Interview with a hostile reader

So, while I was writing The Lessons, I tormented myself by imagining all the horrible things that reviewers would say about it. Sometimes I even wrote down a line or two, just to get them out of my head. And a couple of days ago my friend Robin sent me this, written by Gretchen Rubin of The Happiness Project who apparently does the same thing! Her solution was to conduct an interview with an imaginary hostile reader, the reader who would ask all the most horrible questions, so she could answer them! And this struck me as so brilliant, I have done one for myself. And it was really fun, and beautifully empowering. Bring it on, hostile reader:

--------

So are you gay, or what?

I can see why you ask but no, I'm not. I'm basically heterosexual. Have occasionally been known to fancy girls but mostly fancy blokes, only ever fallen in love with blokes. I've just broken up with someone, actually, so if you happen to know any interesting/good-looking/articulate/vaguely-feminist-but-not-through-self-loathing men…

Why all the gayness in your novels then?

Well. OK. I have asked myself this too. Because it hasn't come from a conscious thought-process, but has been a subject that I've been drawn to. So I've had to work out why for myself.

So, here's my thought about why: I grew up in a frankly fundamentalist religion. There are many fine things about that religion but it is not a great place when it comes to talking about or experiencing sexual desire, especially as a woman. I had a pretty 1950s (or earlier, maybe 1890s)-style education about desire growing up which was basically: pick a husband based on his good character traits, and don't think about sex until you're engaged, and don't do it till you're married. Which is fine if that's what you want. I have friends for whom it worked very well.

I found it, in that way, quite crushing however. I wanted to be able to fancy men, but felt that with the education I'd had that wasn't even allowed. In a way, my experience of my heterosexual desire was of a 'love that dare not speak its name'. I would never ever want to suggest that my experience was *anything like* the historically appalling experiences which many gay and lesbian men and women have had to go through. But I felt a kinship with the idea of not even being able to experience your own desire without a degree of guilt and fear.

This has all been done before, hasn't it? Oxford glamour, decadence, drugs, sex, tragedy… there's Brideshead Revisited, The Secret History, The Line of Beauty… this novel is pretty derivative.

Well. On the one hand, yes, I did not pick a subject for this book which had never been treated before in fiction. For my first novel I kind of did, but that's because that was the subject which presented itself to me and about which I had something to say. I don't think there's anything much wrong with writing a novel 'in a tradition'. As long as you try to write a good novel, that is. There are a fair few novels out there about the Tudors, but Wolf Hall is still a masterpiece. On the other hand, I hope I did something a bit new with this subject. It addresses my particular concerns, and my particular generation, I hope. So yes, it is a novel with antecedents… I didn't go looking for 'the next Orthodox Jewish lesbians"!

The Catholicism in this book feels tacked-on; like you haven't really got to grips with the religion as you did with Judaism.

You know, in a way I feel that's fair comment although it's a pretty harsh way to put it! But yes, I couldn't claim to know Catholicism as well as I know Judaism. I did a lot of reading, I spoke to a lot of people but… unlike Disobedience, this isn't really a novel *about* the religion - that novel isn't mine to write, really. Even though I had flashes of genuine understanding, I would agree that Catholicism still seems far away from me in a way that Judaism, and even atheism, do not.

Don't you think you've just essentially written the same book twice? The love triangles, the weird controlling relationships, the concerns about sexuality, faith and the tremendous difficulty of overcoming a bad education?

Yeah. I'm very aware of the similarities between the two novels actually (I felt it especially at the end of chapter 11 of Disobedience and the final scene between James and Jess in The Lessons. In a way I hope that this is OK. Novelists I think have emotional veins that they mine. Sometimes the same story worrying away at them over and over throughout their career. Perhaps I've managed to make these stories seem sufficiently different that people won't mind the similar emotional palette.

This is a pretty miserable book, isn't it?

Yes mum, it is. Well. In a way it is. Some sad things happen in it. Having said that. I feel like it's hopeful at the end, actually. And quite a jolly romp at times. What can I say: I think some people are self-destructive, do go through years and sometimes decades of destroying their own lives. It was something I wanted to think about and explore. If, for you, a novel has to be light and cheery the whole way through, this is not the book for you!

Why on earth would anyone want to read a novel about a bunch of over-privileged over-educated youths drinking and taking drugs?

Hey, it's the kind of novel *I* like to read! But there are plenty of novels out there. If books about different kinds of people to this float your boat, go for it. No novel is ever going to please everyone.

If you're asking why *I'm* interested in this subject, the answer I think is that… many of us go through our lives thinking that our problems would be solved if we had a lot of money. We spend our lives chasing money, stressing about money. But I'm interested in exploring what might happen to a person if money were no longer an issue in their life. It's a thought experiment, like imagining human life without sex or religion or food. Take something away, see what happens. I don't think I'm in any way suggesting that what happens is great, or that my over-privileged characters are admirable. Even they don't suggest that.

Why isn't this book as lyrical as Disobedience? The writing doesn't have those loops and swirls to it.

Different subjects demand different writing styles. Disobedience is a novel about personal religious faith, a trembling and fragile subject. And it's a novel about people who live within the bounds of the Old Testament, so a biblical style is appropriate. The Lessons is a novel about students drinking, taking drugs and shagging each other. It felt to me that it needed a more immediate, raw style. But I hope the writing in it is still enjoyable to read.

Why have you written a novel that's so different to Disobedience? Don't you feel that you've stepped out of your area of expertise - Orthodox Judaism - and now you don't have anything original to say?

What can I say except: this was my actual life? Orthodox Judaism and then Oxford. I don't think I'm less entitled to write about Oxford because I didn't grow up Anglo-Saxon Protestant. I don't think my take on that experience is less valid because of that, or indeed less valid because I didn't write a Jewish Oxford novel. There may well be a Jewish Oxford novel to be written, but this is a novel about the mythology of Oxford, the ways in which its beauty and glamour can twist and distort perceptions, emotions, experiences. Also, you know, if George Eliot and Charles Dickens got to write novels about Jews, surely I'm allowed to write novels about people who aren't Jewish!

Taking it and liking it

Over the years since my first novel was published, I've had various friends, and friends of friends, and acquaintances of cousins of friends of friends of friends ask me if I would read their work and give them my 'honest opinion'.

It's flattering to be asked, of course. And I like to try to be helpful, even though reading a manuscript and commenting is *far* more time-consuming than simply reading for pleasure and... if your novel is in a place where it badly needs the editorial eye of someone you vaguely know it's unlikely to be a pleasurable read anyway.

There's loads to be said about how to critique, what to look for when you are critiquing and what stage in your project to show your work to a professional writer your uncle once met in synagogue, but that's not what I'm going to address here. What I'm going to address is: how to respond when someone gives you critique.

It's really simple. You say: "thank you." If you want to be more of a mensch, you say "thank you so much. I realise your time is very valuable and I'm grateful that you've given me the benefit of your opinions. I'll think hard about what you've said." That's it. You can cut-and-paste that if you like.

Here's what you don't do: you don't argue. You don't say "no no no, but you've failed to grasp the significance of the rose dropped into the cake batter on page 35". You don't say "if you'd only read all 800 pages of my book you'd see that the character of Isprahim is eventually redeemed when he grabs the sacred stone from out of the Mire of Neblath and *that's* why he currently only talks in incomprehensible, ungrammatical English."

And the reason you don't argue is not because all professional writers know better than you, that's absolutely not the case. The reason you don't argue is: it's your book. You don't have to take on a word of the advice given to you by the person critiquing. If you disagree with everything that they've said, that's fine. Never show anything to them again. I'll say it again: it's your book. You get to decide what's right and wrong with it. You've asked someone else for their opinion, they've taken time to give it to you, you say thank you and then you can ignore every word they said.

It took me a while to work this out. When I was doing the Creative Writing MA at East Anglia, workshops started off feeling so raw and personal, like someone criticising my child, or my own self. Like someone looking me up and down and going "there's nothing about you I like" or maybe "I disagree with everything you believe in." But slowly I learned... critiques aren't opinions, they're taste. You can't argue with them. Even if you are the next Dickens/Rowling/Shakespeare/Plath not everyone will love your work. You may have shown your book to a reader who wouldn't go for your style even if you were literally the greatest practitioner of it in world history.

What you're looking for is someone who really seems to get what you're trying to do, and when they criticise something you go, internally "shit, I knew that wasn't working, but I hoped I'd got away with it". That is a reader who'll really sharpen your work. When you find one of those you do more than thank them. Buy them flowers, send them cards, offer to make dinner for them in exchange for reading the next three chapters. As for the others, just say 'thank you' and move on.

[BTW. If you have asked me for critique in the past year, please do not start assuming this post is about you. Many people who've asked have been extremely gracious and well-mannered. I've chatted about this to other writers, and we've all had at least one or two rather ungracious responders. If we're still friends, go ahead and assume you weren't one of them. ;-) ]

Read it and weep (but, literally)

Read the incredibly powerful Dragonslippers: This is What an Abusive Relationship Looks Like a couple of days ago. It's a quick read but unputdownable (that over-used publishing ersatz adjective, but really true in this case). Started reading in bed at 1am thinking I'd look at a few pages and then go to sleep, finished at 2.15am, sat in the dark shivering till 3am.

It's not the kind of book I'd usually read: I guess I feel like I've seen enough documentaries/episodes of ER and Eastenders to understand what domestic violence means and to go, in a fairly detached way, 'oh yes it's terrible, and so often these women stay with their abusers.' But this is a totally different level of understanding: of the way that a relationship like this is essentially a kind of slow brainwashing, that it breaks down the will, that behaviour that, if it happened at the start, would have made the woman call the police can come to seem, drip, drip, drip, normal.

I was shocked that, at the start of her relationship with 'Brian', 'Roz' (all pseudonyms) was 35, a successful businesswoman, winner of the Woman of the Year award from her local chamber of commerce. I really had - it turns out - presumed that women who get into these relationships are badly-educated, poor, unable to find other economic options for themselves. (This despite the fact that I have a friend whose husband was also physically violent to her who is successful and brilliant.) Roz's website contains a list of warning signs of an abusive relationship which I really think everyone in the world should read: both to spot it if it begins to happen to you, and to understand why some 'romantic' behaviours can actually appear very threatening and scary.

The book also made me think about the ways in which our social construction of relationships, and of women's roles, facilitate abuse. Several times in the book, Roz - having been emotionally and physically abused - comes out with cliches about relationships. 'Relationships are about forgiveness', or 'he must love me, otherwise why would he get so jealous?' And Brian emphasises, and she agrees, that relationships mean 'becoming one', 'being absorbed into each other', 'not trying to be so independent'.

It made me think that an abusive relationship is just a relationship that really follows some of these pieces of hideous folk 'wisdom' to their logical conclusions. If a relationship means 'becoming one', then surely it's OK for your husband to ask you to give up friends he doesn't like? You're one now, so you shouldn't be trying to pull away from him by having hobbies he doesn't enjoy too. Or by going on vacation without him, or by taking a job when he'd really like you to be home.

The truth is that however close you are to someone else you will NEVER become 'one' with them, and a good thing too; we remain wonderful individual beings with our own hopes and dreams and likes and dislikes. But the rhetoric of relationships is that 'becoming as one' is somehow supposed to be a good thing.

And everyone knows that women are more 'verbal' than men. So, like those books say, you can't always expect him to be able to tell you what he thinks in words. Sometimes he might have to storm off into his 'cave'. Or shout. Or throw something. Or hit you.

The truth is that everyone, both men and women, sometimes need to be quiet and uncommunicative. If you are in a relationship, though, it is a good idea to be able to say this quite clearly. "I need to be quiet for a while. I need to be on my own for a bit." [Of course if you believe that you have to 'become one', even voicing that idea can be difficult...]

Looking back through the book, it seemed clear that from the very first moment they met, Brian was breaking Roz's boundaries. They met at a friends' house at a pool party. He picked her up bodily and, even though she was saying 'no, no!' [but we all know what it means when a woman says 'no', but keeps smiling, don't we?] he threw her into the pool and jumped in after her. Flirty behaviour? Or a total inability to respect her autonomy?

In the 1990s, Peggy Orenstein did some amazing research into how boys and girls are treated in the classroom. Essentially, it goes like this: a teacher asks a question and some kids put up their hands and others shout out. If a girl shouts out the answer, whether it's correct or incorrect, the teacher says "don't shout out, put your hand up". If a boy shouts out the answer, the teacher responds saying either "yes that's right", or "no that's wrong". Boys are rewarded for being impetuous, breaking the rules, going aggressively for what they want. Girls are rewarded for obeying the rules, and being placid and accepting.

This goes on in all areas of society. Babcock and Laschever did some research in 2007 that investigated why women don't push as hard for pay rises as men do (which is always what's blamed for the pay gap: of course, it's women's fault). The researchers found that there's a good reason for women not to ask for more money: they receive stiff social penalties when they do.

"women who do rebel against these standards by pushing more overtly on
their own behalf often risk being punished. Sometimes they're called
"pushy" or "bitchy" or "difficult to work with." Sometimes their skills
and contributions are undervalued and they're passed over for
promotions they deserve. Other times, they're left out of
information-sharing networks."

Plus, women don't even get very far when they try to negotiate, because employers simply don't respond in the same way as they do to men.

"They make worse first offers to women, pressure women to concede more, and themselves concede much less."

We live in a world that rewards men for aggressively pushing for what they want, and rewards women for accepting what's given to them uncomplainingly. It's a world that says that relationships involve self-sacrifice, and giving up autonomy. It's a world that says that women's autonomy is less important than men's. It's a world that tells men 'if you don't get her the first time, just keep on pushing', and tells women 'don't make a fuss'. And although of course there are women who are violent and abusive to their male partners, it's far more common the other way around and one can see why. It's not because men are 'just more agressive' any more than women are 'asking for it'. We live in a world that is set up for abusive relationships; that's what I learned from Dragonslippers.

The library at the moon under water

Some internet rambling recently led me to this - an essay George Orwell wrote about his ideal, platonic perfect pub, The Moon Under Water. Apparently this is where the Moon Under Water chain took its name from, which I didn't know. I don't think they follow all his rules anyway! Carraway seed biscuits?

And then yesterday I was interviewed by Mslexia magazine, an excellent publication can highly recommend it. They asked me about my 'writing day' and I realised that I'm actually quite superstitious, or ritualistic in my writing-in-a-library practices. [I find a desk, I leave my things at it, I wander the shelves, find a book that I like the look of, take it back to my table, read a few paragraphs and then I'm off.] And also that I have a very good idea of what my ideal platonic library would be. So here we are. The library a few streets over from the Moon Under Water.

1. It should have open shelves, with a good collection of both modern and older books covering all the academic disciplines but with a special emphasis on fiction, poetry and drama of course, and history, classics, psychology, religion and anthropology. There is an excellent collection of medical books, and several shelves of photography. At the Moon Under Water Library, skillful and well-educated librarians have chosen the best of modern works, but haven't weeded out older books hard. A Victorian edition of Ovid rubs shoulders with a modern commentary. Occasionally one still finds books with the pages uncut.

2. The librarians know what they're talking about. A reader in trouble can turn up at the front desk and say 'help, where do I start on Byzantine architecture?' and they know where to point you. For more esoteric questions, they know who to ask and will take your details and get back to you.

3. There is no cafe in the Moon Under Water library - food smells do not penetrate its halls nor is there any danger of spillages on the books. However, one is permitted to take in a bottle of water and there is a charming refectory in the Moon Under Water university building next door where readers are admitted on presentation of their Moon Under Water library card.

4. The building is large and its bookshelves are serpentine. There are plenty of little corners with a desk next to a tiny window (and next to a power supply and a good light source. Although the library has existed in some form for centuries, it makes sure that every desk is adequately supplied with power and light.) Although there is a large central desk space, it is easy to find a more private area in which to work. The seats are comfortable. They do not, in general, have arms.

5. There is wi-fi, it is fast and easy to access but - and this is important - the password changes every day and must be picked up from a box of small slips on the front desk. Writers completing a manuscript are grateful that they have to make a conscious decision to be able to log on that day.

6. All the members of the library understand that silence is not a forgotten virtue. Any member found conversing on a mobile phone outside the designated 'conversation area' on the fourth floor knows that they face immediate expulsion.

7. The library is open every day from 8am to midnight. The loan period is typically three months. Loans can be renewed online, reservations can be made online, you will receive an email when your book is in.

8. Although the library allows some leeway to its members - and the members are in general completely trustworthy - those who are found to 'reserve' a desk at busy times by placing a jacket over the chair and then go for a three-hour lunch will be sternly reprimanded. However, this reprimand rarely has to be issued - the miracle of the library is that there always seems to be a quiet desk for those who need it. There are also a number of private lockable carrel rooms - big enough for a desk and a chair - which can be rented by those who want them for a minimal charge. There is a waiting list, but progress along it is brisk.

9. The library is a part of the community, with a noticeboard and an interesting speakers' programme in the evenings. It also has an excellent children's library - well-stocked, with an array of storytellers, reading times, beanbags for lounging and toys for the not-reading-yet children to play with. The children's library and the speaker's area are soundproofed.

10. I'm amazed I didn't mention this first. The library is beautiful. The proportions of the rooms are elegant, the desk-spaces simple and workmanlike but with a grace to them. Even though the library is extremely easily accessible from north-west London (it only takes me 20 minutes to get there from my house) it has glorious views of rolling countryside. How lucky I am to work there.

Sigh. If only if only.

[picture stolen from the Trinity College Library, Dublin website]

Retro shopping

Remember 'shopping'? Not for food or clothes, things which one really wants to select by sight. I mean, shopping for the perfectly-packaged, homogenous items Jeff Bezos targetted as being ideal internet-commerce stock. DVDs, books, CDs (who even buys CDs now?).

I used to really enjoy that kind of shopping. I remember as a teenager (yes, I was a geek), I used to take tremendous pleasure in standing in the basement of WH Smith on the Finchley Road, comparing different Dr Who videos (what? I told you I was a geek). I'd look at the titles, the photographs, the descriptions, see which Doctor it was and which companions. I could spend half an hour comparing the different videos available, before deciding on one to take home and watch as a reward for finishing my Latin homework (I *said* I was a geek already.)

I rarely do it now though. Books, DVDs - why not just order them online? Saves schlepping to a bookshop in town, or dealing with the depressingly warehouse-like massive local Borders. One click, it's done, they arrive in a couple of days.

Except... by the time those couple of days have gone past I've often forgotten why I wanted them. Or the moment has passed, that perfect moment when I really wanted to sit down *right then* and read that book or watch that movie. I have to try to recreate my enthusiasm, and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. And if it doesn't I'm left with a movie whose perfect moment was last Tuesday, waiting to see if that moment turns up again.

So today I went to 'Retrobloke', or to give it its full title 'Retrobloke.com', a shop down the road from me and yes the '.com' is on the storefront. It's a little shop, full of sci-fi and horror DVDs and videogames in the front, and vinyl in the back. The stock is good, eclectic and interesting. Looking at the shelves reminded me of things I'd always wanted to see and never got around to - unlike Amazon, no one was trying to push new releases on me.

It was a slow Friday afternoon. I stood for a long time flicking through the DVDs until I picked a couple of discs with three episodes each of original series Star Trek on them - total £6, very reasonable. I was the only person there. No one was hurrying me, or making tannoy announcements or trying to entice me with the piped-over smell of coffee. I'm looking forward to watching them over the weekend, because I've chosen the time slot to fit them into along with my purchase - you can do that if you walk out of the shop with them in your hand.

As I made my purchase I asked the friendly shopkeeper whether he did most of his business online nowadays.
"No," he said, "it's strange but we find a lot of people still want to come in."
But if you're looking for a 'retro' experience, I'm not sure that's so surprising.