EIBF: In Memory of Edwin Morgan

Thursday, 19^th August 2010

Thursday was an poignant day for everyone at Charlotte Square; not necessarily for the events that were being held, but for some tragic news that was passed around (initially via Twitter) that morning.

The death of the esteemed Scots Makar (Scotland’s national poet) Edwin Morgan—the last of the canonical “Big Seven” Scottish poets of the 20^th century, including Hugh McDiarmid, and Norman MacCaig—filled the air with both melancholy and reverence.

My first event of the evening was Ian Rankin, who began by voicing his own admiration for the iconic poet. Rankin is himself “one of Edinburgh’s favourite sons” in the words of chair Lin Anderson, and the RBS tent was rammed with Rebus devotees. The character of Inspector Rebus, incidentally, has a Wikipedia page nearly as long as Rankin himself!

But there’s a new protagonist, named Malcolm Fox, on the scene in Rankin’s new novel The Complaints. Rankin thoroughly enjoyed writing a new character who isn’t quite as dysfunctional as Rebus, but said that he still has “unfinished business” with Rebus. Fox works in the same building as Rebus, Rankin hinted cheekily, suggesting that he was entertaining the idea of a collaborative act.

Rankin also spoke about film and TV adaptations of his novels. He mentioned that Doors Open has been bought by Stephen Fry, but perhaps most exciting is the film prospect of The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner, a novel by James Hogg, which Rankin has adapted for the screen. Set in Edinburgh, it is a terrifically chilling gothic novel about religion, science, the supernatural and psychology in conflict.

Next up was Michal Witkowski talking about his book Lovetown, which has recently been translated from the Polish to English, and is an unabashed exposition of gay life under Communist Poland.

What was most interesting about Witkowski’s talk was how his definitions of queer identities are very different from what we may be used to. The culture of queens, as well as a sexual fluidity and flexibility, was described in his novel. Moreover, he described homosexuals in Poland as fitting into two categories: the positive gays, and the negative gays. The difference between the two, he argues, is that the former group want to assimilate and be part of society. The latter, on the other hand, are reactionary. They conform to a culture of queer or camp, claim Oscar Wilde as their hero, and refuse to accept society as it is – because society refuses to accept them as they are. He calls this group “a broken mirror of society”, and his book deals with this group in much detail.

Witkowski mentions that several priests would preach against sodomy in the pulpit, yet cross-dress and cruise with the other queens at night, and went on the explain the legal issues surrounding homosexuality – it was never legalised, but nor was it illegal. It all depends on where you’re standing and how you see things: if you’re fighting for freedom, you feel oppressed, whereas those who don’t know that “freedom” is out there, don’t ever feel oppressed. Freedom, he argued, is a tricky and often misleading concept.

Witkowski had particular resonance in light of Edwin Morgan’s poetry. Morgan came out as gay very late in his career, and caused much of a stir, as suddenly people felt they had to read his beautifully passionate and tender love poems as “homosexual” ones – as if love were suddenly something alien. Witkowski also mentioned that initially he didn’t want to get too involved in his book, so his reputation with family and society wouldn’t be “soiled”, but couldn’t help himself as he gradually become completely immersed in his characters and subject matter. It is the bravery of writers like this that enable us to empathize, and recognize our shared humanity.

My last event of the night was a double act of authors Paul Murray and Simon Rich. Both have written novels about teenagers, and gave a remarkable insight into a world which, although not so far behind me, feels like a lifetime ago.

Murray’s extracts from his book about an Irish boys school were delightfully funny. He claimed that what attracted him to this subject, was the lies and certainties we are fed as we grow up, and how heartbreaking the moment is, when the roof of all you have been promised, falls in.

Rich—aged 25, but looks about 12—is a writer for Saturday Night Live, and his novel Elliot Allagash is unsurprisingly hilarious. A facetious look at high school power politics, as a microcosm for the wider world, is delivered in a wonderfully quirky and accessible manner – I’m currently thoroughly enjoying reading it, and intend to pass it on to my 13 year old brother once I’m done. 

 

Both writers acknowledge that their novels have moral perspectives, but most importantly give to a voice to a much misunderstood and underestimated generation. “Teenagers are portrayed as being superficial and flighty creatures, but this misrepresents very real attachments, friendships and loyalties in a teenagers life,” says Murray. Both Murray and Rich take a refreshingly optimistic outlook on teenagers in their novels, and therefore, provide us as readers with an equally optimistic view of our future.

 

Follow Ian Rankin on Twitter: @beathhigh

http://www.edwinmorgan.com/menu.html