I've recently returned from France, where I've been visiting a friend who I used to live with during my MA year in Norwich. She lives in a wonderful house, which has a minstrel's gallery and wooden beams everywhere, in the Saint Dizant are of the Bordeaux region which used to be part of the Duchy of Aquitaine.
By happenstance I have picked up an old biography of Eleanor of Aquitaine before leaving (written by Marion Meade, published in 1977), so suddenly found myself in the confusing position of travelling through modern day towns and villages, whilst reading about their medieval counterparts at the same time.
As I journeyed down straight Roman roads, through miles of vineyards and fields of sunflowers, it was so easy to be able to settle into the countryside and imagine how it must have been for that twice crowned woman to have travelled around defending the Aquitaine's interests from the acquisitive Louis VII or Henry II and how she set off on crusade, riding through the very countryside I was seeing. I had the line from The Lion in Winter (fantastic film, staring Katharine Hepburn) running through my head: 'I made Louis take me on Crusade. I dressed my maids as Amazons and rode bare-breasted halfway to Damascus. Louis had a seizure and I damn near died of windburn... but the troops were dazzled.' Not historically correct perhaps (she allegedly only rode from Paris bare breasted) but it's that kind of image that history has handed down - Eleanor the rebel!
Another thing that she and her family have given history - more tangible and therefore more real - are some spectacular churches. I had forgotten how much I love the spectacle of the great caverns these early churches truly were - no doubt fearfully cold, but a more imposing and awe inducing symbol of God it would be hard to imagine. In both Saintes and Bordeaux, one is faced with some truly stunning Romanesque and early Gothic pieces of architecture and in Talmont there is a beautiful Church set perilously atop a rock, which looks like it could topple into the sea at any moment. It was here, on a hunting trip shortly after his marriage, that Louis VII almost lost his life when a recalcitrant baron who refused to pay homage to his new overlord (those Aquitaines were a proud bunch - in the end only Eleanor would be able to control them) took some of his party hostage and forced Louis to fight for his life. How different would history have been then?!
There were, of course, vast parts of Eleanor's life that have been lost to time, because she was 'just' the wife of the king, and therefore undeserving of attention for part of the time. The fact that she was able to keep her mettle and prove her worth when it was needed is testament to her strength of character. It does present a problem for the biograoher, however, who has to resort to the 'this is what she must have felt' line of authorship whenever the facts get a bit hazy.
It was a lovely break - just what was needed to recharge the batteries after a very long term and I've come home with my head full of ideas for new reading themes. Oh, and I want to live here please ....
I was going through my back catalogue of posts, trying to spark an idea (having started out writing two posts this evening and failing to put my thoughts across coherently) when I discovered a post that I'd mistakenly left languishing as a draft back in 2008.
It does, however, say much which I still believe, so I thought I'd allow it to find it's audience after so long a wait in the wings. I've just spruced it up a bit - the wings can be an awfully dusty place ....
It should be no secret to those that have read this blog in the past to be told that I have always been fascinated by learning how a life was lived long ago. I have been hungry, ever since childhood, to know the most trivial or mundane details and perhaps this is why fiction seems to me to be such a suitable medium for capturing a life. I remember at the age of about eleven getting lost within the pages of 'Legacy' by Susan Kay - a wonderful narrative of Elizabeth I's life that wove the power of her status with the vulnerability of her personal life expertly and created a rich and broad tapestry whose focus seemed to shift with every new reading.
It can be hard for a straight biographer to do the same. Not unless you are Leon Edel or Martin Gilbert and intent on capturing for posterity every movement your subject makes (Henry James and Winston Churchill respectively) will you be able to devote the kind of microscopic attention to detail in a work of fact. The why and wherefore this is demanded as part of the package can drag the work down to the point of dullness. And if Winston Churchill was dull, then I'll take up smoking. This is where fiction allows a greater freedom.
A friend of mine, having read 'Regeneration' by Pat Barker, suggested that the true art of biographical fiction was the ability to 'paint around' the facts. This sums up, for me, the essence of what biographical fiction should be doing, and what - at its best - it does do. Many novels spring to mind which have biography at their hearts, but the ones which stand out to me as 'painting around' their central characters with the finest tools can be narrowed down to a select group.
2004 was, as David Lodge put it, 'the year of Henry James'. Three novels came out within months of each other, and it is 'Author, Author' by Lodge and 'The Master' by Colm Toibin that will always stand out for me, not least because of the way they managed to capture the essence of the man within their stories, although in very different ways.
These novels focus on the almost the same period of time; Lodge taking James' theatre career as the central theme, whilst Toibin uses the feelings of failure that arose from this unsuccessful period of James' life as his starting point. In one, James feels absolutely at the top of his game, ready to conquer the world, only to have his hopes dashed, and a friend (George du Maurier) appear to be much popular than he ever could be. In the other, James is in a world of depression, struggling to cope with the mere fact of his failure, but it is also a darker look at James' sexuality too. Both novels show a certain part of Henry James that perhaps isn't as well known as the figure of an extremely loquacious man that has been made so famous today. I think they are both fantastic - although only one was shortlisted the Booker prize - so perhaps my judgement isn't as sound as I'd like to believe.
In a biography the smaller details that the novels seek to address are sometimes cast aside to make room for larger events. 'Daphne' by Justine Picardie is just such a novel that seeks to throw the magnifying glass on smaller events that go into making a much larger one (in this case the writing of her biography on Branwell Bronte). You all know my enthusiasm for that novel, and I feel the need to borrow from Dovegreyreader, who wrote this (back in 2008) 'It's certainly hard to temper enthusiasm and not plunge overboard without a lifebelt when a book touches your heart.'
'Daphne' is certainly a novel that seeks to 'paint around' the general idea of one writing a book. Justine weaves so many threads into her novel, of deceit, jealousy, passion (both human and for literature), despair, obsession, madness, loss, failure. I could go on. I won't. We are allowed to view a side to Daphne that the public world would never see. A side aware of her own failures in her writing and in her personal life. Something that both Lodge and Toibin (Toibin to a greater extent) wrote about in their portrayals of James.
The point I am trying, inexpertly, to make, is that the genre of fiction is, by it's very essence, a natural way to present a life that has it's roots in reality. The books talked about above are ranked among my favourites, and that is because they are what I sought when younger - they fulfil the fascination I have for filling in the gaps, where the truth is just that little bit dusty.
I am SO sick of applying for jobs, so instead I will entertain myself (and hopefully others as well) by distracting myself with books.
I suddenly realised this week that I've been reading an awful lot of fiction over the past months, and my non fiction rate has slipped dramatically. This needs to be remedied, and so biography will be the theme for the next few weeks.
Accordingly, I have raided my shelves and also the library and have a stack that I intend to make my way through over the next weeks, coupled with some Edith Wharton fiction.
First up is 'The Real Mrs Miniver'. I have just finished 'Mrs Miniver', loved it in an entirely different way from loving the film, and find that Jan Stuther must be an interesting person to know about.
Similarly so is Dodie Smith, and so I've snatched the chance to read her biography, and might have to delve back into 'I Capture the Castle', which inspired me so much when I first read it.
Sneaking it's way to the top of the pile is 'Becoming Queen' by Kate Williams. I read 'England's Mistress' in one sitting in early February this year, and was captivated by the spirit that was Emma Hamilton - so different from the person played by Vivien Leigh in 'That Hamilton Woman'. I even found two coloured prints of Romney portraits in Oxford's print shop, which I really need to get framed! Anyway, bloggers like Random Jottings are waxing lyrical about it, and I have always been fascinated by the Victorian period and what led up to it, so am sure it will be a wonderful read.
Dovegreyreader's post on wartime literature, in the build up to the ninetieth anniversary of the ending of the great war, has persuaded me that I really ought to read 'Testament of Youth' by Vera Brittain.
Meanwhile, back in the fiction department, I have been inspired to read more of Edith Wharton's collection. It's been over two years since I finished my undergraduate disseration on Wharton and Henry James (entitled 'Transatlantic Contrasts: James, Wharton and the writing of displacement') and I think that it's now time to take these two up again. As an interesting side note, it was mentioned recently that Edith Wharton's very wealthy father had a most impressive library of seven to eight hundred books .... it goes to show how times have changed, doesn't it? How difficult to make distinctions between wealth, when nowadays a not very wealthy person (i.e. me) can have over 700 books before their 24th birthday.
Now though I'm going to write a letter. Seeing as how I'm such an advocate of this form of communication, I've been hopelessly lax in the last few months!
This evening, I went to a talk at St Anne's with Justine Picardie and Professor Kathryn Sutherland (who wrote, amongst other things, the introduction and notes to A Memoir of Jane Austen by James Austen-Leigh) who were in discussion on some of the bigger themes and ideas that have developed from Justine's novel.
I took a vast amount of notes, and I'll try to write it up as best I can - and I make no apologies for length! I will most probably have missed a few things, having been so interested in what I heard - if Justine is reading this, then perhaps she'll put me right, or even add some more thoughts! Some of the threads are particularly interesting to me, which I will write about in more detail, as they pertain to me, in future posts. For now, I wish to focus on Justine and Daphne.
Introductions are, I think, hard to get right. Not many people can strike the right tone, mainly because the speaker often senses that the audience wish them to finish as quickly as possible. This was not the case with Kathryn. Speaking eloquently, and calmly, she covered the usual biographical details, but also spoke on how there is a fault line between truth and fiction, and that sometimes it blurs. This is often the terms with which an imaginative writer constructs lives.
Justine started by reading the third epigram from the start of her novel, that came from Du Maurier's Second Thoughts on Branwell, where she says "It is impossible, with the Brontes, as with many other writers, to say when fiction ends and fact begins, or how often the imagination will project an imaginary image upon a living personality." She followed with the opening pages of her novel, which set the scene for the rest of the narrative.
As anyone can see (Kathryn said) from looking at the front cover, there is a constructed 1950s materiality to the book. We see a woman who is trying to write herself out of a personal crisis by writing Branwell's biography - although as Justine pointed out, he might not have been the best choice for writing out of crisis! Kathryn outlined the first three chapters, each of which deals with one part of the triumvirate narrative, which, she said, were studies in delusion, obsession and longing.
On being asked by Kathryn whether there was a particular point that had started her on the path to writing this novel, Justine spoke about her long love of both Daphne and the Brontes, and discovering during her time at University that neither was considered worthy to be studied, or even read very much. When asked by Virago to write an introduction to The Infernal World of Branwell Bronte Justine read a letter describing, in detail, Daphne's feelings that were the impetus for the starting point of the novel.
The idea of fact and fiction being mixed together was a major part of the discussion; Kathryn asked why Justine thought that the reviews she had received had been so mixed, if whether some people just didn't 'get' what the novel was trying to portray. Was Justine actually taking a big risk in fictionalising fact, in creating a novel that was strongly factual?
For Justine, she had never considered writing the story as anything other than fiction, that in writing, it was simply her point of view and in researching and talking to various family members and friends, there were at least ten versions of who Daphne was, so in reality, it seemed to be truer to write as fiction. Daphne's upbringing had already blurred the lines between pretence and reality, for she had said herself that she 'was born into a world of make belief and pretence'. She was at ease in a world that encompassed both (as her work shows) and it makes sense that Justine's novel would make use of this point also.
Even biography as we know it, Kathryn pointed out, cannot rely on fact alone. Using the original biography of Jane Austen by her family as an example, she suggested that there are few facts on Austen that we really know. Biographers who wrote after the family memoir cannot stick to the facts alone, and therefore use their imagination to fill in the gaps. The truth is difficult to hold.
From this subject, we moved to the theme of manuscripts, and how the idea of them had been weaved into the novel; how important they were to all three of the main characters. Both Daphne and Symington are drawn into a dark world of trade in manuscripts and it mirrors the world of fact and fantasy in which Daphne moved so comfortably (at least some of the time). Nowadays very few of those who write on works written long ago use the original to refer to. As Justine pointed out, those who now edit editions of Emily Bronte's poetry admit that they use transcripts - transcripts which were, in fact, copied by J.A. Symington, who - by his own admission - couldn't read the handwriting!
We moved on to audience questions, over which, for the most part, I will skim not wishing to try the patience of my readers. The confusion that had been highlighted by Kathryn earlier in the evening, was, I think, evident amongst a couple of those who asked questions, and Justine reiterated her view that she had not intended to write a biography. Lyndall Gordon (who wrote the biography of Charlotte Bronte, amongst others) was in the audience and remarked that there are often gaps in important places of a person's life, and the writer - biographer or not - is therefore able (and indeed required) to use imaginative truth.
The most intriguing question - for me - came when someone asked whether it would be possible for someone to read the novel with no prior acquaintance with Daphne or her work. Justine couldn't imagine the possibility of someone reading the book without having even heard of Daphne. They may not know her work well, but the myth of the author herself is growing (helped indeed by Justine's novel) and it would be quite unusual, if not impossible, for someone to read Daphne without knowing who she was.
These jottings are, of course, merely my own views on what I heard. I hope I have been able to give an accurate picture of the thoughts and views as expressed by Justine and Kathryn, which were both insightful and interesting.
