin's case narrative is
driven along by means of the internal voice, often (as in Junk)
from different viewpoints. In Bob's books, we usually see things
from a detached camera viewpoint. Are you both aware of this difference
in your work? |
|
Well,
I don't always use an internal voice. I am aware that both these
devices have their different uses. From a personal point of
view, Find it very easy to pick up a voice and use it to tell
a story - it's a bit like doing an impersonation. It has an
element of performance about it. Even though I write on my own
of course, that appeals to me, and I just love the way the viewpoint
shifts from place to place and person to person, when you use
a number of different viewpoints. I think with the detached
viewpoint, there is more a sense of conducting the story by
the author - it feels as if one has more control over the reader,
whereas with the first person, I feel that the reader can more
easily judge for themselves. That might be an illusion, but
if I feel that a character has something to powerful to say,
I want to give them their own voice, partly to give them scope,
and partly so that I can engage with them as a writer without
having to judge them as I go along.
|
 
I'm not aware that my readers see things from a detached camera
viewpoint: I hope my central characters tell the story. A number
of my books are written in the first person. Perhaps I have
misunderstood the question.

|
| 12.
As writers for young readers, what efforts do you make to keep
in touch with youth culture, or don't you think it necessary?
|
|
Well,
I have two teenage boys, 13 and 15, and I don't think they spend
all that much time "keeping in touch" with youth culture. I
try to be open to anything that comes along in the right way
at the right time. You never know what's going to work - you
just have to keep your eyes open. It's a lot of fun finding
interesting ideas and then taking them into a new context, and
that's something that you can play around a lot with, in terms
of what's called youth culture. On the other hand, I don't think
books work terribly well if they try to capture what is currently
fashionable - it's changed by the time you get there and anyhow,
magazines and TV shows are better at illustrating such stuff.
But there is a great deal of talent, often in very surprising
places, and I try to be prepared to mercilessly pinch anything
that strikes my fancy.
|
 
It is certainly necessary. I observe my grandchildren, and I
have young contacts I can consult on aspects of youth culture
which escape me, as they increasingly do. I don't even ask
about EmineM or Pokemon because I don't want to know.
|
| 13.
Do you crave an adult readership beyond the group of reviewers,
teachers and librarians who certainly do read and enjoy your books?
|
|
Crave
is a strong word. I'm very proud to be writing for young adults
for all sorts of reasons. Because it's all fairly new there
are so many areas that haven't been touched. Who could resist
it? Secondly, being an area that is perceived by the book establishment
as being somehow "less" or not as important as real proper important
literature for real proper important grown-up people allows
you to mess about and not take life as seriously - always a
good thing when working with the imagination. Having said that,
I am producing books for older people, I know adults do often
get a very great deal out of reading them, and of course it's
always nice to have more people reading your work. One day,
maybe, I'll do a truly adult book - something about bringing
up teenage children or being a grandparent, if I ever live that
long. Then I'll crave an adult readership.
|
I don't want an adult readership. See my answer to Q16.
|
| 14.
Are there any taboos in children's fiction that you are anxious
to break down? (Again, Melvin, you may have answered this one
earlier, with regard to sex/tragedy... If you've nothing else
to say at this point I shall be able to restructure before putting
online, or come back to you with another question). |
|
I think
I've said all I need to on that one... (see Melvin's answer
to Q4)
|
I think
the important ones fell in the sixties and seventies. I get
mildly irritated when someone writes to my publisher because
they've found the expression 'bugger off' in my book. Where
have such people been these past thirty years?
|
| 15.
Both of you have recently written about invisibility, Melvin in
The Ghost Behind The Wall and Robert in Invisible. What is it
about invisibility as a theme that drew each of you to these stories?
And, Robert, is it true you believe in fairies? How about you,
Melvin? |
|
I didn't
regard Ghost as being about invisibility. [ACHUKA:
Although the main character never becomes truly invisible, he
does remain hidden from view for much of the book...]
I thought of it as being about two things - one, using ghosts
as imagery. What is a ghost? The idea of it being a memory really
struck me the first time I heard it years ago, and the idea
of loosing a part of yourself in old age - my uncle very recently
died of a heart attack, after suffering from Alzheimer's for
several years - struck me very powerfully. It's like someone
loosing their personality, loosing "themselves," if you like.
And it was about that "really big adventure" of children's fiction
- death. Every since I wrote a book called An Angel for May,
which was about depression (and is hopefully going to be turned
into a film in just a few months) I've wanted to have a look
at that subject, and try and make it into an exciting book -
I hope this one is it. I don't believe in fairies, though. Oops!
There goes another one.
|
 
Invisibility was a fantasy of mine when I was a boy. Also flying
like Peter Pan. I suppose it was the wish for a means of escape.
I suspect kids still fantasize this way, so I wrote about it.
As for
Fairies, I believe in the Cottingley fairies: the clincher
for me was when the snapshots were examined at NASA who said
they couldn't have been faked. I suspect the photographer's
'confession' in old age was a bid finally to be left alone.
|
| 16.
This last one is not a question as such, just an invitation to
both of you to say something about the way in which you think
reading helps the child or adolescent toward an understanding
of the adult world, particularly towards a feeling for what it
is like to grow older. The Ghost Behind The Wall is a compelling
study of old age as, in a more gentle way, is A Wish For Wings.
(For Melvin's character the issue is loss of memory, whilst for
Bob's character it is depression following the death of a partner.)
|
|
As far
as Ghost is concerned, I hope it will help readers to understand
something about the frailties of old age, and perhaps to see
how it is possible to reach an acceptance of death - tricky
thing to imagine when you're ten or so. Those themes are tied
up in imagery of the ghost itself, which in itself is something
to do with the idea of self. I hope the portrayal of Mr Alveston
is sympathetic, and that it penetrates; but probably, the imagery
of the ghost is the most important part of the book in getting
these things across.
My own
work apart, I think that the idea of how books move people,
which they undoubtedly do, is a much more difficult question
than it might seem. The effect stories can have on people is
complicated and often mysterious. They can do so much - provide
refuge, or insight, lead to understanding, provide channels
for change or just pass a few hours - not to mention being boring,
at their worst. Stories are a very deeply rooted part of our
lives and culture, but more than that, I think they are a part
of being human. All cultures and people's have stories. Myth
and religion is born into stories, so God himself appears to
people in narrative form, before he comes as an image. We relate
our pasts, present and future to each other in story form. I
dislike the romantic idea of the mysterious, which is often
just an excuse to be obscure, but I do think stories can provide
a spiritual side in our lives which is difficult to pin down.
Educationally, of course, stories have always been used as an
illustration, or as a way to lead people to understanding and
insight, or to put across information and I'm sure novels will
continue to be used like that. But I do think that one of the
greatest strengths of novels is in deeper stylistic qualities,
stylisitc qualitites, perhaps, which lead the reader to identify
with people or events with which they may not previously have
realised how much they have in common, or to see things in themselves
they may not have known were there before, or even to sense
elements of life they haven't even thought of. Although they
are made up of words, I think stories can reveal things to us
in a pre-verbal form - a thought or feeling before we find the
words to frame it. When I think of the novels that had a big
effect on me in the past, such as Catch-22, or Gormanghast,
or the Norse myths, or The Wind in the Willows, I think I could
describe what it is that fascinated and influenced me, but the
concepts would be far removed from anything on the school curriculum.
|
 
I can only speak about my own experience. Books I read as a
child/adolescent certainly opened windows for me on all sorts
of worlds, including the world of adults. In fact, I find it
impossible to imagine what would have become of me, what sort
of person I would have grown up to be, if I hadn't been a reader.
Certainly I wouldn't be a writer now.
It's
my hope that my work will play a part in opening a window or
two for some of today's young readers. That's why I'm not interested
in attracting adult readers: closed windows in their
lives usually stay closed, and some have minds to match.

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