Nicola Barker, shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2007 for her novel 'Darkmans', gets candid in an exclusive chat with City Times
NICOLA BARKER describes her novel 'Darkmans', shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2007, as "a kind of ghost story in which the spirit - a cunning, 15th century jester (a real historical figure) - gains access to people through their speech, through language."
She's a fan of German and American writing and finds her London environment very stimulating. "One of the things I love best about London is how different cultures press up against each other," she says in a candid chat with City Times.
What inspired you to first start writing?
When I was a small child I always used to enjoy spending a certain amount of time on my own. I'd build little camps - under tables or in rubbish bins - and then sit in them and chatter away to myself. Sometimes my mother would happen across me and ask, 'What are you doing in there?' and I'd say, 'I'm telling myself a story.' So then she'd ask,
'What's it about?' and I'd say, 'I don't know. I haven't reached the end yet.' Eventually I began to write the stories down. At some level I imagine I must find the act of creating stories comforting or therapeutic. I'm certainly very lucky to make a living at it.
Short stories or novels - which has the more powerful effect? Who are your favourite authors?
I always say that short stories are like a sneeze but novels are like the flu. That said, sneezes can be very satisfying, I often think. At the moment I'm reading a huge amount of turn of the (last) century German writing. I've always loved Kafka but lately I discovered Stefan Zweig (Beware of Pity made my flesh crawl - it's fantastic!) and Thomas Mann, who I just adore. After I completed Darkmans I read The Magic Mountain. When I finished it I cried for about an hour. It's such a quiet book, so gentle, but it shook me to the core. And obviously then there are all the predictable influences - Martin Amis (who I met when I was nineteen because I wrote a dissertation at college about his early novels), Ted Hughes, Angela Carter etc. I love American writing, especially Philip K. Dick. I was incredibly saddened by the death of Ryszard Kapuscinski recently. His writing on Africa is just breathtaking.
Do travels influence your writing? Are any of your characters taken from real life?
I travelled extensively as a child and in my early twenties. My family emigrated to Johannesburg when I was nine and then I returned to England with my mother when I was fifteen. This experience gave me a profound sense of what it meant to belong (and not to belong) and has definitely had a powerful impact on my work. Living under apartheid changed me as a person - and as a moral entity - forever. In my twenties I travelled a great deal, but increasingly I've struggled with my conscience over the inevitable social, cultural and environmental damage tourism can cause. I love Jamaica, for example, but the travel industry there is vile. It excludes the local population. It diminishes them. It's like a cancer. I think the most beautiful place I've ever been to is Egypt. When you step off the plane for the first time there and struggle to inhale the hot, dense air you feel yourself instantly transformed into an utterly different kind of being. I've certainly used real people in my books over the years - my book on David Blaine, the magician, being a case in point - but when I invent characters they are generally totally imagined. I see my characters as being like friends. I spend an awful amount of time in their company. They have to be multi-dimensional. They have to be complicated. They are often flawed. I don't really see the point in inventing somebody who already exists (that defeats the whole purpose!). I may well use a particular character trait I've observed, though - or certain mannerisms, or little anecdotes people tell me. Sometimes I probably do this without even realising.
How would you describe Darkmans? What were your feelings after writing it?
It's such a huge, dense book that I generally find it almost impossible to summarise or encapsulate in words. I suppose it's a kind of ghost story in which the spirit - a cunning, 15th century jester (a real historical figure) - gains access to people through their speech, through language. It's a book about how each culture is defined by the language that its people speak. It all sounds a bit complicated and high-falutin', but at root it's quite a funny book. I see it as a novel that's easy to read but difficult to comprehend. It's also a book about how people are shaped by the things that happen to them and how sometimes it feels almost impossible just to reach out and love each other, even though there's no real reason not to. The book took me about five or so years to write and it was a fairly gruelling process. The plot is very complicated and was difficult to keep it in my head all the time, so I rarely took any time off. But I was proud of it when it was completed. I thought it was an original piece of work, a challenging piece of work.
Do you feel writers have a social responsibility?
That's a very interesting question. The way I would answer it is by saying that all artists have a responsibility to follow their hearts and their consciences, to be true to themselves, to question the prejudices of their culture and in so doing to question their own prejudices. I certainly have an agenda as a writer. I want my writing to change the way that people think. Certain things make me very angry and I react to them through my fiction. I think the British can be terrifyingly smug and insular and small-minded. I often worry that we take too much for granted, that we live in a tiny, self-centred bubble, and this embarrasses me immensely.
Tell us about where you live. Do your immediate surroundings influence your work?
I live in the East End of London in a place called Wapping, right next to the river Thames. I have a view of it through my window as I write. It's a fascinating area and used to be a part of the old docks so is full of converted warehouses and cobbled streets. A few years ago the whole place smelt of spices and tea. But things are very different now. It's highly residential. Full of tourists. A street or so back from the river and the landscape changes dramatically. You pass through a traditional, working class cockney area, and then beyond that you find yourself on Cannon St Road which is like a little Bangladesh. One of the things I love best about London is how different cultures press up against each other. It's always wonderfully stimulating to live in an environment like that.