Brexit and London's financial world response

Court of first instance in Northern Ireland rejects attempt to overturn Brexit vote. Undoubtedly the case will arrive at the UK Supreme Court. But much more interesting is that The City (UK's financial capital in same way Wall St is in US) reports many financial corporations are exploring a move to mainland Europe. This makes sense as the large trading blocs are not interested in individual treaties with standalone countries in todays complex word. Another ominous sign for UK economy is the large uptick in UK corporations approaching the Republic of Ireland governmental authorities inquiring about relocation. The pound is now only worth $1.21. Fascinating times.

Interview with Sarah-Jane Stratford

I'm returning to guesting occasional interviews with authors.
I'm delighted to introduce Sarah-Jane Stratford who's written the novel Radio Girls about a powerful woman, Hilda Matheson, who helped establish BBC Radio in London.

Thanks for coming on the blog to answer a few questions, Sarah-Jane.

Thank you for inviting me.

RADIO GIRLS is set in London in the late 1920s and early 30s and explores Britain’s venerable BBC. As an American writer, what interested you in exploring something so quintessentially British?

I’m pretty attached to Britain, having gotten a Masters degree from York and grown up watching a lot of British comedy and reading British literature. I’m a history buff, and like my fictional character, Maisie, I like to be where history has lived a long time. But what whetted my appetite for this story was Hilda Matheson, whose own interests and influence are universal.

Also, good stories are good stories, no matter where they come from. I’m always drawn to stories of fearless women breaking down boundaries and seeking to create something, to speak their true voice. Ultimately this is a women’s story and a human story and where it took place was secondary to the draw of the characters and the story.

What made you decide to use an actual female BBC producer to explore the work ethos, bigotry and foibles of the period?
This whole venture would not have happened had I not stumbled upon Hilda Matheson’s name when I was doing research on women in journalism. So there you go, another reason to conduct regular research. Hilda was one of those gifts a writer always hopes to come across but you don’t expect to actually find. Of course, I could have invented her – that is what fiction is meant to do, I realize – but I love writing historical fiction that is grounded in real history. It’s a nice way to bring my two obsessions together. Or possibly it’s my means of assuaging my guilt about never completing my PhD. In any case, there I was, reading about Hilda, mouth hanging open, being more and more astonished that such a woman existed and was mine for the taking. The comedian Sandi Toksvig had cited Hilda in an article on women who ought to be more known and I was determined that was going to happen.

Right up to their last scene together, Maisie and she addressed each other by their last names even though they’d worked for some time together. Was that intentional?
What I love about this observation is that in fact it feels that way, but it’s not the case – they still address each other as “Miss Matheson” and “Miss Musgrave,” which would be standard for the times and women of two different ages who weren’t related. But I’m delighted that the mutual respect and friendship comes through, even with the formality. In fact, there’s only one instance where Hilda uses Maisie’s first name and it’s a moment of high emotion, a rare moment when Hilda forgets herself because she’s overwhelmed. And what’s overwhelmed her is the information that the Equal Franchise Act is being passed, guaranteeing universal suffrage. This was one of my favorite sequences to write, because there was a lot of history to think about. So many women who had worked for this and never got to see it – never even got to see the suffrage granted to a select group of women in 1918. Hilda, a staunch progressive, must have savored this moment. It was exhilarating to write her emotion here and, hopefully, convey the weight of the history behind it.

I’ve read you’re keen to see an historical blue plaque erected at her former home to acknowledge her life and work. How’s that going?
We shall see! “Onwards and upwards,” as I have Hilda say. She only finally got her own Wikipedia page! And it doesn’t mention Radio Girls, not that I noticed (*cough*). I’m really hoping that as people get to know about her, they’ll only want to know more. Because really, how could it be otherwise? She was extraordinary – and revolutionary.

Beanie’s a thoroughly aristocratic English character who’s clever, witty and great fun. One can easily see she was a bit of a rebel at her school. But she realizes she must put duty to family before her work? How did you set about developing her so beautifully as a memorable secondary character?
Thank you! She certainly was a fun character to write. I love characters who have no filter and just speak their mind. And while I always want minor characters to be fully realized themselves, it was particularly paramount in this story that all the women be in full voice. I wanted to represent someone like Beanie, who would be in a way more radical than some of the other women in going out to work, because while her comforts were greater, she still had a great many conflicts to contend with and her class privilege in many ways curtailed her personal freedom.

You lived for a time in London? How did that help your research affect the novel’s voice?
I’m generally of the mind that you don’t have to visit a place to set a work there because again, so long as you are writing truthfully about humans, you’re being authentic. Obviously, it depends, but I never think it’s wholly necessary. That said, having spent time in London and especially walking down Hilda’s street and through the BBC’s original home definitely helped me step into Maisie’s shoes and, hopefully, make her wanderings that much more real. Beyond the physical space, though, it was the research into the programming and day-to-day life of the BBC and the people who comprised it that really brought the book to life. I was extremely fortunate in that Hilda was a prolific letter writer and wrote to Vita Sackville-West constantly during their 2-year relationship (who says long-distance relationships don’t have advantages?) and that the letters are housed in the Bienecke Library at Yale, so I was able to access them with ease and get a strong sense of Hilda’s voice and inner life. Mostly, though, it was thinking about the characters and their world that made it all real.

What inspired you to become a writer?
Hm. Insanity?

What’s next for you?
I’m in that myopic stage of feeling my way into my next book. Also, I’m available for work. At quite reasonable rates. Sometimes just for food.

You can find out more about Sarah-Jane here

North London Book Group

Just did a great interview with the above book group. I love great interviews like this.

Here's the link

Wintuk and more

We went up to see Wintuk at Madison Square Garden over the weekend. I'd never seen a Cirque du Soleil production before so I was quite excited.

It's the story of a Nordic boy's quest to have snow in his village for Christmas. At first I was apprehensive when the performance began and three skate boarders began doing tricks--having watched kids outside the National Theatre in London doing the same kinds of tricks, I wasn't very impressed. Fancy turns on skateboards just don't cut the mustard anymore.

But things soon picked up when the four streetlights came to life and an array of performers came on and did their acts, all accompanied to the ethereal musical scores and chanting one associates with Cirque du Soleil.

My appetite is now whetted for a trip to Las Vegas to see one of their truly spectacular shows.

On teh subject of appetites, friends had suggested restaurants to visit for lunch. But, wanting something different, I researched the net and found a great Indonesian restaurant in Hell's Kitchen just off Restaurant Row. Time Out had given it a good review so Larry and I went there with open minds and hungry tummies. As this was Larry's first Indonesian meal (I'd been to a really good one in Amsterdam), we settled for one of their special menu's, which contained samplings of various dishes from fish to chicken.

Excellent, and all washed down with crisp Indonesian beer. Well, all except teh delicious banana in a filo-like pastry desert.

On writing and a bit of news

For anyone aspiring to have their work published, there's a very illuminating entry in Scott Pack's blog today that's entitled What was the name of the chap who rejected the Beatles?

Scott is the commercial director of the The Friday Project, an independent publishing house in the UK. I'm delighted because they will publish A Son Called Gabriel early next year and my second novel, Unusual Steps, thereafter.

I love independent publishers and TFP is the perfect house for me because it has the energy, creativity and huge enthusiasm of a small house backed by the distribution muscle of Pan Macmillan which gets their books into all the places where books ought to be. Scott will be my editor for Unusual Steps and we've already begun the edits a few weeks ago. It's hugely exciting because he 'gets' the novel and he actually edits, as opposed to some at the larger houses who, due to corporate policy and/or lack of experience, do no editing at all. As I go through the process I'll post my thoughts.


Anyway, back to writing and the acquisition process. I think it's wonderful and very useful that writers are able to tap into insights like this from a publisher's perspective. And, while he's realistic and remarks how competitive the market is, he gives encouragement and hope to unpublished writers, which is vital. He also talks about writing competitions.

Without the net and blogging, it just wouldn't be possible to get such valuable info.

Here's the link:
Me and My Big Mouth

Turning it over

Yesterday afternoon after a marathon session--and it was a marathon session with no interruptions permitted and the imbibing of lots of cups of rich, fragrant Puerto Rican coffee, no switching over to the internet at the flick of a button (the peril of having high speed) to check pinging emails or surf fav' sites--I finished the first draft of what is still called America and Me:The first two years.

(I've decided the title stays until I come up with something I feel is the publication title, which will in all probability be in the US first as it's set mostly here. I know. I know what you're thinking. Publishers acquiring the work change working titles all the time. However, I lucked out with A Son Called Gabriel because my US publisher loved it and didn't consider anything else. My second novel, Unusual Steps, will also get to keep its title, but more about what's been happening when I have something concrete to relay.)

It really is so satisfying to enter that final period (full-stop elsewhere) on a manuscript and gaze at the screen and say 'I've finished the first draft.'. It came in at 87,872 words; 31 Chapters and 313 pages. It's also split into three sections--the first and tiniest dealing with London followed by New York and Pennsylvania in a more or less equal split. I'm pleased with it, but know from my experience of working on 'Gabriel' that scenes will be added and deleted. The difference is that I have lots of material to work with.

I am now turning the project over to my subconscious--which'll work behind the scene as I focus my attention on other things--editing, chopping, analyzing and rewriting so that when I take it out again I'll be able to start writing immediately. It took me a while to trust that this is a necessary part of the creative process. I look forward to it, though I'm sometimes accused of being too distracted or 'far away', not enjoying living in the present because my mind is indeed working out issues, toying with alternative words and improving descriptions,etc. and can tune out. One thing I do know is that, during the rewrite, I will give the chapters titles rather than plain old numbers, something I've never before done.

It's been a tremendously positive experience writing about how I came to America and my first two years here. I highly recommend writing about your past to everyone. Life moves so rapidly today, I think we forget to take stock and see where we've been and how people coming into our lives and experience has affected us. I'd forgotten so many of the downright whacky and funny things that have happened to me here and the struggle to assimilate and it's shown me how American I've become.

When is it art and when is it shite?

Though I mull this question often--especially when I start reading new books whose covers I find attractive--this question came into sharper focus when I learned the iconic album Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club was released by The Beatles forty years ago today. Though I was far too young to understand its significance then, I am always deeply moved every time I hear one of its tracks played out of the blue on radio now. That it is still relevant and moving today is a sign of true art in my estimation.


I wonder if the same will be said forty years hence of another Brit's work. The artist Damien Hirst will exhibit his latest and most expensive piece at a gallery in London early this month. Renowned, admired or ridiculed for his steel and glass tanks containing a 'pickled' shark, sliced cows, whole sheep and sides of hogs, he has now cast a skull of platinum and encased it with 8,500 diamonds in collaboration with a Bond Street jeweler, which will sell for fifty million pounds to an art collector. The artist states the piece represents his 'to hell with death'--what better way to depict it than taking the ultimate symbol of death and covering in in something that represents absolute luxury, decadence and desire.

Already speculation is mounting as to whether the American financier Steve Cohen who bought Mr. Hirst's shark for millions (a shark that is now so deteriorated another replacement had to be pickled and installed) will now pony up for the skull. Or will it be new Russian money or a rich Arab, perhaps?

Some speculate that Hirst is taking the mickey, that by creating this piece from such expensive raw materials he is really deriding all the nouveau riche art patrons who fork out huge sums for his and other similar works.

Is a shark pickled in formaldehyde that rots and has to be replaced art? Or is it just a shark suspended in formaldehyde? Is the art the original shark or is it the replacement shark?

I don't have the answer. What I can honestly say is the following: if I had fifty million dollars I would neither buy a jewel encrusted skull nor a Jackson Pollack.

Turning my musings to the book world, I find I am confronted with the same dilemma when I begin a new book, most often fiction. Sometimes I will eagerly begin to read a work from a much celebrated writer, a writer who's feted and puffed in the review sections of newspapers, a writer who's won prizes, and a few pages in I slam it shut and set it aside in disgust. At first, I used to blame myself when I could not enjoy such a work. After all, he or she was critically acclaimed so who am I to judge that it's illiterate, plotless, whiney? (the latter relating to nonfiction).

Now I just say it's shite and move on.
Some might say that I'm a writer and thus jealous because these writers have received tons of exposure, sold millions of books, and their opinions are swallowed whole when they render them in public. But it's definitely not that. I love good writing. And shite is shite, whether it comes from an unpublished or much ballyhooed author.