Supping, or ghost writing, with the devil …..
I love Richard Flanagan’s writing, and the compassion which is evident in the writer, from his ability to see the redeemable in the flawed, and the flaws in the heroic. Flanagan’s characters never fit easily into a perceived stereotype, even when we think they might. This writer is one at home in nuance
Although I will admit that the extraordinary height and depth of Narrow Road to the Deep North is not reached in First Person – and, in some ways, such a very lacerating exploration into what it might be to inhabit the best and worst aspects of humanity – might not be a journey which could be made again by a writer. In a way, I suspect it might be necessary to swim in shallower (though perfectly interesting) waters for a while.
Not that First Person is in any way, superficial, but it is certainly games-y, the writer writing about writing, being savage and mocking and funny about the whole ‘business’ of writing, publishing and its commodity status. And Flanagan plays with the reader too, making us wonder just what is autobiographical here, how much is Flanagan his central character Kif Kehlmann? It is the early 90’s Kif is an aspiring literary fiction writer in his twenties from Tasmania, who, having difficulties getting published, and with an impending family to feed, accepts with misgivings something which feels like a betrayal of his Art – to ghost-write the memoirs of a criminal. Siegfried, ‘Ziggy’ Heidl is a high end corporate fraudster, and his memoirs, in these days of success often belonging to the tawdriest and loudest figures, will be gold-dust.
Flanagan, as he has made clear, is to a certain extent, mining his own past. In the early 90s, Flanagan, a Tasmanian, an aspiring writer in his 20’s, finding it difficult to get published, ghost wrote the memoirs of a corporate fraudster, John Friedrich. And some further parallels to Friedrich are mirrored in some of Heidl’s story, as I discovered, doing a bit of research after I had finished this book
Still from movie Thalaiva
Ziggy is a complex, dangerous, controlling man and Kif is very quickly out of his depth. Ziggy is a somewhat charismatic figure, in a frightening way. He has hidden depths of thought and perception in some ways, whilst having completely unhidden, bombastic, narcissistic, mendacious shallows in many others.
Caught between the devil of the publisher and his advance, the need for the ghost written book to be published yesterday, whilst the story, Heidl, and potential sales are hot, the deep blue sea is Ziggy himself . Struggling to do proper journalistic investigation to flesh out a rather evading, evasive story and the turgid detail of Ziggy’s memoirs which Kif is being hired to polish, Kif is progressively getting drawn into something quite dark. If you like, biographical detection work is going on, and cans of disgustingly wriggling worms will pour forth.
And, for Kif, he is going to be irretrievably changed by this encounter, with this having knock on effects in his personal, family life, and with a significant childhood friend who has been the means of getting Kif involved in the Heidl project in the first place. Past, present and future will all get cracked.
The structure of the book is not linear (it often isn’t these days!)
An older Kif, now working in reality TV (another kind of manufactured lie) looks back on the young Kif, making a Faustian pact, accepting the business deal to ghost write these memoirs, rather than ‘literature’. Difficult to tell whether Mephistopheles, in Kif’s case, is evasive trickster Ziggy, or the publishing house hiring him on the cheap to ghost write. A publishing house whose supremo :
was frightened of literature. And not without good reason. For one thing, it doesn’t sell. For another, it can fairly be said that it asks questions that it can’t answer. It astonishes people with themselves, which, on balance, is rarely a good thing. It reminds them that the business of life is failure, and that the failure to know this is true ignorance
The book does contain challenges for itself – Kif is possibly not a very good writer (though Flanagan is!) So, writing not very good writing (there are excerpts where Kif is trying to hone his manuscript) is inevitably a bit of a tightrope.
This is a book which has certainly divided readers – both professional reviewers and us happy readers and reviewers for pleasure.
It is certainly one I’m recommending, but do find myself in a slightly curious position of being not sure, amongst my bookie friends, of knowing who will love it and who will be utterly bemused by my recommendation of it
Look inside, browse, take a punt.
It is a very different book indeed from ‘Narrow Road’ and that in part is my appreciation of it – Flanagan doesn’t rest on his own laurels, but is a writer who explores other paths – he is not a ‘play-it-safe’ writer, even with his own strengths and success
Now, I am never sure how useful it is to know anything about an author’s own nature, but I must reveal that what first drew me to read Flanagan at all (Narrow Road) was hearing an interview with him on Radio 4. What i picked up was : here was someone who was not sucked into media hype – or even into any media hype about himself, with having been nominated, and then winning, the Booker with that book. This was not a man who answered glibly, rather, revealingly, thoughtfully, spaciously. I liked his stillness, presence, and felt that he listened to the interviewer, listened to how he understood the question, and tried to answer from an honest place. That was what drew me to read Narrow Road, as much as its nomination and subject matter. And I found what I detected in the man, in the writing.
Late last year, having just read, and still in the process of digesting, First Person, I accepted an invite from BBC World Service Book Club, to attend a broadcast interview with Flanagan, where Booker winning book would be discussed with him, and questions taken from around the world. And I was even more impressed by what I experienced as an authenticity in this writer. And his ability to be talking about wider, deeper matters than what he is directly talking about. I was scribbling frantically, interesting things said, which have given further reflection – quotes below are not from the book, but from that interview and Q + A. I felt I had been present at something quite unusual. It was the first such World Service Book Club event I’d attended, but, talking afterwards to some people who regularly attend, that feeling I had was verified by others
“It is the job of the novelist to describe. It is the job of the reader to judge”
“It is the job of the novelist to journey into the soul”
“Memory is an act of listening and creation”
He said that he was against the idea that literature can ennoble or save us, but that it (literature) is OF life – chaotic, mysterious, and not separate from life
He referenced Nietzsche, who said hope was the cruellest emotion, to which Flanagan’s response was “without hope we are nothing….the highest expression of hope is love”
“(A) work of art – their great strength is close to their great weakness”
“If we take our compass from power, we will find only despair – if we take our compass from those around us we will find hope”
Of course, these were all reflections arising out of discussion and Q + A about Narrow Road, but I took away a lot of sustaining stuff to mentally and emotionally chew on
There was one point where I disagreed profoundly, bur did not leap in to interject something I wanted to continue to mull over – that idea that literature cannot ennoble or save us – personally, I think that it is BECAUSE good literature is prepared to be chaotic, mysterious – like life itself is, and therefore, sometimes deeply uncomfortable – that it can take us to places where we refuse to go, and make us inhabit chaos and mystery, that is, inhabit life itself, the life of others, the life of other, in ways we sometimes do not want to. It is in our living that we sometimes try to separate from what life is – reducing to the easy soundbite, the pat response. Literature, art itself says, “Listen, Look, and makes us WAKE UP!” And waking up, surely is what may save us?
I received this as a digital review copy from the publishers, via NetGalley
Lady Fancifull 
Sounds fascinating Lady F, and I think it *does* sometimes help to know about the writer – it gives context (and I’m finding that kind of parallel in the Spark I’m reading just now. But I’m with you on books – the big reads of my life really *have* saved me at times.
Its interesting, isn’t it ‘the life’ is something which is I believe out of fashion in academia. Sure we need not to confuse autobiography and the use of an artist’s experience as a foundation or mine for their work, but we can’t pretend that the writer or artist produces something which is not intimately connected to them. It’s not 100 000 monkeys randomly tapping at typewriters for 1000 years to produce the works of Shakespeare or whatever statistics deem it would take!. And I do think that what ‘speaks’ or does not speak to a reader is the specific voice of a particular person who expresses their voice through their writing. .
While I’d never argue about the importance of books, I think I tend to side more with Flanagan on that one. Literature might show us aspects of life unfamiliar to us, or show us our own lives in unfamiliar ways, but I think it’s only people who have already ‘woken up’ who’ll read them. His earlier quote, that literature doesn’t sell, is unhappily true – in the short term anyway. If a book achieves the coveted ‘classic’ status, then it will probably be read by many over time, but I fear the Flanagans and Flanerys of this world are talking to a tiny subset of wakeful humanity.
This one appeals to me more than The Narrow Road, which in the end I decided I couldn’t face.
But although the semi awake or the fully awake may be the readers, I think the habit of reading (and art, generally) is to startle and awaken – again and again Lucky the child of reading parents, lucky the child where the habit is fostered and encouraged, from an early age
That is so interesting what you say re this appealing more to you – and reinforces me in my musing ‘I am not quite certain with this one, who will be drawn to it and who won’t’ – as I think (generally) that you are less drawn to writing about writing itself than I am – but, I may be wrong?
You are quite correct, and that aspect is why, although this one does sound more appealing, I’ll probably hum and haw for a bit and then decide to wait for his next one…
Great review.
Thank you, Kate
Strangely, I just started reading Narrow Road to the Deep North yesterday. Already, I’m fully engaged with that story. It’s satisfying to learn something more about times past (though devastating), to appreciate wonderful writing, to experience the richness and chaos and unresolved nature of life as the story moves back and forth in time, to be challenged again to find a way to think about an enemy. I think I see good story and good writing as leading to (no, providing an opportunity for) a deepening of experience/thinking/feeling, and, for those of us who are willing to engage (needing some degree of awareness??), the possibility of unlocking or stretching areas of limitation or fixedness we hold, as well as feeling the recognition of and connection with shared lives. In time, I look forward to reading First Person too. I am also attracted to connecting with the writing of thoughtful people. Thanks for some more insight into Richard Flanagan’s thinking.
Thank you for your thoughtful comment, underrunner. Inevitably i wish I HAD spoken up to say that my experience as reader IS that literature can help in our ‘salvation’ . I think it was knowing that the questions were being organised with timed call ins across the world which made me perhaps wrongly think ‘from the floor’ would disrupt running. But of course the programme itself did not go out live, but would later be edited back to keep to a shorter schedule of transmission.
It is surely no coincidence that that most narcissistic, self-obsessed, unaware and unempathetic, unintelligent, intellectually and emotionally, of world leaders is no reader!
Fascinating review Lady F. I’ve been to WSBC events and they’re always food for thought. I have The Narrow Road to the Deep North buried in the TBR which I’m hoping to get to soon and you’ve informed my reading of it, for which many thanks 🙂
I certainly want to go to more! I think the big challenge is they have invited me from reading reviews on Amazon – but often, I read the book years earlier, so my memory of it is no longer brilliant which means that whatever question I MIGHT have had if I read it a month or so ago, has vanished into the lost land of never asked questions at the time!