I wish I got to write essays about the Beatles instead of Brecht

I've never been a non-fiction reader. Perhaps I associated it with school, while fiction was ‘for fun’. Non fiction was merely ‘true stuff’ and what could be more boring than that? But lately when I go to the library I’ve been going straight to the non fiction section and ignoring the fiction. This may be a subconscious desire not to add to my TBR pile (which is getting ridiculous), but I’ve discovered that I really enjoy books of essays, mostly by fiction writers.

Perhaps because they’re by people whose day job is to entertain rather than instruct, written “for someone in a deck chair rather than at a desk”, as Hanif Kureishi says in my latest find, these tend not to be overly academic and they’re fun to read. They also tend to be about subjects I'm interested in, such as books, movies, music, writing, and autobiographical pieces about small, random topics that aren't big enough for novels or intellectual enough for serious journalism. A bit like blog posts really.

If you’re interested, I’d recommend The Complete Polysyllabic Spree and 31 Songs by Nick Hornby. Zadie Smith’s, Changing My Mind was also excellent.

My latest is Hanif Kureishi’s Collected Essays. The essays are split into 4 sections: Politics and Culture, Films, Writing, and Domestic.

Perfect.

There’s a lot about growing up as a Muslim in 60s Britain, including your average racist Brit (a disturbingly contemporary figure), class boundaries, and a lot about pop music, and being taught by the Beatles to aspire to more than your local comprehensive school has in store for you. And this is all interspersed with essays about Muslim strippers who humiliate and physically assault their audiences, travel pieces, book and film introductions, and the highs and lows of the writing life.

Predictably, I was drawn to the ‘Writing’ section. I’ll read anything a writer has to say about writing and Kureishi has plenty, including discussions of creative writing classes, p*ssing off your family, and the very practical matter of actually earning enough money to get the boiler fixed.

There seem to be a lot ‘collected essays’ about recently, (or have they always been there and I haven’t noticed?) Kureishi talks about how all his writer friends are having to write essays, articles, film and TV scripts, or teach just to make a bit of money and I wondered if all these ‘collected essays’ books are a symptom of that.

He pulls no punches about writing. It’s tough and you won’t earn a living, and if you plan on having kids, bills or a social life, forget it, (although Kureishi apparently has all three). He quotes Cyril Connolly, who said “there is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hallway,” (and Cyril was talking about male writers).

He also quotes Robert Louis Stevenson’s An Apology for Idlers, which says, (and this is my new motto and answer to all Babes’ housework related enquiries):

“Perpetual devotion to what a man calls his business, is only to be sustained by perpetual neglect of many other things.”

I might adapt that to “perpetual devotion to what a woman calls her business, is only to be sustained by perpetual neglect of what a man calls her business.”

But he also teaches writing himself and seems genuinely interested in encouraging students. You get the feeling he’s been there. He’s had the rejections and the inescapable obsession and he knows all about self doubt. I think it’s a worthwhile read for anyone interested in writing, if only because sometimes, in the endless silence that is a writing day, you need to hear someone say, "God, I know!"

My favourite line (pay attention to this one, Babes) is:

“It might appear to acquaintances of the author that he’s doing little but lying on the sofa staring into the distance, or going on long walks,” [around the shops] but “a book is a thousand inspirations rather than one big one - and the guilt of fertile indolence has to be borne.”

Oh, well all right then...