hotpress.com Logo
Home Music Features Politics Audiovisual What's On Shop Archive Industry


Will Power

August 29th, 2008 by petermurphy

Will Self blogs in the New York Times:

http://self.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/08/26/garment-district/

When Mr. Self was in Dublin doing press for The Butt, we conducted a walkabout interview at the William Burroughs/Hans Christian Andersen Cut Outs and Cut Ups exhibition at the IMMA in Kilmainham. (See The View review here).

Here’s Will’s side of the story.

…and here’s ours:

Will Self may be used to walking long distances (last year he famously hoofed it 26 miles from his front door to Heathrow, caught a transatlantic flight and then trekked a further 20 miles from JFK to downtown New York), but for the purposes of the Hot Press books interview, we’ve elected to undertake a rather more sedate perambulation around the Irish Museum Of Modern Art in Kilmainham.

The writer, in town to promote his latest novel The Butt, has agreed to be interviewed while we stroll through the Cut Outs and Cut Ups exhibition by Hans Christian Andersen and William Seward Burroughs. Self professes no special interest in Andersen, although he is something of a Burroughs authority, having written extensively about his work, not least a preface to the republished edition of Junky.

“I had an introduction to go out and meet him the year he died, but I wasn’t really too bothered about it to tell you the truth,” Self admits as we step into the exhibition. “We wouldn’t have got on: he hated women and loved guns and I hate guns and love women. My interest in Burroughs declined when he stopped doing smack, amazingly. He was a problematic man.”

He halts at a spray-paint-on-acrylic piece that looks a bit like a Satanic Christmas tree.

“Yeah, I dunno, what do you think?” he considers. “It’s a bit what’s the point, isn’t it? Nah, I’m sorry Bill, I’m not really digging it, man. It’s difficult to think that he’d get an exhibition in an Irish Modern Art gallery if he wasn’t a writer.”

Self reconsiders when his eye snags on an impressionistic work entitled ‘Silent Film’.

“This one’s a bit better isn’t it?” he says. “What’s he done? Oh, I see, he’s put down stencils and sprayed over them. Now that’s the first one that has any oomph to it at all really. Did you read his Ghost Of Chance and the dream diary? They’re very much in the same spirit as that. I mean, you gotta admire the man’s commitment for using his psyche as a test bed for the imagination, letting stuff come. It’s kind of a commitment to the surrealist project really, just being open in that way. I think that creativity is very close to dream. I mean, I keep dream diaries and leave on voice activated tape recorders when I’m sleeping.”

What’s Self’s position on contentious cut-up works such as The Soft Machine and The Ticket That Exploded?

“I think they have a legitimacy actually, but they’re not very readable. I kind of like that side of Burroughs, I think that he’d be nothing without it.”

He does another double-take upon clocking a faintly demonic anthropomorphised figure called ‘Crazy Man’.

“That looks like a lemur,” he says. “He was obsessed with lemurs, Madagascar. There was something sociopathic about it, all of that kind of love for animals. I like this one.”

If anything, it evokes one of the creatures Self writes about in The Butt. What’s it called again?

“The binturang. They’re real, binturangs. They’re from Malaysia, very, very deep forest. They are ursine, astonishing looking things. There used to be one at London Zoo, you had to go into a little house and you’d see it. They’re big, six feet long and they’re like a cross between a cat and a bear, and you think, ‘Fuck, I didn’t know there was anything that big that I didn’t know existed!’ Me and the kids were just mad about the binturang.”

The Butt is set on an imaginary continent that’s a little bit Malaysia and a little bit Iraq, but is mostly the uncharted wild interior of Australia. Self’s in-depth review of John Hillcoat’s The Proposition a couple of years ago suggested he was already deep into researching the territory (both are riffs on Conrad’s Heart Of Darkness), but as it transpires, the writer has history with the place.

“I lived and worked in Northern Australia in the early 80s for about six months,” he recalls. “My dad emigrated there, and I met a lot of people at that time who went into the interior and got jobs with agencies, working with the aboriginal people. I’ve had this kind of taproot into central Australia over the last 20 years, so when it comes to the landscapes of the strange, it’s always the one that’s most present to me. It’s not as other places, I mean it is completely different to the other continents, its own fauna and flora, its environment is completely different, and it’s huge.”

The Butt opens with its hapless protagonist, Tom Brodzinski, tossing his final cigarette over a balcony and onto the bald head of Reggie Lincoln, an Anglo with deep connections to the Tayswengo tribe. Tom finds himself embroiled in a nightmare of beaurocracy and tribal restitution, and the story – Self’s most compellingly plotted to date – proceeds as Kafka’s The Trial set in the tropics, before arriving at a horrible denouement through a web of complexly imagined anthropologies, cosmologies and folkways.

“That’s what’s so horrible – he doesn’t really grasp how deeply in he is right until the last moment,” Self says. “That’s the awful McGuffin: you know he’s going down the whole way, and he really doesn’t get it. Which is what I think we in the West are like, really. It is an allegory for how the West has blundered into Iraq, ’cos I think the lack of planning in the Iraq war was analogous to Tom finishing off a cigarette and tossing it. This is a war now that’s resulted in half a million deaths.

“The book is about our relationship with ethnic otherness,” he elaborates. “I was standing on a balcony smoking a cigarette and there was no ashtray and I flipped it over the edge and I looked and there was an old guy lying down and I thought, ‘What would’ve happened?’ It’s not that I have a particular gripe about anti-smoking legislation, but it just feels so strange when it’s imposed on this ancient culture, basically in Northern Queensland where there was a genocide of these people, and it didn’t really finish until the 1930s. 70 years pass and it’s illegal to smoke cigarettes. It just seemed so bizarre a contrast.”

He pauses on the threshold of a room pulsating with the sounds of the Master Musicians of Joujouka.

“After you sir, into this tiny room.”

And in this tiny room resides Bill Burroughs’ and Brion Gysin’s fabled trip-out gizmo, the Dreamachine.

“There it is,” Self says, not without excitement. “I’ve never seen it before actually.”
According to the catalogue, it was invented in 1961, conceived as “a flicker device that produces visual stimuli… Viewed with the eyes closed to provoke dream-like images and patterns the Dreamachine reflected their fascination with optical effects that could provoke changes in consciousness.”

To be honest, this writer thinks it looks a bit like a high-speed lava lamp rescued from some hippy homunculus’s crash pad.

“I love lava lamps!” Self protests. “They’re great!”

He shakes his head as we move towards the exit.

“What is not to love?”

Blake’s 70

August 28th, 2008 by petermurphy

The Proverbs of Hell

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.

Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead.

The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.

Prudence is a rich, ugly old maid courted by Incapacity.

He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence.

The cut worm forgives the plow.

Dip him in the river who loves water.

A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.

He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.

Eternity is in love with the productions of time.

The busy bee has no time for sorrow.

The hours of folly are measur’d by the clock; but of wisdom, no clock can measure.

All wholesome food is caught without a net or a trap.

Bring out number, weight and measure in a year of dearth.

No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings.

A dead body revenges not injuries.

The most sublime act is to set another before you.

If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise.

Folly is the cloak of knavery.

Shame is Pride’s cloke.

Prisons are built with stones of law, brothels with bricks of religion.

The pride of the peacock is the glory of God.

The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.

The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.

The nakedness of woman is the work of God.

Excess of sorrow laughs. Excess of joy weeps.

The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity, too great for the eye of man.

The fox condemns the trap, not himself.

Joys impregnate. Sorrows bring forth.

Let man wear the fell of the lion, woman the fleece of the sheep.

The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship.

The selfish, smiling fool, and the sullen, frowning fool shall be both thought wise, that they may be a rod.

What is now proved was once only imagin’d.

The rat, the mouse, the fox, the rabbit watch the roots; the lion, the tyger, the horse, the elephant watch the fruits.

The cistern contains: the fountain overflows.

One thought fills immensity.

Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you.

Every thing possible to be believ’d is an image of truth.

The eagle never lost so much time as when he submitted to learn of the crow.

The fox provides for himself, but God provides for the lion.

Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep in the night.

He who has suffer’d you to impose on him, knows you.

As the plow follows words, so God rewards prayers.

The tygers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.

Expect poison from the standing water.

You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.

Listen to the fool’s reproach! it is a kingly title!

The eyes of fire, the nostrils of air, the mouth of water, the beard of earth.

The weak in courage is strong in cunning.

The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow; nor the lion, the horse, how he shall take his prey.

The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.

If others had not been foolish, we should be so.

The soul of sweet delight can never be defil’d.

When thou seest an eagle, thou seest a portion of genius; lift up thy head!

As the caterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys.

To create a little flower is the labour of ages.

Damn braces. Bless relaxes.

The best wine is the oldest, the best water the newest.

Prayers plow not! Praises reap not!
Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not!

The head Sublime, the heart Pathos, the genitals Beauty, the hands and feet Proportion.

As the air to a bird or the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible.

The crow wish’d every thing was black, the owl that every thing was white.

Exuberance is Beauty.

If the lion was advised by the fox, he would be cunning.

Improvement makes strait roads; but the crooked roads without improvement are roads of genius.

Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires.

Where man is not, nature is barren.

Truth can never be told so as to be understood, and not be believ’d.

Enough! or too much.

Write in the Vonnegut

August 27th, 2008 by petermurphy

The late, great Kurt Vonnegut on how to write with style

Orwell’s Blog

August 25th, 2008 by petermurphy

70 years later, George Orwell blogs on.

http://orwelldiaries.wordpress.com/

Re-enter Sand Man

August 24th, 2008 by petermurphy

The Revelatorium is currently reverbing to the sounds of the new Giant Sand album proVISIONS. Twangy guitars, boom-chicka-boom drums, Howe Gelb’s travelling man baritone. Plus guest appearances from Isobel Campbell and Neko Case. It’s a Barry Gifford book set to music.

Speaking of Ms Campbell:

Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan
Sunday At Devil Dirt
(V2)
****
Campbell and Lanegan’s debut Ballad Of The Broken Seas was a play for oppositional voices that used Lee and Nancy as the template but stopped just short of cute. Sunday At Devil Dirt, the follow-up, is deeper, darker and even more substantial.

The record opens with ‘Seafaring Song’, the equivalent of the creaky, creepy scene in Jaws where Scheider, Dreyfuss and Shaw sit around quaffing rum, comparing scars and swapping stories, except here we get strains of Morricone drifting through the open porthole.

Elsewhere, on ‘The Raven’ (of course), bells toll, strings swoon, and Lanegan delivers his most mordant vocal to date (no mean feat) sounding like Lee Van Cleef resurrected in in the Pacific Northwest. ‘Who Built The Road’ is weighted with similar gravitas, yet embroidered with the most evocative string arrangements since Mick Harvey’s Intoxicated Man. Lanegan is at his absolute peak here, a second hand man torn between the bible and the bottle.

Not that it’s all heavy going. ‘Salvation’ is almost whimsical (“My blood is thick and so is my old grey hide”) while ‘Come On Over (Turn Me On)’ embellishes a backing track that’s a ringer for ‘I Put A Spell On You’ with slow and scorching motel blues guitar. Similarly, ‘Back Burner’ is 70s hot buttered soul filtered through the Doc’s Gris Gris, and ‘The Flame That Burns’ takes up where the pair’s Waitsian cover of Hank’s ‘Ramblin’ Man’ left off, applying Mark Ribot and Michael Blair sensibilities to shuffling country blues.

Campbell is obviously a generous spirit, seemingly content to hover behind her man like some gingham princess, particularly on gorgeously formal Elizabethan/Appalachian ballads like ‘Keep Me In Mind Sweetheart’. The exception is ‘Shot Gun Blues’, where she plays the hot-to-trot trailer park succubus urging her sugar daddy towards unspeakable acts.
Sunday At Devil Dirt is a beautiful thing.

The Ties That Bind

August 21st, 2008 by petermurphy

F was my best friend from the ages of 15 to 18, that period when time seems compressed and yet stretched out of all proportion. I can barely remember my own PIN number, but I recall almost every song on the radio and every film released between the years 1984 to 1987. That’s teenagerdom for you: intensely in-tense, an everpresent present.

I first met F in the schoolyard around the age of 10 or 11. He was 18 months older than me and owned an issue of 2000AD that I coveted (the one in which Judge Dredd was unmasked, his features covered by a censored strip), but we didn’t become close until the late summer of 1984, when he assumed in my life the role of peer and mentor, a tribal initiator who peeled open my mind and introduced me to Muddy Waters and Tangerine Dream and Philip K Dick and Robert A Heinlein. He was the most intelligent and original character I’d ever met, and his influence on me was – and still is – immeasurable.

F became a father in 1987, at the age of 20. He moved to London to make a life for himself and his family, and our paths diverged. We met only once since I moved to Dublin in 1991, but I thought about him often. We exchanged a couple of emails and vowed to stay in touch, but of course we never did.

About a month ago I received a message that F’s 21-year-old son was murdered in London. News reports said the young man was fatally stabbed while protecting his girlfriend in a fight at a taxi rank. You can imagine the reaction amongst our circle.

Yesterday I was out on a walk when a car pulled over and the driver beeped the horn. It was F and his teenage daughter. We drove to my house; the youngster surveyed my books and CDs, laughed and remarked that her father and I seemed more like brothers than friends. We talked for an hour. F spoke of the inexorable, cruel process of waiting for the body to be extradited for burial back in Wexford, and of the kindness shown his family by the locals, and of the beauty of that simple, national expression of condolence: ‘Sorry for your trouble.’

If murder is the ultimate violation of not just the integrity of the individual, but the notion of community, then to outlive one’s own child is a violation of the natural order. A person needs a license to drive a car, to own a television, a fishing rod, a gun. But anyone can walk into an army and navy or hunting store and buy the kind of blade that in a moment will end a person’s life, and in doing so, rend the ties that bind us. Such wounds never heal.

The Doc Knight Returns

August 20th, 2008 by petermurphy

Can’t shake the notion that Heath Ledger’s Joker is blood-related to Brad Dourif’s Doc in Deadwood.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Pw5yRXmLBw&feature=related

More Byng For Your Book

August 19th, 2008 by petermurphy

On foot of Canongate’s republishing of David Simon’s Homicide – A Year On The Killing Streets, we thought we’d share the full account of our meet with Canongate boss Jamie Byng last summer…

It’s about three in the afternoon when Canongate boss Jamie Byng, long-haired and casually dressed, totes a big bag of books into the foyer of Buswell’s hotel on Molesworth Street. Actually, it’s less a bag of books than a mobile portal to some Borgesian dimension composed entirely of Canongate’s summer catalogue – the imminent reprint of Alasdair Gray’s ‘Lanark’; Kate Grenville’s ‘Lilian’s Story’; Scarlett Thomas’s ominously packaged ‘The End Of Mr Y’; Angus McCall Smith’s ‘Dream Angus’, the latest in the ongoing Myths series; and a selection of glossy prints from the forthcoming illustrated edition of Yann Martel’s ‘Life Of Pi’.

“Are you alright for shots?” I ask him, after Repforce Publicity director Peter McIntyre has made the introductions.

“Shots?” Byng says, eyebrow raised.

“Photographs.”

“Jesus, I thought you meant whiskey for a minute.”

Sparkling water it is then.

There are those who’ll tell you that until relatively recently, publishing was the last remaining gentleman’s business, but is increasingly becoming snarled in the same demographic-obsessed conglomerate double-think that plagues the film and music industries.

Byng is the flamboyant exception to the corporate rule, and something of a flashback to publishing visionaries like Olympia Press founder Maurice Girodias. Eloquent in a drawly Keef kinda way, he comports himself like a boho-aristocratic scenester who might have hung out with Donald Cammell, Marianne, Mick and Anita circa 1967, but has established himself as a shrewd but intuitive publisher whose business savvy is matched by a natural rapport with writers, musicians and all manner of creative types.

His enthusiasm – evangelism even – often serves to compensate for the modest advance figures at Canongate’s disposal (he famously acquired ‘Life Of Pi’ by writing Yann Martel a love letter to the novel and matching Faber & Faber’s £15,000 advance). He’s in Dublin to introduce Peter Behrens at the launch of his novel ‘The Law Of Dreams’, in some respects an atypical Canongate title in that it’s almost an orthodox historical Irish famine tale – until the reader gets their teeth into the bone-hard and unsentimentally visceral nature of the prose.

The second son of the eighth earl of Strafford, James Edmund Byng grew up in Abbotsworthy, Hampshire. While attending Edinburgh University he ran a funk, reggae and rare groove club night named Chocolate City (after the Parliament classic) at The Venue with his first wife Whitney McVeigh. After graduating, he convinced Scottish publisher Stephanie Wolfe Murray to give him a job at Canongate, then a respected but still somewhat marginalised Scottish company founded in 1973 and most noted for championing Alasdair Gray’s ‘Lanark’ (widely regarded as the Scottish ‘Ulysses’).

When Canongate was on the verge of bankruptcy in 1994, Byng, then in his mid-20s, instigated a buyout, aided by his business partner Hugh Andrew, his stepfather (former BBC chairman Sir Christopher Bland) and then father-in-law (co-chairman of the multinational investment bank Salomon Smith Barney). His first move in overhauling the company’s image was to establish the ultra hip Payback and Rebel Inc imprints, dedicated to championing cult authors such as Charles Bukowski, John Fante, Richard Brautigan, Nelson Algren, Jim Dodge, Barry Gifford, Alexander Trocchi, Joel Rose and Knut Hamsun, plus counterculture texts like Iceberg Slim’s ‘Pimp’, Charles Mingus’s ‘Beneath The Underdog’ and Robert Sabbag’s ‘Snowblind’.

‘The Pocket Canons’ (1998) was another brainwave: selected books from the Bible individually packaged with new introductions by the Dalai Lama, Will Self, Nick Cave, Bono and Louis de Berniéres among others. In the wake of the two-million selling, Booker-winning ‘Life Of Pi’, Canongate won Publisher Of the Year at the British Book Awards in 2003, reportedly posting pre-tax profits of more than £1 million for that year, and roughly half that the following year.

Critical and commercial successes like Michel Faber’s ‘The Crimson Petal And The White’ and James Meek’s ‘The People’s Act Of Love’ consolidated the company’s position, and having weathered the odd bout of turbulence – the departures of key personnel like financial brain David Graham and editorial director Judy Moir, a scrapped merger with Grove Atlantic – Canongate has become the publishing equivalent of Island Records in the 70s and 80s: an independent entity with commercial clout and a diverse but identifiable in-house aesthetic that encompasses everyone from Laura Hird to Louise Welsh, Helen Walsh to Anthony Bourdain.

Last year it became the first Scottish publisher to have two titles included on the Booker shortlist, Kate Grenville’s ‘The Secret River’ and MJ Hyland’s ‘Carry Me Down’, and also won the contract to publish presidential candidate Senator Barack Obama’s ‘The Audacity Of Hope: Thoughts On Reclaiming The American Dream’ on this side of the water.

“The decisions you make as a publisher are largely what define you,” Byng says, “so your taste is, if not everything, it’s a large chunk of what constitutes the identity of a publishing house. I think if you lose that, you venture onto dangerous ground – it’s one of the things that helps an independent house distinguish itself in what is an increasingly corporate business.”

Peter Murphy: Canongate’s diversity of titles evades any easy definition, but the common factor seems to be books with some sort of edge.

Jamie Byng: I think a writer like Michel Faber is a quintessential Canongate author. He happens to live in Scotland but he’s completely international in his outlook; he’s someone who in a way represents what I hope Canongate is: this diverse range of styles and themes being addressed in his work, but always doing it with originality, and, as you said, edge.
There’s a great reggae singer called Little Roy, he does this beautiful song: “No matter how they imitate/The thing that I originate…/Imitation won’t live long/Origination shall be strong, strong, strong.” Originality to me seems to me an absolutely key hallmark in a writer whose work is gonna last, a writer who’s gonna trouble you and make you think again about the way you see the world. I would like to think our writers are expanding the reader’s perspective on what it means to be human. The international side of it is a big part of that.

PM: One of the earliest indications that you were going to expand Canongate’s remit was the introduction of the Rebel Inc and Payback imprints. A lot of the more hard-boiled American writers you republished went onto form an alternative canon for young Irish and UK writers. You now see people like Selby, Fante, Algren and Brautigan namechecked all over unpublished writers’ forums.

JB: Even before Rebel Inc started, Payback Press was the first of the imprints, and that was a conscious decision by me to try and force people to think differently of Canongate. Not that I was embarassed by what it had been, but having come from the south of England, having gone to Edinburgh University in the late 80s/early 90s, I started to do all the publicity for Canongate and would run up against this brick wall where there was a really interesting novel we were publishing, and people down south would almost dismiss it because it was a Scottish writer and a Scottish publishing house. And that used to fucking get my goat so much. And also my interests were never going to be contained within what was going on in Scotland, even though Scottish writers formed a crucial backbone to a lot of our publishing. Starting Payback was a real finger in people’s faces, to say, “How can you dismiss Iceberg Slim or Chester Himes or Clarence Cooper Jr or Charles Mingus?”

PM: Did your interest in black urban writers come out of DJ culture?

JB: Yeah, definitely, ’cos I’d never heard of Iceberg Slim until I was doing my dissertation, it was called ‘A Development of the Black Oral Tradition In The Hip Hop Lyric’. I was writing that in the summer of ’91, graduated in ’92, and it was really tracing the links from a literary, musical and social point of view, the likes of Gil Scott Heron and The Last Poets and Syl Johnson and James Brown to Millie Jackson through to Chuck D and Eric B & Rakim and Ice T. And I was reading an interview with Ice T and he suddenly namechecks this guy Iceberg Slim. I’d done 20th Century American Literature for my degree, and I’d never heard of Iceberg Slim. I’d never heard of Chester Himes until I started working at Canongate, and this amazing guy called Angus Calder, who must be in his late 70s now – he wrote quite a famous non-fiction book called ‘The People’s War’ about the experience of the Second World War in London – he was a Chester Himes nut. But Iceberg Slim never got onto any canon of 20th century American literature. (Nelson) Algren wasn’t there – no fucking chance!

PM: So how did you go about spreading the word?

JB: I went and got one of those Holloway House silver covered paperbacks of (Iceberg Slim’s) ‘Pimp’ and thought this was an extraordinary voice, I’d never heard anything like it before. And one of the first things I did when I took over Canongate was I got the rights for that. If you like something, you have to believe there are some other people out there who might like it too. And Irvine Welsh gave me this amazing quote when I first sent it to him – little did I know he’d been totally into his work for a while. Ice T introduced the book for us. That was probably the first example of us taking a text and setting our sights quite high and going to someone who could really help the book.

PM: Which you took to its logical conclusion by commissioning high profile introductions for ‘The Pocket Canons’ in 1998. The packaging of that series seemed targeted at people who still regard books as fetish objects. The first time I saw them, I thought they looked evil.

JB: (Laughs). There was something too tempting about them, they really were alluring things. That was an incredibly significant moment for Canongate, that piece of publishing. We were absolutely paranoid that if anyone else heard about the idea they would just do it. I remember we went around to about four different designers in London trying to give a brief for a series I couldn’t tell them anything about. I loved Nick’s introduction to Mark, I thought it was one of the very best. Louis de Berniéres’ Job was pretty hard hitting too – inadvertantly we’d been worshipping the devil! Will Self called Revelations a “sick text”.
It was only when those introductions started to come in that I fully realised what we’d set in motion. There’s that beautiful thing that Auden said: “How can I know what I think until I see what I say?” Books can help you realise things that you instinctively were moving towards, a writer can help you crystalise those ideas in your head, and I think those introductions did that in a very interesting way, and in a personal way too, it was a human response to the Bible, it wasn’t drawing in some external forces to try and validate these books, but it was interpreting them, and in the process validating them on a human rather than a cosmic level.

PM: How did you begin enlisting possible contributors?

JB: The first author I ever mentioned it to was Roddy Doyle, we were at this music and literary festival in Holland called Crossing Border, it’s a brilliant festival which I DJ’d at a number of times. And it was midnight in some bar, and I remember saying to him, “Can I sound you out on an idea just to see what you think?” And I told him about it and he said, “You want me to do something on a book from the Bible? No fucking way, I had that rammed down my throat, I wouldn’t have anything to do with it!”

PM: So he swapped the the Bible for Bukowski.

JB: He did, he wrote a beautiful intro for ‘Ham On Rye’, I think we took Bukowski to an audience in part he would never have reached. And we’ve become good friends since then, he did a lovely thing with Peter Guralnick, he launched ‘Sweet Soul Music’ and ‘Lost Highway’, he basically presented Peter Guralnick at the end of a book festival. There would’ve been a good crowd there anyway because of Guralnick’s reputation just on the Presley books alone, but Roddy was very generous in his support.

PM: The ongoing Myths series expands on The Pocket Canons template, with Canongate commissioning novella length reworkings of classical stories.

JB: Yeah, I’ve still got the document on my computer, it was called ‘Notes Toward A Supreme Fiction’ and I started writing it in November ’99, just after we published the second series of Bible books. I remember I felt a bit like we were flogging a dead horse with the second series because although we got some great introductions, not least Bono’s introduction to Psalms, and Alasdair Gray on Jonah, I remember thinking we were almost scraping the barrel in terms of, “We’re not going to go onto Leviticus and we’re not going to keep rolling them out for 60 books” or however many bloody books there are in the Bible.
And the other slight frustration I felt with the Bible series was, some of the introductions were just scratching the surface of what they had to say. We only asked them to write 2000 words and sometimes you could feel the authors just getting going. I was quite interested in the Bible as a kid, but I was much more taken by the Greek myths, I used to read and re-read them. And I thought it would be interesting to approach a writer with a much broader brief and say, “Take any myth of your choice and retell it over 25 to 30,000 words.” So Ali Smith’s just about to deliver her retelling of the myth of Iphis (‘Girl Meets Boy’), which is this amazing cross-gender myth which I’ve never come across before. Salley Vickers has just delivered this book on Oedipus called ‘Where Three Roads Meet’, which I think is possibly the best book anyone’s written in the series to date.

PM: Is it true Donna Tartt is going to cough up too?

JB: Well, I hope so. She and Jeannette Winterson were the first two to go under contract, and Jeannette’s delivered her retelling of the myth of Atlas and Heracles (‘Weight’) and Donna’s meant to be doing Daedalus and Icarus.

PM: We all know what her gestation cycle is like…

JB: Exactly. The thing is, you just gotta be patient. In fact, the last thing I wrote in that three-page working document, as much for myself, was “Ripeness is all”, one of my favourite quotes from ‘King Lear’. One of the things I’ve learned in life generally, but also as a publisher, is you’ve just gotta be patient. It’s the cliché of the Guinness ad, but if something’s worth waiting for, then wait for it. You’ve gotta seize the moment occasionally when something is timely and needs to be done and you can make things happen, but if you try and force it, therein lies half done things.

PM: Yann Martel’s ‘Life Of Pi’ was obviously a landmark book in Canongate’s history. As well as winning the Booker, it sold by the truckload. More importantly, it had an almost religious effect on people.

JB: As Yann wrote at the beginning, “This is a story that will make you believe in God.” Whether it does or not is up for debate, but it’s certainly a book that makes you think about the connections between imagination and faith. Faith is the most supreme act of the imagination in a way. Y’know, my brother’s a born again Christian, so I always have very interesting conversations with him. I wouldn’t say his faith is unassailable, but it seems pretty unassailable to me. He believes in a Christian God in a way that I could never subscribe to. But to me the beauty of Pi is that it challenges and explores without condemning that very idea, because Pi himself has these three teachers, each of whom illustrates a different way how to live your life and find faith, but ultimately the faith he needs to find is the faith to survive, a human based faith. There was one comment Yann made when he won the Booker, he said, “I want to thank my readers for meeting me somewhere in the middle.” I loved that recognition of the role the reader plays in transforming a story into a reality. Yann’s about to deliver a new book too, it’ll be interesting to see how he follows up ‘Life Of Pi’.

PM: Presumably Pi had a pretty dramatic impact on Canongate’s financial stability.

JB: The effect it had on a house our size is kind of hard to overestimate. Even if it hadn’t won the Booker it probably still would have sold 100,000 paperbacks minimum, maybe more, but it ended up being this enormous success and allowed us to, I suppose, become truly financially independent. We still have an overdraft facility which we occasionally use at certain times of the year, but it gave us a stability that we never had previously, and suddenly things weren’t quite as hand-to-mouth. Not that we can be complacent, we still hustle, but it enabled us to invest a lot of money in new writers.

PM: On that subject, you’ve published a large number of radically different books in the last six months alone, including Laura Hird’s collection of short stories ‘Hope’, and a compendium of her late mother June’s letters ‘Dear Laura’, which is quite an extraordinary snapshot of the late 80s/early 90s. It also works as an interesting companion to her books ‘Born Free’ and ‘Nail’ in that it illustrates the reality she sought to escape from in her fiction.

JB: Absolutely, I think that’s a spot-on observation about it. It’s a very raw book in that way, a book I think she had to write. I never met June Hird, but I feel like I’ve met her because of the book’s capturing of someone’s literal presence. I think it’s a very rare book in the way that it deals with and explores family, particularly the mother-daughter relationship, and the fact that you and I as men were equally affected by it means it’s not just about mother-daughter relationships; it’s an honest and moving book about the parent-child relation. She’s one of the writers I hope we publish for a long time, ’cos I don’t think she’s had the recognition she deserves.

PM: A lot of Canongate books seem to approach the historical novel from an angle. My favourite is probably Joel Rose’s ‘The Blackest Bird’, which mixes ‘Gangs Of New York’ style period detail with arcane police procedurals and a cameo from Edgar Allan Poe.

JB: ‘The Blackest Bird’ is definitely doing something quite different with the historical novel. I like writers who are playful, the inherent play that goes on in writing down a story, the inherent falseness of a voice but at the same time, if a voice is pulled off with real skill, it’s as true as anything you’ll ever hear. I love those paradoxes that seem to run through all great books.

PM: Almost exactly a year ago, MJ Hyland sat where you are now and spoke about ‘Carry Me Down’, and how a book’s credibility is essentially down to the quality of lying.

JB: For a book that is engaged with the very idea of duplicity and lies and that passage from innocence to… I don’t know if experience is even the right word, but certainly from innocence to lack of innocence, that moment that John Egan suddenly realises the complete tissue of lies that everything is based on… I’m very glad I’m here in Dublin tonight, but I’m also sad because it means I’m going to miss Maria winning the Encore prize for the best second novel tonight. It’s extremely exciting when you play that role from the first book onwards.

PM: One of the most original debut novels I’ve read in recent years is Steven Hall’s ‘The Raw Shark Texts’. It takes the sort of vaulting imaginative leaps more commonly associated with graphic novelists or filmmakers – somewhere between Kafka, Borges, ‘The Matrix’ and ‘Memento’.

JB: It’s a debut that came at a brilliant moment for us in terms of what’s happening with new technologies – it enabled you to indulge all sorts of possibilities in the way a book can be published, and in terms of the whole viral marketing that’s been done on it. And the book has enabled us to do other stuff as well, I’ve just produced my first short film with Tilda Swinton in it, it’s a five minute Raw Shark film taking this short passage from the novel: “Imagine you’re in a rowing boat on a lake”.It’s a very key moment within the book and in fact I only realised afterwards that this was the first thing Steven ever wrote for the novel, it’s literally the seed, all the conceptual ideas of the novel contained in this one passage. We’ll probably release it in about three weeks time, it’ll be a purely online experience, but we’re gonna do a whole cinema tour in various arthouse cinemas in the autumn when the paperback of Shark comes out, with Steven doing Q&As.

PM: Given your obvious passion for books, how come you ended up being a publisher instead of a writer?

JB: They’re two very, very different things. I suppose I could draw an equal analogy to music, which is also an enormously important thing in my life, but the only way I could possibly call myself as a musician – and I do think of it as playing music – is as a DJ, which is a very creative thing itself, but I would love more than anything to play the piano or guitar even a fraction as well as my heroes.
I think it’s just a recognition that maybe a better use of my time, and something that gives me enormous pleasure, is in that catalyst role as a publisher, helping writers find an audience. I’m kind of evangelical about that role. What I care about is the message in a way, whether it’s a writer’s or a musician’s. Which is why, to be honest, I spend a lot of time championing books that I’ve got nothing to do with, like Richard Yates’s ‘Revolutionary Road’. Ultimately it really doesn’t matter who publishes the book, what’s important is that the book is getting championed one way or another. If you really care about books, that’s all you care about.

Wire Service

August 18th, 2008 by petermurphy

Since its premiere back in 2002, HBO’s The Wire has, over the course of five years, garnered a reputation as the only serious contender for The Sopranos’ title of greatest TV show of all time.

The final series aired on the small screen this year and will be out on DVD next month. Hot Press, in association with Canongate Books, HBO and Fox, will be acting as official media partner for a special screening of The Wire in the IFI on September 19th at 6.30pm.

The event will be attended by the series’ creator, executive producer and writer David Simon, who’ll be participating in a public interview, chaired by a representative from HP Towers.

Created, executive-produced and written by ex-crime reporter David Simons, in collaboration with ex-detective Ed Burns, The Wire is a gritty, complex and no-punches-pulled depiction of the war on drugs in the city of Baltimore, as seen from multiple perspectives, including those of the detectives, the dealers, the lawyers and the politicians. It’s an ensemble piece with long story arcs more akin to the plotting of a novel than the usual show-by-show pay-off, and this ambitious structure, plus the opportunity to mine the labyrinthine chain-of-command machinations of the police department, has enabled Simon to attract the the services of such A-list crime writers as George Pelecanos, Richard Price and Dennis Lehane.

Irish audiences will recognise homeboy Aidan Gillen in the role of Councilman Thomas Carcetti. Speaking to Hot Press last year, the actor explained what drew him to the show.

“I thought it sounded like City Of Hope; it cuts into the cross section of the class tier of an American city,” he said. “The Wire really tells it like it is. You don’t see that many dramas on TV where you see eight-year-old kids on street corners selling drugs in Baltimore ’cos they’re treated with more leniency if they’re caught. David Simon was a crime journalist in the Baltimore Sun, which is a pretty good East Coast paper. He wrote a book called Homicide – A Year On the Killing Streets, a fact-based book, following this cop Jay Landsman around, and he made it into the TV series Homicide: Life On The Street. After that he hooked up with this guy who was an ex-cop called Ed Burns, not to be confused with the actor, and they hung out on a street corner for like a year or more, just hung with these blokes, and wrote a book about it called The Corner, which they also made into a six-part HBO series, a very successful and very honest look at the so-called war on drugs, which bled directly into The Wire.

“The first season of The Wire was sold almost as a cop show,” Gillen explained, “but it wasn’t about the cops being good and the criminals being bad. The whole thing takes maybe 48 episodes to tell the story, and because it’s HBO and the writers have been given leeway to do it their way, you can, as Ed Burns said in an interview, sow the seeds of something in episode 8 or 9 that might not come to fruition until episode 35. It’s written like a novel, and it’s not dumbed down in any way, so they did get people like Pelecanos and Richard Price and Dennis Lehane on board, because they could see the quality was fuckin’ amazing. And they’re first rate crime novelists, all East Coast as well. The Wire is a big ensemble thing and there are no stars in it, which is probably one of the best things about it. They go out of their way to get people you’re not gonna know to make it more real. I’m not a star in The Wire. Nobody is.”

There are, however, some notable cameos, not least Steve Earle in the role of a redneck recovered drug addict named Waylon.

“In other words I’m not acting!” Earle told us last year, as he was filming the final series. “There’s a character in it who’s actually based on a real person, called Bubbles, who was a pretty notorious snitch in West Baltimore who eventually got clean and became kind of an inspiration to other recovering addicts around town, and then he ended up dying of AIDS. But I play Bubbles’s sponsor. Whenever Bubbles decided to try to get clean over the arc of the show, they’d write me in. All my scenes are with Andre Royo, who plays Bubbles, so I’m grafting behind a really fine actor, and I get to say those words, and it’s really great writing. It’s interesting that it’s playing in Ireland, because Ireland might be the only place in Europe…there are definitely people in parts of Dublin that’ll relate to it.”

Wire obsessives will have a chance to attend a special screening of the show in the IFI in Dublin on September 19th at 6.30pm. David Simon will be in town to promote not just the DVD release, but also Canongate’s reissue of Homicide – A Year On the Killing Streets.

Hold On

August 15th, 2008 by petermurphy

How come songs with the phrase ‘Hold On’ in the title are such heartbreakers?
Don’t answer that.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=om58QtEsP-4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPnOEiehONQ