April 22, 2008

Why Write Poetry?

The other day I was reading The Blue And White, [March 2008] which is the undergraduate literary magazine of Columbia University students, reading an interview with the poet Mark Strand. For those of you who don't read poetry (and our number is legend) Mark Strand is a Pulitzer-prize winner poet, a former U.S. Poet Laureate (1990-91), MacArthur Fellow, and now a teacher at Columbia University where the students say he has "a striking resemblance to Clint Eastwood."Strand_better_2

What interested me especially was his comment on writers and writing. Asked by Hannah Goldfield, the young student who interviewed him, Strand responded to her question of "why is it that everybody thinks they can write?" by saying:

"Because they have to, in one form or another. But it you write, it's not just writing. There's writing and there's writing, just as there's plunk-plunking on the keys at the piano and really being able to play Schubert. Or being able to dribble a basketball. There are some people who can be taught to play basketball but have simply no talent, will never be able to put the ball in the hoop. But we don't question that fact that there are superbly talented athletes and most of us aren't talented at all.

"When it comes to writing, it's different. We believe that one can be a gifted mathematician;one can be a gifted painter; one can be a musician, but writing. Pft, oh, I can write. I can write my life story. This is what everybody wants to write. As if living through it once wasn't enough, they have to endure it again. It's so boring."

"Why do they do that?" asked Hannah Goldfield.

"I think they want some record of their existence," replied Mark. "They don't want to leave without a trace. They don't want to be simply one of the things that were."

[Thank God, we now have digital cameras! Anyone can take a photograph!]

April 21, 2008

Literary Friendships--Who Needs Them!

Sv_naipaul1 A new biography of VS Naipaul (The World Is What It Is: The Authorized Biography of V.S. Naipaul,) by Patrick French (Picador) details what Vidia Naipaul really thought of Paul Theroux (Malawi 1963-65) who he met when Theroux was 25 and teaching at Makerere University in Kampala, Uganda. Theroux had been kicked out of the Peace Corps and returned to Africa to work as a teacher.

Naipaul wanted to see Africa and had by invited by the Farfield Foundation to be writer-in-residence at Makerere. Naipaul went to Africa with his first wife, Pat. 

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Patrick French writes in his book, “Theroux was 25 years old, an enthusiastic former Peace Corps volunteer with a Nigerian girlfriend named Comfort Iruoje and ambitions to become a writer himself. Theroux was in awe of Vidia, happy to play the part of bag-carrier and disciple, and Vidia responded to the admiration by playing up to his own caricature as someone who would do and say outrageous things. They shared a willingness to upset the academic and social conventions of Makerere. Theroux noted the way that Vidia would be funny and provocative, teasing and twitting people for his own enjoyment, or to obtain information, and using archaic place names such as 'the Gold Coast' in order to outrage liberal sentiment; asked to judge a literary competition, he awarded only a third prize.”

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While they had had something of a mutual friendship at Makerere, taking trips together, for example, Naipaul quickly dismissed Theroux once out of Africa. In February 1967, while on his way to India, Naipaul sent Theroux a sarcastic letter of dismissal on the crested writing paper of the Bristol Hotel in Beirut, a missive designed to brush off a more sensitive man. He attacked Theroux use of language as inaccurate, claimed his classical knowledge was imperfect and said that his editor Diana Athill's decision to turn down Theroux's novel was right. French writes in his book, “He (Naipaul) wrote a cruelly dismissive line to a would-be novelist: 'I am happy that your journalistic ventures thrive; in this and in your other endeavours I wish you the best.'”

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Theroux didn’t take the hint that any friendship they had was over. French writes, “For Paul, a more open and abrasive personality who had grown up in Medford, Massachusetts and been roughened by four years in Africa, it was no more than a bad-tempered letter, characteristic in its peculiar way of Vidia.”

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Up to 1972, Paul wrote Vidia Naipaul 54 letters and received 32 in response; from 1973 to 1980, Paul wrote Vidia 22 letters and received no replies, except by telephone, but this seems not to have dented his faith in the friendship. He saw Vidia's behaviour as a mark of his eccentric talent, rather than as rudeness, indifference or rejection.

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Theroux disillusionment final came in the late nineties when he discovered that V.S. Naipaul’s new wife, Nadira, had thrown out all of his books he had sent Naipaul. When confronting Vidia about this, Naipaul simple told Theroux to “grow up.”

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Theroux responded with his book Sir Vidia’s Shadow (1998) that detailed in fact and fiction his friendship with Naipaul. (Earlier, in 1972, Theroux had written another book about Naipaul, an introduction to his works that was more praising of the author.)

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V.S. Naipaul's response to Sir Vidia's Shadow was to ignore it. He did not read the book, and his later remarks are consciously theatrical and Olympian, reconstructing the friendship: 'He (Theroux) spread this idea that I was his great mentor and adviser, but since Africa, since 1966, we've hardly met. He came here twice. He was infinitely amusing to me in that jungle, this rather common fellow who was in Africa teaching the Negroes, he pestered me and pestered me, wrote me letters all the time... In the 19th century there were serious travellers who went to unknown places and did reports on it. Travel has become a plebeian, everyday matter, it has become a lower-class adventure, and there are books now written for lower-class travellers. I think Theroux belonged to that category: he wrote tourist books for the lower classes.”

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One last story about Naipaul and Theroux from French’s book.

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In February 1996, Pat Naipaul died of cancer. Vidia did not know what to do. Having spent a lifetime shunning friends, he had no network of support. So that very day he wrote to Paul: 'The doctor came; and half an hour later the undertaker's assistant, very Dickensian; and Pat was taken out of her room by this assistant and the day nurse. I didn't watch. I felt relieved when she left. I telephoned some people. I even thought I would start working.'

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Paul's short, moving obituary of Pat was published in The Daily Telegraph. 'As the first reader, highly intelligent, strong-willed and profoundly moral, Pat played an active part in Vidia's work. She understood that a writer needs a loyal opposition as much as praise... "She is my heart," he told me once.'

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Two months later, Vidia married Nadira Khannum Alvi, a Pakistani journalist he had recently met in Lahore. Three days later, they held a celebratory dinner in London. Unsure how to proceed in this unlikely situation, Vidia invited the likes of his old Oxford tutor Peter Bayley, the critics Karl Miller and Francis Wyndham, and Antonia Fraser and her husband Harold Pinter as wedding guests. Paul Theroux was not invited.

April 11, 2008

The Boys From Bati, Eleven

By eleven o'clock I was ready to leave Bati. I had made my courtesy calls, and I even stopped to see the Irish missionaries. The couple were not in town. I left my card and a note saying I was sorry to have missed them and that I would stop by on my next trip to Bati. Now, I was actually curious to see what their reaction was to Jack marrying the Muslim girl.

It was getting warm in Bati and I was anxious to get out of the desert heat and into the highlands. Two hours of steady driving up the road would have me in Dessie, at an altitude of 6,500 feet, and in among forests of eucalyptus that made this town green, wet, but not lovely.

The_road_to_dessie The road winds through sharp curves all the way up the face of the escarpment. It is an Italian road built during the occupation. The drive is scenic, lined as it is with clumps of eucalyptus trees and cactus. The town of Dessie (meaning "My Joy" in Amharic) is not seen until the last few turns and then only glimpses of tin roofs flash through the thick eucalyptus. At the very crest of the rise, the road bursts into the piazza and into a small valley at the foot of Mt. Tassa.Dessie_valley

I arrived during the midday lull and was able to cruise through the normally crowded piazza. Dessie has the feel and atmosphere of a western frontier town. There are wooden buildings, wooden porches, a steady flow of cattle, horses and riders, but more often, mules ridden by tilik sews (important men) wearing the traditional white shammas and jodhpurs of the Ethiopian national dress and, depending on the weather, heavy woolen burnooses.

The men on horseback are always shoeless. The large toe of each foot hooks into metal stirrups. Their shoes are carried by a small boy, a young son or relatives, or in some sections of Ethiopia, an indentured servant, who runs along side the trotting mule.

These tilik sews are often carrying money to the bank and they have hired men from their villages to guide them across the plateaus, which even today are as wild and dangerous as once was our own frontier.

Depending on how important the tilik sew is, or from how far a distance he has come, there'd be one or two and sometimes as many as a dozen armed guides, all carrying heavy old rifles left over from the Italian occupation of the early forties.

I stopped at the Telecommunications Office in the center of the piazza. At that time in the mid-Sixties phoning anywhere in Ethiopia was difficult. Telephoning Addis Ababa, I always made "lightning" calls, as they were called. They were more expensive, but also the only fast service and I had only to wait a half hour before a line was free and I dialed the Peace Corps Office.

Or the drive up the escarpment, I had phrased how I would break the news to Dave Berlew, the Peace Corps Director, and when he got on the line, he was buoyant and seemingly happy to hear from me, wanting to know what was the word from the boys in Bati. I let a moment pass before saying I had just come from Bati and told him matter-of-factly that one of the PCVs in Bati had over the summer married a thirteen or fourteen year old Galla girl in a Muslim ceremony.

The silence from Addis Ababa at the other end of the line was priceless.

Part Eleven

April 10, 2008

Stephen King Meets RPCV Writer And Lives!

Robstephenandtony_2Stephen King was in Sarasota recently speaking at the Sarasota News & Books store. King has a winter home on the north end of Casey Key and hangs out at Sarasota News & Books store when he is down south for the winter.

Steve was at the store signing copies of his latest novel, Duma Key, and spent time talking to two other Sarasota writers, Lauren Groff, author of The Monsters of Templeton, and Tony D'Souza (Cote d’Ivoire 2000–02; Madagascar 2002–03) who recently published his second novel, The Konkans.

Before and after his reading King signed some 80 copies of his newest mystery, then talked about book tours, bad reviews, and the hazards of the writing life with Lauren and Tony.

King who has had nearly 75 best-selling books once wrote 'horror novels.' Now his writing is classified as mysteries. Regardless of where his books are shelved in stores and libraries, he has always been good about supporting other writers with friendly talk and good quotes for their books.

Years ago I got a great blurb from King for one of my novels. He praised my writing, saying, "Coyne plays rough. He goes as far as you can go...and then takes it a mile farther." Well, I was in the Peace Corps after all.

Now Steve is there to give encouragement to Tony D'Souza. He has been a good king to many young writers.

April 08, 2008

China RPCV Jake Hooker Wins Pulitzer for Investigative Reporting

Jake_hooker Jake Hooker (China 2000-02)--on the left in a Reuters photo--(and Walt Bogdanich), won the 2008 Pulitzers for their Investigative Reporting series in The New York Times entitled "A Toxic Pipeline" that exposed toxic ingredients in cough syrups, fever medications, toothpaste and other Chinese-made products that killed 100 people in Panama more than a decade after similar hazards killed dozens of children in Haiti.

Hooker and Bogdanich also won the IRE medal for investigative reporting, and the Scripps Howard Foundation's Ursula and Gilbert Farfel Prize, which awarded $25,000 annually to the best newspaper investigative reporting.

According Peter Hessler (China 1996-98) who emailed me details about the success of this China RPCV, "Jake speaks excellent Chinese, despite not having studied it before entering the Peace Corps. Like a number of us he stayed in China after his service and found work as a freelancer. The Times originally hired him as an assistant, because of his language skills, but he did so well that they finally accredited him as a journalist and started giving him bylines. I don't think they expected him to be such a great investigative reporter, but he broke the China side of that pharmaceutical series." 

Meyerml Another of the famous "China Gang" of RPCV Writers is Michael Meyer (China 1995-97), left, who has written The Last Days of Old Beijing. In the Publisher's Weekly review, out this week, the reviewer says, "Part memoir, part history, part travelogue and part call to action, journalist Meyer's elegant first book yearns for old Beijing and mourns the loss of an older way of life." Summing up the reviewer writes, "Meyer's powerful book is to Beijing what Jane Jacobs's The Death and Life of Great American Cities was to New York City."

Not a bad week for the China Gang of writers.