Are writers worse off if they have an English degree?

I've really been enjoying the press coverage of the Edinburgh Book Festival, and it sounds as if there's some really interesting stuff going on, with a great line-up. Among the authors speaking at the event was The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time writer Mark Haddon, who apparently had this to say last week:

After a quick google search, I found out that Mr Haddon was speaking from experience: he graduated from Merton College, Oxford in.... English Literature. Perhaps if anyone went to see him speak, or have more insight into the context in which he was speaking, let me know. But I was... mystified. After all, I'd say about 90% of kids sat in Literature seminars have or have had writing aspirations. I went to the University of East Anglia, whose alumni include Ian McEwan, Kazuo Ishiguro and Anne Enright, and is stuffed to the concrete ceilings with novelistic and poetical talent; so it's possible I'm a little biast.
But it did lead me to contemplate what Haddon meant. And I came up with my own shoddy list of why an English degree could hinder writers (whether or not I believe it is a different matter.)

Your own work will never be good enough.

I can't even read a passage of Nabokov without feeling that sharp, sweaty pang of intense envy that the man can write better in his second language that I could ever dream up in my first. I can't imagine how it would feel to someone who must sit down at a desk, searching for words with every writer they've ever admired breathing down their necks.

You are hyper-aware of your reader.

A writer sitting down at their desk will more often than not have their reader's expectations weighing heavily on them. Every passage will be poured over and reworked for maximum impact (unless you're Jack Keruoac. No-one wants that.) And if you have an English degree, you'll read for meaning and possibility; you'll wonder, how will someone receive this? Will they get this reference? Oh god, what if it comes off as pretentious? What if someone will a poor grasp of irony gets hold of this.....THESE ARE ALL WASTED WORDS. Score through, start again, another cup of coffee. PANIC.

You've spent an ungodly amount of time reading THEORY

If you've done any Humanities based subject, just reading that line will provoke nausea. 'Theory', like perms, power shoulders and Bananarama had its hey-day in the eighties: and although its arguably done a lot more for the world than the aforementioned things, it's also generated some very bad things. 

For example, I once sat in a Medieval Writing seminar. We were all sat around, giving our reasons for taking the module. (Mine was, they made me do it, and I sulked all term.) One particular pain in the arse piped up, rolling-papers and tobacco in hand, with a smug expression: 'I want to explore the effects of post-structuralism on Geoffrey Chaucer.' Yes, some very bad things have come of theory. And Mr/Ms Writer BA(Hons) English Literature will be very aware of it, and of people like Monsieur Poststructuralist, who'll be smoking roll-ups, trying to impress girls with your novel in hand. 

I'd love to round up some of my fellow English graduates, and not-fellow successful writers like Zadie Smith, Philip Pullman and Martin Amis to get their take. And then, I'd hand over to Carol Anne Duffy (Philosophy), J.K. Rowling (French and Classics), and, if I could resurrect him, John Keats (Medicine), and get their take on it. 

What do you think? Are you a writer with a Maths degree? Are you an English Grad who thinks that Mark Haddon's talking rubbish?

(I think he is. I struggled with this article.) 

Autumn / Winter trend inspiration from Novels

Sashaying down the runway, onto the pages of Vogue and into your local Topshop, the flapper trend is shimmying its way into the trend sphere again, and it's all thanks to the lovely Carey Mulligan, who is playing Daisy Buchanan in Baz Lurhman's The Great Gatsby, which I believe is coming out at Christmas. 

She looks great in the trailer, and in my mind is a great choice to play one of the most fashionable ladies in literature. The buzz around the Flapper trend, and a chapter of my dissertation I'm currently writing about clothes as a way of representing some pretty abstract thinking, got me to wondering: which characters deserves a trend of their own? I would mention Lolita, but I really don't want to go down the Katy Perry path. Who does. 

Morvern Callar, Morvern Caller by Alan Warner

To get Movern's look, you will need an array of skimpy clothes from the nineties, that will take you from your dead end supermarket job on the west coast of Scotland, to the bars in the Costa del Sol. They'll need to withstand quite a bit: the dismemberment and burial of your ex-boyfriend, drug-induced raving, and meetings with literary agents. Must include a walkman with eclectic mix-tapes. Accessorise with minimal talking, and dubious ethical reasoning.  

Henry Winter, The Secret History by Donna Tartt

I would describe this look as.... blackmail-able. Look expensive and wear some fabulous glasses. But the most important element of this look is the blue sheen of the skin that can only be achieved by being a linguistic genius, and pouring over the minutiae of Ancient Greek grammatical nuances in a Liberal Arts collage library. Also, the shadow of guilt written across your features. An elitest trend, sure. Maybe Daphne Guinness should give it a go. 

The Lady of the House of Love, The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter

Every few months, the Gothic trend comes a-stalking, turning us all into vamps. I suggest we take it that step further. To really get deep into this trend, you'll need to look both child-like and utterly world wearied. This is best achieved by wearing a mouldering wedding dress, carrying flithy tarot cards, and batting your huge eyes at virginal young men on bicycles. Feasting on small mammals for the dedicated (and sick) only.

Maurice Bendrix, The End of the Affair by Graham Greene

I feel like Blitz fashion will make a big splash in the upcoming months. Channel this look with ease with a jaunty trenchcoat. Simple! But what really nails this is an expression that just screams "I hate you more than I hate God." Make this look pop by sneaking into churches, taking on multiple identities to throw off people who care about you, and chain smoking. 

Bertha Mason, Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

This look is a Creole-heritage juxtaposed with some nineteenth century hysteria imagery thrown in to lend it some nonchalance. If I had to sum it up in a phrase...I'd call it 'Madwoman in the Attic'. Just stay away from open flames. 

So let's give the street style photographers something to really get excited about this season! Personally, this season I'm going for a Where the Wild Things Are vibe in my jammies. No copies. 

*Or you could ignore this ridiculous article and just go for the Flapper trend. It's pretty. 

Have you ever taken sartorial inspiration from a book?

Carey as Daisy in The Great Gatsby

On Zadie Smith

Over the weekend, The Guardian's Review (Saturday 18th August) section featured an extract from Zadie Smith's new novel NW. If you missed it in print, the extract is on their website, so go and have a read if, like me, you're a Zadie fan. I won't spoil it too much, but it definitely whet my appetite for its release (next Monday 27th. Get your pre-orders in!) She's also appearing at the Edinburgh Book Festival on the 25th, for any of you who are lucky enough to be going. I have a sad face on because I can't. 

The buzz around NW is reminding me to have a reread of the novel that started my big girl crush on Zadie as a teenager. I found White Teeth in a used book shop, read it, read it again, and told everyone I wanted to be the next Zadie Smith. A fair few years, a horrifyingly embarrassing Cambridge interview and absolutely no creative writing done at university, and I've realised it won't happen. But I still love her, and still owe a lot to her.  

I could go on about her inclusion on many universities reading lists, the critical attention lavished on her work, the tags generated to describe her work (Hyperealism, for those interested), and the impact her style has had on contemporary writing. Gush gush gush. But what strikes me most about her is how funny she is. It remains a mystery to me how she writes so convincingly about people: how much her creations have made me ache and crease with laughter. 

When she emerged with White Teeth, still fresh and flawed and wonderful, she made being a bookish young woman sexy and cool. She gave me hope as a gawky, extremely unpopular teenager, ignored by boys and cool girls that I had something great to offer - a brain stuffed with books, the powers of observation where my voice failed, and a loaded pen. I even read The Autograph Man with enthusiasm. (Still worth a read.) She stuffed E.M. Forster, Virginia Woolf and Vladimir Nabokov into throughly modern narratives. She pointed me in directions I never thought to follow. She was, and remains, a guiding voice for me. I'll never churn out an On Beauty, but I reckon I could take Zadie on in a read-off (and lose graciously but with pride). I'll let her off for inking a book deal at nineteen. Ridiculous. 

The ZADIE SMITH READER

White Teeth

I don't really need to mention that she wrote this at Cambridge during her BA, do I? No. Because it makes us all feel bad.

The Autograph Man

I'll defend this. It's still better than some author's best work. Quirky tale about an awkward man trying to pin down an elusive and reclusive old movie star. 

On Beauty

Based on Forster's Howard's End, this is a campus novel not written by David Lodge, or Philip Roth, and it's brilliant. Dense and juicy. 

Changing My Mind: Occasional Essays

I love her piece on writer Zora Neale Hurston, and her musings on Katherine Hepburn, which made me rush out and watch The Philadelphia Story and Bringing Up Baby. Good call Z.S. 

Do you agree or disagree with me about my longterm girl/literary crush? Are you excited about NW?

Young Publishers Tips.

Like many Literature grads who don't really want to let go, I'm trying to get into publishing. I know many people in the same boat, doing the rounds of internships and applications, and I feel their pain. It's truly frustrating trying to break into the business you love when it's so competitive (especially, unfortunately, for Arts graduates). After years upon years of picking up on tidbits, I thought I'd share some hopefully useful tips for anyone in my situation. Please do get in touch if there's anything you'd add, or even feel free to tell me I'm an idiot and going about it in entirely the wrong way.

• Join Society of Young Publishers.

Joining up to the SYP does mean paying £30 if you're not a student, and £24 if you are, but it really is worth it. Being a member gives you access to a pretty niche jobs page, advertising Editorial, Production, Digital and Sales jobs, as well as work experience placements. It also has a calendar of events and meet-ups designed to help people looking into the industry, or just starting out. 

• Frequently browse The Bookseller either online or in print.

The Bookseller is the publishing bible: it details sales trends, job shake-ups and new appointments, and LUCKY FOR US has a massive section of jobs. I can't emphasise enough what a massive help it is: just browsing for half an hour in preparation for an interview will give you a huge boost. For anyone on work experience, ask someone in your department to point you towards their copy - most companies stock pile them, so if you're twiddling your thumbs after making everyone a morning coffee, have a read.

• Follow companies on LinkedIn or Twitter.

A fairly obvious one, but companies often sneak in a tweet or a link to job opportunities. Take note of people they retweet too - don't be afraid to get in touch with someone in a position you aspire to be in; whether that's the Head of PR at a fiction publishers, or a features editor at a magazine. Here's a small shortlist of companies (all fiction/ non-fiction publishing, I'm afraid, as I'm biast) well worth following:

Harper Collins UK

Transworld Books

Random House Group

Quercus Books

Peirene Press

Sceptre Books

Faber Books

Vintage Books

Virago Press

Penguin

Publishing Talk

• Milk your University Resources like an exhausted heifer.

If you're still at university, go to the careers office. Publishing is a big industry, so without a doubt they'll have lots of resources to offer, including copies of The Writer and Artists Yearbook. They'll also have information about networking, CV construction, unadvertised jobs etc. etc. For anyone worried that this ship has sailed because you had fun at university, don't worry. Many offer post-graduation services for alumni, sometimes for a fee, which you'll have to judge whether it's worth it. 

• Learn how to bake, or be crafty and get a friend to help you out.

Being in publishing entails long hours sat at a desk in an office, like most jobs. I don't know if it's a general office thing, but in my experience, in a publishing office, a bit of cake goes down extremely well. It gives everyone an opportunity to take their minds of the minutiae of English Grammar for a few minutes, and a particularly good batch or unusual recipe will make you memorable. Just remember to be hygienic and warn anybody of potential allergy triggers. And resist the urge to revenge-bake, The Help style. Even if you've had the worst possible time. (See my post on my own nightmare internship.)

• Offer your services for free.

Because it's a fairly crap time for all, and arts graduates need cheering up, there are hundreds of culture blogs and sites springing up all over the place, crying out for submissions and editing. Try Artshub's writing and publishing section - there are normally loads of voluntary positions at blogs and sites. It looks great on your CV, you'll get an audience for your work, and you get to talk about (pretty much) whatever you like. Unless it's neo-Nazism, in which case, stop reading this as you don't deserve anyone's advice, and you should be ashamed of yourself.

Best of luck to all, and remember to message or comment if you have anything to say.

Writers for Vogue US

Vogue.com have just released photos from 'The Custom of the Country', a fashion spread in which Russian model/actress Natalia Vodianova is photographed as the legendary author Edith Wharton. The photos also feature some of the most prominent writers in the US. You can read interviews with many of the subjects, also from the world of film and art here. All the following images are taken from the article, and were shot by Annie Leibovitz. 

Far left: The Virgin Suicides and The Marriage Plot author Jeffrey Eugenides, as Henry James: 

“I’ve read so many of James’s novels, as well as Colm Tóibín’s The Master [a novel based on the life of James] and Leon Edel’s biography. I don’t feel like I resemble Henry exactly, but I understand the man.” 

Third from left: Pulitzer winning writer of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot  Díaz as lawyer Walter Van Rensselaer Berry.

Second from right: Everything is Illuminated writer Jonathan Safran Foer as architect Ogden Codman, Jr.

Are you a fan of this shoot? Does fashion and literature mix well? Do you also slightly fancy Jonathan Safran Foer? (despite Extremely Loud and Incredibly Boring?)

Pixar's 'Brave', and how fairy tales have screwed over mothers.

Princess Merida and Queen Elinor from Brave

Last weekend, I had the good luck to attend an open air screening of Pixar's latest exercise in how to make people feel, Brave. It's about a Scottish Princess more at home on a horse with a bow and arrow than sat on the throne being confronted by the prospect of an arranged marriage to one of three suitors. There's so many things to love about this film: it's visually gorgeous, has a stunning Gaelic-folk soundtrack, features adorable baby bears, and boasts a great cast, including the lovely Kelly MacDonald as Princess Merida.

What I most loved about it, however, was the relationship between the Princess and her mum. Fairy tales are notorious for their suspicion of mothers. A healthy relationship between a daughter and her mother in the fairy tale canon is rare, if not impossible. Fairy tale mothers who appear as characters often become complicit in some nefarious business that endangers their kids: think of Hansel and Gretal's mother slamming the door on her brats, or the Goose Girl's mother sending her off to be married in the company of a totally bitchy and evil handmaiden. More often than not, the mothers are bumped off well before the story starts (pretty much every tale ever: Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, The Little Mermaid, etc. etc.), or supplanted by an evil stepmother.

In Brave, Queen Elinor is a superwoman. She runs the castle, handles a boisterous husband and her naughty flame-haired triplet sons with humour and firmness, and *spoiler* reacts to being turned into a bear by her daughter in a surprisingly gracious and classy way. She brought tears to my eyes. As a fairy tale enthusiast and feminist, I was extremely pleased that Mama bear was not only a great role-model, but actually an active presence in her daughter's life. I know that Brave's audience are delighted that the film features a kick-ass heroine who is comfortable with being a single lady, but the real progress for me is reversing a pretty toxic trend in the whole genre.

For another awesome mama, look to the avenging angel Mother in the titular Bluebeard revision story in Angela Carter's The Bloody Chamber (a collection of much-needed ripostes to conventional patriarchal fairy tales):

You never saw such a wild thing as my mother, her hat seized by the winds and blown out to sea so that her hair was her white mane, her black lisle legs exposed to the thing, her skirts tucked around her wait, one hand on the reins of the rearing horse while the other clasped my father's service revolver and, behind her, the breakers of the savage, indifferent sea, like the witnesses of a furious justice. 

When publishing internships go badly wrong.

Like many literature graduates, I want to be a publisher. Not just a publisher; a fiction editor; not the easiest thing to get into at entry level. In fact, fairly impossible. To help myself out as much as I can, like everyone in the world, I've completed various placements at publishing houses. I've made tea, chatted to authors, franked and posted more mail than I can imagine in my head at one time, and, the best feeling in the world, worked on actual people's manuscripts, and months later, seen those manuscripts as lovely bound books, being sold in displays in bookstores or featured on Amazon.

I've had wonderful experiences; but, let's face it, that not great reading, so I'm going to share a nightmare placement with you. I don't want to find myself being assassinated with a hardback style guide, so the company in question will remain nameless. I was floating with happiness at getting the placement - a fiction department at a very recognisable firm, with a list of clients that makes me want to cry.

I arrived early, wearing my most sensible ensemble, with a bag of paper and pens with a face like sunshine, eager to meet my colleagues for the next couple of weeks. I was escorted to my desk, with my email set up, having toured around, clocked the kitchen so I could tea-brew my way into favour. I was sharing a desk island with three young women not a lot older than me, and on receiving a fairly cold and disinterested meeting, I reassured myself they were probably busy, and warm up once I'd proved myself to be the least threatening person they could encounter, so happy and grateful to be here I'd stand pretty much anything. And I almost did.

A sparse morning passed. My offers of making coffee batched were largely ignored, which was fine. And then the office left.
And when I say this, I mean a mass exodus of miserable, unfriendly people. I kept trying to make eye contact with the unlucky guy tasked with looking after me, a clearly hideous punishment distracting him from his real work, who seemed to be one of the few still there. I emailed, asking if there was something I should know..?? Had I missed something....totally my own fault of course...???
'Oh, there's a big meeting on the other side of the city that everyone's going to. You can stay or go. It doesn't matter.'
Right.

At first I dismissed it as a small oversight, no big deal! Not their fault. But then...I was an intern of less than a day, left in a largely empty building by myself. I could have lit my desk on fire and danced naked around it and it wouldn't matter. Actually, thinking about it, that maybe would have go down better than daring to offer people tea, and disturbing them to ask if I could help them with ANYTHING AT ALL.

Two weeks passed very slowly. I worked on some sporadically brilliant things, I must have done reports on every submission they had. I began to hate the fairly evil and catty girls around me, who obviously had never been jobless, broke, terrified, and desperate to make a good impression. I gave up on sweetness and friendliness. Instead of greeting everyone with a smily good morning, not just without reciprocation but without acknowledgement, I sat tight lipped at my desk. At lunch, I got up and went, only to hear them mutter, 'oh, bye then', and bitch about me. I couldn't win. Being nice I was a pain in all their arses, being indifferent I'd proven to be an even bigger insult to them.

What I learned from them, after two weeks of tears, daily entanglements in a newly created inferiority complex and a letter to HR, was how not to run an internship. In fact, I believe after my lengthy discussions with HR, who privately agreed with me that the people of the department were fairly awful,  took my advice that they should stop running my placement. I hope they took into consideration my clause, 'until the personnel got some manners.'


So - if any employers stumble across this: please take it from an intern:

1. Don't leave interns in an empty building. They can sue you.
2. Curt post-its go in the bin.
3. Don't leave interns in the care of people who may be brilliant at their jobs, but are compassionless androids.
4. We're people too. And at the moment, we're very very grateful for anything we can get. Please be nice to us.

Great novels about longing; plus, I don't care about 50 Shades of Grey very much

Julian was good at being in love. But he was clever enough to know that what he really liked about being in love was the state of unconsummated tension...One had to believe that these lovely creatures were, in potentia, the longed for intimate friend from whom nothing need be hidden, by whom everything would be understood, forgiven and admired. But Julian was clever and observant enough to see that love was at its most intense before it was reciprocated.
A.S. Byatt, The Children's Book

I'm determined not to pay more mind than is due to the cash cow that is 50 Shades of Grey, as I think its getting quite boring to hear people reiterate the same thing. I'm going to hold my hands up and say I haven't read it, I have no real desire to as I'm ambivalent to a text that has taken on this liberating mantle for female sexuality whilst telling the story of, from what I can gather, a naive young woman entering into a sexual dynamic that makes her uncomfortable just because she likes a man. And is then rewarded with marriage. Radical!

Rant over, ultimately I don't particularly care; it hasn't impacted my life apart from the fact that there's more black underwear on sale, which suits me fine. But what the 50 Shades phenomenon has made me think about is how desire represented in literature. I can walk into my nan's cottage and survey her bookshelves or walk into the library to see precedents of 50 Shades; naughty novels of virgins with heaving bosoms encountering quivering members; or head to Waterstones to pick up some real classy filth, like Anais Nin and Henry Miller.

You really don't have to strain yourself to find erotica to suit yourself. We've reached a point where taboo has crossed over into the everyday at all levels. Explicit depictions of sex are found in lavishly awarded 'highbrow' works, and some of the most prominent writers have turned their hands to writing pure erotica. A couple of weeks back, the Guardian Review published an article inspired by 50 Shades, featuring a page spread of authors including Jeanette Winterson and AL Kennedy writing little naughty gems of a couple of paragraphs; either in seriousness or with a smirk.

I'm absolutely pro this movement for adult readers, but there comes a point at which I feel exhausted by the pneumatic sex lives of my favourite characters. Sometimes, I like a bit of unrequited or halted passion that stops before the bedroom.
To this end, I present to you some of my favourite books about old fashioned, unconsummated longing. Because, many more of us can relate to that than to ball gags. I think.

The Virgin Suicides, by Jeffrey Eugenides (1993)

A story about a house of self-dooming teenage sisters in a fragile and unhappy household doesn't sound like a breeze, but there's something about this novel, with its chorus of love-sick boy-neighbours, that is utterly pure and charming. For a brief summer, the boys observe the girls with a haze of love and concern, following the suicide of the youngest sister. A passage detailing the boys playing vinyls to the girls over the phone, as they are holed up in their bedroom by their repressive and clueless parents is one of the most moving I've encountered.

The Body, by Hanif Kureishi (2011)

Kind of a cheat, as this novella within a volume of otherwise pretty tepid short stories is about a senile novelist who is given the opportunity to 'upgrade' his body by having his 'self' grafted into the body of a beautiful (dead) young man, in order to have sex with a cast of hundreds, take drugs, and behave very badly indeed. A really heartbreaking moment comes when he spots his wife across the road, and finds himself longing for the intimacy that he has left behind, and for the body he is so familiar with, seen through physically fresh young eyes. She thinks he's travelling alone. He realises that he is. 

Girl With a Pearl Earring by Tracey Chevalier (2000)

More than any other piece of fiction I can think of, this short n' sweet novella really makes use of its portrait source material; it's luminous and beautifully worded as well as being uncliched about the nature of the artist-muse relationship. The 'girl' Griet is a servant in painter Vermeer's household, and through snatches of dappled light, hair uncovered and flesh pierced and jewelled, the sexiest sexless affair unfolds.

Diary of a Bad Year by J.M. Coetzee (2007)

An emigrant South African writer spends his waning years in Australia lusting after his Filipino neighbour Anya. It's not as creepy as it sounds, and is a hell of a lot smarter. Coetzee is not Philip Roth. The novel's ruminations on impotent desire and ageing is as painful as is possible; and Anya is not the idolised Venus many writers would be tempted to make her. 

A very small list I know, and I've tried not to go for obvious ones... but I want to hear other people's suggestions? What's your favourite book that skirts around the bedroom?