Thursday, July 09, 2009

July 2009 Issue 106

Nicola's Editorial

THE HOT SPELL

I won’t bother boring you with any lame excuses for the late arrival Online of this month’s issue, as by now you’ll be accustomed to my philosophy of making hay while the sun shines… which involves leaving the computer completely, and staying outside as much as possible. The only place to be when it’s warm is outside all the time, camping… but this was not to be, as Andy’s been searching for ages for an awning to go on the van, with no luck. Finally, we think we’ve found one – just as the hot spell seems to be over, or at least diminished. It did come as something of a relief though, to feel a little bit cooler, especially at night. It’s so difficult to sleep when it’s hot. Yet I think I could easily get used to living in a warm climate – no problem really, the advantages far outweigh the bad things. The warm evenings are one of the best times, where you can sit outside talking, drinking or just meditating and feeling peaceful… at those times I love being alive and being here in this life…

LAZY DAYS

I can understand why Cobweb practically disappears over the summer, only reappearing briefly to scoff a quick meal of cat food before she’s off again. I was seriously considering getting Andy to put the tent up in the back yard at one point, although I don’t think he would’ve been very keen! I haven’t actually been doing very much in the way of getting out recently… too much time has been spent simply sitting around and meditating… thinking how content I would be to live in climate that was like this all the time!

THE CREEPING YEARS

I think I must be beginning to feel my age, with my longing to leave all this behind for good becoming more urgent. I’m envious of people such as Andy’s brother, Stan, who left Britain years ago for a new life in Thailand. Stan’s just been here for a visit and has now returned to his banana plantation… apparently he lives on the edge of a lake, which is 50 miles long. The house he lives in sounds amazing, because it was all built by members of Stan’s partner’s family, who all live there… so it seems to be a communal house, much like the one I’ve been talking about living in. Both Andy and I would love to go over to Thailand and perhaps travel around in a hired camper van, maybe calling in on my friend in South Korea. Does this really have to remain such an impossible dream? I don’t think so.

COOK’S ISLAND

Still on the subject of travel: while researching for my failed bid for funding for a round the world trip, I discovered a remote island in the middle of the Pacific, half way between Tahiti and New Zealand. It was named after Captain Cook, so I presume that he had discovered it. But now I’m not so sure – perhaps he just charted a lot of the Pacific islands, while being discovered by someone else, nameless and forgotten. I’ve become quite fascinated by Captain Cook… he was killed by Hawaiian natives, did you know that? For quite a few weeks I’ve had a short story brewing in my head concerning Cook’s imaginary mysteries… perhaps I will have to go to Cook’s Islands to research. Apparently there is a Ziggy friendly cottage there, where we could stay. It’s a nice thought anyway…

SWEET SIXTEEN

But to return to reality with a great big bump, or more likely a crashing of drums. Jack’s just brought home his new drum kit; a more sophisticated set than his old starter kit. It seems that Jack has visions of becoming a professional drummer… I believe he has his first gig next week, which I hope to go to. Jack’s dreams are not so crazy – it’s obvious that he’s got an instinct for rhythm and the determination to go with it. I wish him every bit of luck in his music, which I’m sure he’ll develop quite naturally. His new drums are suitably coloured in red and black… that I probably don’t need to remind you are the colours of anarchy… need I say more?

DRY ROT

One of my most positive reactions to the realization of the passing of time is that I’ve decided, at last, to publish my very first novel myself on CD. This major event will probably not take place until much later in the year… perhaps even Christmas.

I’m still a little nervous of making such a drastic move; I think it’s high time to allow people to read my fiction, which they’re not going to be able to do otherwise. I consider my novels to be totally different from the Ziggy Collection, and I’m especially fond of Dry Rot, which is my personal favourite. In fact, I thought the novel was so visually strong that I edited it for the screen… whether or not we’ll publish this screen version alongside the novel, I don’t know yet, but keep watching this space for more information…

THE FRENCH REVOLUTION, ABANDONDED?

Although the summertime should be a time for reading in the park, I’m afraid that I’ve not been doing much of that at all. This is very frustrating to me – particularly with the French Revolution book, which has been practically abandoned after only just being started. I’m in two minds about continuing with this book, simply because it’s such a massive volume, and I want to read other things… still waiting are the biographies of Kathleen Scott and Gauguin. Although A Place of Greater Safety will probably be resumed pretty soon, just to stop me from going mad until I can think of some other way of reading books, apart from having someone else read them aloud to me, which is time consuming. It’s becoming more and more of a problem to listen to books on tape with any degree of success… any ideas from anyone would be gratefully received as I’m absolutely stuck on this one!

CREATIVE PHD

Recently I had an interesting meeting with Malcolm, my old University lecturer who supervised my Wilde dissertation. By the way, on the subject of Wilde, I heard a few weeks ago from a chap in Belgium who was doing a PhD on Wilde and contemporary literature, and he wanted to see Reinventing Wilde as he thought this might be relevant to him. Of course I sent it – it’s lovely when someone takes an interest in your work and I hope it helps him with his thesis. Anyway, to return to Malcolm – he was asking me if I’d consider doing a PhD myself… I said of course I have, but wanted to concentrate on my novels. He pointed out that the two things shouldn’t work against each other… I was reminded of my sister, who wrote a stage play as part of her MA in creative writing. So Malcolm is going to send me more information about the combination of creativity and PhD studies, which should make interesting reading.

RAW MATERIALS

The extract I’m including, actually came as an unexpected surprise – I didn’t intent it to be here at all, but decided at the last moment it was necessary to emphasise how important the box was going to be. Also needed was more time spent on the relationship between Freddie and Ross. As I wrote this piece, it seemed natural to make their relationship slightly physical, which sounds very smutty but I don’t want it to be at all. But here was the opportunity to show the closeness of the two, while emphasising the importance of the box and the fact that it’s a secret, locked store-place.

Talking about The Space Between generally, I think I like it better than The Spark, because it’s more fictional, not so tied to historical fact. Though I’m not really sure if this is true, as the historical characters are still there, holding the fiction down to reality. Maybe it’s because of the fact that Wilde himself is dead in the second book, but I just feel I’ve got a freer reign to branch off with. As with the Pissaros – who really had nothing to do with Wilde – I’m not really sure where they’re leading the novel, but I hope it’s going to be cool. Perhaps I won’t pursue the Pissaros at all but instead develop the Scott link thorough Kathleen.

THE SPACE BETWEEN

THE STORY SO FAR

As the end of 1903 approaches, Ricketts is still trying to publish Wilde’s manuscript as a final swansong of the Vale Press. Ross has the only other copy of the manuscript, which he wants to keep safe. Now read on..

FROM CHAPTER 3 - 1903

Ross folded the letter carefully and placed it near the back of his desk, behind the stack of more urgent business to be dealt with. He noticed that the paper was torn along the edge as if it had been ripped out from an exercise book of Ricketts’s doodles, which perhaps was true. Robbie smiled to himself, leaning back in his armchair and folding his arms behind his head; it was pleasant to sit here leisurely and do nothing, this was, after all, a holiday. Turning his head to gaze out over the white rooftops he thought once again how strange it was to actually see snow on Christmas day, perhaps this was the first time such a thing had occurred… and is that significant? He got to his feet slowly, wandering across the room towards the blazing fire, which he stood in front of, rubbing his hands to warm them and thinking of Charles’s suggestion. Of course Oscar deserved to be buried somewhere more fitting than the nameless little grave in which he lay… of course he deserved the best and obviously Charles thought the same way. It occurred to Ross that Charles had been thinking about Oscar’s final resting place since he had published the manuscript.

He turned quickly as he heard a quiet tapping on the door as it was pushed open. Ross’s face broke into a delighted smile as he recognised the blonde, good looking young man who stood there awkwardly in the doorway, clutching a large wooden box in both hands.

“Freddie! How lovely of you to come round on Christmas day… come over to the fire, you look freezing.”

Taking his overcoat off, Ross pulled him toward the fire, frowning and fussing; Freddie only laughed and shook his head.

“Don’t be silly… it’s just cold out there on the stairs, that’s all.” Freddie told his friend with a laugh; but never the less he allowed himself to be led over to the blazing fire without too much resistance. “It’s nice to get back to the fire, though… I’ve just come up from the kitchen, which was really warm… they had a fire and the range on as well, cooking the Turkey and all that. They let, me have a bit with some stuffing – very nice.” Freddie rubbed his hands briskly, scrapping his long hair out of his eyes with a quick movement of his hand “Actually it was Jack’s ma who gave me turkey… I had some coins to give her from Jack for a Christmas present, because he’s gone away again and so I said I’d bring them around.” He shrugged, catching Ross’s eye and grinning. “Of course, I don’t mind, because it will give me an excuse to see you.”

Ross smiled at him, moving towards the fire and stoking it up with the poker.

“How lovely of you to say such a thing! Of course the feeling is shared between us … you’re more than welcome, a sight for sore eyes. Besides, I think it’s important that you should see Harriett and offer her some words of comfort – I think she’s missing Jack very much.”

“Yes, I know.” The young man stared into the fire; frowning briefly as his expression became suddenly more serious. “I don’t think I gave her many words of comfort, I think she was even more upset than before. She didn’t want the coins - she wanted to see Jack before he went away to America again, but of course she is too late… he has already gone without coming to see her… I told him to come before he left, but he seemed to go in a bit of a hurry… he didn’t really say why. I’m not sure… if I might have said something to upset him.”

“Oh… surely not, Freddie,” said Ross quietly, placing his arm around Freddie’s shoulders very gently, almost tentatively. He shook his head slowly, sharing in Freddie’s expression of concern. “Perhaps he wanted simply to return to America or perhaps to the sea itself. Perhaps he’s just fed up with London.”

“Perhaps.” Freddie seemed suddenly to become aware of the box he was holding, and he raised it carefully so that the silver lock on the edge glinted in the firelight. The young man cleared his throat quickly, seeming a little embarrassed. “Anyway I wanted to give you something for Christmas, seeing as I missed your birthday. He pressed the box into Ross’s hands firmly. “Here you are, I made this for you, to keep your papers safe in. See, it’s got a lock. I hope you like it.”

“This is for me? Freddie, how wonderful…” Ross turned away, examining the box carefully, opening and closing it. “I don’t think anyone’s ever given me such a beautiful gift before… not a handmade work of art, anyway. This must have taken you an age to make.”

Turning back, Ross lifted Freddie’s chin and kissed him briefly. Perhaps it was the first time… for Freddie seemed startled and stood there staring at Ross for a while. Ross himself said nothing, but simply continued examining the box.

“I shall have to keep something rather special inside such a special box… and I have just the thing. Wait here.” Freddie took the box from Ross and watched him move across to his desk. The young man still looked slightly flushed and out of breath, as if he had difficulty believing what had just occurred – and yet he clearly didn’t object to such an action of Ross’s.

Meanwhile, Ross pulled out one of the drawers after unlocking it and removed several sheaves of paper from inside. “Ah! Here we are,” he said, examining the papers in his hand. “Oscar’s story, The Portrait of Mr WH. You should read this before we lock it away, Freddie… I think you’ll find it significant for the two of us, for the particular friendship that we share.”

Freddie took the manuscript from Ross, wordlessly; read a few lines before glancing up at Ross quizzically.

“Your friend wrote this story? Is it about you? About the two of you?” Ross laughed, shaking his head sadly. “Not really… but it is based on our conversations, our intimacy… I suppose you could call it our love, love between men, that’s something that’s not meant to exist, but it does, as we know.” Standing beside Freddie, Ross touched his cheek lightly and kissed him once again, this time more lingeringly. “Anyway, read the story and tell me what you think.”

Freddie gazed at Ross silently for a long time, before turning away and going over to the armchair by Ross’s desk and sitting down comfortably. There was a strange half smile on his face, almost of bewilderment, and yet quite without confusion, he realised exactly what was happening.

“And when I’ve read this story, we’ll lock it away in the box?” he asked with a small laugh. “I don’t understand that… why?” is it going to be our secret?”

Ross looked over at the young man curled up in the armchair; he clutched the words of the manuscript, and Oscar’s handwriting wandered across the page in solemn procession. Behind the armchair, the snow-covered Kensington rooftops lined the avenue… making this a Christmas day to remember.
URBAN SCRAWL
Welcome to Andy's bit!!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY JACK
It's Jacks sixteenth birthday this week, and as Nicola mentioned above he's got a new drum kit. What she didn't say was that it is ten times louder than his old one!
More next month, thanks for reading Raw Meat!

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

June 2009 Issue 105

Nicola's Editorial

THE BIG BANG
Already it’s the sixth month… I’m very aware at the moment of the passing of time, though I’m not quite sure if this is a premonition of disaster or not. Maybe its simply recognition of the power of maniacs we have controlling the countries. I’m thinking particularly of the situation that has recently come to light in North Korea, where they were discovered to have been testing an atomic bomb by exploding it under ground… thus breaking an agreement made some years ago. I’m not sure whether they’re actually considering attacking or invading anyone else, but the threat is there. It’s all completely insane. I just wonder how much longer we can expect things to continue in such a state… in relation to all this, petty lives, with all their trivial worries and concerns, pale into virtual insignificance. I hope I’m not being too depressing – that’s not my intention at all! Just the opposite in fact… for if we realise our days are numbered, then we should live each day like it’s going to be our last. That’s the theory anyway…
THE BERMUDA TRIANGLE
Andy has passed on a piece of news to me, which has captured my interest completely… in fact; I think it’s become a virtual obsession. Apparently another plane has disappeared inside the Bermuda Triangle, (I think it was found 700 miles off the coast of Brazil, but if it had been flying for four hours before it disappeared, it could well have gone missing inside the Bermuda triangle. Andy) flying from Brazil to France with 200 odd people on board. It seems pretty obvious that the plane either crashed into another plane or into the sea for some reason, as the wreckage has been found around the area… so there seems to be no great mystery there. But even so, this doesn’t really explain why so many boats and planes have gone missing within this comparatively small area of the Caribbean. All right, the Caribbean may be a particularly unpredictable and dangerous area to travel in by sea or air, as regards to storms blowing up suddenly, but can it all be so rationalised and explained by statistics, which after all can be twisted to explain anything? Seeing as the Bahamas are located within the triangle, I wonder if there have occurred any mysterious disappearances on land there? The Bahamas are also in the triangle and I suppose the Beatles came back from there in their visit there in the 60’s , which is good news as I think my mum is going on a Caribbean cruise, which will probably sail through the triangle…
BERMUDA
I looked up the three points of the triangle to get some idea of the area, and found one point to be Bermuda itself, one to be Puerto Rico and the other in southern Florida, which could possibly be Key West! I can imagine that this could be true in such a place as the pier at Key West. Anyway besides all that about the triangle, I would love to go to Bermuda someday. It was going to be one of my stops on my round the world trip – we actually found a website about Ziggy friendly places to go in Bermuda! So maybe I should continue this research and … who knows?
MISSING
The idea of a person going missing for good is an intriguing one: it could mean they’d simply changed their name and identity and started again as someone else, rather like Reginald Perrin (from the 70s sitcom The Fall and Rise of…) or Rose in the film Titanic. The website about the Bermuda triangle annoyed me because it said statistics showed the number of disappearances to be not particularly high or mysterious. There must be some basis for a superb work of fiction here… something along the lines of a disappearance in the Caribbean and a reappearance of another identity in a different country and time. I will work on it. One more thing about missing identities… I was thinking about Shelly, our cat who disappeared around fifteen years ago. I had a theory at the time that Shelly had been put out, quite literally, by the sudden appearance of the screaming baby Jack. Also, we were having our lift installed then, which involved lots of noise and strange movement – so I really couldn’t blame Shelly for leaving. I suppose he might have been run over or something, but I’d like to think that he’s living somewhere other than Moss Side and with another name.
A BUDDHIST RETREAT
We’ve just returned from a little break – not in Bermuda this time, but London. We actually went down to stay with our friend Sheila for a few days, and during that time went for an amazing walk in Wimbledon! At the time, I didn’t know exactly where we were, except that it was a wooded area with a river… I felt it was extremely beautiful and shady, which was lovely on such a hot day. I’ve always loved woodland anyway, but this spot was particularly peaceful for some reason. I felt Ziggy go up some steps and I asked where we were… it turned out to be a temple, which Andy said afterwards was painted dark red and filled with pictures of Buddha. This explained the peacefulness of the place – I think Buddhism works excellently in encouraging a tranquil state of mind. In the city, it’s a particularly wonderful retreat and it’s a wonderful idea to have a Buddhist retreat in the middle of Wimbledon!
COLOUR VISION
I’ve been extremely pissed off recently when I became aware that practically all the light I could see was simply white, no colour. Maybe I’ve been losing the ability to see colour definitely and that my whole world was now black and white… it was like someone had turned the colour off on my television. Yet while we were sitting outside at a barbeque last week, I noticed the blue light from the sky was still almost visible to me around the edges of my vision… I wonder how much of the colours we see are a physical sensation or simply a psychological awareness? Although I may be losing the physical ability to see certain colours, they will still remain in my head, so it’s not such a depressing realisation.
ANOTHER JOB
Apart from making such amazing psychological discoveries, I’ve actually been hard at work on another editorial job for the Manchester Ataxia branch. I’ve called their Newsletter the MAB Mag and you can see my efforts, if you like. (e-mail me for details) I initially had misgivings about becoming fed up with repeating the same issues in RAW MEAT but I think RAW MEAT will always be different for me because it’s been going so long and I feel on much more intimate terms with it. The Chairperson of MAB, Sue, encouraged me to edit the Newsletter as she felt it would help me to feel more involved with the group – which I was concerned about. It seems to be working so far! Already I’ve spoken to, and met several members who I never knew existed, even though we’ve been sat together at meetings for the past year.
JACK’S BAND
They’ve not been having band practice in our front room for a while – though I’m not sure if this is because Jack’s been hard at work with his revising or just coincidence. Yet he does seem to be taking his exams quite seriously, which is quite nice… he told me that his year, finish school next week, though he’s still got a few more exams to do. We’re going to see his band this afternoon in a concert for part of his music exam. Soon they have a school prom (which sounds very American to me) where apparently formal dress is expected. So a shopping trip is called for… More News Next Month…

RAW MATERIALS

Although the novel seems to be developing very slowly at the moment, it’s definitely an ongoing process – I haven’t come to the end yet! In fact, the ideas need to be worked through separately so that the novel reaches its conclusion naturally. I’m still wondering what to do with the book – no definite conclusions yet, but I’m quite tempted to branch off completely into fiction, though I have to be careful not to push the boundaries of credibility too far! I’ve already mentioned my idea of taking the final book to the South Pole – or at least the Antarctic – but I want to keep it credible and not totally wacky, which I think would be a danger. Yet the presence in The Space Between of Kathleen (who later married Scott) makes the temptation to connect the two ideas, too tempting an opportunity to miss.

Anyway I’ll concentrate on The Space Between for the moment; it seems to be developing quite nicely, with quite a few different threads, which have still to reach conclusions. It is nice in this extract to be able to return to the crucial issue of The Space Between – of course, the manuscript of The Portrait of Mr WH itself. I thought it would be quite a tempting idea to have just the one copy printed by The Vale Press, which has never come to light… this leaves the ending of my novel quite open, because it’s credible that this single copy could have disappeared and yet could still exist somewhere.

Returning to Ricketts at his new studio apartment in Holland Park, it felt like breaking new ground with him in more ways than one – I think that he must have had a lot of misgivings about making such a move after living in big houses for so long. This may not seem important, but I think that to him it would have been, for he laid such an emphasis on his immediate surroundings being beautiful. Andy reminded me though, that the apartments would have been the height of luxury – not only massive and with huge windows, but maybe Ricketts and Shannon would have two floors – one each, I suppose. This is quite a tempting idea to develop, because it may have been almost a natural continuation in their relationship that they each became more independent of each other. This fits in quite well with Shannon’s relationship with Kathleen, which I wanted Ricketts to comment on for the first time. While I don’t think he would have been jealous at this point, from the bits I’ve read of his diaries he was obviously concerned about Shannon getting married to someone and I’ve chosen to make it Kathleen. The way the novel seems to be leading at the moment makes me wonder if the link with Scott should be developed, it seems too natural an opportunity to pass up. I’m still dithering…

More Raw Materials in RM#106

The Space Between

(Nicola's work~in~progress~trilogy)

The Story So Far:

It’s now 1903; Wilde has died in Paris a few years ago and his manuscript has supposedly disappeared with him. But really it turns out to have been taken to London by his friend, Gustave, who has now given it to Ricketts who wishes to publish it. As the Vale Press is closing, he thinks it will be a fitting swansong.

THE SPACE BETWEEN

CHAPTER 3

“So far it’s the only one I have… Robbie has one, the original, I think.” Charles gazed at the book in Shan’s hand and for a moment was tempted to snatch it back, so strong were his possessive feelings. He held his hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides, staring into the open pages and imagining Oscar’s spirit rising amongst the twilight shadows. “But I could get more printed easily enough. I’m thinking of another five or ten for private circulation.”

For a while Shan said nothing, simply gazing at Charles with his clear blue eyes clouded with concern. After a time, he cleared his throat very softly, closing the covers of the book as if putting it to sleep.

“That’s too many… if I were you I should stop with this one. I still think it’s a dangerous book for us to be associated with.”

Charles stared at him silently, his fingernails driving deep into his own flesh and he relished the sensation.

“But how can you say that now that Oscar’s dead? Surely that changes things.”

Shannon gave a long sigh and shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes firmly on the frontispiece before him.

“You would think so, wouldn’t you, Charles? But all these years have changed nothing… the law remains the same as ever. Men like us can still be imprisoned for such things – I’m afraid Oscar’s spell in prison did no good. It changed nothing.” Raising his eyes suddenly to Charles, the directness of Shan’s gaze seemed to bore right through his friend so that Charles turned away uncomfortably, pretending that a painting hanging on the wall nearby needed straightening. Behind him, Shan cleared his throat loudly and laid the book back on the table. “So we must still tread very carefully… I don’t think you should get any more copies printed. They may fall into the wrong hands.”

Charles stared fiercely at the painting he had adjusted.

“Are you sure that’s all there is to these sudden doubts you’re having, Shan? Are you being quite honest with me?”

“Of course … what do you mean?”

“Well…” Charles shrugged awkwardly, trying to control his voice. “There isn’t any more personal reason why you don’t wish to be associated with Oscar?

For a moment Shan made no reply, simply shaking his head in bewilderment.

“No… I’m afraid I still don’t know what you mean.”

“Well… think about it, Shan. Isn’t it obvious.” Charles moved impulsively towards the painting, his hands twitching all the time. He swallowed, aware that his voice was trembling. “I’m talking about Kathleen, Shan… obviously I’m talking about her. That’s the real reason behind all this, isn’t it?” After a pause there was a long, awkward silence, followed by Shannon’s soft laughter.

Repeat

010609

Thursday, May 07, 2009

May 2009 Issue 104

Nicola's Editorial!

TAHITI- NO GO

So… another one bites the dust, as they say. I heard a few days ago that my wild travel proposal was not on… the Jerry Farr fellowship didn’t say who had won the award, which was a shame. It looks like Tahiti will just have to remain a distant dream for the moment. To try and make up for it a bit, we booked a days sailing in Falmouth which has been on the cards for a long time, one of those things I’ve wanted to do ever since Ruth told me about the existence of this totally Ziggy friendly boat she’d seen last year. She made enquiries and found out that half the boats crew are disabled in various ways, and the other half are able bodied and some of them are trained sailors even. Everyone is encouraged to do as much as they feel able, and so I feel confident that both Andy and I should have a fun time! It’s something neither of us have tried before… but I feel naturally friendly towards the sea having come from down near where were going in Cornwall. I’m especially excited because it’s something I can be involved with and feel the motion of the boat, as well as smell the sea salt and feel the wind… I get so pissed off with being left on the sidelines while everyone else does all the hard work!! So this time I hope to be able to take part in sailing.

WEATHER COLLAPSE

I don’t know what’s happened to May, which is normally so beautiful and warm. Judging from the last few days it looks like we are going to get a wee bit soaked sailing! Oh well, that’s half the fun I’m sure. While this climate might be okay for some people… for example it might encourage Jack to do some work for his exams which start next week - I’m pretty sick of it. If I could believe Andy we’ll be off to live somewhere warm in the next few years… I want us to keep moving from place to place to avoid getting bored!! We’ll start off going around Europe and then get some ferries to go to the Middle East and further… maybe we’ll even reach the South Seas one day. Who knows??

ROBESPIERRE REMEMBERED

While we were actually in Tenerife, a sudden memory occurred to me out of the blue - what ever happened to that huge book my dad gave me about the French Revolution?? It was a very strange thing to remember amidst such surroundings - normally such memories are triggered by something that’s happened. But not in this case, for I haven’t thought of the book since it was given to me in hospital following Jack’s birth… it seems totally incredible that the book could have been sitting on my shelf waiting to be read for 16 years!! Especially when I remember being so excited about the gift, because such people as Robespierre, Danton and Saint-Just at the time obsessed me - how could I possibly have forgotten about it?? When I think about the time at which it occurred, though… it becomes clear that I must have felt too daunted by my sight, which was beginning to give me real problems at this time. The book is such a massive one as well, I can understand not wishing to confront such a task!

A PLACE OF GREATER SAFTEY

This work of fiction by Hillary Manton is set during the French Revolution, and what we have read so far involves Robespierre’s mum dying following childbirth and the young Danton being gored by a bull! Gripping stuff… I’m keen to press on with it, even though it’s going to take quite some time… it’s even longer than Harry Potter, a real bible of a book. But there is a particularly interesting piece at the start about the mixing of historical fact and fiction, which must have influenced me in some way subconsciously, because this was quite a while before The Space Between. One of the reasons for my obsession in the early nineties was that I had just written a short story with the wonderful title Robespierre’s Jaw. I think the French Revolution in general was so full of incredible characters that it just has to be written about… I can only hope that Miss Manton does it justice. I have mixed feelings about Robespierre… although I think his ideals were admirable and even slightly anarchistic they went wrong and ended up going the other way - and so Robespierre and his sidekick Saint-Just were guillotined. There was a French film from the early nineties called Danton with Gerard Depardieu in the leading role I was obsessed to such a degree that I could follow the entire film without using the subtitles!! I must have watched it at least 30 times.

DARK MATERIALS

Another work of fiction, which greatly impressed me a couple of years back was Philip Pullman’s trilogy about different worlds, Dark Materials - you may remember me raving about him. So when Ruth and I saw that a play version of it was on, we decided instantly to go, even though I had misgivings about packing three books into two plays. Not only this, but also the sophisticated ideas for instance the demons perched on each characters shoulder or walking along beside them - and the Little People flying on dragonflies - such ideas as these demand a sophisticated form of animation or computer effects, to try and use glove puppets is just ridiculous. Anyway it was just as well that I couldn’t see how this was done because I would have wheeled out of the theatre I think! Added to this there were the usual problems with following each characters speech and knowing who was talking when and where. I still wonder if it will work visiting the theatre anymore…

ELVIS COSTELLO’S STRINGS

I had a bit more luck with the two music events I went to recently. As before, the Australian Pink Floyd were wonderful, even though I wouldn’t say The Wall which they were covering is my favourite album by any means. I wonder what they will do next? Will they perhaps return in time to cover Sid Barrett’s early stuff?? I hope so. I was intrigued by the sound of going to see Elvis Costello and the Brodski Quartet at Manchester’s Bridgewater Hall… I just couldn’t reconcile the image of Mr. Costello with such an established band! Even though I’d listened to his CD of string quartet stuff in an effort to become more familiar with the sounds of strings instead of electric guitars etc, I was still convinced that there were drums on stage! I just couldn’t imagine Elvis in a suit being politely clapped after each number. I just felt totally confused… I thought back longingly to the occasion when I had met Elvis after his show, only he’d been in such a bad mood that he wouldn’t talk to anyone!! These temperamental artistes…

RAW MATERIALS 104

I have major doubts about the wisdom of including such a controversial piece this month; I suppose because I was wondering if I might screw it up totally and so waste everybody’s time!! And even if I do scrap the idea I suppose it would demonstrate that The Space Between is a living working progress … not to mention a controversial one. Initially I wasn’t worried at all about giving Lucien Pissaro opium to smoke but it was Andy who warned me to be careful and watch what I said about such historical characters! I’m not sure if I totally agree with him on this one, for isn’t The Space Between a work of fiction? Anyway such worries seem to be a little irrelevant, for if the opium idea fits in with the story then history should bow before it. More to the point it seems to be my concern that this scene would seem out of place and exaggerated, not in keeping with the rest of the story so far. But … I think I’ve decided in the end that it should stay for the present, for I like the scene greatly! I don’t feel that in the circumstances it is out of place, two chaps smoking a bit of opium on a lazy Sunday afternoon with nothing else too pressing to get on with... I wanted to include opium in the novel for quite some time, ever since reading about Sherlock Holmes’s cocaine habit and also Lizzie Sidalls overdose of laudanum; both of these instance’s occurred during the Victorian period which seemed to be a time when opium was used in medicines, even being prescribed to children! So I’m touching my own whims a little… and I’m not totally confident that they’re going to work out at all, for I definitely don’t want the novel to suffer by sounding forced or contrived. So… I really don’t know if this opium idea is going to stay or not, and likewise the inclusion of Wilde’s character from Dorian Gray, Adrian Singleton. He is another idea from last year some time, when I suddenly thought that I’d like to involve another fictional character in the book – and as Wilde’s character has some knowledge of chemistry I thought well why not involve him with the opium thing? Once again, it’s all a bit foggy at this point, though I hope it will become more clear to me if not to you.

Gustave as a character, I like greatly and feel much more confident with rather than Lucien Pissaro. I don’t have to worry about casting aspersions on his character! Besides this, he is such a wonderfully enigmatic chap anyway – neither being one or the other in turns of sexual preference and also of course his belief in anarchism. For a while I was thinking about shifting the setting of The Space Between on this novel to France and using Gustave as a main character; there used to be in the Jura mountains an anarchist commune, but in the end I decided against doing this because it would involve such a lot of historical research I couldn’t face, also I’ve always shied away a bit from making The Space Between too closely tied to history; I want simply to use historical fact as a spring board for the imagination and not have to keep checking facts, days, places etc… all extremely tedious – this had to be firstly a work of fiction. I kept the novel based in London, and it seems to be working so far… though I’m still not at all convinced about the final novel, where there are also people involved like, Scott in the Antarctic, or is this stupid? I still can’t make my mind up.

MORE Raw Materials in RM#105

THE SPACE BETWEEN

The story so far… it’s 1903 and Wilde has died in Paris a few years ago, and supposedly his manuscript has disappeared with him. But actually the manuscript has turned up in London with Gustave, who knew Wilde in Paris; he has brought the manuscript over and has just given it to Ricketts, acting upon the advice of Esther Pissaro in whose house he lodges. It is generally thought that Ricketts will publish the manuscript as the final book by the Vale Press, which is soon to close. In the following scene set at the old house, which belongs to Lucien Pissaro and his wife, Gustave and Lucien are talking in the back garden.

Now read on…

Moving his hand with lazy, easy grace he drew a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his shirt and took one for himself before offering one to Lucien. “Here … would you care for one of these? A friend of mine made them himself, I believe.”

Reaching out, Lucien took a cigarette, with a small smile. He nodded knowingly as Gustave lit both cigarettes and the two of them inhaled deeply, sharing the knowledge.

“Ahhh yes… your friend, you mean Adrian Singleton, who lives in … Blackfriars… or somewhere round there, anyway” said Lucien softly, his voice drifting as if completely free and unchained to reason. The cigarette smoke rose above their heads, mingling with the warm spring air beautifully. “He’s a doctor, isn’t he? He works at the London hospital?”

Gustave gave a slight shrug; the movement seemed to take a momentous effort of will.

I don’t know about that… Esther knows him better than I do”

“Of course.” For a while nothing more was said. Both men watched the clouds of smoke forming a seal between them, which could not be broken, could not be dissolved. Finally Lucien turned back towards the house, gazing up at the opposite windows as if to remind himself where he was. “Tell me Gustave,” he said at last, speaking with such ease and slowness that the words seemed to be stretched out like elastic, “tell me how you’re enjoying living here with us… you must think about it and take your time in replying… remember to give me an honest answer.”

“ye…es, of course I’ll be honest….. Lucien.” Gustave lay back on the grass and waved his hand slowly back and forth above his head; even though he wasn’t looking at Lucien directly, he was aware of his companions eyes floating not too far from him. He felt the silence between them stretch out like elastic, he reached out to catch the coils, twining them around his wrists and elbows. He felt his fingers clenching and unclothing, the muscles twitching and writhing like snakes… for a moment he was frightened and then instantly the opium dampened the sensation down. So that it formed almost a flat surface without bumps or any obstacles. He moved completely without any effort so that he lay quite still and watched himself moving. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound ensued from between his lips – only smoke. He could hear the words in his head but couldn’t connect them with language, which seemed far too rational an object to grasp at this time. Only his laughter emerged, followed by strange words… it didn’t seem to be in his voice and yet it was. “The time… I have spent here with you… has been so happy… I love to be here, I love both you and Esther, you are the best friends I have; now you see… I’m being quite honest…quite.”

Lucien laughed so that the sound of both their laughter formed a symphony which rose above their heads, binding them both together so tightly… so tightly. Raising his cigarette and holding it before his eyes, Lucien reached with his other arm toward Gustave and touched his shoulder lightly.

“I feel… I feel, you’re being wonderfully honest with me, my friend… thank you so much. Thank you so much.”

Gustave watched between half closed eyelids, the trails of coiling vapour disappear upon the air. He was aware of the sunshine behind the smoke, or perhaps was it in front of the smoke? For a moment the sunshine seemed to completely absorb everything, so that the smoke, the air, the anarchism, the talk of Oscar, everything was entwined completely. There was nothing he could do, so Gustave lay back on the grass and closed his eyes and fell asleep.

MORE FROM THE SPACE BETWEEN IN RM#105
URBAN
SCRAWL!!!
Welcome to Andy's bit!
THE AMERICAN SANDWICH
If you don't know what I'm talking about you'll just have to clink~this~link! and be transported through Cyberspace to my latest bloggage! The American Sandwich is my poetic version of flash fiction. The idea of the game (I say game, because that's what it is) is to write a piece of poetic flash fiction in just 51 syllables. The trick, is to use three Allen Ginsberg style, 17 syllable American Sentences, and as few words as possible. Anyway...
NICOLA'S BOOK
I'm sure Nic read the book she's been blogging on about. I remember it very well in fact. It is a totally dog eared paperback book that looks like it's been dragged around the house, and it most likely has. When Nic got this book, she could still see to read, and I'm quite confident that she read it!
MORE FROM URBAN SCRAWL ANDY IN RM#105

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

April 2009 Issue 103

Nicola's Editorial!

HERE’S TO TAHITI!

Now that I have finally submitted my travel application to the memorial fund, I can turn my attention back to other essential matters… such as writing Raw Meat. I apologise for any delay in the appearance of this issue… it’s all due to having to have a major change to the travel application at the last minute, which had to be dealt with first, top priority. We discovered a couple of weeks ago that the round the world ticket was a bit of a swindle, because it didn’t include an airport tax at every stop, and also the destinations were limited. So I wouldn’t be able to stop at Tahiti, New Zealand or Africa… all of which were top priorities. So I decided instantly to go just to the major focus of the tour - of course Tahiti, and I adjusted the application accordingly. The closing date is today so it’s gone… and the best of luck to it! While I’m not totally confidant that I’ll get the award I think the ideas behind the Jerry Farr Memorial Fellowship are all wonderful… whoever wins the award will ensure that the memory of Jerry Farr will be kept alive by means of providing such a practical way of realising somebody’s dreams. So anyway, we should find out who’s been lucky in a just a few weeks… in fact I’ll be able to tell you in the next issue if I’m off to Tahiti or not… so watch this space.

INTERESTING FACTS

Whilst doing all this Tahiti research we came across several interesting facts, which I thought I’d share with you. For instance, did you know that Tahiti is one of the Society Islands, which are part of French Polynesia? I’m not quite sure why they were given to France, but apparently loads of countries were claiming all these Pacific islands so they were just distributed in the nineteenth century. Captain Cook discovered some of the Islands… I suppose that may have been around the same time he discovered New Zealand? Although we thought originally that the Cook Islands were close to the Society Islands, which they are, but still quite a long distance apart. Though all these Pacific Islands are in the same rough area on the globe, it’s extremely difficult for me to visualise the globe from memory… I need to get hold of a Touching Globe, where you can feel the shape of the various countries and also the temperature of them - they could give them various degrees of heat. I wonder if I should patent this idea?

IN SEARCH OF THE SUN

Still on the subject of warm places, we got back a few weeks ago from a holiday in Tenerife… with red, sunburnt faces and Andy’s head! The warmth of the place was definitely the best thing about it for me - oh, and the cocktails, and the seafood every night at the hotel. These were the best things… otherwise I wouldn’t go overboard about either the resort of Los Cristianos or the island of Tenerife itself. I missed the green trees, flowers, plants, things growing and living… animals like sheep, badgers, goats, and birds. Do you know, the whole time I was in Tenerife I never heard a seagull?? The whole island seemed to be made up of deserts and mountains in the interior, and then all commercialised resorts around the edge. So there’s no place for any wild animals to survive in.

CAMPING

Even in the interior it isn’t possible to camp, as I wished we had done instead of going in a hotel, but camping is generally discouraged because of the danger of forest fires. Also I think that one of the reasons for camping is discouraged by Tenerife or who is in charge of Tenerife authorities is obviously because of money. Without tourism Tenerife would be nothing, so people are not encouraged to go away from the resorts at all. Having said all this, I’m not so sure if I would like to go into the deserts and mountains… they all sound very dry and barren. However, next time Andy and I go to the island we are going to camp… we’ll bring the van over by ferry from southern Spain and spend the winter there where the sun will be. Sounds good doesn’t it??

So then, although it was lovely to be next to the sea and to be able to wander around outside and not be freezing, in conclusion I’d say Tenerife doesn’t seem to have that much going for it. I didn’t find it a particularly Ziggy friendly area despite its claims to be such a place. Should such a big thing be made out of having a few Ziggy toilets scattered around anyway?? I think not. Anyway what’s the good of having a Ziggy toilet if the bloody thing is locked all weekend? We tried to get a Ziggy friendly bus to the airport but it was not Ziggy friendly at all and Andy had to carry me onto the bus. There was a boardwalk on the beach but it stopped just before reaching the sea… I wanted to go and paddle so it was pretty frustrating. I’m sure they could treat the wood in some way to make it sea water resistant. But Andy and I didn’t find Tenerife to be particularly Ziggy friendly at all I’m afraid.

BACK TO MANCHESTER

So anyway, now we’ve returned from the bright colour of Tenerife and my Tahiti dreams to the old slog… which seems very crap and dismal in comparison! It’s difficult to adjust, especially because the Tahiti result comes out in just a few weeks - I think that the Jerry Farr Fellowship must have quite a few people going through the hundreds of applications they received!

DRUMS

Jack’s on his Easter holidays at the moment; so far the band haven’t had any practices in our front room, but doubtless they will! I believe that Jack’s hoping to get a more sophisticated set of drums - the one he’s got is just a starter set. I wonder how he’ll manage to fit a big set of drums into our tiny house?? I feel dubious, because I’m imagining a sophisticated set of drums to be like the one used by the Australian Pink Floyd… about twenty drums, and loads of cymbals, rattles etc. I don’t know if this is what Jack wants… I hope not.

SENSUAL BOOK

We’ve finally come to the end of Perfume by Patrick Suskin - and what a wonderful ending!! I don’t want to give it away at all, but it certainly lives up to the rest of the book, continuing on the level of the senses. Anyone who hasn’t read this book should do so as soon as possible. The conclusion of the story reminded me a lot of the Peaty Greenway film from the eighties, The cook, the thief, the wife and her lover, I don’t know if anyone remembers that? It was with Michel Gambon and Helen Mirron… it stuck in my memory because it was such a visual film, as well as a very traumatic and horrible one! Anyway I couldn’t stop thinking about that film while Ruth finished off reading the book. Someone told me afterwards that it had been made into a film… I was very sad because I wish I’d seen it!! Although I do think Perfume would be better on stage, and then the audience could actually smell the different smells - which are essential to the story. I suspect that these would have been lost on screen.

TRY STEVEN FRY

So after Perfume we started the book I’ve been meaning to read for ages - Steven Fry’s autobiographical Moab is my Washpot. To be quite honest I’m not that impressed with it so far - although it’s mildly amusing and interesting it hasn’t grabbed me!! Public schools and his experiences with the boys is not something I feel very interested in… I’m just unsure how much longer we will keep reading it, because I’m really keen to start on Gauguin’s biography as soon as possible! I don’t want to give up on Mr. Fry, so soon, because I do think he’s a very funny chap and deserves a fair hearing. So maybe Gauguin will have to wait.

THE SCOTISH PLAY

Tomorrow we are going to see Macbeth at the Royal Exchange, which I’m both looking forward to and quite nervous about! As I’ve said before I find plays extremely difficult to follow simply because it’s such a visual medium - you need to be able to see both the costumes and the set to be able to tell which time it’s set in. For this reason I often enjoy the play more afterwards, when someone else can describe it to me. Although with Shakespeare it’s a little different - hopefully I’ll recognise some of the speeches, and so get some idea of where exactly were up to!! It’s all a bit of a gamble. The thing I like best about the Royal Exchange is that it’s set in the round, with the audience sitting so close to the stage that nothing is lost. Luckily I remember the story of Macbeth quite well, so I should be able to get by!

RAW MATERIALS #103

It’s really good to be able to give some attention to The Space Between, which I feel has been sadly neglected for this Tahiti application. Of course the novel's been at the back of my mind all the time, and I’ve got quite a few ideas for what’s going to happen in this next chapter - 1903. As I said before, one of the major things I wanted to spend my time on was the relationship between Jack and Freddy, which has to be developed, and if the intervention of Ross was going to be credible. As Jack is a totally fictional character, I can almost fit his reaction in with the story… but they have to be believable of course. It’s very difficult for any one to understand exactly what it was that drew such an apparently mismatched pair together … yet I think that it was obviously because they both shared a common interest in theatre – or at least that’s how I’m taking it!

Jack's jealousy was pretty near impossible for me to get across convincingly – I didn’t want to make his relationship over the top and laughable at all, but it had to evident. His emotions are in a pretty fragile state, what with the sudden appearance after all this time of his father, and so I hope that his dramatic fit of temper is credible. I still haven’t decided exactly what to do with Ricketts… I’m tempted to write him out of the story because he has served his purpose, and nothing else relevant to my fiction seems to happen in his life, apart from Shannon’s fall, of course which is a wonderful story and deserves more attention elsewhere. I’m going to devote an entire short story to it in Still Life which if you remember will be a collection, my next book perhaps. I’ve already got several interesting stories about historical characters such as Swinburne and soon will have Ricketts. This is just an aside because I’ve said all I want to say about The Space between… more next time.

An additional note - back on the subject of The Space Between: I just surprised myself greatly by discovering that the word count of the novel is 26,000 words, much more than I thought!! This actually means that I’m about half way through, even though I’m only on chapter three… I can only conclude that The Space Between will in fact only cover a few years - there’s so many stories going on at the moment that I can’t imagine it spanning many more years. This is not really such a surprise I suppose, because I seem to have been working on this novel for over a year so far. My only anxiety is about the third novel… I don’t know whether to keep on with it based in London or whether to move it to the Antarctic! Your thoughts would be appreciated…
MORE IN RM#104
The Space Between
copyright Nicola Batty (c) 2009

The story so far …… The year is now 1903; Oscar died in Paris, and apparently his manuscript has vanished with him but it has been discovered in London found by a Parisian friend of Wildes who has given it to Ricketts to publish with the Vale Pres. Meanwhile Ross has taken Ricketts to visit Jack, who is Ricketts son by Harriet. Ross is keen to see Freddy who lives with jack in Spittalfield.

Jack stood in the doorway as Freddy’s voice rang out loud and clear.

“You are keen my lord you are keen you are keen!’”

“Oh… I see ,” spluttered Jack, as he caught sight of Ross standing by the window with an open book in his hand. Ross gave an awkward laugh as he walked across the room.

“Our rehearsal has come to an end. I was just helping Freddy with his lines, although I really don’t think he has any need to worry. I think he will make an absolutely charming Ophelia when he gets the part”

Without hesitation Jack strode across the room and snatched the copy of Hamlet from Ross’s hand glaring at him fiercely, Ross took a step backward surprised.

I thought I was being hamlet! Jack turned his eyes completely towards Freddy, only smiled faintly and looked away. Unnerved by Jacks uncharacteristic hostility towards him, Ross tried to calm down the situation in his usual manner.

“I’m sorry… I was only standing in for you to give Freddy some practice, he’s quite anxious that he wont be ready for the performance – that’s all, don’t get annoyed. Ross moved back across the room to retrieve his overcoat from the sofa.

“I don’t think that Freddy needs to be anxious he is already quite ready to take on his role next month – did you say it was next month, Freddy?

With a casual movement of his head Freddy flicked back his long fringe; his eyes were still fixed on Ross. Jack rolled his eyes to the book in his hand, and very carefully folded back the cover.

“Like I said, the performance is at the end of the month” Freddy said slowly his voice seemed almost unrecognisable to Jack, changed in some way.

Behind Jack he could feel the presence of his own father standing like an unwanted ghost in the doorway. “So do you truly think I’ll be ready to act? I want to be perfect.”

Despite Ross’s laughter the awkward silence and hostility remained in the air.

“Well, I would like to come and see you… if I may, Freddy?”

Jack continued to stare desperately at his book, feeling that he was slipping away beneath the water.

“I should like that very much, Robbie,” answered Freddy softly, his voice echoing through the icy blackness. Charles cleared his throat carefully.

“We should go, Robbie… I have an appointment elsewhere” He said flatly, avoiding meeting Jacks eye.

“Of course,” Ross answered at once, turning his sleeve as he passed Freddy he stroked his arm gently, and it was a promise. “ I shall see you again, Freddy.” The two boys stood there awkwardly for some moments, listening as the footsteps on the stairs died away slowly even though Freddy smiled at jack as he moved towards him, Jack knew that he was slipping away, down to the depths.

Friday, March 06, 2009

March 2009 Issue 102

Nicola's Editorial!

SPRING FORWARD

A miracle has occurred… Andy’s actually got his act together and booked for us to go away to Tenerife next week!! It’s a long over due promise - ever since last September he’s been putting it off. But now… maybe the advent of spring has infected him to such a degree to actually take action. I don’t doubt that the long, cold winter days have got something to do with it- the winter seems to go on far to long in this country. So we’re off to get some sunshine and actual warmth, which will be unbelievable after England. No crazy plans - probably we’ll just take it easy and wander round the resort which we’re staying in - Los Christianos. Apparently this place is supposed to be very Ziggy friendly with lots of accessible walks along the promenade which I feel a bit dubious about… I hope it’s not too much like Blackpool!! I suppose the main thing is, it will be a good deal warmer than Blackpool…

95^TH BIRTHDAY

We’ve just returned form spending a weekend down in Plymouth for my Granddad’s 95^th birthday celebration. Hardly surprisingly, he’s getting a wee bit frail now so it was a fairly quiet do, but none the less it was lovely to see all my cousins and my mum’s sister once again. It was also lovely to be by the sea, very nostalgic - that salty sea air smell always brings back such memories. In a way I’d love to move back to Plymouth - or at least to be by the sea after all these years away from it in Manchester. I suppose I’ve never really felt settled here - I wonder if at heart I’m simply a Devonshire lass?? I would never have believed it… yet walking along the sea front with Andy was great. As for Granddads age, I can’t imagine being that old… he was born on the year the first world war broke out; of course he has no memory of that, but his tales of growing up in the twenties in Plymouth and going out in the cart with his dad to catch fish to sell are wonderful.

THAT FALLING SENSATION

At the moment I’m considering doing a parachute jump with my friend Sue from Manchester Ataxia. I stress the word “considering” because I’m absolutely in two minds - that falling sensation must be an incredible one, but on the other hand it’s a really scary experience. Perhaps especially for someone without their sight; although I tend to think my lack of sight is nothing but an advantage in such situations. If I had my sight there’s no way I’d ever consider jumping out of a plane - and yet without it, makes you rely on the sensation of falling, which must be an incredible one. The very last thing that concerns me is the landing… apparently Sue says you have some sort of special harness to keep your legs out of the way so they don’t get broken!! But it’s the actual moment of jumping out the plane that scares me… I can’t really just close my eyes and think of England because it won’t be any different! So I’ve yet to make a decision.

JUNGLE TREK

Still working on my round the world travel plan… the latest thing is a stop in Brazil for a trek through the rainforest - including catching alligators and fishing for piranhas! Sounds pretty cool. I’ve always fancied a trek through the jungle but have thought it would be impossible in Ziggy unless Ziggy had special tires or something to avoid running over snakes etc. In Brazil, we would stay in a hotel actually in the rainforest, which sounds incredible. I think the hotel is reached by boat, which only adds to its remote, surreal quality. As the travel application has to be completed by the end of the month it’s all beginning to come together now - I just have one more place to work out - Tahiti, which is the main focus of the trip for me. So I definitely want to experience Tahiti in the best way I can, probably by camping and simply walking around which shouldn’t be too expensive! Of course I am going to keep a travel diary of my round the world experiences - if I get it! I believe most people with FA are applying, so… we’ll see.

HIVA OA

Before leaving the subjects of the round the world trip, I’ve just found out some interesting information concerning the highlight of my tour - of course Tahiti, in the South Seas. I’ve been longing to visit this particular island for years, long before discovering that the artist Gauguin is buried there, which only adds to its fascination for me. I was very pissed off when I discovered it wasn’t going to be as easy as I hoped to camp there; this seemed a natural thing to do in such a place - only the campsites seemed inaccessible to Ziggy. I couldn’t even think about staying at a hotel or anything - I was imagining the western idea of a hotel - Andy said the buildings would in fact be more like grass huts. Of course they would be, how stupid of me! I wouldn’t mind at all staying in a grass hut - it would be perfectly suitable in such a place as Tahiti. My next problem was how to get to the smaller island where Gauguin’s grave is, because I’d hoped to get a boat there but that looked very dodgy. However I can get a small plane there, which sounds great fun… I imagine it would be quite different from the planes I’m used to! I’d like to be able to stay in Hiva Oa for as long as possible… in fact I don’t think I want to come back! Maybe I’ll stay in the South Seas and be buried along side Gauguin… sigh, what a way to go.

JACK’S MENTOR

But to return to Manchester, life seems to be quiet at ours… that is unless Jack’s having a band practice as he does during the holidays. I haven’t told you much about Jacks band - there’s just three of them, Jack plays drums and the others play guitars and sing. Apparently they all write some of the stuff, I suspect Jack writes mostly lyrics but maybe has a hand in the music as well. He’s very into the band these days… he has a mentor called Dave who is also a drummer and so gives Jack advice, as well as having useful contacts in the studios. His mentor is one of the best ideas the Arts Council has recently come up with - and I’m sure Jack would agree. It’s essential for him to have somebody who knows about the business to talk to. Jack’s band have been doing some recording at a studio, so far they’ve done two songs but Jack says it would cost too much to make a complete album. Hopefully they’ll be doing their first gig presently… so look out for the band called I’m Sophie’s whore - a terrible name, I think but there you go.

PERFUME

We’re continuing with this book by Patrick Suskind, which is set in eighteenth century France. Out of curiosity I recently looked up the exact whereabouts of Grasse which seems to be the main perfume city or town. Anyway it turned out not to be where I thought - in the Ardeshe Mountains, but in fact next to Nice on the French Riviera. If the main character, Grenouille has just walked from Paris to Grasse, then the mountains he describes are most probably the Alps - maybe even stopped in the Jura Mountains, where we once camped! I’m particularly fascinated by this part of the book; Grenouille discovers a tunnel inside one of the mountains, and he goes inside and stays there for seven years!! Whether or not this is realistic- surely he would have gone blind if there was no light? But that doesn’t matter… the idea of living in total isolation with only your own thoughts for company is an intriguing idea, and when he eventually emerged he scared everyone with his appearance - his shaggy hair and beard, which had grown so long. And this entire part of the novel contains hardly and dialogue; its mostly just Grenouille impressions and so seems completely detached from reality.

STEVEN FRY

When we go to Tenerife we are going to take with us Steven Fry’s autobiography “Moab is my washpot”. Both Andy and I want to read it so this seemed an ideal opportunity… though I’m still not totally confident that Andy will have the patience to do so!! Oh well, we shall see… the book concentrates on the first twenty years of Mr. Fry’s life, dealing with his various relationships; he gets his intriguing title from Mr. Fry’s Jewish origins - Moab being a biblical place. More about this, later.
The Space Between
copyright Nicola Batty (c) 2009

The story so far…. It is 1902, two years after Wilde’s death in Paris. Although he is believed to have had the manuscript with him at his death in fact it has turned up in London in the hands of Gustave, who has taken it to Ricketts to publish at the Vale Press. Meanwhile in Kensington Harriet is still working as a maid for Robbie Ross , who is helping Ricketts with the publication of the manuscript.

“May I have my muffler Harriett I think winter is on it’s way… thank you.” Charles took the striped muffler, which Harriet handed to him and he wound it around his neck, careful not to trap his bushy red beard within it. Harriet watched him buttoning up his overcoat and began to turn away.

“Wait.” it was a command; there was no way of ignoring it. Slowly, reluctantly, she dropped her hand even as it reached toward the door handle as she turned around she raised her eyes to his and felt them once again pierce through her, searching for something, she didn’t know what. His expression was a strange one she didn’t recognise – half smiling without a trace of humour. Harriet stood there awkwardly with her hands clasped in front of her and waited; the room seemed an unfamiliar and threatening place. Harriett stood there, watching his nervous fingers still fumbling with the buttons of his overcoat, again she began to turn away towards the door. Then Charles spoke

“I suspect you will be relieved to hear that I wont have to come here anymore, Harriett… I have my own studio to go to,” Charles told her this with hardly a trace of emotion in his voice. “So we wont need to come here to work. I’m sorry …” he gave a little short laugh as he pulled on his gloves, “this has not been an easy situation for either of us”

Harriett kept her eyes lowered staring intently through her lashes at a small area of gold in the carpet, which was slightly faded. She allowed a very vague smile to wonder across her face without it becoming settled there.

“Yes,” she said simply.

Charles pulled on his gloves very slowly; it seemed to her that he was measuring the time, counting the seconds as they passed. Prolonging her agony, maybe… that’s how it seemed, anyway. She wondered if she dared to make a dash out of the room, but he reached towards her and touched her wrist lightly, stopping her making any further movements.

“Actually Harriett, I’ll take this opportunity to ask you something,” Said Charles, speaking quickly as if afraid of being overheard. She glanced at him and saw that his eyes were fleeting around the room restlessly. He cleared his throat several times before continuing trying to create an easy passage for them. “I wondered if it was possible for me to see Jack before I leave… I would like to do so very much. It has been quite some time since we last saw each other… I’m sure you understand”

The gold colour in the carpet turned red around the edges… the scarlet crept over the gold edges until they disappeared. Harriet didn’t answer for several minutes but allowed some control to come back into her voice before she dared open her mouth. She couldn’t explain her anger; where had it come from?

“I doubt very much that Jack will want to speak to you… he has nothing to say to you anymore.” Charles was clearly taken aback with her reaction. He shrugged and seemed bewildered.

“I hope that’s not true, Harriett… we have a lot to talk about, you know we do. You should let me see him.”

Raising her eyes to meet his, a note of defiance came into her voice.

“That’s not possible. Jack’s gone to Spittal Field… he’s got a job at the dogs.”

“The dogs!” Charles stood there aghast. “but…what happened to all his ideas of becoming an artist? What changed his mind?”

“Well Charles, I think you had a lot to do with it” – she broke off as Ross appeared in the doorway rubbing his hands. She said nothing further but pushed passed him and disappeared along the hallway; Ross looked questioningly at Charles, closing the door after her.

Friday, February 06, 2009

February 2009 Issue 101

Nicola's Editorial!

SNOW AND ICE

I don’t know about Scott of the Antarctic, but I’m heartily sick of such freezing temperatures! While the snow might look quite pretty when it’s fresh and untouched, in the city it rapidly degenerates into a yucky slushy mess, which is not at all aesthetic. In fact, the whole of January has been made more bearable to me by an application making to a trust fund, which is inviting wild travel ideas, well not really too wild. They all have to be carefully budgeted and researched but as the limit is £5000 which includes a helper as well. The idea opens up a lot of wild destinations and gives dreams a possibility of turning into reality.

JERRY FAR

I wish I met this chap before he died in 2007- I’m sure we would have had loads in common. Though he was fairly young, the list of countries he visited is very impressive and one in the eye for anyone who thinks that being in Ziggy means that you can’t travel!! His friends and relatives raised the dosh for the memorial fellowship… and what a great idea for a memorial, to help living achieve their dreams while making yourself remembered. I hope that my friends and relatives do the same for me when I die… it’s a truly practical way forward. It’s also really nice being discriminated for instead of against, as is per usual for people with FA. In order to apply to Mr Far’s fund, you need to have FA. Which means that there won’t be that many applicants as only about 1000 people have the disease in this country. Hence my excitement…

TAHITI

Of course I had no trouble at all deciding where my dream travel destination would be, not least because of the artist Gauguin’s travels and burial there. Initially I wanted to sail all the way from Marseilles to Tahiti, just like Gauguin did in the 1890s, but this idea was quickly blown apart when I discovered the price of a cruise. From all my research it seems that cruising anywhere is a very expensive way to travel, and I’m not convinced of how much I’d actually like it… this might sound a bit stupid, but I’d feel pretty useless being stuck on a boat while everyone else did the actual sailing!! It could also be quite boring for me, not being able to see, and as the ship would be too big to be able to feel the sensation of the waves etc I’m not sure of the wisdom of cruising. But still, I wanted to be able to smell the sea and also take my time passing by all the various places as Gauguin did, I didn’t want to just get in a plane and magically get out in Tahiti! Still, if this travel application all had to be carefully thought out and budgeted, I might not have much choice.

THE GAUGUIN

I was very excited when we found out about a little cruise which went round the small islands surrounding Tahiti. Presumably this would include Gauguin’s final resting place, as he left Tahiti for one of these smaller islands a couple of years before his death. The cruise boat is called The Gauguin; I suppose it will be loaded with rich Americans, but I was willing to ignore this for Gauguin. But the travel firm told me that The ship was inaccessible to Ziggy… I wanted to know why I couldn’t stay on board while it stopped at the various islands, if I couldn’t get off into the little boat that takes you to the shore. I never discovered the reason why… probably just some safety rubbish… however, nothing could really dampen my enthusiasm for the south seas at this point… just being in Tahiti would be quite amazing.

WARM COLOURS

I’m really into Gauguin’s paintings and life at the moment, undoubtedly because of the Tahiti connection. He was actually a stock broker who lost all his money when the market crashed and so decided to pack up and leave his wife, five children and France and sail off to Tahiti, which he’s visited before and fallen in love with. He wanted to get back to basics. I suppose nowadays Andy would call this “the simple life” (Andy’s always going on about the simple life). I still remember a few of Gauguin’s paintings because of his crazy use of colour. Without hesitation he would paint trees purple and make everything different shades of red or yellow, including people’s faces! I recently saw his self portrait, and he actually looks more like a boxer or a thug than an artist!! Nonetheless, I’m still haunted by his abstract colours, which seem to me to go hand in hand with the tropics… that sensation of feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin is to me associated with such crazy colours. I don’t know if that makes any sense at all – I hope it does.

NEW ZEALAND DREAM

It won’t surprise you one bit to hear that one of the other destinations for my travel proposal will be New Zealand. I could go and visit my friend Kirsty who emigrated there last year… she tells me of the orange and lemon trees in her back garden, as well as being by the sea and mountains! I had a dream about New Zealand last night, and I can still remember the warmth from it. I can’t remember what I was doing exactly, but it involved listening to music outside at some sort of festival. Anyway, that’s quite enough of dreaming… hopefully I can get a cruise from Australia (another destination) which would take me all the way along the coast of New Zealand, from the ice which Suzanne told me about at the southern tip, to the greener north island. I’ve yet to research if this cruise would be accessible for Ziggy.

BOB’S PALM TREE

Still on the subject of tropical dreams, the image of a desert island - complete with palm tree and sunshine takes me right back to a massive mural in Bob Maybrick’s house. You might remember Bob from The Promised Land, one of The Ziggy Collection stories which I thought deserved more attention, as that period where I was involved with the Church of Stockport is still so vivid – some of the characters particularly need elaboration. So I’ve been writing a short story with this splendid title: Grouting for Bob, which is a sort of spin-off from The Promised Land. It focuses mainly on my sharp memories of Bob’s house, which other members of the church did up for him and his American wife while they were getting married in Pennsylvania. I may go on to do more short stories in the same vein, as the whole Church of Stockport thing is full of wonderful characters and events which have just got to be told. I seem to have been somewhat distracted from The Space Between recently, which is not to say that it’s been totally neglected but I do seem to have several stories going on at the same time. I only remark on this because it’s so unusual for me, quite a different way of writing for me in fact.

THE ATAXIAN

Another change of direction for me is that recently I wrote an article for The Ataxian called Getting on my nerves about my experience with new research into the nervous system/hearing impairment. While this research doesn’t seem to have reached any definite conclusion for me anyway – I thought The Ataxian might be interested in printing it. Well they are and they also asked if I wanted to get more involved with media work, journalism etc. Although my instant reaction was to say “Yuk! No thanks…” I mulled it over and thought, why not? While it doesn’t mean I have to give up on fiction totally it would make a nice change… and it’s also vitally important to spread awareness of Ataxia, which people generally don’t know anything about. I also think it’s possible to combine fiction and journalism. What do you think?

PERFUME

As I’ve been working on quite a few different projects at the same time so I’ve been reading several books at once, which is something I never do. Must be something in the air… Anyway I’m continuing with the wonderfully sensual Perfume with Ruth. The main character follows his nose all the way down from Paris to Grasse, which is in the south east of France on the Riviera. He doesn’t want to meet (or smell!) anyone else on the journey so he travels by night. Of course he could find his way in the dark by just lifting up his nose and smelling the sea or mountains, whatever… alongside this I’m reliving childhood memories with E Nesbitt’s The Railway Children - The edition I’ve got is a lovely children’s one with pictures. The story is just like the film so far except more detailed. Andy says it’s difficult to read, but it’s not. It’s easy to listen to it! I’m also reading Shout, a book about The Beatles, which makes a nice change sometimes from fiction.Oh - and not forgetting a re-read of The Picture of Dorian Gray, for research into a character idea for The Space Between.

The Space Between
Copyright © Nicola Batty 2009
The story so far…
The year is now 1902 and Wilde has died in Paris. Before dieing he left his manuscript with Gustave, who has now come to London and given the manuscript to Ricketts. Ricketts has shown the manuscript to Robbie Ross and together they hope to publish it as The Vale press’s final tribute to Wilde. Meanwhile Harriett and Jack were still living in Kensington with the Ross’s. Now read on…

Harriett took several steps towards Georges and took Jacks hand protectively. “What’s in that letter?” Georges gazed at her for quite some time; it was impossible for her to tell whether or not he recognised her after all this time… the familiarity was there, if not the recognition.
“ It’s from the captain of my ship, giving permission for Jack to come with us. I will keep an eye on him, so don’t worry,” Georges told her soothingly, folding his arms “you must be Jacks mother, I presume.”
“Yes, that’s right,” she said firmly. She felt suddenly panic stricken, as if everything were slipping away from her, “I want to know more, will jack live with you near the dock?”
Georges opened his mouth to reply but before he did so Jack interrupted.
“No! I’m going to live with Freddy!” There was a brief silence. Finally he turned around slowly and opened the gate.
“I’ll still keep an eye on him… So don’t worry please. And Jack make sure you give the letter to your head master alright? I’ll call around again before we leave” and with that he was gone. Unable to move or speak, she watched the wooden gate swing back and forth long after Georges departure. Beside her Jack’s hand squirmed out of her grip and he danced away from her, holding the letter up before him triumphantly.
“This is it! I’m going to sea! I’m going away from here!” he cried, laughing and grinning.
Harriet watched him numbly as he disappeared thru the kitchen door. Very slowly she picked up the empty washing basket but found herself unable to return straight to work; too much had happened in to short a space for her mind to be able absorb it all. To her, everything felt spiky and jagged nothing seemed to fit in. She sighed heavily and turned her face away from the bright sun, which was dodging between clouds as if playing some sort of Game with her. She smiled gently, knowing that to return to work was the only thing she could do now. Shifting the basket to the other arm, Harriett forced two steps back towards the kitchen door.
It was much later in the day when she returned to collect the washing from the line, which had dried long ago in the sun. It was a lovely evening; the air was still warm and there was a soft chorus of birdsong, which seemed to echo the mellow colours of the sunset as is slipped below the horizon. Harriett felt much calmer now, though the memories had still touched a chord within her. Behind her, Harriett heard the newly fitted French windows open; she turned to see Mr Ross standing there, watching the sunset. It seemed very odd to her that he should just come out merely to watch the sunset; but he had obviously already noticed her for he walked up to her taking a seat on the low brick wall which had separated the two of them. Taking out a cigarette he glanced at Harriett and smiled apologetically. “ Good evening Harriett and it’s a beautiful one is it not?”
Harriett smiled and nodded awkwardly, waiting for him to go on. After several moments he did.
“I’m glad I managed to see you by yourself, actually … I wanted to apologise about this morning. Harriet… I’m very sorry. Charles came round unexpectedly.”
Harriet smiled and looked away.
“That’s quite alright sir. Charles is… Charles is in the past now.”
Ross nodded but his troubled expression remained.
“Well, that’s very philosophical of you… but I’m afraid that Charles may be coming round here quite frequently over the next few months. You see, he’s made rather an exciting discovery and wants me to help him publish the manuscript he’s been given… it’s one of Oscar’s stories which I’ve been looking for ever since his death. I told you about it, I think.”
More from The Space Between in RM#102
RAW MATERIALS

copyright © Nicola Batty 2009
I must admit to being in two minds about whether to include this particular piece in this issue as not a lot really happens here, I feel the extract should be a lot more exciting and dramatic at this point. I’ve been putting a lot of thought and mulling over various ideas for the novel, and have become a little bit excited about it generally; therefore it seems that I’m not doing it justice by including such a bridging sort of extract – even though it may be interesting! I’m keen on spending more time with both Jack and Freddy, developing their relationship… and particularly Jack as a character, he’s got to be filled out. So that his leaving should be felt more. Also I thought that I could use the manuscript appearance in rickets hands to give him an excuse for coming over to Robbies house and meeting Harriett once again. I wanted to be careful how I handled this – it could be too melodramatic or sentimental – only Jack holds them together as a memory. While Harriett may still hold some feelings for Ricketts, I don’t think he feels anything anymore – my decision may not line up completely with fact, but non the less I think Ricketts fling with Harriett was his last physical contact with a woman. This may not go along with all I’ve read in Ricketts biography, which seems to point towards him being a totally gay character, if you see what I mean! But I’m not too worried about altering biographical facts to fit in with fiction, as there’s nothing to say that a relationship with a woman didn’t take place… and so I’m free to interpret my own way.

I was also very happy to bring Robbie Ross back into the story at this point, because I think he’s going to become an essential character – particularly when he meets Freddy. I’m not absolutely convinced how far Harriett will be affected by this, so I’m going to just let the novel write itself!!
I have a lot of sympathy for Robbie… I feel as if I know him quite well, I think he was a very cool chap who I’d wish I’d met. Non-the less the light in which I’m going to show him is not altogether a positive one… I feel quite sorry for him because he became the victim of events really of which he had no control. Although he was undoubtedly a hardheaded businessman above all things he did have soft spots; especially as far as human boys were concerned! As with Rickets, I had to be very careful in handling this… especially as it’s not really a subject I’ve got much experience of. The whole business about Jack going off to America is one which I’m still undecided whether to develop or not. While it’s quite tempting to elaborate on Georges home life in Louisiana with his wife and daughter, it would involve an awful lot of research as I know next to nothing about early twenties American life. I don’t know whether this is worth pursuing… I may just leave it completely and keep the action in London, perhaps just catching glimpses of Jack when he returns home briefly I’m not sure if this’ll work. When I began this book I was quite keen to develop the Louisianan swamps I don’t know why, but I’m really fascinated by the swampland. But I don’t know if this is really going to fit in… I may well have to give the swamp lands a miss and concentrate on the Antarctic!! I suppose the only thing to do is to wait and see how things come out in the wash...

URBAN

SCRAWL!

Welcome to Andy's bit...

NaisaiKu..

Hi everybody, my time has been taken up recently doing the childishly simple poetry form that I have named NaisaiKu.. It's really easy and anyone can do it. If you'd like to find out what I'm blogging on about, simply clink-the-link...

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

January 2009 Issue 100

Nicola's Editorial

CENTENARY
Welcome to issue 100…
I suppose there should be a trumpet fanfare in the background along with a hailstorm of applause of course. Supposedly this issue should be in suitably striking colours… I wonder what colour scheme Andy has gone for?? Maybe it was a mistake trusting him as far as aesthetics go… we both decided not to include a paper hat or free whistle with this issue but to settle for the first issue included. This could be sort of interesting if only as a comparison… look how far the Newsletter has come on since it began on a single sheet in 1999. Anyway, I’ll leave all that to Andy - the computer is strictly HIS department.
CHRISTMAS IS OVER
Once again Andy’s taken the tree outside and replanted it… I hope he remembered to remove the decorations first!! It doesn’t actually feel to depressing because I’ve always hated the presence of the tree after Christmas. To me that seems far more depressing than to just get rid of it altogether!! Jack’s been back from China for a week now, and he went back to school yesterday so everything is well and truly back to normal… or at least as normal as we’ll ever get in this house. Jack’s actually said very little about China… though this is not unusual for him, as he so rarely says more that a few sentences to us nowadays anyway… but from what I gather his stay was mostly in hotels and involved a visit to a kite factory and eating scorpion in a posh restaurant! He described scorpion as tasting like crispy prawns… which sounds rather nice! Perhaps this is as close as I will ever come to eating some, whether or not in a posh restaurant! Actually, I don’t feel too jealous at the moment because Andy’s promised that we’ll go to Tenerife next month… though I know his promises by now, so I’ll believe it when I see it! He’s got lots of ideas for exciting things to do this year… I think he must be feeling his age.
RAW MATERIALS etc.
I’m not sure how much this has to do with the dawning of the new year… but recently I’ve been overtaken with a creative drive to such an extent that I’m dying to get on with The Space Between… I even have vague hopes of getting it finished by the time the year is out!! Though these are very vague… I doubt it very much, even if I do get cracking with it. I think maybe I’ve just been thinking about The Space Between for too long… now I want to get the ideas down on screen before I forget them. I also want to finish the novel because I want to get on with other things… like more autobiographical short stories, perhaps even a development from The Ziggy Collections. I’m still wondering whether to go on with this autobiographical stuff, because although it’s easy to write I don’t feel satisfied with it as quality writing if you see what I mean… so I’m not sure whether to steer away from it completely. I also feel concerned that it may be to self indulgent, that I’m NOT truly creative. It’s completely different to writing The Space Between… and I don’t want to mix the two. Hence my desire to get on with writing while its still winter - and it’s the best thing about it being so freezing, its good writing weather! I wonder if Scott shared this opinion in the South Pole? Possibly not…
SERGEANT PEPPER
I’ve just remembered that just before Christmas Andy and I went to see Bootleg at the Manchester Apollo, but this seems such a long time ago now! I must admit to being slightly dubious about this Beatles tribute band… however I feared that they would do a simple rendition of the early Beatles stuff and be quite boring. But I was very impressed… they covered the entire Beatles career all the way through, tackling complicated things such as “All you need is love”, “Strawberry fields” and “Eleanor Rigby” without hesitation. Although it would have been pretty impossible to get the sound exactly like the Beatles did in the studio Bootleg did an admirable job… the songs were recognisable, and they had an entire string and brass section on stage with them all the way through. Andy told me that they changed costume to match the stage of the Beatles career they were going through, complete with false moustaches and beards!! They were amazing anyway, well worth seeing. Still on the subject of music, I’m very much looking forward to going to see Elvis Costello in a few months… unbelievably he’ll be playing at the Bridgewater Hall in Manchester with a string quartet!!
BANANAS IN THE BACK GARDEN
While I’m talking about things that happened before Christmas, I’ve remembered going to a Manchester Ziggy group Christmas party held at someone’s house in Droylsden. This house was quite amazing because it was on a little square, and all the houses nearby were part of a community set up by immigrants from Russia (Moravia says Andy) who had fled to escape religious persecution. I can’t remember the name of them… probably Andy will tell you. (They’re called the Moravians, says Andy) Anyway, the house was very old… 1785 I think, and part of it had been converted from a coach house. The woman who owned the house was called Olga - though this had nothing to do with being Russian because she wasn’t! Both she and all her sisters were named after Chekhov characters, because her Mum had been obsessed by the Russian playwright! Olga told me that there was a banana tree in the back yard, which they kept warm in winter by covering it with a sleeping bag… beats a greenhouse I suppose. Although Andy and I didn’t manage to win a hamper in the raffle this year, we did manage to sell twelve more copies of The Ziggy Collection… which was much more important!
PERFUME
Although I’ve not been doing much reading over the holidays, I started this book by Patrick Suskind just before Christmas… I’ve read it before but was so impressed with it I wanted to give it another go! I also wondered if it may have special significance to me since I’ve lost most of my sight, as I remember it being so evocative of eighteenth century France in terms of not sight but smell. All the way through, the book is heavy with the sense of both of the country and the city… the unwashed citizens reeking of sweat, the slaughterhouse, the markets… there’s a lovely scene where a woman gives birth in a corner of the fish market. Everything is described by smell… though we’ve only just begun the book I want to get on with it as soon as possible! I think Perfume was written in the mid eighties… it has a beautiful cover, which is really sensual. I think that the publishers should have made each page with a different smell! It makes me think of the theatre in France which was set up around the eighteen nineties; apparently each play was accompanied by relevant smells which must have been wonderful… except for where the play was set in a sewer or field of cows. I think this theatre was closed down pretty soon after, needless to say.
THE RAILWAY CHILDREN
Another book I am really looking forward to reading is the children’s classic by E. Nesbit, which I remember from the film version with Jenny Agutter. I was amazed to discover that the book was actually written in 1906, making the action of the tale contemporary… I had always thought it was written in about the nineteen fifties. To me, it brings back such memories of childhood… I can’t remember how many times I watched the film - maybe hundreds!!! I wonder if the book will recreate the Edwardian era as vividly? I hope so.
100 TO YOU
This month my Mum celebrates her 70th. Birthday – so therefore it’s completely fitting that I dedicate this special 100th. Issue to her. Here’s to you Mum have a great birthday and thanks for always being there!!
THE SPACE BETWEEN
copyright Nicola Batty © 2009

The story so far..
The year is 1902; Wilde has died in Paris and his manuscript has disappeared with him. Although Robbie Ross has searched for it in Wilde’s hotel room he can’t find it and returns to London without it. Meanwhile a certain Frenchman by the name of Gustave has been telling Esther Pissaro, at whose house he’s currently staying, about his friendship with Wilde just before he died, and he showed her the manuscript that he claimed that Wilde had given him.
Now read on …

“So you’ve come over from Paris, did you say?”
“Yes, that’s right,” answered Gustave. “My father owns a hotel in the Latin quarter… that’s where I met Oscar Wilde.”
Charles gave a slight start and glanced quickly into Gustave’s sea green eyes.“You knew Oscar?”Gustave nodded slowly, smoothing down the front of his white shirt. He was aware all the time of Charles’s eyes flickering over him, drinking in every detail of his appearance. He didn’t mind at all; in fact he basked in the man’s attention.
“Oh yes… we were great friends just before he died. In fact I have something of his here which he gave me…”
Charles took the portfolio from him at once but made no move to open it. He continued standing as though transfixed, staring at Gustave without smiling. Eventually he cleared his throat and spoke in a dry, choked manner.“Oscar never mentioned you - what is this you have?”
Gustave smiled easily and just shrugged. “Why don’t you open it and see?”
Taking the portfolio over to the table, Charles laid it down carefully and opened it. He leafed through the papers inside, touching every page with the utmost care as though afraid it would disappear or crumble to dust beneath his fingertips. When he finally turned back to face Gustav his own face was as pale as the papers themselves were.“Where did you get this?” He asked in a strangled whisper.
Gustav flipped back his long fringe with a casual movement of his head, giving a slight shrug. “I’ve told you, Oscar gave it to me. I thought… I thought you may wish to publish it as a memory of him, perhaps.” He paused, moving over to the table beside Charles, where he stood so close that the contact they both felt was so real… and yet they didn’t actually touch each other. The manuscript before them shivered as though with the air itself, even though all the windows were taped shut on such a cold April day as this. Gustave watched Charles’s fingers pass lightly over the surface of the script as though he were a blind man reading the letters by touch; the entire room seemed to be charged with electricity which ran between the two men, they both felt it and they both knew it was real. “I know all about your company, the Vale Press you see… Esther Pissaro told me,” continued Gustav lightly, “to come and show it to you”
“How do you know Esther Pissaro” he asked sharply.
“Oh yes I know both Esther and Lucian… I’m staying at The Old House with them you see.” Taking a few steps across the room, Gustave dropped his jacket lightly on the sofa where it lay in a crumpled heap, curled up like an animal. Gustav stared at it for some time in satisfaction before turning back to Charles and moving in towards him with the utmost care and precision. He was aware as each second passed of his own youthful beauty shining out from within, and he was in perfect control. “she thought you might like to publish it for Oscar.”
Nothing was said, but Gustave could feel Charles nodding slowly as he took in the young French mans explanation. For several more long seconds Gustav allowed the air to slide between them, drawing them ever closer without needing any sort of body contact. When Charles spoke at last, some colour had returned to his face and his voice was slightly more level.“Well Gustave… Esther was right, I am interested… very interested indeed”
The two of them stood so close that they could feel static crackling between their individual arms; it pulled them closer so that the contact was already made, the promise was already made. Charles glanced very briefly at Gustave… it was almost unnecessary. “But…tell me, Gustave… if all that you’ve said is true… what do you want in return?”
MORE FROM NICOLA'S work-in-progress-trilogy in RM#101
Raw Materials #100
Ever since resuming work on the Space Between, there’s been no looking back… in fact the ideas are coming so thick and fast I just want to get them down on screen – you’ll notice that I don’t use the term ‘on paper’ any more… a true creature of the twenty-first century!! While I wouldn’t like to say I hope to finish the book this year I… nevertheless I do feel confident enough to say that The Space Between will take a much shorter time to complete than The Spark. I think this has had a lot to do with leaving myself more room for manoeuvre within a historical framework. It’s not really fair to say that history died along with Wide… but I get that sort of feeling with The Space Between, though this doubtless has more to do with the other characters I’m choosing to focus on at the moment – of course my own fictional ones. Gustave is one of my favourite ones from The Turn of The Century Party, it was really exciting to bring him into the story at this point. The Space Between begins just about where The Turn of The Century Party leaves off so it’s natural for Gustave to appear as himself, and so his story progresses.I didn’t really plan that any sort of relationship should develop between Gustave and Ricketts that just happened as I wrote it. This is still one of the most exciting things about writing - where the ideas completely take over by themselves and I’m simply the empty brain to be used!! Though it’s still true that once the idea is there it has to be handled extremely carefully – of course I’m talking about Gay relationships, particularly when it’s between a fictional character and a historical one! I definitely don’t want to sound smutty or anything like that so the only thing to do was to leave it unsaid but hinted at pretty heavily… but not too much. Moving away from Ricketts, I was thinking about what to do with the Pissaro’s … I couldn’t find out much about their lives in the early twentieth century and so, was quite delighted as this meant I could virtually make it up!! I had thought of tying in Gustave’s addiction to opium with the Pissaro’s – but Andy warned me to watch what I was saying about them as the family is very much still alive. Well I actually don’t agree with Andy on this one – I mean, that’s the whole point of The Space Between, mixing up history and fiction, of course there has to be a compromise to avoid hurting people. In this case, I think the compromise will be by making my opium addicts fictional characters. As I’ve already used characters from my own fiction I thought it would make a nice change to bring in some characters from Wildes fiction. Of course Dorian Gray seemed the natural choice. I wanted to go for one of the lesser known characters… which will mean some rereading, though I’ve got ideas already it was Ruth’s suggestion to bring opium into The Space Between … simply because it was so prevalent around that time and also something which I was fascinated about. Its links with the creative imagination are well known and so I thought it would fit in rather nicely.

URBAN
SCRAWL
Welcome to Andy's bit...
CONGRATIONS!!!
Many many congratulations Nicola on reaching the big 100!
THIS NEWSLETTER
This Newsletter started out as a paper publication in 1999. The very first issue was a single sheet of A4 paper and if I can find the one library copy that we still have I'll scan it into this machine and share it with you.
MARCH 2008
Of course the centenary of this publication could/would have been way back in March last year, apart from the fact that there were several months when Raw Meat became a bi-monthly while Nicola was doing her MA at Manchester University.
SEPTEMBER 2006
The first issue we put Online was in September 2006 and by January 2007 we stopped printing and mailing the paper publication.
NEXT IOO!
So Nicola, here's to the next 100! All my love Andy xxx
FINALLY
Just to let you know, that if you clink-the-link at the top right of this page to Nicola Batty's profile you will find that there's an old picture of Nicola with me (Andy) and Jack about ten years ago. You can just see the Granada TV weather map in the background. It was of course taken at Albert Dock in Liverpool. this is the same picture that is on the back of Nicola's E-book:
The complete Ziggy Collection! e-mail Nicola for further details of how to get your copy of this publication.
SEE YOU NEXT MONTH FOR 101! Andy

Raw Meat .. Nicola Batty's Newsletter.

Thursday, July 09, 2009

July 2009 Issue 106

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

June 2009 Issue 105

Repeat

010609

Thursday, May 07, 2009

May 2009 Issue 104

A PLACE OF GREATER SAFTEY

DARK MATERIALS

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

April 2009 Issue 103

Friday, March 06, 2009

March 2009 Issue 102

PERFUME

Friday, February 06, 2009

February 2009 Issue 101

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

January 2009 Issue 100

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