Quentin Tarantino, the famous and successful director, reported having signed a two-books deal with Harper Collins – a novelisation of his latest cinematographic success “Once upon a time in Hollywood” and “Cinema Speculation”, a non-fiction essay. The first book will be published in Summer 2021, and it tells the fabulous story of Rick Dalton and his stunt Cliff Booth. Not only has the novel added interesting and intriguing details about the main characters, but it has a look both forwards and backwards in their lives. Tarantino claimed that film novelisations have been his first adult readings while growing up, and they deeply influenced him. The experience has excited him, especially creating the characters’ backgrounds, and the author hopes his work will contribute to give importance to an often marginalised literary sub-genre. “Cinema Speculation” is Tarantino’s second work, and it focuses on the 1970s film culture, presenting a series of essays, reviews, and personal writings of the director. The non-fiction book release date has not yet been communicated.
The wait has already started; Tarantino is an amazing master storyteller who bravely tried a new form of narrative to explore his characters further – a demonstration that different worlds – cinema and literature – can efficiently sit alongside. Links: Harper Collins Press Release
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Nothing can stop book lovers; it doesn’t matter whether the weather is chilly, or the wind blows fiercely, or the sky gets cloudy and suddenly it begins to rain. On the first cold day of October, readers enthusiastically filled the neat, red-chair conference room of Foyles (Charing Cross) to attend the fifth Gollancz Festival – an entire day of panels and signing sessions with the most famous and creative sci-fi and fantasy authors of Gollancz publishing company. Books have often become films and incredible cinema successes, but the process hasn’t always been smooth and congenial for the writer. Ben Aaronovich – although he began his career in the TV world – started off saying that, when a novel got optioned to be a film, there was also the possibility the producer will ever not make it. “It’s part of the game,” the author admitted. “It’s simply a fact that you have to accept as the producer are b******s.” Another aspect the authors had to accept was the change the screenwriters might do during the writing process. “Writing a screenplay takes less time and fewer words,” Aaroovich said. “Novels usually develops characters deeply, adding details and explanations, while, in films, the ability of the actor creates and forges the characters.” Approaching the end of the conversation, a question from the audience brought up novellas. Shorter than a novel, this kind of story has been having a good success, both as reading and film. The reason was in the brevity of them which allowed producers and scriptwriters to turn it into a film easily, while the complexity of a novel might make the adaptation complicated. Following the film adaptation process, the new set of authors got pretty engaged in talking about life in the space. Many novels represented unbelievable species getting in contact with the humanity – or the humanity itself exploring and colonising new planets. “The scenario in which we set our stories needs not to be terraformed,” Pat Cadigan said. “If we imagine the future, we simply adapt the human nature to the environment we create.” The creation of an environment in which human life struggled to survive demanded the authors to work on their characters’ survival. Coexistence became the main factor. “The same concept of freedom changes,” Pat Cadigan added. “In the space, we can’t do whatever we want like on Earth. We haven’t even got the same resources.” Fantasy is another genre Gollancz is proud to publish, and the following conversation focused on the relationship between history and worlds’ making. The authors invited to this panel all got inspired by a historical period. Seventeenth and Eighteenth-century motivated Alexander Dan Vilhjalmsson. Istanbul, Venice, and Athens have always enchanted Miles Cameron. The Elizabethan era fascinated Ellen Kushner. The debate on the world-building was the most controversial as the authors on the stage didn’t agree on the matter.
“Being a writer means being creative, and the worlds we make have to be new,” Adam Roberts said when his colleagues claimed that the scenarios authors made were how they saw the reality. “We, indeed, see the reality, but we have to create something new from that. The sublime of our creation stems from that novelty.” Reaching the end of the amazing festival, the themes focused on research and magic. “Research is important – although boring – and it takes a lot of time, but it is necessary for your story to make sense,” Ed McDonald said. “Beyond that, we anyway don’t have to forget that we have a story to carried on.” The approach to the use of magic in a story has always been troublesome for the authors as, quite often, editors and publishers prefer a sensible answer for the appearance of it. “The explanation of the magic in that world and how people get taught to use it ruins the magic itself,” Joe Abercrombie said. “The answer ‘it’s just magic’ doesn’t ever work out.” The main duty of artistic creation is to convey emotions and permit the reader to feel what the author felt in that precise moment. In this way, the creators establish a solid and intimate relationship with their audience. There may be many channels artists represent their view of the world and feelings; one of these is by using comics. The British Museum has been showing an amazing exhibition focused on manga – the traditional Japanese graphic stories. Mangas are an important part of the Nipponese society as they represent and emphasize flaws and merits it has. Buzzes and whispering voices fill my ears as I enter the main hall of the British Museum; being extremely careful to avoid clashing with lively enthusiastic children dragging their parents from room to room, I cross the chamber and reach the entrance of the exhibition. Although the ticket availability was very limited, I don’t have to queue up, and rapidly a smiling attendant ushers me in the room. Despite manga began their successful path in Western society in the Eighties, their origins date in the Nineteenth century when artists used engaging images to tell compelling and involving stories. The fathers of this art were Kitazawa Rakuten (1876-1955) and Okamoto Ippei (1886-1948); satire and political criticism were the core of their astonishing drawings. Wandering among the softly lightened windows reminds me of when I first grabbed a manga and tried reading it, flipping the pages and, then, staring confused at that glossed-cover volume. Manga’s reading direction differs completely from what we are used to because the flow goes from top to bottom and from right to left. Fortunately, the numbered board in front of which I stand explains clearly the reading direction to them who are not familiar with these strips. Unexpectedly, Charles Wirgman, British cartoonist, founded the first monthly manga magazine – Japan Punch – in 1862. The creation of stories goes through a deep and intense work; the behind-the-scene requires a certain number of writers to make the story, artists to transform those ideas and plots into drawing, and, finally, editors and publishers interested in the product. Wandering around the windows, it almost seems incredible that the making of these apparently simple black-and-white strips requires such an amount of efforts. The public rediscovered manga after WWII when an unknown artist realised that he could use manga to convince people to take care of the world they had been living in. The myth of Tezuka Osamu, so, was born. Originally from Osaka, Osamu (1928-1989) is the father of modern manga. His masterpiece is Astro Boy (original name Mighty Atom) – the story of a powerful android created by Doctor Tenma after his son died in a car accident. The success of this hero was immediate, and, still, collectors and readers enjoy this amazing masterpiece. Walking among these astounding masterpieces makes perfectly clear an important thing: manga aren’t for kids only. The purpose of a mangaka – the correct name of the person who draws manga – is to voice their emotions and create stories which represent their view of society. Since the beginning, artists have examined and deepened human feelings – “Captain Tsubasa,” by Yoichi Takahashi, for example, focuses not only on football, although it’s the main theme, but it analyses the most important stages of Tsubasa Oozora’s life, from childhood to adulthood, in which the protagonist discovers the real value of friendship, competition, love, and loss. “Full Metal Alchemist” by Hiromu Arakawa goes even deeper and more philosophical as it tells the story of two brothers, Edward and Alphonse Eric, in search for the philosopher’s stone to restore their bodies after the attempt to bring their mother back to life went bad. Once again, the main characters face life’s ups-and-downs and the value of true sentiment – loyalty, religion, and friendship, especially. The relationship between museums and manga is almost twenty-year-old; in 2006, the Kyoto International Manga Museum opened its doors to waves of passionate and fans. The British Museum started to collect manga roughly a decade ago, and, in 2011, after an exhibition dedicated to the mangaka Yukinobu Hoshino, the artist thanked the institute creating “Professor Munakata’s British Museum Adventure” in which Hoshino’s most popular character gets involved in unexpected and exciting adventures at the British Museum.
The voice of the attendant echoes in the entire room as visitors and I pace among the final and amazing artworks neatly displayed; the museum is about to shut in twenty minutes, and, automatically, my eyes go to the small numbers written on the screen of my mobile. It’s five o’clock. I passed an intense hour exploring different views of our world. Emotions have the huge power of triggering unpredicted reactions, and every artist has the ability to show them in their devastating strength and unsettling darkness. The deeper the mangaka plunge you into his world, the better you comprehend his perception of the complicated and intricate society in which we all live. MCM ComicCon London 2019 has, once again, provided interesting panels aiming to help aspiring writers and satisfying readers who are simply curious about authors’ lives.
Adrian Tchaikovsky (Children of Ruin), RJ Barker (Age of Assassins), Jen Williams (The Copper Promise), KK Perez (The Tesla Legacy), Catherine Webb (Timekeepers), and Susan Dennard (Truthwitch) entertained the lively audience of the Creator Stage by speaking of their techniques to create perfect and seemingly real worlds for their novels. After a short introduction of the writers, RJ Barker went straight to the point, asking if the world-building came before or after the making of the characters. “I mainly interested in world creation,” Tchaikovsky kicked off the conversation. “During my writing process, the characters initially are subordinate.” The other authors agreed on that point; the world they created influenced the characters and the scenario in which they acted tended to shape them. “I differ from my colleagues,” Williams said with a smile. “I used to start creating the characters as they’re supposed to live and forge that environment.” “The key to make our creation real is to provide a deep connection between readers and characters,” Dennard added. “If the reader can feel what your protagonists feel, they will become part of the story.” The research was a part of the job that usually took more time and caused big headaches and frustration. “I need to research and be as precise as possible,” Tchaikovsky said. “My imagination is quite lazy, so looking for the information I need works as motivation.” Jen Williams, instead, preferred to make everything up, as creating from the beginning allowed the writer to overlook details which might make the story difficult and boring. “That’s why it’s perfectly fine to be an expert of the scenario you created,” Webb interjected, “but you always have to remember that the story has to get on.” As time dramatically went by, the authors dealt with the final question regarding which flaws they tried to avoid when building their worlds. “My editor usually asks me to make the story more accessible,” Webb replied. “My worlds are quite precise historically, and suddenly fantasy corrupts them.” The main problem for Tchaikovsky was the weirdest and most unexpected. “As my main characters usually aren’t human, I get often asked to add more people.” The audience burst into a fragrant laugh. “It might seem weird, but that’s a frequent request.” The debate is one of the hottest in the authors’ world; you can have a look at every writers’ page on the internet, and you’ll be able to find numerous – and often – contrasting opinions. Ed Jowett and Leo Cosh from Shadow of Vengeance spoke of self-publishing in front of a crowded and interested audience at MCM Comiccon London 2019.
The dim Creator Stage had just finished to fill up, and the attendee had taken their seats when Ed and Leo suddenly jumped on the stage. “Let’s start from the beginning of my seven-year-long adventure,” Ed said. “You’ve got an idea, you wrote it down and polished. Finally, you decide it’s ready to get published. What do you do?” The people looked around as if they were looking for an answer. “You have to find somebody external to have a look at your work and tell you if it is interesting.” “Somebody to read it is the most important thing,” Leo interjected. “New eyes can find out if something is either wrong or not working.” “Correct,” Ed added, “but I, however, deeply recommend hiring a professional proofreader to finish it professionally. Quite often we don’t see things that another person can easily spot, as we’re involved in the work.” Ed and Leo, then, went through the layout; how your work appeared was important, but it also depended on what kind of writing you were doing. “If you want for a traditional publisher, they usually ask for a certain layout,” Ed said, “but, if you go self-publishing, you have to figure out what you prefer and what is more suitable for your product.” “There’s one stage before publishing your work,” Leo interjected. “You have to build your audience. It helps to sell your product and to figure out how many copies to request.” The marketing process was the most demanding, and it took time for both the writers. In the modern era of the internet, anyway, the possibilities to advertise your book were endless. “You can use Facebook – preferably create a group as the pages aren’t good – Reddit, and Twitter,” Ed said. “There also are a few websites on which you can arrange crowdfunding. If you have a bunch of followers, you can start promoting your product. They usually are happy to help, if they like it.” “Local presentations are very important as well,” Leo added. “You can go to the local bookshop and ask if they’re interested in promoting your book. It may be a challenge to go out and talk about your work for some people, but it’s a very effective way.” The conversation dealt with the publishing companies. They often are happy to send some samples over to you to show the quality of their publications. “Publishing companies can be very helpful in deciding what kind of format you might need,” Ed said. “There are a few companies – bookprinting.co.uk for example – that I regularly used to publish my works. They have good quality, and the price is pretty affordable.” The rain drummed on the hood of my jacket as I walked up the busy and trafficked road. Lines of people, holding open umbrellas, rushed up and down the pavement to find a nice spot where to stop and wait for the pouring rain to cease. I turned left, leaving behind me Shaftsbury Road, onto Wardour Street and went on until Peter Street appeared to my left.
There, at the corner with Berwick Street, I found what I was cravingly looking for. Gosh! Comics is a small, but special, bookshop. As you can figure out by the name, it mainly focuses on comics, art-works, and graphic novels. I stared at the huge windows, full of intriguing volumes – Japanese manga such as the known “Full metal alchemist” and “Tokyo Ghouls” instantly grabbed my attention (as I’m a big fan of both), but a wee bit of time spent observing the rich offer allowed me to visualise another favourite of mine: “V for Vendetta” and “Watchmen”, drawn by the superb Alan Moore. There was no time to spend merely staring at the windows, and I walked in. The glass window bearing the Gosh logo slowly swung open, and a well-organised large room materialised before me. Book-packed bookshelves ran along the four walls, and two tables stood in the middle. A nice blonde girl sat at the desk opposite the entrance, dealing with a customer who had just laid down a stack of a dozen comics. It doesn’t matter if I enter comics or books shop, but the enthusiastic buzz of voices and the welcoming smell of paper that always accompany my visits made me thrilled. As I walked around the huge stand, a discover beautiful stories I had forgotten. The amazing and revolutionary “Persepolis” by Marjane Satrapi was the first to stand out; an incredible story which represented the life in Iran during the Islamic Revolution when the author was a child. Another story, but still full of social critique and political meaning, was Discworld series by Terry Pratchett; the comics version is an astonishing visualisation of the incredible world the writer created in his books. Surprisingly, I found “Sandman,” a comics series created and penned by Neil Gaiman – the story “Season of mists”, contained in volume Number Four, is my favourite as Lucifer made his first appearance. The biography section was the part of the shop that stunned me the most. I had never thought about telling the story of historical and famous people by using comics, and the result was stupefying. Fidel Castro’s bio immediately caught my interest as well as Johnny Cash’s. The shop had also a basement floor in which the complete collection of manga and American comics packed the neat shelves. Gosh! is an amazing shop exclusively dedicated to comics. Although I’m definitely a grown-up, I still enjoy walking among the tall stacks of comics and absorb the power and magic those stories emanate. Everybody recognises authors from the title of their books. If we only try to name writers – whoever they could suddenly pop in our mind – the name of their books immediately comes after as if we knew nothing else on them. When we think about authors, we often overlook their lives – I daresay that more often we don’t even know anything about them. A visit to the Charles Dickens Museum is an amazing opportunity to discover where the important British author lived and how his life was. Clerkenwell is a lively London’s central area at only a few minutes from Russell Square and Holborn. As I get out of Chancery Lane, I walk up along Grays Inn Road, a trafficked street which leads straight to a chaotic junction between Theobald Road and Clerkenwell Road. Once I’ve crossed over, I turn left in Roger Street, leaving the deafening honk of the cars and roars of the engines behind, and Doughty Street materialises before me. Old and elegant Georgian houses neatly line the side of the road, and the silence and tranquillity of the zone seem to have magically transported me to a totally different area. The museum of Charles Dickens, a five-store building, stands at number 49 – although the original entrance of the author’s dwelling was at number 48. An aromatic scent of coffee, coming from the stylish cafe at the end of the corridor, fills my nostrils as I enter the building, but my curiosity is stronger than the craving for the dark hot drink, and I approach the wooden desk where a gentle assistant takes the payment of the ticket and provides me with a useful visitor’s foldable guide. I step-by-step follow the guide, visiting meticulously all the floors. The ground floor includes the beautiful and aesthetic dining room, followed by the morning room, where Catherine Dickens, the wife of the writer, spent time with her children and arranged the household matters. The kitchen and washhouse are in the basement along with a small, but well-provided wine cellar. The visit continues to the first floor where Dickens’s drawing room and study – in which two huge bookshelves packed with books tower in front of the entrance – are astonishing. The more I climb the stairs, the more I get into the personal life of Dickens; the bedrooms and dressing rooms occupy the second and third floor. The curiosity rapidly turns into marvellous wonder and fascination, as it seems to be back to an old epoch of development and huge changes, characterised by extreme contradictions. I imagine that time, the Nineteenth century, and the Industrial Revolution is creating a new economic system and a new social class. London must have been different; columns of dark grey smoke soared from the chimneys on the roofs of the houses. A constant, mysterious fog invaded the streets, and the cries of angry cabbies echoed, accompanied by the rhythmical clip-clopping of horse hooves. Dickens sat at his desk in his studio, alone, and sheets confusedly scattered in front of him. He sighed and glanced out of the window, looking at the light breeze shaking the branches of the trees. Charles had only half an hour before his friends arrived for dinner. He had to rush a little to complete the ending chapter of his latest work. Unexpectedly, the giggling of children boomed in the stairway, followed by the heavy and noisy thumping of steps. His children ran down to see how the preparation of dinner was going on. Dickens stood up and fiercely stared at them. Mary and Kate immediately stopped their run and sheepishly smiled at their father, but, as Charles turned his back, they resumed their run. Dickens shook his head, and a soft smile grew on his face. In the meantime, the servants in the kitchen, under the severe control of Catherine Dickens, were intensely working; everything had to be perfect, everything had to taste good. Catherine had thoroughly instructed them about the food they had to prepare. Mistakes were not tolerated. And the servants knew what that meant; Lady Catherine’s knowledge in food and recipes was undeniably thorough and precise, she would have detected any variation and change by only smelling the dishes. At six-thirty, the bell rang; Dickens, who had just finished to dress up, sauntered down the stairs, and, at the bottom, he found his wife and daughters waiting for him to welcome the guests. John Forster was the first to step in the entrance hall after him Daniel Maclise. They shook Charles’s hand and respectfully saluted Catherine and daughters. The dinner could begin and, as often it happened, the dishes laid on the table at the same time. Forster asked Dickens as to how the new novel was going, and the author, smiling wryly, replied that he had finished it, but, before giving it to him, he had to go through a scrupulous editing process. As Forster insisted, Dickens politely answered that it was too early to disclose what the novel was about, but he would have liked it. The literary agent gave up; there was no point in insisting. When Charles Dickens said no, it was an unquestionable no. As the delicious dinner ended, Dickens invited his guests to the drawing room. Plenty of desserts and a huge bowl filled with Dickens’s favourite punch laid on the table in the far corner. The lectern stood in the middle of the room, a handwritten paper laying on it. As the guests made themselves comfortable on the green leather sofas, sipping the warm drink and nibbling a slice of a scrumptious fruit cake, Charles reached the stand and started reading a short story.
A middle-aged woman interrupts my daydream as I stand on the threshold of the drawing room. She says “excuse me” as I step on the side to let her go through. I daydreamt. I imagined everything. I sigh, shaking my head and smiling. I, for a moment, plunged in the time of Charles Dickens, I savoured his life and walked in the same rooms in which he used to create his astounding and flawed characters and criticise that world which was changing and developing too rapidly and unequally. Cecil Court is a narrow, almost unnoticeable, street extending between Charing Cross and St Martin’s Lane. If you come up from Trafalgar Square, as you walk into Charing Cross, keeping the National Gallery on your left, after the historical St Martin’s Church, this particular alley will appear to your right. It’s a small quiet island of peace which profoundly contrasts the noisy and trafficked main road.
You don’t have to let its extreme serenity mislead you, because, if you carefully observe, the alley is a precious gem for all book lovers. To begin with, Marchpane; this bookshop is a little jewel for children, mainly focusing on Lewis Carrol and his works. The collection of illustrated books is jaw-dropping, and it includes an astonishing first edition of Winnie-the-Pooh and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Founded by David Headley and Daniel Gedeon, friends and book collectors, Goldsboro is the store you have to visit if you want to find and buy signed editions. In this shop, writers, such as J. K. Rowling and Neil Gaiman, turned out to sign their latest releases and pleasantly talk to the readers. Occultism, magic, and esoterica are what you’re looking for, so Watkins is the place for you. The shop displays a huge selection of interesting books dealing with personal growth and self-empowerment, consciousness, and healing. The collections of numerous and different talismans, crystals, and tarots plunge the visitors into a world of mysterious forces and unimaginable powers. The one-hundred-year-old store is the oldest and more important shop dedicated to these matters in London. This time, I wanted to write about something different from a bookshop; books and literature are part of book lovers’ lives. We spend the biggest part of our time wandering thoughtlessly from store to store, from stand to stand, but, sometimes, tiny and original streets hide unexpected and astonishing surprises. Baffled visitors and books passionate observed the wave of people reaching the third floor of Waterstones Piccadilly. The usually quiet room, exposing biographies, books about films and TV, spirituality and self-improvement filled with an energetic buzz of voices. A dozen of rows of folding black chairs appeared in the middle of the chamber along with a small stage. Rapidly, the audience neatly occupied the seats, and the event could begin.
In her first appearance in the UK, Tana French discussed The Wych Elm, her latest stand-alone novel, with the writer John Boyne. The book is about Toby, a golden-boy of a rich middle-class family, who, one night, gets beaten up by a couple of burglars. To recover from the injuries, he decides to refuge in his ancestral country house and take care of his dying uncle. When a skull is found in an elm tree, Toby realises that the reality surrounding him has never been what he really believed it was. After a quick presentation of the author and her novel, Boyne immediately plunged into the conversation. “I don’t feel difficult to create characters and personify them,” French replied the question. “I used to be an actress and materialise characters was my job. Especially when I have to write dialogues, my experience as an actress comes in handy. What it’s more complicated and demanding is to create an appealing plot and a good structure.” The inspiration for the protagonist of her novel came from observing his son. The writer realised that he had everything a kid might desire, a normal family and good parents. Some children, unfortunately, hadn’t the same luck. “I wanted to create a man who had everything from his life, Toby is a privileged guy with a rich family taking care of him and a good job. He’s handsome and successful,” the author explained. “I wanted the perfect world spinning around him to be against him. His luck has suddenly run out, and now Toby has to deal with the reality, with no advantage.” The centrality of the country house was another important concept in the novel. It was an Irish characteristic as Irish people put a lot of emotion in it. “It’s an Irish thing,” French said. “We Irish are very fond of the place where we’ve been living. It’s where we feel safe and comfortable. So felt Toby until the skull came out. But the past it’s also important. To ditch your previous memories never works out properly, you’ll always have to face them. It becomes a sort of struggle, and what really catches me is to see how people get away from it.” Toby was a perfect troubled character; his privileged condition corrupted the view he has about reality. He wasn’t able to separate what was real from what he believed was real. “Slowly, Toby realises that he has to deal with it,” the author carried on. “And dealing with it may not be as easy as it seems. My main character was not prepared for it.” The conversation unfortunately headed to an end, and, as often happened, the author had to do deep and thorough research to make her work as close to reality as possible. “It was the most frightening experience I had ever had,” Tana French said, opening her eyes wide. “I’ve known this retired detective for ages, and I needed to know how he carried out an interrogation in a particular situation. I still remembered that phone call. Suddenly, he was serious–he almost sounded hostile–and he started asking questions. He went straight for what he wanted to know.” The audience silently listened to the author’s anecdote. “Then, his attitude changed, and he got back to be the jovial and friendly person he was. He had just shown me how a detective would have questioned a suspect.” The atmosphere in the bookshop was jovial and convivial, as I slowly climbed the long, but gentle, flights of stairs to the sixth floor. The buzzing of curious and regular visitors’ voices, the tinkling of ceramic cups, and the rustling of flipped pages echoed in my ears. I was the first in the queue-in a few minutes, behind me, there would have been dozens of anxious readers-and, beyond the glass door of the auditorium, I could see the frantic up-and-down pacing of assistants concerned to prepare the last things for the event.
Foyles Charing Cross was honoured to have Bart van Es, winner of the Costa Book of the Year 2018 with The cut out girl, a non-fiction novel about Lien, a Jewish girl, whom her parents had handed out during the Nazis occupation of Netherlands to the author’s grandparents. The extreme action allowed Lien to survive the war, but, when the nightmare ended, she found out that her parents hadn’t made it. Hannah Beckerman chaired the event. As the journalist and the author walked in, a respectful silent descended in the room, broken only by a thundering round of applause. The topics the speakers had to deal with weren’t the most light-hearted; World War II, Nazis occupation, racial persecution, and genocide. To break the ice, Beckerman kicked off the conversation by asking van Es how he had passed the gone week, after the victory of the prestigious prize. “It’s been an amazing week,” the author replied, his voice trembling slightly by the emotion. “I thought I had a good chance to win the competition, although, when the jury uttered my name, we were calm and relaxed.” The author marked we, as Lien, now a lively eight-five-year-old woman, attended the winner ceremony with him. “The idea came to my mind when my uncle died. This sad event made me think about my relatives’ generation. They were slowly fading away.” Van Es explained. “I’ve always known my grandparents were socially and politically active, and they had done something valuable during the terrible years of the war.” Van Es, however, had never talked about that moment of their life. He had tried, but they were very loath to deal with it, and the writer could only guess that something terrible had likely happened. “I also have to say that what is going on in the world nowadays-the worrying surge of right-wing movements-made this story more and more relevant,” van Es pointed out, before going on telling how he contacted Lien. “It wasn’t that difficult to track her back, as my mother still had her contact details.” The author met Lien for the first time in Holland at the Hague in 2014, and they initially didn’t talk about the past of the woman. It seemed something she wasn’t willing to tell him of, but she suddenly started opening up and trusting him. The narration wasn’t linear and constant as if she had blurred and forgotten some events of those years. Van Es immediately felt connected and absorbed in her world. “I think she didn’t want to talk about her experience because she thought she hadn’t been the only person to go through such a terrible happening,” he said. “After I published the book, I received numerous letters and emails from people who had similar stories to tell.” The intense research van Es realised changed the perception of his family. His grandparents were part of the resistance, and their bravery undoubtedly was massive. He sometimes felt frustrated and exasperated reading about the senseless mistakes they had accidentally made. Writing this book produced a huge responsibility towards the people who would read it. “As a teacher, I know that history is complex, and it’s not easy to build a fair story,” the writer said. “My grandparents were members of the Socialist Party, which meant they were extremely focused on resisting the invasion. I wanted to write a book that didn’t disappoint anybody, and I think I’ve accomplished my purpose.” During the preparation of his novel, van Es read and examined the story of his country and found out that the Netherlands hasn’t yet deal with its past. “The Dutch worked very hard to rebuild the country,” he admitted, “but they recovered by exploiting the colonies. Despite the occupation and the persecution of Jewish people, they caused a huge and abominable calamity in Indonesia in which thousands of people died.” The writer concluded the intense and emotive talk by explaining what he really struck him; there was an astounding and terrible detail that simply appeared before his eyes. “Dehumanisation,” van Es said. “The process of dehumanisation of the group they wanted to persecute shocked me the most. It didn’t happen quickly, but systematically. Initially with small changes in the laws, then it became more and more sophisticated, isolating, marginalising, and then physically interning the people who were Jewish.” |
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