Talking with Lynn Shepherd

Today, I’m delighted to be talking with Lynn Shepherd, author of Murder at Mansfield Park and Tom-All-Alone’s.  

When did you first know that you wanted to be a writer?  Was there a specific event that made you decide?

I think it was always there as a dream, but that dream only hardened into an ambition after I went freelance as a copywriter in 2000, and finally had some time to devote to serious writing of my own. Two and a half unpublished novels later Murder at Mansfield Park was accepted by a UK publisher in 2009, and then by a US one, and then by an Australian one…

Which authors have had the greatest influence upon you?

I read a lot of classic English fiction, and my love for writers like Austen and Dickens goes very deep. But I’ve also been influenced by modern writers – I admire AS Byatt very much, especially her earlier novels, and the crime writer who’s had the most impact on me is Joan Smith. I love her Loretta Lawson novels.

What made you choose to write your modern take on classic novels?  Did you have any worries about tackling characters who would be greatly loved by readers?

The initial idea for turning Jane Austen into a murder mystery just popped into my head unbidden in the summer of 2008. I had no idea or intention at that stage of doing the same thing again. But once Murder at Mansfield Park was published I started to wonder whether I was onto quite an interesting and unusual idea. After all, there are many murder mysteries set in the Victorian period (some of them very good), but no-one’s done quite the same thing as I’ve done in Tom-All-Alone’s (which is published in the US as The Solitary House). In other words, creating a new story that runs parallel with another book – in this case Bleak House. And yes, there’s always a risk if you work with a classic that people love, but I think most people who’ve read my novels can see that I love those classics just as much as they do, and have written my own books in that spirit.

Why did you choose the novels that you based your books on?  In hindsight would other choices have been more fun or useful to work with?

I chose the books primarily because I love and admire them. After all, who’d want to spend all those months working with a text you couldn’t stand! Mansfield Park has always intrigued me since it’s Austen’s ‘problem child’ – she’s trying to do something different and more serious and it doesn’t quite come off, and I found the reasons for that comparative failure extremely interesting to explore. As for Bleak House, I’ve always considered it the quintessential Dickens – a marvellous book, and marvellous material to mine.

What’s been your favourite moment in your writing career?

That call from my agent saying I had my first deal! I think many writers would probably say the same.

If you could spend time with two favourite characters, one from another writer and one from your fiction who would they be and what might you all do?

Taking my own characters first, I think it would be Charles Maddox senior, the ‘thief taker from Murder at Mansfield Park who appears again, as an old man, in Tom-All-Alone’s/The Solitary House. He’s a very sophisticated and well-educated man, but he also made a career out of solving of crime at a time when there was no police force as we know it. He dealt with crimes involving the highest in the land, and the most brutal realities of life on the streets, so he’d have wonderful stories to tell.

As for another writer’s characters, I think I would it would be Robert Lovelace, the rakish libertine in Samuel Richardson’s Clarissa. Richardson is not read much these days, but Clarissa is a masterpiece of European literature, and Lovelace is by far his most dazzling creation.

And what would we three do? I think we would explore some of the areas of 18^th and 19^th century London that these two characters would have known, and then end up having what would no doubt be a hugely stimulating dinner – I’m sure sparks would fly!

How do you research your novels?  Do you research before you start to write or do you do it on an ongoing process?

There was much more research for Tom-All-Alone’s/The Solitary House than for Murder at Mansfield Park. For the Austen, most of the work went into getting the language right; for the Dickens, it was a much bigger task, because I had to bring Victorian London back to life. That meant a lot of reading. Though in principle I always do the minimum of research before I start writing and fill in the gaps afterwards, because otherwise you can fall into the trap of having the research dictate the story, rather than the other way round. I hate it when I read books and stumble over huge lumps of only partially digested research which the writer’s obviously spent days looking for, and is going to get in there one way or another!

Which research tools, sources and web-sites did you find most useful?

The www.victorianlondon.org website is excellent for the later 19^th century. The http://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com and http://austenonly.com/ sites are also very helpful for Regency customs and background.

What would be a typical writing day for you?  Do you have set times, spaces, routines or rituals?

Because I write for my day job I’m very disciplined – at the desk by 8.30 usually, and then I write through till about 5.

If you were to give advice to someone thinking of writing a novel what would it be?

Don’t give up! Having the talent is only the start – if you’re going to get published you’ll need determination, perseverance, and a very thick skin. But it can be done!

What is your next writing project?

My third book is called A Treacherous Likeness, and is, in effect, a sequel to Tom-All-Alone’s/The Solitary House. It’s out in February from Corsair in theUK, and later in 2013 in North America from Random House.

Thanks very much for talking with me, Lynn.

Tom-All-Alone’s is published in the UK by Corsair, and in North America by Random House as The Solitary House. Murder at Mansfield Park is available as an e-book from Corsair in the UK, and is published by St Martin’s Press in the US and Canada, and Allen & Unwin in Australia.

Lynn’s website is www.lynn-shepherd.com, and this includes a video which was shot in some of the locations used in Tom-All-Alone’s/The Solitary House. Her Twitter ID is @Lynn_Shepherd.

Next Friday I’ll be talking with Angus Donald, author of the Outlaw novels.  Sherwood here we come.

Sensational Discovery. Oscar Wilde interviews.

I recently visited Paris with my wife.  One day, as we strolled along the Left Bank, a tremendous rain-storm sent us scurrying into an alley for cover.  It was quite dark in the alley and I banged my shin against something hard and sharp.  I bent down to examine it and was astonished to find a battered old suitcase with rusty lock.

It is not something I would normally do but I decided there and then to take the suitcase.  I brought it home to Menton and tried to get into it.  No luck.  In the end I had to buy a hack-saw and cut the lock completely.

I looked inside and my jaw dropped open.  (This is the second time in my life that I have had such a comic book reaction but I promise you, drop open it did.)

Inside the suitcase were a mass of papers which proved to be interviews which Oscar Wilde had conducted with prominent people of his time.

I aim to post these periodically on my blog, starting with the first interview when the fifteen year old Wilde interviewed Charles Dickens only two weeks before his death.  (In fact I begin to wonder whether the two events were in any way connected.)

However, I start not with any of Wilde’s own interviews but by one from his friend, Lord Alfred Douglas, known affectionally to his friends as Bosie.

For lovers of history there is an added piquancy.  This interview took place the day after Valentine’s Day 1895 which was the opening night of ‘The Importance of Being Earnest.’

The Bosie Papers

15 February 1895

Following the triumphant first night of Oscar’s latest play we were visited at our hotel by a hysterical old woman by the name of Lady Flashman.  Apparently she had seen ‘Earnest’ the night before and, being as empty-headed as she was wealthy, took it into her head that Oscar, the darling of the London stage, would like nothing better than to write a play about her decrepit old husband.  She must have imagined that he would swoon at the very idea.

Strangely enough, Oscar decided to see the woman.  He was clearly in an exultant mood after the astonishing success of the first night.

As always he was courtesy itself although I could see through the façade that he was utterly disgusted by the aging harpy.  He pretended that he was beguiled and besotted by her and she flirted with him in a manner more suited to the madam of a bordello. 

To my astonishment Oscar agreed to undertake an interview with her husband and asked me to pass him his day-book so that he could find a suitable time.  The old baggage fluttered her eyes at him and said that there was no need to make an appointment. 

‘I’ve brought my Hector with me,’ she said.  ‘He is waiting in the lounge.’

Oscar was so delighted with her that he agreed to meet with the old man there and then.  I tried to dissuade him from this but he brushed aside my objections which I must say I found very wounding.  Then, to rub salt into my wounds, he asked me to be the amanuensis of the interview. 

Naturally I determined to refuse and make a wounding departure.  However, Oscar had made his request in front of the fawning Lady Flashman so I had to swallow my chagrin and agree.

A servant was summoned and sent to bring her old fool of a husband to meet us. 

As events unfolded I surprised even myself by discovering that I was, in fact, a superb amanuensis.  Here is my record of Oscar and Harry Flashman’s first meeting. 

Picture if you will, the refined Oscar sitting at his ease in his Norfolk jacket with the gorgeous silk handkerchief I had bought him drooping from his pocket.  Then picture the nature of his visitor.

Sir Harry Flashman was a hulking great creature, six feet tall, as broad as a navvy with moustache and whiskers from a previous century.  He looked to be aged about fifty-five or so although he was actually in his early seventies.  There was a toe-curling revoltingness about him, something which made my nostrils contract.  At the same time, I must admit he had something about him, some charisma or animal force.  It made me want to run to the toilet.

Sir Harry – G’day to you Mr Wilde.

Oscar – (rising and taking the brute by the hand).  Good day to you, Sir Harry.  Your wife tells me that you would like me to write your memoirs.

Sir Harry – (staring venomously at his wife) That’s what she said, is it?

Oscar – It most certainly is.  She tells me that you’ve had a fascinating life.  She even went as far as to call you ‘Her Hector.’

Sir Harry – (to his wife) That’s so flattering of you, Elsbeth.  Now, why don’t you get yourself off to Oxford Street and buy yourself something for the weekend.

At this point, with much false cooing and curtseying, Lady Flashman made her departure.

Oscar – Charming woman, your wife.

Sir Harry – Aye, she’s a charmer right enough.  You’re welcome to view her charms (sitting forward in his chair suspiciously) but only from a distance.  Now then, Mr Wilde, my idiot of a wife has got it into her head that you’d be the perfect person to write my memoirs.  I can’t see for the life of me why anybody would want to read them and even less so if you were to write ‘em.

Me – How dare you, sir.  Oscar is the darling of Literary London.

Sir Harry – (turning to me with a belligerent look) When I want to be cheeked by some office boy, I’ll let him know, thank you kindly.

Oscar – Sir Harry, this is no office boy.  This is Lord Alfred Douglas, son of the Marquess of Queensbury.

Sir Harry – (with a repulsive leer) Oh, so you’re the one.  Not much like your old man, are you?  I can’t see you watching at a Boxing Ring.  Or riding a horse.  (Turning to Oscar.)  Or perhaps I’m mistaken.  Perhaps you like to go riding with this young man, Mr Wilde?

(Long silence.)

Oscar – Lord Alfred’s father is a great hunter of the fox but Bosie, dear child, is more a poet by inclination.

Sir Harry – I didn’t come here to talk about inclinations if you take my meaning, Mr Wilde.  Nor about hunting.  I’m here because my wife wants you to memorialise me.

At this point I made to rise, thinking that the time to end the interview had arrived.  But Sir Harry Flashman gave me a glance like a viper which made me feel quite giddy.

To my astonishment, Oscar said that he concurred with the notion of conducting the interview.  Imagine my horror.

The brute staggered to his feet, gave me the filthiest leer I have ever received and stuck his card in my waistcoat pocket.

Sir Harry – There are Office Boy.  Get in touch when your friend has a free moment.

Then he stalked out of the room but not, alas, out of our lives.

Oscar – (with a grin) Oh do lighten up, Bosie.

Claire Tomalin’s Dickens: A Life

I can’t put down Claire Tomalin‘s biography of Charles Dickens.  I feel as if I am living in the nineteenth century, an observer of the writer’s life, perhaps a servant or maybe a butcher’s boy who calls with the chops and sausages and is astonished by his energy and sometimes alarmed by his mania.

Image via Wikipedia

For make no mistake, Dickens was a man of phenomenal energy and life-force.  His constitution must have been magically strong.  Charisma is too small a word to encompass him.

The beauty of this biography is that Tomalin’s shows him warts and all yet indicates that the warts were, perhaps, an essential part of his towering, monumental personality.  In fact there were more than warts, there were huge failings as a human being.  Yet, I am reminded of the fact that we are dealing with a man who was born almost two hundred years ago and that some of these faults would not have needed to surface in the way they did in another era.

As I read with mounting distress the harsh way he treated his wife Catherine and his young lover Nelly I thought for a moment, why doesn’t he just marry the girl?  But he couldn’t.  Divorce was not an option, especially not for a man who did so much to create the notion of the happy family enjoying the Christmas turkey.

My favourite part of the book so far takes place when Dickens was in the midst of his marital break-up, a break-up considered so terrible that many long-time friends deserted him.  He was starting a new weekly magazine and insisted that it be called ‘Household Harmony.’  His best friend Forster suggested that such a title would raise a few eyebrows.  Isn’t it delicious that the great spinner of words could not see what a terrible error of judgement such a title would have proved.  In the end, Forster’s arguments prevailed and the magazine was called ‘All the Year Round.’

 

 

 

September – a good time to holiday

Image via Wikipedia

Those people who don’t like the crowds, or the heat or don’t have children often choose to holiday in September.  Everything gets a little bit cheaper and the holiday destinations less frenetic.  I heartily recommend it.

Charles Dickens was an early proponent of the September holiday. As early as 1837 he spent September in Broadstairs which he returned to time and time again.

He leaves an interesting account of the young visitors to the resort.

So many children are brought down to our watering-place that, when they are not out of doors, as they usually are in fine weather, it is wonderful where they are put: the whole village seeming much too small to hold them under cover.  In the afternoons, you see no end of salt and sandy little boots drying on upper window-sills.  At bathing-time in the morning, the little bay re-echoes with every shrill variety of shriek and splash — after which, if the weather be at all fresh, the sands teem with small blue mottled legs. The sands are the children’s great resort. They cluster there, like ants: so busy burying their particular friends, and making castles with infinite labour which the next tide overthrows, that it is curious to consider how their play, to the music of the sea, foreshadows the realities of their after lives.

Broadstairs remained one of Dickens’ favourite holiday places but he also travelled further afield.  In 1844 he took his whole family in what must have resembled a caravan around France and Italy.  He stayed at two villas for the last six months of the year.

Even then, it was wonderful to be a writer.