Smut: two unseemly stories by Alan Bennett
A sweet little surprise came in the post yesterday; no, not a Valentine from a secret admirer but a book called Smut by Alan Bennett.
I have encountered Alan Bennett twice in the flesh: the first time in the Cheltenham Literature Festival when he was interviewed on the stage in front of hundreds (and described as a 'National Treasure') and in a small cafe in Liverpool when he seemed to be with a group of students. Each time he was wearing his low key but distinctive uniform: tweeds, corduroys and woollens in beige, brown and blue. There is something soft and understated about him - and very English. He seemed equally at home in both places. He may be our National Treasure, but he also knows how to be one of us.
I think this comes through in his writing. It is set in the England I knew in my childhood, a time when all the colours now seem to be the 'touched-up' sort from bottles of tints. Even though he writes about mobile phones and the internet, this earlier time is always present. The people are holding on to their mid-twentieth century hang-ups. Homosexuality may be legal, but it is still risqué. They have sex, but they have it in the English awkward way: if they are not embarrassed, they know they ought to be. This, after all, is 'smut' and they can't admit to enjoying it. They talk archly, and the narrator, who intermittently comes to the fore makes hilarious and clever asides.
The first story, 'The Greening of Mrs Donaldson', concerns a 'fragrant' 55 year old widow who not only takes on an unusual job in a hospital, but also receives an even more unusual payment in lieu of rent. The second story 'The Shielding of Mrs Forbes' features a woman of a similar age, but this time concerns her whole family and their various secrets. To say any more than that would give away too much. They both end neatly and satisfyingly.
In the first story Alan Bennett mentions a picture by Harold Gilmour called Mrs Mounter. She was a doughty old land lady, and the portrait obviously made a big impression. Mrs Mounter is a typical Bennett character: a feisty and pretentious exterior proving to hide something of great depth - once the thin and brittle covering is cracked. I have seen the portrait on display at the Walker Gallery in Liverpool: a place where Bennett's characters - who are ostentatiously cultured - would feel at home. I remember hearing about another momentous encounter with art when Alan Bennett was a schoolboy. The art in question was a biblical scene with a half naked woman lactating so forcefully that she could feed the infant Jesus a foot or two away. 'And that,' Alan Bennett's teacher had pointed out to her ogling charges, 'is smut.'
Of course it was better when he told it. Whenever I've heard the word 'smut' I've thought of it. The two long short stories in this book called Smut are similarly entertaining and memorable.
Many thanks to Profile books for sending it to me.
I have encountered Alan Bennett twice in the flesh: the first time in the Cheltenham Literature Festival when he was interviewed on the stage in front of hundreds (and described as a 'National Treasure') and in a small cafe in Liverpool when he seemed to be with a group of students. Each time he was wearing his low key but distinctive uniform: tweeds, corduroys and woollens in beige, brown and blue. There is something soft and understated about him - and very English. He seemed equally at home in both places. He may be our National Treasure, but he also knows how to be one of us.
I think this comes through in his writing. It is set in the England I knew in my childhood, a time when all the colours now seem to be the 'touched-up' sort from bottles of tints. Even though he writes about mobile phones and the internet, this earlier time is always present. The people are holding on to their mid-twentieth century hang-ups. Homosexuality may be legal, but it is still risqué. They have sex, but they have it in the English awkward way: if they are not embarrassed, they know they ought to be. This, after all, is 'smut' and they can't admit to enjoying it. They talk archly, and the narrator, who intermittently comes to the fore makes hilarious and clever asides.
The first story, 'The Greening of Mrs Donaldson', concerns a 'fragrant' 55 year old widow who not only takes on an unusual job in a hospital, but also receives an even more unusual payment in lieu of rent. The second story 'The Shielding of Mrs Forbes' features a woman of a similar age, but this time concerns her whole family and their various secrets. To say any more than that would give away too much. They both end neatly and satisfyingly.
In the first story Alan Bennett mentions a picture by Harold Gilmour called Mrs Mounter. She was a doughty old land lady, and the portrait obviously made a big impression. Mrs Mounter is a typical Bennett character: a feisty and pretentious exterior proving to hide something of great depth - once the thin and brittle covering is cracked. I have seen the portrait on display at the Walker Gallery in Liverpool: a place where Bennett's characters - who are ostentatiously cultured - would feel at home. I remember hearing about another momentous encounter with art when Alan Bennett was a schoolboy. The art in question was a biblical scene with a half naked woman lactating so forcefully that she could feed the infant Jesus a foot or two away. 'And that,' Alan Bennett's teacher had pointed out to her ogling charges, 'is smut.'
Of course it was better when he told it. Whenever I've heard the word 'smut' I've thought of it. The two long short stories in this book called Smut are similarly entertaining and memorable.
Many thanks to Profile books for sending it to me.
posted by Clare Dudman at 10:49 pm
4 Comments:
Oh, the pleasure of belonging to a small country! Twice. That is lovely. And you make the book sound enticing (as always, Clare!)
Yes, small country and small literary circle, I guess! Though I suspect if I lived in London (or indeed New York) the chances of bumping into an author like Alan Bennett would be even greater.
And yes, the book is greatly entertaining!
Thanks Marly.
Yes. People always assume I live in or am close to NYC... Would be pleasant to have the advantages of a big city with cultural strengths. That is the only way in the US to have the "small country" feeling about a place. But most of us live elsewhere.
Now that some time has passed, I am wishing you would do a post reflecting more on your marketing side--summing up what you have learned in your year of energetic traveling about in aid of your last book. I always have trouble knowing what kind of events to accept and what to let go by. Knowing what is useful to the book and the publisher. And I'm in the middle of that process now.
You know, you ought to be on the CRWROPPS mailing list--then you could get a short-term gig in the US some time and expand your readership that way while you satisfy your insatiable travel bug!
Yes, I think most countries are like this. There are advantages to living in both places, I feel. I do love living in Chester, though.
I'm not sure I have anything to say about marketing, Marly. I know I sold some books by going out there and giving talks and just standing around in bookshops, but it was expensive in terms of time and money. I gave it a set amount of time and accepted everything that was offered me. I think it is impossible to say what works and what doesn't and whether any of it was worth it. For instance, at one bookshop in a large town I'd sell X books; whereas in another similar town I'd sell 10X books for the same length of time, on the same day of the week. My main motivation was enjoyment. I think that is the most important thing;if you don't enjoy it I think you should think very carefully about doing it. In that way it is rather like blogging.
Thanks for telling me about CRWROPPS. It looks interesting - but like many of these things it seems to be aimed at poets, and maybe short story writers, rather than what I do.
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