For The Vulnerable And The Brave
Sun Herald
Sunday September 16, 2007
Michael Morpurgo may be a grown-up but he hasn't forgotten how children view the world, writes Jacqueline Maley.
IT IS a cliche that good writing is born of suffering. And in the case of prolific children's author Michael Morpurgo, entirely untrue. Morpurgo's writing, at least until recently, was born of the luxury of London's Savoy hotel, where he lived for three months earlier this year, as the hotel's writer in residence.Rather than scribbling in a draughty garret, Morpurgo's writerly schedule involved waking in a plush Art Deco suite, swanning downstairs to nibble a croissant beneath chandeliers in the breakfast room, then toddling back to bed - to write. When not writing, he hosted literary salon evenings or caught plays at the West End theatres on his doorstep. The prolific children's author and the third British Children's Laureate, who was a reluctant child reader himself, found inspiration in the hotel, or rather, in the hotel's cat. "They have a cat called Caspar who is their kind of emblem," Morpurgo says, now back in his Devon home."In the story I have written about him, he is brought to the hotel in 1911, by Countess Kandisky, an opera singer from Russia. The cat gets to know the bellboy in the hotel, who is the hero of the story."Children are almost always the heroes in Morpurgo's stories, often teamed with animals in peril. In his most recent book, Best Mate, a boy rescues a squirming sack full of greyhound puppies thrown into a river, and adopts one, whom he christens "Best Mate". When Best Mate is kidnapped by a dog trainer, he is set to work in the harsh world of dog racing, where he is treated well enough until his performance starts to dip. He looks destined for the glue factory until two kids - his original master and the stepdaughter of a dog trainer - intervene.The book was inspired by anger at the sordid details of Britain's dog racing scene, in particular a newspaper article Morpurgo read about a man paid to kill greyhounds once they'd outlived their usefulness. "Some fellow in the Midlands had been shooting greyhounds that were no longer required by their trainers and owners. Did it cheaper than a vet...he had destroyed over 10,000 greyhounds and buried them in a field." Morpurgo, who (when not at The Savoy), lives on a farm surrounded by a menagerie which used to include a greyhound-like lurcher dog, believes animal cruelty is indicative of a lack of imagination. "It shows something rather dreadful about us as mammals, that we don't seem to be able to acknowledge that other beings are sentient; they can feel and they suffer," he says.Children sense this suffering more keenly than adults, he thinks. As a consequence, the 61-year-old author doesn't believe in protecting children from the horrors of life - his books are full of war, death and animal cruelty. "I don't mind upsetting children," he admits. "It's part of the human predicament to be upset. It's simply a question of how you do it without it being traumatic. You can't tie it in a pink ribbon and make it better. I don't think children want you to do that. What children seem to demand of adults is truth and honesty and straightness."While he doesn't think children should be treated as "a different set of people", the author, a grandfather six times over, does believe they are fundamentally different to adults. In his books, children are powerful, brave and creative - which is what he came to believe was their essential nature during the years he worked as a primary school teacher. "From the age of 21/2 to roughly four, children have a sort of genius. They are immensely creative, looking at the world in a way which is unique," he says. "But when you're seven, it's been educated out of you."Morpurgo believes Western education is "fixated on outcomes", often to the detriment of children's natural development. "It's all passing exams and fitting children into the scheme of things. What we forget if we're not careful is you can easily cramp the child."Which is a shame, he says, because to be a writer and, to a lesser extent, a reader, you have to remain vulnerable to the world, just as children do. This is something he picked up from his friend, neighbour and mentor Ted Hughes, the former British Poet Laureate."One of the best things about literature is it helps keep this inner person, your child-self, alive," Morpurgo says. "You are being allowed through someone else's stories, to explore. That book comes to life."It was a pleasure Morpurgo himself discovered quite late. As a boy, he attended schools in Sussex, London and Canterbury, one of which was particularly strict and inspired the nasty boarding school he depicted in one of his most famous novels, The Butterfly Lion.Morpurgo was put off reading by being told it was "good for him" and that he "should" do it. This early experience, combined with his own observations as a teacher, has made him a strong advocate for children's "reading rights". "The teacher has to understand that, yes, there is knowledge in books but that's not why you read them," he says. "You read them because you like a rollicking good story." To begin with, it's subliminal, he says. If children are read to by their loved ones, they associate reading with something fun, an intimacy with someone whose time they crave. "Then, there is a moment when you are 14 or 15, when you realise the book is serious about something. It has something serious to say about war or another culture. It's taking you into different worlds, the minds of other people, the minds of adults and animals."Ted Hughes was one of the rare writers who delved into the minds of both adults and animals, writing for both grown-ups and children. It was with Hughes that Morpurgo helped set up the Children's Laureate position (a post he held from 2003 to 2005), which was fitting because Hughes inspired him to write in the first place. It was only after listening to Hughes on radio and reading his book Poetry In The Making that Morpurgo thought he could take his love for creating stories to the next level, and write them down. "Hughes said that everyone has got a story to tell, that all you have to do is to simply look and listen and learn and feel and once you have soaked yourself in the world around you and become part of it and felt you belonged there, then you will have something to write," he says. "He brought the whole subject into the realms of possibility."After publishing more than 100 books and being awarded both an MBE and an OBE, it is clear that Morpurgo has brought his writing well into the realms of possibility. More importantly, he still has the child-like vulnerability and excitement he talks so much about. "Just keeping your eyes and ears open - these are the best tools a writer has."Best Mate is published by HarperCollins, $27.99.Michael Morpurgo will be talking about his previous novel Alone On A Wide Wide Sea at the Seymour Centre, Tuesday, 6.30pm. Tickets: $15/$10. Suitable for ages seven and up. Bookings essential. Phone (02)93517940.
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