East Anglian Writers |
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Louis de Berničres Speaker Event February 7th 2006
On Tuesday 7th February, Louis de Berničres spoke to East Anglian Writers about his work as a writer. This is a summary of what he had to say.
Louis de Berničres knew from the age of 12 that he wanted to be a writer. He had expected to follow his footsteps and become a poet, so it was surprise to him to discover at the age of 35 that he had become a novelist.
With five novels set in exotic locations, three in South America and two in Europe, Louis de Berničres revealed that he is turning his attention to what he calls “the exotic of home”. While at a book fair in the Pyrenees he started to think about the idea of an exotic England after hearing England described as ‘the biggest lunatic asylum in the world’. As he explored this idea, Louis de Berničres thought about his own childhood growing up on the Sussex Surrey border in a village populated by numerous eccentric characters. A village that appeared normal was full of the extraordinary: there was an old lady with a houseful of animals with newspaper for carpets, local starlings who imitated the sound of telephones, and two old lady spiritualists living with the ghost of a dead husband. With such a rich tapestry of memories, he has been exploring them through short stories and thinks that there will soon be enough that a collection of them “might be published next”.
Louis de Berničres read one of his latest short stories about a man going senile entitled “The Happy Death of the General”. By unfortunate accident, the final page of the story was missing, however, in a display of showmanship it was deftly recited by memory. The secret he explained was that the story was written in metre, a skill he often put into practice while he continues to write poetry.
After his reading, Louis de Berničres kindly answered some questions:
Why did you use the present tense in your story? It is something I’ve been doing increasingly. When people tell jokes or string out stories to entertain, they often choose the present tense. It brings a sense of immediacy, inviting the listener to come on the journey rather than just watch. When I am writing, the choice of tense is usually dictated by what feels right – even if it means going back and rewriting. It is also useful to change tense between chapters, in Birds Without Wings for example, the Mustafa Kemal (Atatürk) chapters were in the present tense while the rest of the novel is in the past tense.
Why set your latest book in Turkey? Having visited Greece frequently, it is impossible not to be aware of Turkey. There is a love-hate relationship between the two countries. Many Turks exiled to Greece see Turkey as a lost paradise. If you’re interested in Greece it is very hard not to be interested in Turkey. The idea for Bird Without Wings came from a visit to Kayakoy (Eskibahce in the novel), southwest Turkey, a ghost town that cannot be rebuilt because the roads will never be big enough for modern cars, but the village shows how people once lived. Animals lived on the ground floor to help heat the house and every building had a system for collecting rainwater. It was the local custom for the Christians to dig up their dead and wash the bones with wine before placing them in an ossuary. However, the ossuary had only a handful of bones left because when the Christians had to leave they took the bones of their ancestors with them – often instead of the essential things they needed to survive. Ever since then I wanted to write a novel with that powerful image in. I’m not really interested in places for their own sake, but for the stories that are set in them. It has to be a good story to survive the years of research that goes into preparing the novel.
How did you first come to write fiction? Did you take a course in Creative Writing? I never did a course in creative writing. My father wrote and understood the process of writing and I was also influenced by my English teachers, one of whom made us memorise poetry, have proverb competitions, and write stories every week. In another school, I was taught by a retired actor who would perform Shakespeare for us and encourage the reading of off-syllabus writers like DH Lawrence and TS Eliot. I firmly believe that you have to put good stuff in to get good stuff out – it is really important to read, read and read in the genre you wish to write in. I cannot write poetry unless I have been reading poetry beforehand.
What led you away from writing poetry, was it the need to make a living? And what do you feel about modern poetry? I think poetry is the higher calling and although I am a novelist I still write poetry and sometimes do poetry readings at concerts. I am a part-time musician as well as an author. I have never made a decision not to write poetry, but it is a gift that is easily taken away. I wrote lots of poetry in my twenties but none in my thirties – it was a lost gift, but it did thankfully come back. I’m hoping to pull together a collection of my poems that I will sell at my concerts.
Even when I am writing prose I use all the tricks of poetry, with the exception of rhyme. Often I write metrically, and so I get the satisfaction of poetry even though I’m writing prose. I think Stephen Fry’s book, The Ode Less Travelled, is an interesting book, although the general public will probably always be divided between those that like freeform poetry and those for whom poetry has to rhyme. Poetry was once written for the page, but more and more poetry is being written for the voice, Simon Armitage is an example of this, his poetry is very much defined by his northern accent. There are also a lot more performance poets like Benjamin Zephaniah.
Was the inclusion of Drosoula from Captain Corelli’s Mandolin in your latest novel Birds Without Wings deliberate? It wasn’t deliberate. About halfway through the book I remembered the character of Drosoula, the ugly woman who dreamed in Turkish, and realised that she could play a part in this novel too. It was an interesting opportunity that I couldn’t resist taking.
Do you think that reading aloud is a test of good writing? Yes, but not all good writing makes good reading aloud material. I enjoy reading out my work to audiences and it is increasing expected of authors. Besides it is great fun, especially in places where they need cheering up. I often write short stories for readings, as well as deliberately including pieces of my longer work that work well aloud.
People remember good first sentences. I am particular proud of three first lines that I have written (Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, Birds Without Wings, and The War of Don Emmanuel's Nether Parts).
Have you had good relationships with your editors? I had a very good relationship with John Blackwell, who helped edit Captain Corelli’s Mandolin. He is sadly dead now, but he was a truly remarkable mind and an old-fashioned editor. He would spend hours on the phone talking and was knowledgeable enough to correct an error about the suspension in Italian Jeeps, as well as send me diagrams solving a problem that I was having assembling a musical instrument. He also enjoyed drinking a lot and it was often entertaining trying to get him back home after a night out. He was an editor who would look for what was missing from a novel rather than what could be edited out, for example, he asked me to write an extra chapter in order to keep some characters alive in the minds of the reader because they had not been mentioned for a while. If you have a good editor who was sacked by the publisher, then you would probably want to go with them.
Do you prefer writing longhand or by computer? Poetry is best written longhand. I now use a computer for writing prose, although if I am travelling I usually write longhand as it is difficult to travel with a laptop.
I wrote my first novel longhand and had the luxury of getting someone else to type it up. Computers are great, I often overwrite and then cut back. The “infinite editing power” of computers is something not easy to attain by writing longhand.
What are you working on at the moment? Apart from the collection of short stories about the village where I grew up, I am also working on a collection of general short stories. I have also started the fifth draft of the first novel I wrote back in my twenties. At some point I hope to start a novel, probably my final epic novel, about my grandfather who had a truly fascinating life.
Do you plan to write about your father or an autobiography?Although my father led an interesting life, his story doesn’t fire my imagination as much as my grandfather’s. For me, story is very important. I had an idea to write the story about Antanio de Oliverira Salazar, the dictator of Portugal, however after a long research trip I found that I came back with more musical instruments than inspiration or enthusiasm for the story. I didn’t know what to write about the subject. It has to be a story that gets me going, and will stay interesting through the long research and writing process. I may well write autobiography, one day, but I will probably insist that it can only be published 50 years after my death. This event was reported by Benjamin Scott for East Anglian Writers. We are very grateful to Louis de Berničres who gave up his time to speak to us and to the New Writing Partnership for allowing us to use the venue for the event.
More about Louis de Berničres:
Inspired by the magic realism of South American literature from his
time teaching English in
Columbia, Louis de
Berničres’ first novel, The War of Don Emmanuel's Nether Parts
(1990), was published to critical acclaim and won the Commonwealth
Writers’ Prize for Best First Book (Eurasia Region). It was followed
by Seńor Vivo and the Coca Lord (1991) and The Troublesome
Offspring of Cardinal Guzman (1992). In 1993, he was named one
of Granta magazine’s 20 Best Young British Novelists.
His fourth novel, Captain Corelli's Mandolin, was published
in 1994, winning the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize for Best Book. It
was also made into a successful film starring Nicholas Cage and
Penelope Cruz. In 1997, he was voted British Book Awards Author of
the Year. In 2001, Louis de Berničres published Red Dog, a collection of stories inspired by a trip to Australia. His most recent novel, Birds Without Wings (2004), was on the short-list for the 2004 Whitbread Novel Award and the 2005 Commonwealth Writers’ Prize (Eurasia Region, Best Book).
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