Staying On by Paul Scott

The 1978 edition of this novel, which I discovered on the bookshelf of a charity shop, is a missed opportunity in cover art design.  On a grey background, the author’s name in brown, the title in red and ‘Winner of The Booker Prize’ in black are displayed in decreasing type size.  For some reason, to me it looked like a mediocre war novel and was rather off-putting.  And this was a design once it had won The Booker Prize, what would have been inflicted upon a less successful book?!  Or maybe since it had won the prize, the publishers thought they didn’t have to bother making it look in the least appealing? 

I feel that a definite advantage of how traditional publishing is having to hold its own against the e-book upsurge, is the extra effort that sometimes now goes into the production of the book.  Time (and money) is now spent on choosing the paper, the font, the cover etc. to enhance the book reading experience.  It all enhances the tactile experience of reading which as a diehard book fan I savour and appreciate.  Not so in 1978, although thankfully, within this underwhelming and rather repellent cover, is disguised an engaging and touching story.

On the journey through the Booker winners, this is yet another focused on the collapse of the British Empire and its consequences.  This time in India once more and as the title implies, the story is centred on an elderly colonial couple who have decided to ‘stay on’ after Indian Independence.  The first sentence reveals that Mr. Smalley dies while his wife is at the hairdresser.  And following this very matter of fact statement, to which one responds with slight indifference in the beginning, the novel goes on to fill in the particulars leading up to this event, resulting in a much more emotional conclusion by the end of the book.  The nature of storytelling is interesting, that although as the reader we already know what happens in the end, Scott still manages to weave an immersive tale through their past history and the various people they have encountered in their lives. 

The resulting novel, although its tone is irreverent and straightforward, succeeds in being heart-warming and touching in a nuanced and subtle way.  And although you travel full-circle in plot, you feel you have a transformed view of things by the end, and glad to have spent time in the company of the story, which fulfils the criteria of art rather nicely!

The Bone People by Keri Hulme

I was in a bookshop this week and saw a display of the shortlisted books nominated for the Women’s Prize for Fiction, formerly the Orange Prize established in 1996 for female writers.  It sadly reminded me that I am still yet to read Hilary Mantel’s ‘Bring Up The Bodies’ and whether it was going to win yet another accolade, but also made me wonder whether in 2013 we still needed a prize purely for women.  A quick internet search proves that I am obviously not the first person to wonder about the controversy of limiting a writing prize purely due to gender.  However, as with many equality issues, although initially one thinks that sexism is a thing of the past, it often turns out that equality is unfortunately not as ubiquitous as we would wish.  Should there be a Men’s Prize for Fiction as well?  Very crudely, it is perhaps interesting to note that amongst the Booker Prize winners since 1969 the ratio of male to female writers is approximately 2:1.

One of those female writers was Keri Hulme who takes us to her native New Zealand in the 1985 winner.  Apparently Hulme had well publicized difficulties getting this book published without it being edited.  And although it did ramble into the realms of magic realism, I did not find myself itching to edit as I have been wont to do while reading other Bookers.  Somehow the flights into fantasy were more palatable as it felt like delving into Maori myths and was basically grounded by an engaging story.

Kerewin, a creatively blocked artist who has become estranged from her family and voluntarily isolates herself from society, is visited by a boy Simon, who is mute and since being washed ashore in a shipwreck has been unofficially adopted by Joe.  The story is centred around these three protagonists as Joe and Simon become part of Kerewin’s life although she discovers that Joe struggles to control Simon’s behaviour and when drunk, savagely reprimands him.  Through the narrative of the developing relationships, it manages to deal quite sensitively with the complex web of emotions involved between many of characters.  If not explaining away their actions, it explores the circumstances and events which have shaped them.

Reflecting on this novel makes me wonder why I didn’t dislike it more as Simon was inherently quite exasperating and due to inclusion of Maori phrases, the reader is compelled to consult the glossary.  However, I did like the way that the back stories of the characters were slowly revealed in a seemingly natural way, gradually unfolding through what they chose to discuss and the way in which Hulme conveyed their thoughts as well as the spoken word.  This gave interesting multi-focal perspectives on events, particularly useful in the case of Simon who couldn’t speak.

So basically, be prepared for rambling prose with a sometimes confusing and repetitive and random plot but which somehow, just about, gets away with it.