Spark of Genius

Short Story Collections

In one of those listings of the greatest British writers of the 20th century, I can’t recall who compiled it, Muriel Spark was ranked eighth. Muriel Spark? Then I discovered she was the woman who wrote The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie – the novel itself possibly usurped by Maggie Smith’s seminal portrayal of Miss Brodie in the film. I felt somewhat guilty when I then found out that Muriel Spark was Scottish. I was born in Glasgow, so why didn’t I know more about such a heralded writer? I promptly read The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie as a starter. Enjoyed it very much for its characterisation of a compulsive extrovert, which led me to order The Driver’s Seat, nominated by Spark as her best book. The story proved to be quite a short one, I’d call it a novella. It was a brittle, tightly constructed tale about the planning of a murder. Less of a whodunit, rather, in the author’s words, a ‘whydunnit’.

The hardback was published by Polygon and I was most impressed by the delightful quality of the production: stylish typography, coloured endpaper, textured dust jacket – the book just has a great feel in the hand. Turns out Polygon have released twenty-two books in 2018 to celebrate the centenary of Muriel Spark’s birth. I’m keenly anticipating the arrival of five more volumes, but I fully suspect I’ll be ordering the balance. From not knowing much about this author, hopefully I’ll be able to offer some opinion on the prime of Miss Muriel Spark.

Here’s what another Scottish writer thought of Muriel Spark:

‘The greatest Scottish novelist of modern times…my admiration for Spark’s contribution to literature knows no bounds.’ – Ian Rankin

George Orwell’s Last Draft

Orwell’s scribbled corrections.

In 1946, George Orwell moved to the remote island of Jura, in the Hebrides, Scotland. There he was to work on a novel and take some fresh air for a troublesome chest. By December, 1948, having been diagnosed with tuberculosis, he had sent the manuscript to his agent in London unsure whether to call it Nineteen Eighty-Four or The Last Man in Europe. By the spring of 1949, Orwell was spitting blood. Nineteen Eighty-Four was published in June, 1949 and was hailed as a masterpiece. On January 21, 1950, Geroge Orwell suffered a massive haemorrhage and died in hospital, alone. He was forty-six years old.

The photograph shows Orwell’ s annotations on an earlier draft. Below is the opening to the published version; there are some notable changes which made for more economical and precise prose. If you look at the draft, the first sentence originally featured ‘a million radios striking thirteen’ – so much more succinct to say: ‘the clocks were striking thirteen.’ On the older draft, Winston Smith ‘pressed the button of the lift’, then he ‘pressed a second time’. In the final, it simply says: ‘It was no use trying the lift’ – this just feels so much more bleak. The ‘aged prole who acted as porter’ is summarily removed so that, instead, our attention is focused on the large poster on the wall featuring an enormous face. We will find out that the face had a caption beneath it which ran: BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU.

Published Version:

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering with him. The hallway smelt of boiled cabbage and old rag mats. At one end of it a coloured poster, too large for indoor display, had been tacked to the wall. It depicted simply an enormous face, more than a metre wide: the face of a man of about forty-five, with a heavy black moustache and ruggedly handsome features. Winston made for the stairs. It was no use trying the lift.

George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four

Breath. From Book to Big Screen

The original cover design

Ten years ago I read Tim Winton’s Breath. Last Sunday I went to the movies to see Breath brought to the big screen – Simon Baker’s debut as a feature film director. I was quietly worried. I’d enjoyed reading Winton’s coming-of-age story about two young surfers, Pikelet and Loonie, and my concern was that should the film fail to reflect the spirit of the story this would somehow taint my connection with the book. A connection linked to the days of my own youth when I used to swim in the Indian Ocean on Perth’s northern beaches.

Thankfully, I can report that in the last day or so I have been drawn back to the book to re-read some of the scenes brought so beautifully to life in film.

Winton was closely involved in the making of the film, he co-wrote the screenplay with Baker and veteran screenwriter, Gerard Lee. Winton even provided some narration which gave some authenticity to the adult voice of the protagonist, Pikelet, whose reminiscence about the events of his youth forms the basis of the story.

Here’s Pikelet talking about the first time he saw men surfing:

‘How strange it was to see men do something beautiful. Something pointless and elegant, as though nobody saw or cared. In Sawyer, a town of millers and loggers and dairy famers, with one butcher and a rep from the rural bank beside the BP, men did solid, practical things, mostly with their hands.’

Breath, Tim Winton

I found an old interview with Tim Winton from 2008, when the book was first released:

‘Writing a book is a bit like surfing,’ he said. ‘Most of the time you’re waiting. And it’s quite pleasant, sitting in the water waiting. But you are expecting that the result of a storm over the horizon, in another time zone, usually, days old, will radiate out in the form of waves. And eventually, when they show up, you turn around and ride that energy to the shore. It’s a lovely thing, feeling that momentum. If you’re lucky, it’s also about grace. As a writer, you roll up to the desk every day, and then you sit there, waiting, in the hope that something will come over the horizon. And then you turn around and ride it, in the form of a story.’

One small thing, the re-release of the book features a photograph of the cast from the movie on the cover – I guess the marketers figure this overt tie-in with the movie will maximise the merchandising efforts. For me, though, I’ve always loved the original cover with its beautiful underwater scene, the curtain of tiny bubbles beneath the rippling surface and the vivid blue that reminds me so much of the Indian Ocean.