Interview with a Siren

I recently did a Q&A with the up-and-coming American book blog Sirens of Suspense, which is run by the distinctly siren-like Chantelle Osman. Rather than focus on any one book, she was interested in looking at all of them, and seeing how they all fitted together. The result is below:

Unlike many authors with a historical bent, you don't specialize in one era. Your books are all very different, in both theme and location—pre-WWII Berlin (The Einstein Girl), Revolutionary Russia (Zoia's Gold), Communist East Germany (The Valley of Unknowing) — and require a lot of research. Tell me a little bit about what inspires your choices? Are these periods of history that have always interested you? Do you have a wish-list of places/times you'd like to visit with your work?

I don’t deliberately choose a setting, and then look for a story that will work there – at least not consciously. The premise comes first, and in developing that premise I will set the story in whatever times and places work best. That said, modern European history took up most of my studies at university, and I’ve retained an interest in the subject ever since. I guess that, for me, places like Berlin or Dresden or Stockholm are close enough to be familiar, and yet just far enough away to feel challenging and different. But if a good story idea came along that demanded a contemporary non-European setting, then that’s what I would write.

I don’t have a wish-list of places to use as a setting. It would be nice to have that degree of control over my literary destiny! But, as I said, I’m pretty much at the service of the story, and go where it tells me to go.

Your latest novel, The Valley of Unknowing, features protagonist Bruno Krug who embodies both the author's dream come true and worst nightmare. He garnered great fame and success with his debut novel, but has been unable to write anything half as good since. Was it emotionally challenging to put yourself in his shoes? Can you talk a little bit about creating Bruno, and also a bit about the political nature of creative endeavours in Communist East Germany?

The fact that Bruno is a novelist made writing about him more enjoyable for me that it might otherwise have been. I got to exorcise some demons, and to draw on my own experiences as a writer in developing his perspectives and attitudes – even though some of Bruno’s more literary reflections didn’t survive beyond the first draft! Bruno is in part a product of his childhood experiences (his most famous book is called The Orphans of Neustadt), and of German history; but his life as a writer also informs – or misinforms – his view of the world. In fact, Bruno can’t help but see his life as a living fiction; it’s almost the only way he can make any sense of it. (Some readers have pointed out that since The Valley of Unknowing is a novel, Bruno is right on the money, but I think you can be too clever about these things!)

Your father was an industrial chemist and your mother an officer in British Intelligence. What led you to the written word? Did your parents foster this love at an early age?

My parents were supportive of anything and everything I wanted to do; so it was always up to me. I was first drawn to the theatre, and it was in that area where I first tried my hand – very tentatively – at writing. I was at university then. I subsequently turned to prose fiction because working solo was really the only avenue open to me, my studies being over. Once I was on that road, I found it increasingly difficult to get off! Part of me still gets very excited, though, about the performing arts, because I love creative collaborations (at least, when they work!). I have co-written one play, which saw a number of successful fringe productions. I would write more, but I don’t think anyone would pay me to do it!

Every mystery/thriller author would probably kill (excuse the pun) to have a parent who was, for all intents and purposes, a spy. Is this as exciting as we all imagine? Did her work at all prompt the uncovering of secrets that is a common thread in your books?

For much of her career in intelligence, my mother worked alone behind the Iron Curtain without the protection of diplomatic immunity. This was highly unusual, especially for a young woman, and I think it was exciting for her, although not infrequently frightening as well. However, her story only became known to me when I was an adult. I suppose it is possible that years of obvious tact, and a certain guardedness about the past, may have influenced my outlook subliminally, but I’d probably have to go into psychoanalysis to know for sure! Certainly I am drawn to characters who don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves. That much I can say.

Earlier in your career you collaborated with mystery writer Gary Humphreys for a series of books under the name Patrick Lynch which focused on developments medicine and biotechnology. Unlike those forward-looking novels, your more recent work ties to the past. What prompted this change?

I’ve always had an interest in science – another family trait, this time from my father’s side. The six Patrick Lynch novels were all built around nightmares; dramatic and disturbing events made possible by the advent of new biotechnologies or by Man’s (witting or unwitting) impact on the natural world. They were carefully researched and quite journalistic books. When I began to focus on my solo work, I suppose I was probably ready for a change of mood and a change of scene. Contemporary Sweden and revolutionary Russia were what came along (in Zoia’sGold); and that pretty much suited the bill. More historical novels followed from that, although The Valley of Unknowing, being set in the late 1980s, does not strictly qualify as ‘historical’ by the most common definition. I’m quite happy about that, actually.

What's coming next for you?

I have two writing projects for the New Year. I’m going to start drafting a book set in the immediate aftermath of the First World War. The starting point here has been some largely forgotten - but I think extraordinary – aspects of the conflict, and it’s going to be taking me into some dark territory. I may also be collaborating on a big screen adaptation of my previous novel The Einstein Girl, which was optioned last summer. It’s more than four years since I worked on that book, and the prospect of helping craft a screenplay is very enticing.

The Einstein Girl moves screenward

Today I went up to Holland Park to meet Emily Hickman of The Agency, who has been ably representing me on various screen-related matters over the past year. In her newly refurbished office I signed an option agreement on the screen rights to The Einstein Girl (aka Das Einstein-Mädchen), the counterparty being the German actor Sebastian Koch, who is in the process of setting up a new film production company in Berlin. 

Right now Sebastian is probably Germany’s most bankable star, and certainly one of its most highly regarded. Until recently he was best known outside his native country for his role as the playwright Georg Dreyman in The Lives of Others (see above), which won the Oscar for best foreign language film in 2006. He has since added leads in many English language productions, most recently Unknown (2011) opposite Liam Neeson and Albatross (2011) opposite Jessica Brown Findlay. Over the past few months, as well as popping over to Greece to star in God Loves Caviar with Catherine Deneuve and John Cleese, he has been shooting the lead role in Suspension of Disbelief (see below),a new thriller being directed by the Oscar-winning director Mike Figgis, of Leaving Las Vegas fame. As soon as that's done, he'll be playing the villain opposite Bruce Willis in the latest installment of the Die Hard franchise.

During the course of last year I had the pleasure of meeting with Sebastian twice in Berlin (once at the famous Einstein café in Charlottenburg, which is well worth a visit). They were very enjoyable meetings, and the possibility exists that we will collaborate on the script development for The Einstein Girl. Sebastian is a bit of an Anglophile, and a great lover of Shakespeare, lending his weight to several Shakespearian ventures in Germany. Whether The Einstein Girl ends up heading in an English or German language direction, though, has not yet been determined. I guess, in the end, like so many things, that’s a decision that will be determined by finance.

In any case, I’m really delighted that The Einstein Girl’s filmic destiny has ended up in such talented and charismatic hands, and I’m unusually confident that something special will eventually emerge.

Christmas under construction

Building works, complicated by the strange lay-out of our house, have been going on around us since late November. With noise and dirt and endless consultations with my Albanian builders, plumbers and electricians, this has not been a very productive time work-wise. Still, at least the roof is now finished, finally freeing us from the nightly dread of indoor rain, in spite of the fact that there are now holes of various sizes all over the building (several of which I found myself forlornly plugging with old champagne corks...)

With luck things should have returned to normal by the end of January, and then I'll be able to get back to writing and research. In the meantime it is nice to receive updates on the progress of other work-related projects, even if I'm not actually involved in the creating. In that vein, I just received this short video taken at technical rehearsals in Rotterdam for the one-woman drama based on The Einstein Girl. Apparently the music, which I rather like, is used in the show.

The Einstein Girl incarnate

Starting on November 25^th a one-woman play based on The Einstein Girl (or to be more precise Het Einstein Meisje, its Dutch incarnation) begins touring around the Netherlands, starting in Maastricht. The show is written and performed by an up-and-coming Dutch actress called Annemarie Hagenaars (see above and below), and directed by Sylvia Weening.

I haven’t seen the show, but there is talk of having it translated into English for performance in the UK and beyond. I hope that happens, because the video trailer on her web site looks intriguing (http://www.annemariehagenaars.nl/). Apparently Ms Hagenaars travelled to Berlin to research the role, and sought out many of the locations in the story. It’s wonderful to see such enthusiasm, and I hope her show is a great success.

In any event, I can say that Annemarie represents the first living embodiment of The Einstein Girl’s eponymous heroine, even if she does not turn out to be the last.

The Einstein girl in Poland

The Polish translation of The Einstein Girl was published last month, with this rather elegant (and historically authentic) cover. The title in Polish is actually The Einstein Case, because to translate the original title word-for-word produces something indistinguishable from Einstein’s Girlfriend – which is definitely not what was intended. My polish publishers, Książnice, originally suggested Einstein’s Daughter, but for me that was too on-the-nose – as well as being the title of a non-fiction book published a few years ago in America.

In terms of the number of titles published, Poland has been my most faithful market to date. In all, seven out of eight of my books have been published there. That’s more even than the UK. Perhaps there is some faint Slavic strain running through my prose ... or maybe that's just the luck of the draw!

A library education

I must admit to not knowing very much about public libraries. Until a few years ago I didn’t go to them all that often, partly because there wasn’t one on my doorstep, and partly because having to return the books in time felt like a nuisance I could do without. And yes, I suffered from the common prejudice that libraries were essentially musty places where the books, like the customers, were rather too well-worn.

All that has changed. My son Leo, though, who is four in August, is a big consumer of pre-school and early years literature. He requires a constantly renewed diet of the stuff, which Uta or I are required to read aloud before lights out – and often (less delightfully) very early in the morning. My local library has an excellent children’s section, and without it we’d be very hard put to maintain Leo’s interest. We take out about ten books at a time, changing them about once a fortnight. On top of that we buy books, because we know now exactly what our son likes best: evidence, if any were needed, that Waterstone’s has no better friend in the high street than the public lending library.

Jan Bild, my hostess at the Berlin Intercultural Reading Groups, turns out to know a thing or two libraries, having spent most of her professional life as a librarian. She is what you might call a campaigning librarian, having successfully fought to keep open a number of libraries that short-sighted (one might say philistine) councils have sought to close at one time or another, including libraries in my own borough of Wandsworth. She has also been instrumental in bringing library and self-teaching facilities to Wandsworth Prison – in the face of institutional obstruction and bottomless cynicism – with measurably beneficial results for all concerned.

And it doesn’t end there. Her reading group network in Berlin, which began life under the auspices of the British Council, is widely recognised as a model. Jonathan Coe, Georgina Harding and Debbie Moggach have been among the authors recently accepting invitations to its ‘meet the author’ events in the German capital. In my case, this involved a Q&A with Jan, and lots of questions from the audience (the latter being rather an un-German element; reading events in Germany being simply that, for the most part). The evening, which was held at an extraordinarily large, airy and modern library in the district of Steglitz-Zehlendorf, was very well attended and very lively.

Jan has strong views about where British libraries are going wrong. It isn’t just that they’re starved of money. It’s also that the management in many cases have got it into their heads that what they need to pull the punters in is lots of current bestsellers. That means lots of books about vampires and the latest recommendations from Richard and Judy. In other words, as Jan puts it, that they should try to compete head-on with Tesco. This is a mistake. The limitation of Tesco, even of most specialist book shop branches, is the limited range of titles it carries. If you are in the market for an Edith Wharton, for example, even a decent sized Waterstone’s is unlikely to carry anything except The Age of Innocence. Public libraries should be places where you go for the classics, for good books that may never have been on a bestseller list, or which haven't been near one for years. They should be places of range and depth – not simply places were you can get hold of the latest fast seller for £3.99 less than it costs at the supermarket.  I agree with this analysis – but then, I have to admit, I’ve never been much drawn to what’s current in fiction anyway.

The Ingeborg-Drewitz Library in Berlin

Dash to Berlin (and back)

After seven weeks in New Babyland, I’ve won a 24-hour furlough for myself in the German capital – at least, I’m hoping it’ll be 24 hours. It could easily turn out to be less if my plane is late arriving. BA may be The World’s Favourite Airline, but Heathrow is definitely not the world’s favourite airport, at least not for travellers on a tight schedule, of which I will be one.

The schedule has two items. First I’m meeting an eminence of the film industry, to explore the possibility of a movie based on The Einstein Girl. Journeys from book to screen take a long time, and require a great deal of luck and/or persistence. This is like the third or fourth step on the proverbial journey of a thousand miles; but then again, a journey can turn out to be rewarding in itself. So I am travelling, as ever, hopefully.

After that, I’ll be going to an event organised by a network of Berlin readings groups. Again, The Einstein Girl is the book under discussion [Ingeborg Drewitz Bibliothek in Steglitz, starting at 7.00p.m. Entry free, all welcome. For more details visit: madeintokio.com] The novel is set in that city, of course; so I hope those in attendance will feel I’ve captured their home town faithfully – not that anyone present will remember it as it was in 1932.  That’s probably just as well…

When I get back, I’ll have to start thinking about returning to work. I’m awaiting editorial notes from my editor at Harvill Secker on The Valley of Unknowing, due mid-June. Until those are in and dealt with, the final version of the book will not be available for anyone else to see (except my friend Claudi, who is currently reading it for cultural/historical/linguistic slip-ups, and doing a wonderful job). Meanwhile a new book idea is slowly bubbling away in the back of my brain. Whether it’s a book I should attempt or not, I’m not sure. It would require a great deal of research, not all of it easy, and I’ve yet to identify the core of it.

Coincidentally, on a number of writers’ forums recently, I've seen people asking how they can judge if a particular book idea they have is any good or not. My approach to the issue is this:

1. Start the research and see whether or not the idea develops and deepens as a result of what you learn;

2. Write down the essence of the idea and then leave it for at least three or four months, before coming back to it. If it no longer feels fresh and fertile, dump it. If it still excites you, carry on.

3. Personally, I’m not very good at discussing book ideas with agents or editors ahead of drafting, but I should probably do it more. I find ‘pitching’ a fairly painful business. But immediate responses can be surprisingly valuable, especially coming from experienced insiders. So if you have an agent, editor, or someone you trust in that vein, try pitching your idea to them once you’re good and ready. No response should be taken as definitive, but if their eyes glaze over in under thirty seconds, you may have a problem.

[Pictured above: Claudi, my indispensable GDR cultural-linguistic enforcer.]

From Darmstadt to Dortmund

Last week was book-ended (pun intended) by appearances at two different literary festivals in Germany: the first in Darmstadt, near Frankfurt, the second outside Dortmund in a region known as Hellweg  - which translates as “Hell’s Way” for reasons connected, so I was told, with salt.

The two events were very different, but I enjoyed them both. At Darmstadt I had the great pleasure of meeting two other British writers, Matt Beynon Rees, who had flown in from Jerusalem, and Martin Walker who came via Switzerland from his holiday home in a French vineyard.  Matt has, not unjustly, been called the Dashiell Hammett of Palestine; while Martin’s comical writings about crime in Bordeaux (in his reading the ‘victim’ was a bottle of Chateau Petrus 1989) reminded me of Clochemerle with a dash of Georges Simenon and a frisson of Inspector Clouseau. The event, which took place in the beautifully reconstructed Stadtkirche, was a sell-out, a fact which owes much to the energies and enthusiasm of the organiser, Martin Schneider. I also enjoyed meeting Béatrice Habersaat, one of the people behind DTV’s impressive marketing campaign for Das Einstein-Mädchen. Getting retailers to stock the work of an unknown writer is a huge challenge, and to this day, I’m still not sure how they managed it.

My involvement with the ‘Mord am Hellweg’ crime festival was more leisurely. Beforehand I got to spend a sunny Saturday afternoon wandering around the little town of Unna, with a very companionable minder from my German publishers, called Marianne. Like me, she suffers from a poor sense of direction and a tendency to trip over inanimate objects in her path. I bought some rather superior toy cars for Leo and consumed a variety of regional dishes.
The event itself took place on Sunday at a specially converted railway station in Werl, a small town of 20,000 (which nonetheless boasts two book shops), the birthplace of Franz von Papen, the last Chancellor of Germany before Hitler. My short readings in English were supplemented by longer readings in German by the actor Eckhard Leue. Eckhard’s is quite famous in Germany.  For millions he is the voice of WDR (Westdeutscher Rundfunk), one of the biggest broadcasters in the land. (The company HQ is known as the Funkhaus, which sounds like it ought to be where James Brown lived…) He read extremely well and with extraordinary assurance.
Despite delays on the local railway network, the turnout was extremely good. In Germany, I was told, people still enjoy gathering to hear books read aloud. Certainly the interest in literature there seems more evident and lively than just about anywhere else I've been.

I’m sorry, I’ll read that again…

There are currently two audio book versions of The Einstein Girl on the market: an unabridged version in English, produced by Oakhill Publishing; and an abridged version in German produced by DAV.  Two weeks ago I took delivery of the former and have been listening to it whenever I get the chance – which usually means in the car going to or from the shops. Made up of 12 CDs in all, it plays out at 15 hours and 2 minutes. At the current rate I should be through it by the end of September.

My experience of audio books in the past has been very mixed. Carriers was brutally abridged but vividly read by the American actor John Glover (he who, in Annie Hall, said he wanted to die by being “torn apart by wild animals”); Omega was carefully abridged and beautifully read by the actor/director/screenwriter Campbell Scott. Other productions have been more workaday; and there is one I’ve never listened to for more than five minutes because the folksy intonation of the reader is just too irritating. My conclusion? A good audio book can work as well or even better than the regular kind, if it’s well done. A bad audio book is like listening to an opera performed by frogs.

Happily, the Oakhill production is a good one. It’s read by Richard Burnip, who is fast becoming a specialist in the reading/voice-over field. He has a beautiful voice, and one that is perfect for The Einstein Girl: rich in both authority and compassion. He is particularly good at dialogue, managing to lend individuality to each and every speaker. I  look forward to hearing what he’ll come up with every time I know a new character is about to appear. He even seems familiar with German - a small, but welcome bonus. Just occasionally I do get the impression that he’s feeling his way, that he isn't quite sure where the stress of a sentence should be until he gets to the end of it, or how the intonation should be handled. On these occasions he tends to slow down, perhaps to give himself more time. But this is a perfectionist’s complaint. If each sentence and passage were to be rehearsed and re-recorded until every last stress was perfectly placed, the business of recording (not to mention editing) would have to go on for weeks, rendering the enterprise uneconomic.

Meanwhile in Germany, Das Einstein-Mädchen is still clinging onto the Der Spiegel bestseller list after nine weeks, rather to my surprise. Every week I feel sure it will finally drop off, and every week I find it’s still there. In the hours before the new lists get published (on Wednesday afternoons), I must admit, I get quite tense – which, in the grand scheme of things, is a bit silly. 

Einstein at home

Today I received my third batch of reviews from Germany. Das Einstein Mädchen (the German edition of The Einstein Girl) has been on the official Der Spiegel bestseller list for the past seven weeks, which I put down to an excellent translation by Sophie Zeitz and to the voluminous press coverage. The latter has included a feature on Deutschland Radio, and long reviews in Germany’s No.1 circulation daily, Süddeutsch Zeitung as well as the leading weekly news magazine Focus. In addition, there have been reviews, sometimes syndicated, in dozens of local and regional newspapers, as well as literary web sites of all kinds across the German-speaking world. The reading public have chipped in with 92 reviews on the decidedly frank Vorablesen site (and 530 reviews of the opening chapters). Whether this is typical or not, I cannot say. But I do know that such coverage is extremely rare in the UK, unless the book in question is authored by a household name. I was told that fiction is still considered newsworthy in Germany, and so it has proved. In any event, I’m hugely impressed by the publicity department at DTV. Their wonderfully slick and elegant web site promises a lot, but in my case they have certainly delivered.

http://www.dtv.de/

That said, having enjoyed seven weeks in the bestseller sunshine, I’ll certainly count myself lucky if I can hang on for another two. The Einstein Girl is not, by modern standards, an easy book; and we are living in the age when easy books definitely rule, even in Germany.

Life imitates art, kind of

Next week I'll be taking a break from drafting the new book for a trip to Germany. I shall be travelling to the Prenzlauer Berg district of Berlin, following an invitation from the Ex-Berliner magazine. Berlin is, of course, where most of the action in The Einstein Girl unfolds. I'll be doing a reading and answering questions (assuming some get asked…) at the St George’s English language book shop on Wörtherstrasse, which, I am told, is something of an institution among English-speaking ex-pats in the German capital.
This is where things become quite coincidental: for it is on Wörtherstrasse – about a hundred yards from the modern day shop – that the ‘Einstein girl’ herself actually takes a room when she first arrives in Berlin, and where a lot of important events in the novel take place.
I once stayed on the nearby Schönhauser Allee – in what was the old East Berlin Reuters apartment (following in the footsteps of Timothy Garton Ash and various cold war writers). A good few of the buildings roundabout still sported bullet holes in those days, and the years of GDR neglect were still much in evidence. Subsequently, in The Einstein Girl, I had my protagonist (Martin Kirsch) lodge on that street. But it’s been more than a decade since I was there. It will be interesting, and possibly spooky, retracing the steps of these characters - steps that only ever took place in my head, but which feel almost as genuine as actual memories. I suspect that with the vast amount of renovation and refurbishment that’s been going on, much of the area will be hard to recognise. But that's Berlin for you: so much changes, and so much stays the same.
If anyone is in the German capital next Wesnesday 31st and is interested in attending the Ex-Berliner event, here are the details. It starts at 9pm and everyone is extremely welcome:

Saint George’s Bookshop
Wörther Straße 27
10405 BerlinTel: (0)30 81798333