A New Chapter

Well, it's been an interesting month, and about to get moreso.

Tomorrow, I start a university lecturing position teaching writing, communication and critical thinking to first-year medical students. I have to say, I'm rather excited and quite amazed. It's been  some time since I was at university myself, and it's a privilege to have been asked to teach this foundation course. I also helped to design the curriculum, which is how I came to be teaching it.

I've taught similar skills to staff at one of the ministries, and to an online-learning company in the past, as well as having helped to edit the national curriculum textbooks a few years back. But I still have to pinch myself sometimes to remind myself that I am an adult capable of extreme adulting. I don't always feel it inside. That's the novelist in me.

This month I've also lost a major chunk of income. I work for a couple of NGOs in project and funding management, ironically. The current and underwhelming government of my native Britain decided to do away with the Department for International Development, which funds development projects around the world. They decided to assimilate it into the Foreign Office. Instead of honouring existing contracts, they asked for their money back - and there went my salary. I'll still get a bit of contract work now and then, but no longer a secure living.

I find it horrifically upsetting that it wasn't COVID that took my job. It was my own government.

But then, hardly surprising, considering. 

So, I have a lot less money, but also a lot more time. And, in times of stress, it's best to return to the page. So, I've started heavy research and the first chapter of my next novel. I plan on seating myself in front of the screen and typing until I develop RSI. Which, considering how long it's been since I last wrote a novel, and the muscle wastage in my fingers, probably won't take too long.

My main character appears centre stage in the image above, and I'm not the first Woolley to have broached this subject, but first I need to tell the story of an empire. 

It is a lot of research. And this one is going to be people historical rather than fantasy historical. Myths and legends, yes, but unlike Children of Lir, the gods won't come to life. Dynastic, Borgian in its intrigue and deception, but not as bloody as Rosy Hours. I'm guessing. I haven't written very much yet. 

I'm excited to get going. I've been toying with it since 2016, and took a crack at a prologue about a year ago, but just got swept away with work and never sat myself down to take it further. Now it needs writing. I feel very strongly towards this one. 

I'm a little hesitant to say much more at this stage. My head is filled with half-thought-through ideas and contemplations, and I need to plaster in the gaps in my historical knowledge, but I already know it's got legs, or wings, or whatever makes a story move. 

So, here's to at least one constructive thing coming out of 2020, as society collapses about our ears. From the first empire to the last.

Maria Strutz

Just had the most lovely week on Twitter.

It all began a week last Wednesday, when the wonderful Hookland tweeted a piece of artwork which was mistakenly attributed to me...

Original Tweet

This led to a lovely back and forth between myself and the actual artist, Maria Strutz, in which she offered to send me an original piece of her art and I reciprocated with a copy of The Children of Lir.

Original Tweet 

 Original Tweet

I also received a really lovely handwritten note.

To which Hookland rounded up with: 

It was just really lovely all round. Even got a little retweet from the Master of Chaos himself, Phil Hine.

On top of that, I also received a very nice DM through social media from another citizen of Hookland who very much enjoyed Creeper's Cottage, which is the novel I wrote about the county. All in all, Hookland has been a bloomin' joy to be a part of. It's a playground for esoteric artists and I've met some lovely people through it.

 

Dances at a Gathering

If you enjoy ballet, The Royal Ballet are streaming Dances at a Gathering on their website, tickets £3 ($3.20). That's my cousin, Billy, in green. Wishing him all the best for the performance and looking forward to watching it.

The Royal Ballet perform Dances at a Gathering, Jerome Robbins's fluid exercise in pure dance, to music by Chopin, broadcast online via Vimeo as part of the Royal Opera House's #OurHouseToYourHouse series. Watch for 30 days from 7pm BST Friday 25 September.

Dances at a Gathering by Jerome Robbins is a fluid exercise in pure dance for five couples, set to piano music by Fryderyk Chopin. It was created for New York City Ballet in 1969, when it was an immediate success. The following year, it was performed by The Royal Ballet in London to similar acclaim and returns this Season to the repertory after more than ten years.

Robbins initially intended to choreograph just a single pas de deux for a gala, but in rehearsal it grew into this major modern classic. The subtle interplay in performance between dancers and dances is extraordinarily atmospheric and suggestive of relationships and personalities, although Robbins was insistent that any story is simply that of a community of dancers dancing. The first Royal Ballet cast included such leading lights as Monica Mason, Lynn Seymour, Antoinette Sibley, Anthony Dowell, Rudolf Nureyev and David Wall, and this revival presents a wonderful opportunity for audiences today to see the current generation of Royal Ballet dancers take on such a milestone work.

Creating Verbatim Theatre from Oral Histories

Shout out to the lovely Clare Summerskill (who was keeping us all entertained over lockdown with her songs). For all you theatre practitioners out there:

Very excited and a little bit proud to announce the birth of my brand new bouncing book! ‘Creating Verbatim Theatre from Oral Histories’ published by Routledge. (for sale on the Routledge website). I think the paperback version looks a lot jollier than the more serious hardback version!

Also check out her book Gateway to Heaven, documenting the history of LGBT London between the 1940s-90s.

Scythe

This was a lot of fun. 

Picked up completely on a whim because I liked the cover.

A dark, gripping and witty thriller in which the only thing humanity has control over is death.

In a world where disease, war and crime have been eliminated, the only way to die is to be randomly killed ("gleaned") by professional scythes. Citra and Rowan are teenagers who have been selected to be scythes' apprentices, and despite wanting nothing to do with the vocation, they must learn the art of killing and understand the necessity of what they do.

Only one of them will be chosen as a scythe's apprentice and as Citra and Rowan come up against a terrifyingly corrupt Scythedom, it becomes clear that the winning apprentice's first task will be to glean the loser.

Very interesting concept. A bit like Altered Carbon, but everyone gets to live forever, not just the rich. I really appreciated the way it dove right in there without a load of backstory explanation. It's like, 'this is our world, this is how it works, get with the programme.' 

Good stuff.

I love the concept of 'splatting', which is committing suicide just for the fun of it. Usually from a great height.

It's set in a world where all that can be known is now known. Which, when you consider Big Data, is not so implausible.

The idea of truly wishing to end one's own life is a concept completely foreign to most post-mortals, because we can't experience the level of pain and despair that so seasoned the Age of Mortality. Our emo-nanites prevent us from plunging so deep. 

It plays heavily around the concept that, 'there is no art without death.' That, if we could live forever - or, in this case, can't not live forever - then the impetus to invent and create would be lost.

The whole thing was just great. Romping through a different reality that just might, some day, be our own. And some words of wisdom in there, too:

I think all young women are cursed with a streak of unrelenting foolishness, and all young men are cursed with a streak of absolute stupidity.

It's the first book in a trilogy by  Neal Shusterman, and I'm likely to go find the second.

If you are the singer, then I am the song,
A threnody, requiem, dirge.
You've made me the answer for all the world’s need,
Humanity’s undying urge.

Old Meets Young

I stumbled across a series on YouTube that I've become rather fascinated by. Unfortunately, it's by something called Lad Bible, which is instantly off-putting, but the series itself is very interesting. They take older people and younger people either doing the same job, such as a doorman or nurse, or in the same circumstances, such as addicts, criminals, lottery winners and climate change activists, looking at how things have changed over the years. 

The one above about homelessness really hit me. Back when I was an undergrad, I knew a homeless guy called Michael who would often sit by the train station. One night, I sat with him as the pubs were emptying, and the amount of abuse he took was unreal. Being a student with a room to go to and parents to call if I was in trouble, I sort of felt I was above it in some way, but the moment I sat on that pavement with him, I was invisible. We watched bottles being hurled, a man get his face smashed in, and an endless forest of legs go past.

It was a strange experience, and many years later went on to inspire a character in a set of short stories.

True, how true...

Sruth na Maoilé by Jonathan McFerran

Well, what can I say?

Touched to the core by this. I mentioned the artist Jonathan McFerran the other day, who wrote a really lovely review of Children of Lir. Another mythology junkie, like myself. 

Today, he tagged me in on this.

The greatest compliment anyone can ever give your art is for it to have inspired their own in some way. The first time it ever happened for me was when Stephanie Piro drew those beautiful sketches inspired by Rosy Hours. I'll never forget the amazement I felt when they arrived.

Yet, when I look at my own work, so many pieces are inspired by storytellers I admire. Rosy Hours wouldn't have existed without Leroux and Webber. Creeper's Cottage wouldn't have existed without David Southwell.

I'm just bowled over by this artwork. It's so atmospheric. When somebody likes something you did so much that they feel inspired to create, it's just the greatest feeling. To think this wouldn't have existed if I hadn't written that book, and that book wouldn't have existed if Michael Scott and Lady Gregory hadn't written their works - and on and on it goes in a chain of creation, back to the beginning of time. 

Privileged to be an inkstained link in that chain.

Yeah, Right

That's nice to know. Apparently I have 'upper intermediate' (or, begrudgingly, above) English language ability.

Thank you British Council for your insight.

Some of your questions were dodgy as ---- (choose the most appropriate word). 

Ah, sod it. I'm not accepting this...

So, I just went back through and entered the exact same answers and got 100%.

It all boils down to how confident you are about your answers. After each selection it asks you this:

And I wasn't certain about some of them, because some of them had more than one acceptable answer. 

Mind you is the obvious choice there, but, colloquially speaking, still would also be passable. However, when I tried that, I got knocked down to 96%. Although I chose mind you during the first round, I said I was uncertain and lost the points.

So, I was marked down for being a conscientious student. I'm not entirely sure that's fair.

Jonathan McFerran

I received a lovely review of The Children of Lir the other day, and wanted to return the favour as it was written by an artist with a shared love of the story. His above depiction of Aoife and the swans is fabulous. Dark and atmospheric. I see it a little through the eyes of my own retelling - Lir turned into the rock he sat on for so many years, helpless to break the curse, and Aoife, turned into the storm that consumed her. I love the detailed pattern on the hem of her dress.

Do check out Johnathan's work on his website, Instagram and Twitter. He's also written several books.

Shantaram

Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

I've had a copy of this on my shelf for years. I bought it after a succession of people told me how good it was. I just never got around to reading it, so I decided to get it on audiobook instead.

It was all they said it was.

Total immersion of the heart, the head, and the Bombay underworld. 

Just, brilliant. 

It's a semi-autobiographical work. So, it's based really closely on Gregory David Roberts's life as an escaped Australian convict. He broke out of jail and went on the run in India. The way it's written, it's so believable as to make you suspect 90% of it is probably true, but having watched a few interviews and read more about it, the question perhaps lies in our definition of truth. There is a certain truth all novelists recognise in fiction. This book is full of that type of truth.

A lot of real things, and a lot of things made up of little pieces of real things.

It's a very clever and compelling piece of work. I highly recommend it. I went back to get the sequel The Mountain Shadow on Audible, but could only find it in German. I don't think I would enjoy that as much, as I don't speak German.

It was sort of sad, as an author, to read that he originally intended there to be four books, but as it took 11 years to write the sequel and he's over 60, he put that idea aside. Time - there's never enough of it. The older a writer gets, the more aware of that they become. 

A particularly amazing point about this book is that he started writing it twice in prison, after he was eventually recaptured, but after completing 300 pages, the manuscripts were destroyed by prison guards both times. I know how soul-destroying it is to lose five pages to a Word malfunction. The thought of having to start an entire novel again from scratch would break me.

So glad he was made of sterner stuff.

I usually include a few quotes from the book in my reviews, but honestly, this was such an epic, and it was all so good, that looking through the length of my clip list just exhausts me. All I can say is, pick up a copy.

If you prefer audiobooks, Humphrey Bower narrated it perfectly. Really brought it to life and listening to a first-person narrative spoken by an actual person is always engaging.

Excellent and mysterious stuff.

Korean Soaps

Hotel Del Luna

Okay, this is a totally gushy post of unbridled delight.

I am besotted with Korean soaps. So much so that I can now read enough Korean to tell you the above is actually Spanish, and that Talk to me in Korean is an amazing site. I'm not entirely sure how I've almost managed to reach the age of forty without ever knowing any of this.

It all began, thanks to my friend Paul of Northern Antiquarian fame. We've always been off exploring standing stones and waffling mythology and folklore together. Last time we were on the phone, he told me he'd really been getting into Korean films on Netflix and recommended a few titles.

I decided to take a look at Along with the Gods - and that was it. It was visually stunning and so rich in mythology it just sucked me right in.

Then I watched a supernatural horror, which was quite good. Then Netflix kept recommending Memories of the Alhambra, so I thought I'd try that, only to discover it's a series.

It started off with one hell of a premise. Augmented reality gone horribly wrong. In Spain, for some reason. But anyway... it was engrossing, though completely unlike any other soap I've ever watched. I'll go into this more in a minute.

Next, I graduated onto Hotel Del Luna (I'm not entirely sure why the strong Korean/Spanish links?). 

I just about died with delight. 

I sobbed solidly through most of the episodes and through the entirety of the last two. It's all about a hotel where ghosts go to recover before crossing the bridge into their next life. It blew my little socks off. It appears deceptively light-hearted at times, but turned out to be horribly profound. There are some very silly moments in it, but like Master of the House in Les Mis, you need that, otherwise you'd open a vein. 

Having completed that and taken a couple of days to recover, I started Crash Landing on You yesterday. I didn't think I'd get on with this one because it's overtly a romantic comedy and I have a limited tolerance for those, but once again I'm absolutely absorbed. This time it's about a woman who accidentally crosses the border into North Korea, and the differences between the two countries. It's very well done, and again, the superficial nature of the lead character is entirely deceptive. It's got some proper depth to it.

I'm just completely intrigued now. What a story-telling culture. But it seems (to someone who knows nothing about the Korean film industry) that all of these series are made by the same company, as they follow a very specific format every time.

Some of the key things I've learned about Korean soaps that distinguish them from western soaps:

1. The length of the episodes

Usually, a western series runs to an hour per episode, often less and getting lesser due to binge culture. I think Better Call Saul is 60 minutes, Suits is about 40 minutes and Neighbours, a much-loved Australian soap when I was growing up, is only about 20 minutes. In comparison, Korean soaps are around an hour and a half and around 16 episodes. It's a bit of a time commitment, but when you reach the end it's like you've finished an epic novel rather than a TV show.

2. Genre Switching

Usually, with a western series, you kind of have a genre - like light entertainment, romance, horror, detective, family drama - and you stick to that. Something that took a moment to get used to with Korean series is that they can go from warm, fuzzy romance to graphic horror in the blink of an eye. I absolutely love it. One minute, this guy and this girl are making eyes at each other, the next, someone's jugular is spurting blood or someone's car gets pushed over a cliff as they scream for help. I love it, I love it, I love it. And I think it goes a long way to holding your attention. Everything's in context, but you're never quite sure what you're about to see. It makes everything feel a bit gritty and real. Having said that, it does work the other way. You can be in the middle of a murder scene when suddenly the script starts to read like a bad Mills & Boon. I felt it most in Memories of the Alhambra. I think they could have cut it a bit shorter and had greater impact. You were really getting into the action when suddenly it took a break for a couple of episodes to focus purely on romance. It kind of broke the flow. But, on the whole, they're a pick and mix of emotions.

3. Recurring Song

There's usually a recurring song or two that sees you through the whole thing. For the rest of my life, when I hear this, I'll burst into tears.

4. The Unknown

They employ a neat narrative technique whereby you think you know what's going on, you've got everything sussed, then they switch character perspective and you learn something you didn't know before. It's done quite regularly and to very good effect. As with genre mixing, it keeps you engaged, and on a deeper level it really confronts you with your own presumptions. You learn to be a bit less judgemental until you have all the facts (i.e. the series ends).

5. The Mythology

I'm not sure whether to say the culture or the mythology or both? For example, if you watched a western series set in a church, I'd call it mythology but others might call it culture? Either way, the worldview is stunning. I think everything I've watched so far except Crash Landing (and I'm only two episodes in, so give it time) has dealt with spirits, ghosts and reincarnation. I'm all about that. Some scenes, like the Spirit of the Well in Hotel Del Luna just bring fond memories of Ghibli and Spirited Away. Needless to say, Along with the Gods was a real journey through the afterlife. Definitely my cup of tea.

6. Talking to Yourself

One of the things I still haven't got entirely used to is that characters have a real habit of talking to themselves and explaining what they're thinking. It's kind of in context, so it's not bad, it's just something that you never see in western series. For example, one character might be watching another across the room and say, 'I wonder what she thinks of me?' It's subtle, but sort of like a stage whisper. Usually, in western dramas we'd do it with a look or a gesture. We'd kind of trust the audience to be following the story closely enough to guess what the character is thinking without explicitly saying it. On the other hand, it's not used to excess, and I've sort of got used to it now. It's just a different way of doing things.

7. Diversity

So far, all three series have been very heteronormative. It's one guy and one girl falling in love (which kind of perpetuates the Mills & Boon thing). Nowadays, many western series, especially those on Netflix, such as Umbrella Academy, Russian Dolls, Last Tango in Halifax, tend to be more inclusive. One of the main things I knew about South Korea was that in 2013 they granted asylum to an LGBT Ugandan woman. But, having read a bit more about LGBT rights in Korea, it's not as open as I assumed. I wondered for a moment about Secretary Seo Jung Hoon. That was just heart-wrenching, turning up when Yoo Jin Woo most needed him. But I think shows can be a bit conspicuous nowadays if there's no diversity even in the side characters. Which brings me to the next point...

8. Specific Format

These series feel incredibly satisfying when you get to the end, but I'm starting to see a pattern. Each episode ends with a cliff hanger the height of the grand canyon, ends with freeze frames of the show, contains a recurring song, usually the main characters don't get on at all before realising they're madly in love, there's no nudity or explicit sex scenes, but a lot of silent and meaningful eye contact and appropriate touching, then somewhere around the fourth episode from the end they finally kiss. Each episode ends with freeze frames from the instalment, looking like paintings. It's predictable in the way it unfolds, but the story telling is top-notch and the premises are just fabulous: augmented reality trying to kill you, a hotel for ghosts, crossing into North Korea... they're all really well thought through with some very entertaining twists and turns.

9. Room for a Sequel

So far, both Memories of the Alhambra and Hotel Del Luna have set themselves up for a sequel... but neither has made one or have a second season slated on IMDB. It sort of feels like a choose-your-own-ending. Everything's wrapped up and you can either choose to accept that or go with the dangled possibility of another story to come. I think Hotel Del Luna should have just stopped. It was a one-off story and the characters can't come back. So, it was a bit wishy-washy to hint at another series. Whereas Memories of the Alhambra could definitely have run a second series, but didn't.

*

Anyway, that's my assessment, and I'm loving it all. Hyun Bin's hair should have won an award when he was sitting in the rain outside the hospital. You could see every single strand, it was beautiful. Seeing him in Memories of the Alhambra and then in Crash Landing on You - it was like looking at two completely different people. Extremely diverse actor. 

But I've just loved all of this. I think we can get so used to the format of our own cultural programming, that it's really refreshing to see something different. I'm not sure if it'll wear off, though I don't think I'll ever recover from Hotel Del Luna. That would have made a superb novel. And so many good lines.

Love can be one's remedy and poison.

*

Cranes make sure their feathers stay as white as snow even when they're standing in mud.

*

Whether this place is a fence or a prison for me, what I have is hell. It's not that wonderful to be in hell together.

*

We should soundproof the hotel rooms.

 

All of this has seriously made me want to know more about Korea. Out of curiosity, I started learning a bit about the language. The alphabet is completely phonetic and incredibly logical. Surprisingly easy to get the very basics. Because of this, they've got one of the highest literacy rates in the world. They also have a very nice national motto: Benefit broadly the human world, devotion to the welfare of humanity. Sounds like a place worth visiting.