A Thought Or Two About Fictional Twins

Double Vision                                                                                                                 There is something about twins that makes them a subject of fascination for readers and writers.

Twins, or their equivalent, have been popping up in fiction throughout the history of literature. We have evil twins, separated-at-birth twins, sickly or mad twins, wicked sisters, rival brothers, but also changelings, soulmates, dark halves, lookalikes … and all of them threatening to unpack our emotional baggage. People just hate it when you tell them you saw their ‘twin’ in the supermarket. It undermines the human quest for uniqueness.

In her book Twins in Contemporary Literature and Culture (Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), Juliana De Nooy examines the various and most fascinating manifestations of twins:

Identical and conjoined twins offer counter-intuitive images of one being in two bodies and two beings in one body, and thus may be seen to lend themselves to explorations of the nature of the self.

Consider for a moment when you last met twins on your own reading travels.

Schizophrenia                                                                                                                   We find them in Ian McEwan’s Atonement (2001) – Jackson and Pierrot, the brothers of the disreputable Lola. We find them in John Banville’s 2005 Booker Prize-winning novel The Sea – the wordless Myles, and his sister Chloe. I remember finding them years back when I read Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things (1997), another Booker winner. (What were the Small Things? I can’t remember.) Roy’s Esthappen and Rahel die tragically, I believe, by drowning, while Banville’s Myles and Chloe wade out together into the sea to meet their fate:

They were far out now, the two of them, so far as to be pale dots between the pale sky and paler sea, and then one of the dots disappeared. After that it was all over very quickly.

In Richard Ford’s novel Canada (2012), which explores the themes of assimilation and belonging, Ford’s narrator Dell and his unalike sister Berner are fraternal twins. Dell reflects:

I sometimes found myself thinking of Berner as an older boy. Other times I wished she looked more like me so she’d be nicer to me, and we could be closer. Though I never wanted to look like her.

The desire for the closeness that comes from similarity threatens our human need for individuality. Canada2 Zadie Smith’s ground-breaking novel White Teeth (2000) uncannily anticipates the rise of fundamentalism in Britain. One son Magid is sent back by his father to Bangladesh to be educated and ‘challenged,’ while his twin Millat remains. But which twin is ‘safe’? Millat goes on to join the dubiously-acronymed ‘Keepers of the Eternal and Victorious Islamic Nation,’ (KEVIN):

… he stood schizophrenic, one foot in Bengal and one in Willesden. In his mind he was as much there as he was here. He did not require a passport to live in two places at once, he needed no visa to live his brother’s life and his own (he was a twin after all).

This is the schizophrenia of a split cultural identity as exhibited in the twins of Smith’s novel, but transferable to a population of confused individuals. White TeethSacrifice                                                                                                                                In her book Negotiating with the Dead (2002), Margaret Atwood has a whole chapter on ‘duplicity,’ or this ‘world of doubles’: ‘Which Twin has the Toni?’ Atwood describes a magazine advertisement for a Toni home permanent. Two identical girls are shown with two identical hair perms – one an expensive salon hairdo and the other the cheaper home version. ‘Why was it that I suspected fraud?’ asks Atwood. Is this a clue to the twin syndrome? One twin is merely a copy of the other. As Atwood observes:

In his book on human sacrifice, The Highest Altar (1989), Patrick Tierney would have it that the successful twin represents the living society, and the unsuccessful one his dark alter ego – the one who was sacrificed and then buried under the cornerstone in order to deal with the Underworld, propitiate the gods, and protect the city.

NegotiatingIn life, one of a pair of Siamese twins must often be sacrificed to save the life of the more complete other. This is the lot that falls to Marion and Shiva, the twin protagonists of Abraham Verghese’s surgery-for-beginners-novel Cutting for Stone (2009). In Gillian Flynn’s best-selling crime thriller Gone Girl (2012), Go – short for Margo – comes very close to taking a murder rap for her twin brother Nick. In literature, twins – or at least one of them – are expendable.

Who can say how many twins have fallen for the sake of fiction?

The complete article ‘Which Twin has the Toni?’ first appeared in the IATEFL Literature, Media and Cultural Studies Newsletter, Issue 46, March, 2015. More on twins in the next post.

References

Atwood, M., 2002. Negotiating with the Dead. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Banville, J., 2005. The Sea. Basingstoke: Picador.

De Nooy, J., 2005. Twins in Contemporary Literature and Culture. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Flynn, G., 2012. Gone Girl. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson.

Ford, R., 2012. Canada. London: Bloomsbury.

McEwan, I., 2001. Atonement. London: Jonathan Cape.

Roy, A., 1997. The God of Small Things. London: Random House.

Smith, Z., 2000. White Teeth. London: Hamish Hamilton.

Tierney, P., 1989. The Highest Altar. Viking.

Verghese, A., 2009. Cutting for Stone. New York: Vintage.

On cats and writers

In her July blog post, author and writing coach Kim Fleet directs us to the wisdom and habits of cats and shows us what, as writers, we can learn from them. Writing uses up our ‘energy and mental concentration,’ she tells us, so cap naps are in order. Good to know.

As I write, my three cats are snoozing in advance of significant bursts of energy later on this afternoon. We should do the same: ‘set an alarm for 20 minutes, then lie down on the bed and have a short nap,’ after which, ‘refreshed and alert,’ we can resume our writing. This put me in mind of Doris Lessing’s accounts of her own writing routines in her book Walking in the Shade:

I drop off into sleep for a few minutes, because I have wrought myself into a state of uncomfortable electric tension. (1997:93)

The process of writing can be intense to the point of being debilitating:

And it is exhausting, for suddenly after an hour or two, with perhaps only a page or two done, you find yourself so heavy you tumble onto the bed and into sleep, for the necessary half hour, fifteen minutes, ten – and then up again, refreshed, the tension cut, and you resume the wandering about, the touching, the desultory tidying, the staring, while you approach the typewriter, and then you are seated, and your fingers fly for as long as they do – up again, movement again. (1997:227)

And remember what Dorothea Brande tells us in her book Becoming a writer, first published in 1934:

… rise half an hour, or a full hour, earlier than you customarily rise. Just as soon as you can – and without talking, without reading the morning’s paper, without picking up the book you laid aside the night before – begin to write. (1983:72)

Brande describes this moment of morning waking as ‘the twilight zone between sleep and the full waking state.’ In this heightened state of reverie, the imagination takes hold, writer’s block is banished and writing conundrums are solved. So, more cat naps during the writing day offer more opportunities for creative wake-ups.

That’s all for now. I think I’m feeling a bit sleepy.

The cat naps

The International Prize for Arabic Fiction 2014

Extracts from the six shortlisted novels for The International Prize for Arabic Fiction 2014 have been released in advance of the prize-giving later this week at the Abu Dhabi International Book Fair. I have read them all with great diligence. The problem is, of course, that the originals are in Arabic and what I have read are translations. My conclusion is that… much is lost in translation, and some of these novels have come out sounding very weird indeed. Were they written like that, or should we blame the translators for mangling the authors’ texts? Having said that, I am very taken with one of these novels.

IPAF 2014

To my mind there is one outstanding winner, and it is the Iraqi novelist, poet and screenwriter Ahmed Saadawi for his novel Frankenstein in Baghdad. The book has been translated by Jonathan Wright.

I cannot say if this is a good translation, but it is a commendable piece of writing in English and it is a pleasure to read. Credit is due to the author and to his translator. I am a fussy reader so I felt gratified that paragraphs were paragraphs, that punctuation was in the right places, and that the text had cohesion and coherence. The author avoided cliche and unnecessary repetition. The text has an easy rhythm to it. The translator must surely have read through his material many times to check that it flowed. If the Arabic original is as fluent as this then it is very good indeed. The story is dark but morbidly entertaining. Here is the opening of the piece I read:

The guy was none other than Abu Zaidoun the barber, an old man who was all skin and bones. They found him slumped on his white plastic chair in front of the barber’s shop that had once been his. He had handed the shop over to his youngest son years ago when he could no longer stand on his own two legs. He looked to be asleep, at least to anyone seeing him from afar, but the handle of a pair of stainless steel scissors protruded from his upper chest, near the base of his neck. The scissors were a pair the son used in the barber’s shop.

The premise is fascinating. In Baghdad, in the Spring of 2005, ‘Hadi al-Attag takes the body parts of those killed in explosions and sews them together to create a new body. When a displaced soul enters the body, a new being comes to life.’ Magic realism? I need to read more. It will take some time and more book awards like this one to see in which direction new Arabic fiction is going.

So, Frankenstein in Baghdad is the shortlisted novel that gets my vote. It stands out a mile from the other contenders. Will it win? We need to wait a few more days to find out. I shall be very upset if it doesn’t.

Namisa – The Next Big Thing

Earlier this month I was tagged by my friend Sarah Barr – writer, poet, teacher and fellow coach (http://sarah-barr.com)  – to take part in the expanding blog, ‘The Next Big Thing.’ In this project, writers tag each other to write about their latest projects.

Sarah, who wrote about about her novel Talk to Me, was tagged by our mutual friend historical novelist Maria McCann (http://www.mariarosemccann.com), who wrote about her new novel Ace, King, Knave, which will be published by Faber next November. Maria for her part was tagged by the novelist and poet Rebecca Gethin (http://rebeccagethin.wordpress.com/author/rebeccagethin/).

I think you get the idea.

So as Sarah’s tagee, I’m taking the opportunity to write about my book A Traveller’s Guide to Namisa, which I finished last March and which I have continued finishing ever since. No, seriously, I’ve finished it. Oh well maybe just a few more tweaks.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

At an interview in Manchester for a consultancy post based in Poland, the interview panel set me a task. ‘Imagine this,’ they said, ‘you are at a reception in an unnamed country. You are approached by an academic who, after an initial preamble, makes it quite clear to you that he requires substantial funding from your department in order to undertake a lengthy course of study in the UK. In an earlier briefing you were advised that this particular gentleman had already received more than generous funding from departmental coffers. How would you deal with his request?’

While for the interviewers this was a test of their candidate’s cultural sensitivity and diplomacy, for the candidate, this was a rather inspiring writing cue. The unnamed country became Namisa, an island that was ‘flying distance from Singapore’ and the setting for my novel A Traveller’s Guide To Namisa. The pushy academic became my manipulative antagonist Ito Bogadan, the thorn in the side of the Downing Foundation, an organisation whose mission is to support the academic and cultural development of former British protectorates such as this one. The hapless employee charged with managing the Foundation’s scholarship funds is Philip Eric Blair, a young man desperate to flee the tedium of his UK office job and find la dolce vita, by progressing from a role as Officer of Education and Culture, with responsibility for Namisa and its neighbouring island of Pundar, to Paris or possibly Rome.

Journeying back to London from Manchester after my interview, I found myself with the NamisanIndustrial Park commuters on the Trinamisa Express, gazing out at the yellowing Wunamisan grasslands: the brave new world of A Traveller’s Guide to Namisa.

What genre does your book fall under?

I suppose it would have to be listed as comic fiction, though ‘comic’ doesn’t quite do it for me. Lightweight satire perhaps.

Which actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

One evening I was having trouble getting back into the story after a break from the writing. I solved the problem by casting the whole novel as if it had been a movie. I hope these actors will like the parts I’ve given them:

Ewan McGregorPhilip Eric Blair, he of the ‘puppy dog stare,’ Officer of Education and Culture for the Downing Foundation, Namisa.

Philip Blair 2

Kate WinsletFelicity Manning, on-the-rebound romance novelist who masquerades as Philip’s wife, ‘a giant among men.’

Felicity Manning 1

Freida PintoTanita, Philip’s insightful Namisan love interest.

Tanita

Stephen FryNeil Bryant, Director of The Downing Foundation in Namisa, ‘long-limbed, like a giraffe.’

Bill Nighy Michael Robinson-Smith, travel writer extraordinaire.

Michael Robinson-Smith

Rowan AtkinsonHugo Danvers, Philip’s sneaky rival, ‘a pokey kind of fellow.’

Jonathan PryceProfessor Shimee Timmaya, Pundari academic.

Celia Imrie Lady Downing, Patron of The Downing Foundation.

Gemma Jones – Philip’s Auntie Peggy.

Simon Pegg Frank Gibson, belligerent teacher of English – aren’t they all?, who always seems to land on his feet.

Frank Gibson 2

My antagonist Ito Bogadan is proving the most difficult to cast. He could be a younger version of David Suchet or a fatter version of Ben Kingsley.



Ito Bogadan 1 (DS3)

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

A fledgling diplomat with an illicit secret is posted to the quirky, conservative island of Namisa where he meets a wily academic who lusts after the funding he controls, and possibly a great deal more.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

I wrote the first 50,000 words of the novel in one month for NaNoWriMo in 2008, then I unwrote it, then I re-jigged it and added another 50,000 words.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Through my work as an EFL textbook writer I’ve been lucky enough to visit many different countries and get a glimpse of other cultures and beliefs. If I had chosen to set my novel in one of these countries, someone would have been bound to be offended. So, Namisa is set nowhere in particular … and everywhere.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Namisa, of course, has its own language, so the book has an abbreviated Namisan- English glossary for those whose Namisan is a little rusty.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

In EFL publishing we don’t use agents. I’ve been a member of the Society of Authors since 1991 and they have always been kind enough to review my contracts for me. However, I think now is the time to find an agent, since selling a novel is a job and a half. If the agent route proves impossible, I will follow the example of some of my UAE writerly colleagues and self-publish.

And now for my tagees. Here they are:

Sultan Saeed Al Darmakihttp://www.sultandarmaki.com

Sultan is based here in the UAE and is both a photographer and a writer. His latest book is Leave the Birds Alone.

Ruth Cherringtonhttp://www.clubhistorians.co.uk

Ruth is a long-term friend, writer, and researcher. She is the author of Not Just Beer and Bingo! A Social History of Working Men’s Clubs, Authorhouse, 2012.

Eva Dietrichhttp://www.aladdin-books.com/about/index.html

Eva is a children’s author, based in Spain, who is also the founder and director of Aladdin Books. Eva and I were on the same MA in Creative Writing with ManchesterMetropolitanUniversity.

John Dolanhttp://johndolanwriter.blogspot.com/

John divides his time between UAE, UK and Thailand. His novel Everyone Burns is currently No.2 in Goodreads’ Best Books, Asia. Amazing, John!

Last but not least, a nod to my Scottish kilted author friend Seumas Gallacher http://seumasgallacher.com who has already done The Next Big Thing and no doubt would have done it again, but for the fact that he’s done it several times over and has probably had enough of it by now. Seumas, if you don’t already know him, is a prolific blogger and the author of The Violin Man’s Legacy and Vengeance Wears Black. Do check out his site.

Stand up and be counted

Some people – accountants , for example – do number crunching. Those of us who write do word-crunching. And some of us count words at night in the same way that other people count sheep.

Sheep

The subject of word counts came up this week in the very worthy blog of my writerly colleague Seumas Gallacher (http://www.seumasgallacher.wordpress.com ) Non-scribblers amongst you should know that writers are urged by spoilsport writing experts to write a specific number of words daily: a hundred, five hundred, a thousand? And if they don’t hit the target? Well, firstly, they will feel very very bad and their inner critic will beat them up and, secondly – as Seumas points out – they may go to Author Hell, which is undoubtedly a very horrid place to be. It’s a place where you write and write and write at a hellish laptop and then, when you click on word count, it says ‘zero.’

I’d like to blame it all on NaNoWriMo:

Day 1: 1,667 words

Day 2: 3,334 words

Day 3: 5,001 words

Etc.

(Chris Baty, No Plot? No Problem, Chronicle Books, 2004)

By the time you get to Day 19, you are so desperate to keep up that you will write anything. But it all ends happily. By Day 30, you have your 50,000 words, you have broken the back of the novel (as well as your own) and you are ready to begin the real work.

Chapter 1

(That’s two words.)

And there’s that old story about James Joyce, recounted by Stephen King in On Writing (Hodder and Stoughton, 2000). A friend went to visit James Joyce one day and found him in a state of despair:

  ‘James, what’s wrong?’ the friend asked. ‘Is it the work?’

Joyce indicated assent without even raising his head to look at the friend. Of course it was the work; isn’t it always?’

‘How many words did you get today?’ the friend pursued.

Joyce (still in despair, still sprawled facedown on his desk): ‘Seven.’

‘Seven? But James … that’s good, at least for you!’

‘Yes,’ Joyce said, finally looking up. ‘I suppose it is … but I don’t know what order they go in!’

So, what you need to bear in mind when you become full of yourself because the word count thermometer is rising is: 1) Are all the words you’ve written in the right order and 2) are all the words you’ve written different? And 3) when you edit, will anything be worth keeping?

Just a minute while I count how many words I’ve written.

Lighting the blue touch paper

Once upon a time, when I thought of coaches, I thought of this:

Then, when I got a little older and anyone mentioned coach, I thought of this:

However I soon realised that actually a coach was one of these:

And then I discovered In Treatment and decided that a coach must be a person … someone very much like Gabriel Byrne:

But that’s not right either, is it? Gabriel is not a coach. He’s a psychotherapist, and he does a lot of analysing. He says things like:

‘Don’t you think that the feelings you’re having are linked to your dog’s rejection of you when you were just five years old … when, after licking your hand, your dog threw up … and after that you found that you could never relate to puppies … so, when your fiance brought you a present of a cute little puppy all dressed up with a blue satin ribbon, you saw this as an act of aggression …’

With apologies to any psychotherapists reading this – definitely no offence intended. But no, this is not what coaches say as I now know very well after spending time in the company of a very fine group of coaches this summer, courtesy of our sponsors NAWE (National Association of Writers in Education) and the Arvon Foundation, and our trainers Deb Barnard (Relational Dynamics 1st) and Anne Caldwell (NAWE).

So, to clarify, a little bit of information about coaching and how it can be applied to writing. I work as a coach with people from the arts and cultural industries and – in particular – with writers and artists who have to deal with issues such as prioritising, processing negative feedback, dealing with blocks, goal setting, overcoming limiting beliefs, defeating procrastination, dealing with stress, maintaining motivation, completing tasks, and developing confidence in their own abilities. As a writer myself, I have had to face many of these challenges. So, believe me, if you’re a writer too, I know what you go through on a daily basis.

As a Relational Dynamics coach, I help people to see ways of progressing with their work – and also their life – in ways that they may not have thought of. We all have our own answers to the challenges we face in life and work, but very often we don’t know where to look for those answers. I work with writers as well as clients in other fields, helping them to explore their goals, their current reality, their options and what they will commit to in order to achieve their goals … and when they will make that commitment.

Where appropriate I combine my coaching skills with NLP, facilitating the client’s own self-directed learning and development and helping them to gain clarity around what it is that they want: the client already has the answers, but has to find them out through a personal reflective process. In working with students and young people my aim is to help them achieve their full learning potential.

Through the Abu Dhabi Writers’ Studio I offer guidance on how to develop as a writer, think creatively, enhance writing techniques, build writing confidence, and establish and achieve writing goals. Many writers I encounter have side-stepped from successful working lives to take up a new interest and direction in the world of writing. Often their talent has almost gone to waste due to friends and family not taking their efforts seriously, or due to lack of feedback or simply not knowing what to do next. Through a variety of workshop activities, the Abu Dhabi Writers’ Studio supports these writers from the writing stage through to constructive feedback, to redrafting and to submission for publication.

For practising writers who have work in progress, we have … well … the Work In Progress writers’ group, meeting weekly to write, to read and discuss their work and to exchange ideas about the writing life.

For further details about the Abu Dhabi Writers’ Studio and Work In Progress, you can mail me at AllWriteInAbuDhabi@gmail.com

And now, just a final word of clarification. Yes, I am a coach … but I absolutely do not work here:

Though, who knows? It’s probably a very good place to find inspiration. Don’t rule it out.

The Secret Life of Frank Bosco

I am Frank Bosco. Not a lot of people know that.

I invented Frank. He belongs to me. He came into being last April. That was when I entered the Winchester Writers’ Conference Lifewriting competition. I had to come up with a pseudonym and, somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I found Frank Bosco. His real name is Francesco Bosco but, since he writes in English, he prefers to be known as Frank. For the competition, I entered the opening pages and a synopsis of my book Veneziano. Frank likes to think of it as Wolf Hall meets The Godfather, but of course he is quite wrong. I ought to know because I am the author.

I was fortunate enough to win a prize for Veneziano in this competition, which was sponsored by The Queen’s English Society and The Joyce Morris Literacy Foundation. When, at the Writers’ Awards Reception on 23rd June , Frank Bosco was called to collect his prize in the University of Winchester Stripe Auditorium, there was some consternation among my fellow writers when I stood up. They were expecting Frank, but they got me. Frank was frankly annoyed since he believed he should have been the one to receive the award and have his picture taken with Dr Bernard Lamb of QES. I did point out to him afterwards that he was, in effect, only a pseudonym and had no real life of his own, which – I suppose –  is a strange irony considering that we are talking here about a Lifewriting competition.

Now, here’s the problem.

In due course, I will receive a cheque for my winning entry. Frank spotted this small item of information in the Winchester Writers’ Conference handbook … and now he expects a cut – 50% if not more. He will not go away. He is delusional and believes himself to be the author of this work and therefore entitled to the prize money.

If other authors have had similar experiences with their pseudonyms, they may like to advise me what to do. Did John Banville come into conflict with Benjamin Black? Did Ruth Rendell have any problems with Barbara Vine? What about Joanna Trollope and Caroline Harvey? I believe it is a common problem. Though clearly I am dealing here with a pseudonym who believes himself to be of more consequence than his creator.