Upon his word, and theirs

Priyanka Singh

Ever wonder what a list of favourite books, music and writers would, of a writer, read like? Which books make for a joyful embrace on an inert day; a long flight? Would contemporaries feature on it; would it be distant, redolent of a time long gone; or up-to-the-minute — a happy mix perhaps? How enthusiastic are authors about books, not their own? Plenty, really, for ‘our future depends on reading and daydreaming’.

Neil Gaiman needs no introduction, nor does his work. For those new to him, Gaiman began as a journalist, but quit so he had the ‘freedom to make things up’; to dab in comic writing (Sandman series astonishes). The exploration took him further, through the realm of fiction to the list of bestselling authors. It has been an exciting run, giving him no cause to glance back: Newbery Medal, Alex Award, the Eisner, the Hugo, the Nebula, the World Fantasy, Bram Stoker; he has won them all.

A step further, MirrorMask was a fantasy film he wrote, and is working on others.

The View is not wholly about him, and yet, is about him — his picks, his obsession for books as a child; the works and authors who influenced him, introduced him to newer worlds. Through his collection of introductions to other writers and their works; free-ranging, anecdotal essays; and discussions on genres, he expresses an intimate aspect of his life, one that builds him up before a reader — a new friend letting you in on his view of the world and all that there is.

There are curious bits on CS Lewis, GK Chesterton, Tolkien (‘wanting to write like him would be like wanting to blossom like a cherry tree’); Diana Wynne Jones, forever amused at her own anecdotes; ferociously intelligent Terry Pratchett with whom Gaiman co-authored Good Omens;  illustrator Dave McKean, Gene Wolfe (Gaiman gives nine tips to read Wolfe; reread being one); dealer in dreams Douglas Adams; Harlan Ellison who believes anything over 12 minutes of personal pain is ‘self-indulgence’; Stephen King, with a Teflon career, would do for free ‘what they pay me absurd amounts of money for’ (both his sons, Joe and Owen, are writers); Jack Kirby, the king of comics; HG Wells, Edgar Poe, HP Lovecraft, and many more, including Gaiman’s singer-wife, Amanda Palmer.

There is the mirthful story about how Douglas Adams was locked up in a suite so he could finish So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish after the publishing date drew closer but there was just no book!

Gaiman’s evening out at the Oscars, the glitz, the hollowness, Rachel McAdams’ flowing, ‘oh-so-tread-on-able dress’; and you have seen the inside of the Kodak Theatre.

Then there’s Gerard Biard, editor-in-chief of Charlie Hebdo, whose speech at the PEN awards ends thus: ‘Growing up to be a citizen is to learn that some ideas, some words, some images can be shocking. Being shocked is part of democratic debate. Being shot is not.’ A cry for freedom. 

There is more: Gaiman wisdom — big is not necessarily bad, small is not necessarily good; learn to say no; everything is negotiable; trust your obsessions; don’t stop learning; transgress; be you.

There are times he implores you to read a certain book before reading his introduction of it, promising he will be there when you get back.

Writing is necessary. Someone out there in a frosty world could do with a story, so he may have ‘hope, or wisdom, or kindness, or comfort’. But be warned, ‘You never learn to write a novel,’ says Gaiman, ‘you just learn how to write the novel that you are writing.’ You are, in effect, as good as your last work.

The account of his visit to the Azraq camp in Jordan [the border has been closed since] for refugees fleeing Syria is stirring. ‘I look at the camp, with room for 1,26,000 people all of who will come, most of whom will risk death to get there, and I know that is another 1,26,000 nightmares… I have stopped thinking about political divides, about freedom fighters or terrorists… I am thinking of the fragility of civilisation.... all I want to do is cry’. Agonising.

The book ends, and Gaiman becomes Neil; someone familiar, a friend you know well, someone who would kindly show the way. One message comes through clear: read, read, read. You have his list.