Penelope Lively webchat: on Egypt, Englishness and her first memory

The acclaimed author answered your questions about her Booker prize-winning novel Moon Tiger, the state of children’s literature and more
  
  

Penelope Lively.
Profound and highly original ... Penelope Lively. Photograph: Murdo MacLeod/The Guardian

That's all for today …

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

Goodbye! Thank you all for your amazing interesting and challenging questions. Thank you all, and thank you for your responses to Moon Tiger.

Updated

MysteryTrampNR asks:

You write eloquently of rootless characters, those orphans of history like Claudia in Moon Tiger and Eva Burden in City of the Mind. [These are characters] who, while they may live in England, live elsewhere emotionally – what you call, writing of Eva in City of the Mind, a secret, “personal elsewhere”, “an invisible point of reference, known only to you, making you different”. It is a theme that would seem to derive from your own experience growing up in Cairo …

It is a theme that draws me back to your work, because, like you, my formative years were lived in the Middle East, and that sense of displacement is something I feel acutely. I wonder if you have ever become fully reconciled to being “English” or have, in some sense, felt like an outsider here? Doris Lessing once said, “Once you have left one place, you have left them all.” Do you share that sense of rootlessness and of living out of place?

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

I feel now, looking back, having been born and spent my childhood in a country that was not my own, has been, in a strange way, a rather fruitful experience. I do feel absolutely settled in this country now. I do feel absolutely English or British or whatever we are now. It is true that when I came here at 12 or 13, it was very unsettling. That experience is very deep within me. I felt I was at an angle to society, not knowing what was going on. I had an inkling of what it was like to be an immigrant - I wasn't of course, as I spoke the language and it was my home country. But it gave me an inkling, another self within me of what it is like to be like that. And I think that has been a valuable and formative thing. I don't have any sense of rootlessness now. But there is a probing root that goes off somewhere else, as it were.

Hillgazer asks:

Are Claudia’s experiences in Moon Tiger based on any real women? My book group is meeting tonight to discuss the novel, so this online discussion is very well timed!

Also, I’ve also noticed in other books we’ve read that the main character is often a writer – and that writing and being an author are the themes underpinning the narrative. What are your thoughts on this?

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

I needed to a lot of background research before writing Moon Tiger, so I obviously read a great deal of literature about war time correspondents, accounts of their lives. That said, Claudia wasn't based on anyone in particular. I needed to know how she would have operated as a war correspondent at the time, and then grow to be herself. I used a great deal of the Imperial War Museum in London, where they have film reels of the correspondents out there at the time. You can watch the films unedited, see films of the Libyan campaign in the desert, which was invaluable to me. As was my experience there as a child, I had the feeling of what Cairo and other places - not so much the desert, of course - what they smelt like, felt like, sounded like. So it came a little from personal experience as well.

I think Claudia would have called herself a historian, rather than a writer. But most historians would.

MachenBach asks:

In Moon Tiger, I was struck by the recurrence of spiralled figures – the Moon Tiger coil itself, but also the asteroceras fossil, and even the individual chapters seem to spiral from the present (Claudia dying in bed) through stages of the past to those core events of the novel. As Claudia asserts: “Life has its core […] its centre.” Is this merely Claudia’s opinion, as a historian, or is it one that you share?

One of the things I most appreciated about the novel is that, despite the (presumably) formative influence of these core events on Claudia, nothing is over-explained or reductively psychologised. The answer to the question as to why Claudia is the type of person she is remains nicely nebulous. This uncertainty perhaps mirrors the argument between Claudia and Jasper, where the former asserts that “You can’t dismiss ancestry,” while Jasper believes that “I am what I make myself.”

What elements of yourself do you attribute to your “ancestry” or to your self-making?

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

I like this suggestion about the spiral in Moon Tiger, interesting. Actually I think it relates to the operation of memory - you could think of it in a spiral. It is an interesting point, I rather like it.

I also like the point made about the argument between Claudia and Jasper - they're both right, in a sense. But not totally right - Jasper certainly isn't, as we all come with the baggage of ancestry, ancestry meaning being born into fortunate circumstances whether they are financial or genetic. You didn't make that, it is something you came with, so Claudia has a good point.

But it is the sort of thing Jasper would say, as people like him don't like to think anything but their own efforts brought them to where they are. Claudia, of course, is always determined to argue with him and won't allow him to think that. But I think Claudia's point is very important.

Elements of myself - certainly. There are fortunate and less fortunate sides. It is a cliche but you make the best of what you are given. I think that I have made the best of a very reasonable set of cards.

AlfaBetta asks:

The free library at our beach had a copy of Ammonites & Leaping Fish. I grabbed it last week because I was yearning for an escape as I approach my 60th birthday, one where I learn to write a memoir. You brought up solipsism at least three times in the first chapter. Is solipsism is a risk for writers (and by extension for their readers), or does it enhance stories as well?

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

I think that memoir writing has to be solipsistic. Its not really a risk but a necessity. The challenge is that you must make this solipsism interesting to the reader. It must read as a convincing narrative, not a self-indulgence. This is why memoir writing is very challenging. It can be done in many different ways. For me, I prefer following the operation of memory itself. We don't remember in a linear sense. We have a selection of slides in the mind, as it were, and any of those can pop out of the mind. In any hour you could think of something that happened as a child, 20 years ago or yesterday. Memoir should reflect that.

The kind I don't like trots through the life from birth to death. I've always preferred memoirs that are eccentric - Hilary Mantel's Giving Up The Ghost and Janice Galloway's All Made Up.

I also think, challenge as it is, everyone you should think about writing a memoir. Every life is interesting and every way of writing about it would be interesting. It might well reveal to the writer the things they needed to think about, to consider, to remember. I would suggest everyone thinks about it!

allworthy asks:

I came to your writing first through your children’s literature, which enthralled many children I taught. The Whispering Knights a particular favourite. Is writing for children different from adults? What are the decisions you make in determining this is a book aimed at children, even though adults enjoy them anyway. Is children’s fiction in good shape? Thanks for all the pleasure you’ve given me.

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

Alas, writing for children left me many years ago. In its essence, it is no different - you are just trying to write the best thing you possibly can. But you are writing for a different audience - an innocent one. All children want is story. You've got to get that going on the first page. If you don't, you lose the child immediately. I've always felt you must not write down to children. You must write for them, with your own concerns and voice, but for them. In Thomas Kempe, I share my concerns about the operation of memory - but I don't want children to think about that! I want them to have read a ghost story! So don't write down to children, but allow your adult concerns to be the 7/8ths of the iceberg.

If a children's book is any good, it must be readable by an adult as well. WH Auden said: 'There are good books which are only for adults. There are no good books which are only for children.' Absolutely - this is why the amazing books like Alice are as readable to adults and children, simply because they were written out of the writer's own interests, concerns and inspirations.

As for knowing if a book was for children - I always knew before I started. The idea would come and I'd know the audience. I cant say if children's literature is in good shape - all my grandchildren are grown up, so I'm not reading to them anymore!

'Forty years ago, I saw everything differently'

JoannaTroha asks:

Do you feel as though your personal relationship to your characters shifts with the changes in your life and how you perceive the world? Changes in empathy, compassion and judgment, for example?

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

This is an interesting and provocative question because it makes me think about how one's own life experience and writing mesh together, and therefore, very probably change. I see the world differently now, at the age of 85, to when I first saw it when I began writing at the age of 40. Forty years ago, I saw everything rather differently. I remember thinking 'how do I write about someone who is 70?' I had no idea. But I've never been a man either. You do these things from a position of perception, observation and experience.

But I feel I have been writing differently in old age than earlier. I'm fortunate that, so far, I've kept all my marbles. I've published three books in my eighties. I would see them - certainly the Purple Swamp Hen - reflecting a different set of assumptions and worries than I did in The Road of Lichfield. You are not aware of this as it happens. You don't become aware of the ways your outlooks, empathies and compassions change over time. But I think it is a very interesting question.

Fleur01 asks:

Have loved your writing for so many years. I reread The Road to Lichfield so often, most of the pages have detached. Why is the word “palimpsest” so important to you? It recurs so frequently.

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

Oh dear! Palimpsest! This is where copy editors haven't been assiduous enough. If it crops up that much, someone should have taken a red pen to it.

It is something I see a great deal - one thing imposed on another. I see it most in the landscape. I've always been interested in English landscape and it is a continuous palimpsest. You see the outlines of medieval fields under the fields of today, or the shadows of prehistoric circles of the landscape of today. That is what a palimpsest is. I see that occurring everywhere - the way memory works, the way people change. It is a fascination with the word, but it should have been knocked out by copy editors!

Camaradeau asks:

Greetings from an admiring reader in Pennsylvania!

I recently finished Cleopatra’s Sister, and loved it, though Treasures in Time remains my favourite.

I am curious to know how closely you’ve worked with your translators. Do you feel particularly attached to the literature of any language other than English?

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

I wish I could say I had worked more closely with translators. I was always pleased when one got in touch and asked questions or made suggestions. There were one or two I exchanged messages with. I had a Dutch translator, who told me endlessly that (apparently) there is a problem in translating English to Dutch, in that there are more terms for the same things - so she was forever looking for a Dutch term to comply with a word in my texts. There was one French translator who read English fluently and refused to speak it. My French wasn't great and so we'd have very strange conversations!

I've most read and enjoyed Russian literature. I suppose most English readers would love Tolstoy or Turgenev. My French isn't good enough to read in the original, so I read it mostly in translation.

Sunshot17 asks:

Aside from her woeful and unforgivable lack of looks and charisma (in Jasper’s and Claudia’s eyes), I think Lisa clearly suffers in comparison to the chimerical, miscarried child of Tom, that she would never live up to the fantasy of the highly desired baby of the beloved, dead fiance. Do you agree?

Also, given the great love between Claudia and Gordon, do you think they would have equally adored a (secret?) baby born of incest, if they did indeed take their relationship to that extreme?

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

I'm not sure that the problem with Lisa that she suffers in comparison. I think Claudia is not good with children and would never have been good with any child. She is not a good mother. She is just one of those women who is not able to do that.

You raise the question of incest - assuming their relationship was an incestuous one. Actually, it is completely ambiguous. You're reading it that way, other readers might read it differently. I am frequently asked 'did they or didn't they' - my answer is always: what do you think?

Earliest memory: under a mosquito net in Egypt

LLCoolJ_ asks:

I am a huge fan: A few years ago, in what I considered a somewhat unorthodox job interview for a hi-tech administrative job, I was asked, “Which person – living or dead – would you most like to be?” I responded, “Penelope Lively.” When I was offered the job, I turned it down because of the blank stares I received. (“No readers here,” I grumbled.)

I have three questions; please feel free to pick and choose and discard:

– So much of your work has focused on memory: what is your earliest memory?

– I recently read the lovely A House Unlocked, where you describe, among other things, a sampler of Golsoncott (with its war refugee children), stitched by your grandmother, “a fine needlewoman”. Do you do any sort of needlework?

– What is your favourite word? (I have a bet with myself that it begins with an “A”.)

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

So the first: there's a whole bundle of early memories, its hard to know which is the earliest. They're all sited in Egypt. I remember being in bed around 4 or 5, in a bed covered with a mosquito net. When you went to sleep the net was tucked into the mattress, surrounding you with a filmy white canopy, the best way to fall asleep. I often thought about doing it in London - completely superfluous as there are no mosquitoes in North London.

Absolutely not! I used to sit with my grandmother who did needle work and she tried putting a needle in my hand, but no, I never took it up. When I was a young woman, back when there was no cheap clothes or Primark, a lot of us made our own clothes. I made clothes for very small children because that was the cheapest thing to do. But I could never do anything beyond a small A-line.

And I think you are guessing it is ammonites - absolutely yes! Ammonites are my favourite. I do also remember being told anti-disestablishmentarianism was the longest word in the English dictionary, which springs to mind.

Updated

PamelaButler asks:

I very much enjoyed Moon Tiger, and am grateful to Sam and the Reading group for introducing me to your work. We read Rebecca West’s Return of the Soldier before Moon Tiger. I was struck by many resemblances between West and Claudia – uncompromisingly unconventional, writer, a life of adventure, long-term lover who fathered a child she did not have a particularly good relationship with … Was West’s life an inspiration for Claudia?

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

Interesting that you see this parallel - I have to say no I'm afraid, though I can see why you say it! Claudia sprang to life completely by herself.

Read Lively’s 2010 article for the Guardian about writing Moon Tiger here:

juliewhitney asks:

I absolutely loved Moon Tiger and have pondered over what made Claudia Claudia. How did you go about constructing her character? Claudia tells us no man measured up to Gordon until her late 20s (presumably when she met Tom), but it would seem Gordon didn’t apply the same analysis to his choice of life partner. What led you to choose Sylvia for him rather than someone who would be more of a match for Claudia, someone more likely to disrupt their “aristocracy of two”?

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

Speculating about the relationship between Gordon and Claudia, had Tom survived, is impossible, because to suppose a different outcome for the novel would be to write a whole other novel! But thinking about that relationship, I found it interesting to write about an intense sibling relationship between two highly competitive people. I felt someone like Gordon would have done that almost perverse thing of marrying someone completely like himself, like Sylvia, rather than his match someone like Claudia. It just seemed right.

Magrat123 asks:

I have come to your work rather late, which is my loss! Recently I have read The Purple Swamp Hen and Making It Up; the latter was particularly helpful for this discussion as regards confabulation.

Unlike some readers, I did not dislike Claudia. She is opinionated, sometimes stridently, argumentative by nature and cannot suffer fools or people she regards as complacent or lazy. But she is a shrewd observer of people, and is never wilfully unkind or cruel.

I did enjoy the dig at academic historians who attack others who dare to write entertaining books. My question is, who are the historians who have influenced you, and who are the historians you enjoy reading?

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

People seem to have very mixed feelings about Claudia. Women often like her a lot more than men do; men seem to either not like her very much or be alarmed by her.

As for historians, I read an enormous amount of history. I would say, of contemporaries, I read Peter Hennessy. I would read anything he writes. In the past, Keith Thomas's great books have had a great effect on me, and his generation fo histories - Simon Schama, Peter Laslett and so on.

goodyorkshirelass asks:

Hello, having read and enjoyed your novels, I had the pleasure of meeting you and Jane Gardam at the Edinburgh international book festival in, I think, 2015. A stimulating session, after which I bought Consequences. I found it completely absorbing and am about to read it again. Would you say that the impact of of one person meeting another inspire or influence your writing?

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

I think fairly obviously, the consequence of people meeting don't inspire or influence writing. they're often the agenda of a novel, the jumping off point, because like many novels, my novels revolve around chance encounters, romance, fortuitous meetings. But i wouldn't say inspire or influence - I'd say they're an essential part of any novel.

Penelope is with us now …

User avatar for PenelopeLively Guardian contributor

Hello everyone, looking forward to 4pm.

Updated

Join us for a webchat with Penelope Lively on 1 August

I’m delighted to say that Penelope Lively will be joining us for a live webchat on Wednesday 1 August at 4pm BST.

Lively is the author of more than 20 works of adult fiction, more than 30 works of children’s fiction and five works of non-fiction, alongside numerous reviews, radio programmes and television scripts.

Many of her books, like Moon Tiger, Heat Wave, and Oleander, Jacaranda are rightly regarded as classics. She writes with precision, compassion and eloquence about time, our place in the world, love and loss, and consciousness. Her books are profound, moving and dazzling. They’re also often highly original. Lively has an unusual ability to bend the rules of structure, voice and chronology - but never at the expense of compelling story-telling. She writes with such smooth skill that, as a reader, you are barely aware that you are enjoying something that could easily be termed “experimental”. Better still, her books can be as sharp and cheeky as they are formally daring. This is, after all, the creator of Thomas Kempe, the 17th century ghost who causes such gleeful chaos in the village of Ledsham and so enjoys persecuting priests.

Kempe’s story (The Ghost of Thomas Kempe) won the 1973 Carnegie Medal. In 1976, A Stitch In Time won the Whitbread Children’s Book Award. Her first adult novel The Road to Lichfield was published in 1977 and was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize as was 1984’s According To Mark. Moon Tiger, of course, won in 1987. Lively is also a member of the Royal Society Of Literature, was awarded an OBE in 1989, a CBE in 2001, and made a Dame Commander Of The British Empire for services to literature in 2012.

These honours seem all the more impressive since Lively’s first book was published in 1970, when she was in her late 30s. Before that, Lively had been raising a family, had attended St Anne’s College in Oxford, and spent the first 12 years of her life in Egypt, where she was born in 1933. This upbringing famously inspired scenes in Moon Tiger, as well as evocative works of autobiography like Oleander, Jacaranda and Ammonites & Leaping Fish, not to mention some of the exquisite stories in Making It Up.

Meanwhile, here in the present, Lively continues to write and fascinate her readers. Her most recent publication is Life In The Garden, which was described here in the Guardian as “beautiful” and a “book to treasure.” We are very fortunate that its author has made time to be with us.

Penelope Lively will be answering questions on Wednesday 1 August at 4pm BST - but do please feel free to get yours in early.

 

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