‘Work Hard And You’ll Succeed’; The Biggest Lie?

From www.victorianweb.org/history/ashley.html, a educational site offering free info on the victorian age. Image is a copy of one from an official report of a parliamentary commission done in the mid 18th century. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Almost from infancy, we’re brought up to believe this mantra. It follows us through school, reinforced by loving and caring parents, and is ingrained in our very personas through repetition and, often, a form of example. The successful, in the terms of our current society, are held up as models of what hard work will bring us. We will be rewarded with wealth, status, respect, power and all the associated glamour. The prize is, indeed, worth the effort.

It is, of course, a lie.

Okay, so I’ve now lost those of a right wing mind-set. These are people who, research has shown, are not simply unwilling to listen to new ideas but are actually not capable of understanding anything that doesn’t accord with their own view of the world. As a group, they hold enormous sway and disproportionate power, but we will have to continue our journey without them.

Why is it a lie?

I could be philosophical, ingenious, clever; I could employ numerous charts and lots of statistical analysis to illustrate my answer. But it’s simpler than that. I ask only that you open your eyes and look about you at the evidence.

Do you know wealthy miners? I mean the ones who spend 12 hours a day at the coal face, or sweat for 16 hours in the impossible heat and danger of the South African diamond, platinum and gold mines? Are you friendly with the wealthy neighbourhood carer who works 12 hour shifts to minister to the needs of demented pensioners, disabled children, insane wrecks, wiping shitty arses, cleaning up piss, feeding unresponsive faces in exchange for insults and occasional violence? Perhaps the guy who lives at the end of the street and spends his days running the pavements to empty your rubbish bins in record time is really a millionaire? Or, much more likely, the child who spends 18 hours a day clawing through the mixed waste of her neighbours in order to find enough plastic or metal to recycle and pay for her day’s single meal; she, of course, is wealthy beyond our wildest dreams, isn’t she?

Yet all these people can be described as hard workers. So, sorry to labour the point but it’s important you get this, the mantra is demonstrably false. Why, then, is it so universally accepted?

Why do we believe this mantra, this persuasive urge to reward in exchange for hard labour, if it so clearly isn’t true?

You won’t be surprised to learn that I have a theory. Those who know me, either personally or through my work, will know that I don’t have much time for conspiracy theories. That doesn’t, of course, mean that I treat all such ideas with equal scorn; merely that I’m sceptical enough to weigh the probabilities before I decide whether to investigate further.

But, in this case, I’m inclined to the view that there is a sort of conspiracy at work here. Not something formal or defined by a set of rules and conditions. No; this is something far more subtle, and it’s been developing over centuries.

To whose real advantage is the mantra?

Who has most to gain from a work force indoctrinated into believing that their hard labour will bring them rewards? Certainly not those who actually invest their time, energy and skills in those long hours of work. They are generally rewarded with job insecurity, poor working conditions and the wonderful incentive of ‘extra’ pay once they’ve done their prescribed hours.

So, if the actual workers don’t gain, who does?

If a worker gains an extra 10 percent by working harder, that’s his reward. But the person in charge of that worker, the boss, director, owner, creator; however you want to describe the individual or group at the top of the hierarchical pyramid, gains a percentage from each of those individual efforts. The rewards for those at the top are disproportionately increased because of the way our society is structured. If the ‘boss’ has a workforce of 100, for every 10 percent extra each individual worker achieves, the boss will generally gain an equivalent equal to the sum of their efforts: i.e. 10 time 100, which is 1,000 percent. (oversimplification, but it’s a general principle and illustrates the point). I’m not suggesting those at the top don’t work hard, merely that their efforts can never be so much greater than those they employ. So, the mantra results in a real increase of wealth for those who are already rich, but fails to do that for those who actually produce the increase. Clever, eh?

So, what rewards are there for those who accept and apply the mantra?

You’ll have noticed a relatively recent development that has effectively reduced the value of overtime working. Shop workers and the like were once rewarded for working unsocial hours that included weekend working. Certain workers were given better pay for working evening and night shifts (bar staff, hotel, hospital and factory workers, etc.). Some whose work could not be fitted into the normal working day (teachers, middle managers, etc.) were rewarded for continuing to work when they arrived home. But most of these apparent advantages have been eroded over time so that what was once regarded as ‘unsocial’ has become ‘normal’ in our 24/7 society.

Those who make policy will assure you that this is to the advantage of all of us. We must remain competitive in order to sell more goods outside, and inside, our given communities. And, of course, it is heresy to suggest that this may not be the case. Whether we actually need the increase in such goods is a whole new argument and beyond the scope of this short piece.

Examine the facts: the vast majority of economic activity is actually controlled by corporations and companies that operate on a global scale and that have investors from all over the world (or, at least, the parts of the world society where wealth is common). If an organisation is global, it necessarily has the means to determine both global and local economic conditions. It is the multinational corporations that set standards of wealth or poverty within the nations in which they are active. Governments have long been little more than regulatory authorities allowed an illusive power in order to keep both politicians and populations under control. So, the excuse that a British worker must work harder, at a ‘higher’ level of pay, in order to make British goods more competitive than the equivalent Taiwanese products, at a ‘lower’ level of pay, is actually a manipulative device to maintain control of the market place.

This short piece is intended as a post to induce thought and question, so I’m not going to develop my arguments fully here. My intention is merely to invite readers to consider and question what they’ve been told over the years. I’d like to start a discussion of the real merits of this mantra.

My assertion is simple. ‘Work hard and you’ll succeed’ is a lie, which should more properly be expressed as, ‘Work hard and you’ll make those in positions of wealth and power wealthier and more powerful’. I believe the evidence to support that viewpoint is there for all to see, if only they can persuade themselves to take the risk and question accepted dogma.

Of course, there are those who will demonstrate, superficially, that hard work can result in wealth. But the assumption that they can do so unsupported by all the many others in society is patently false. That, however, is a different argument and one I intend to pursue at a later date. For the moment, I ask you to look at the majority result of hard work and accept that, for the vast bulk of participants, simply working hard is not, and never has been, a route to wealth and power for that individual.

I invite your comments, questions and observations. Please, let’s make this a useful and positive discussion. My mind is open; is yours?

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The Father, by August Strindberg, Reviewed

This Swedish tragedy in three acts from the end of the nineteenth century is, of course, a literary classic. All three acts take place within the same, confined, setting, adding an element of claustrophobia to the narrow society depicted.

In its original Swedish, I suspect the language contains elements of poetic presentation that are lost in translation. Nevertheless, the dialogue is rich and complex, expressing a great range of emotions. The battle of the sexes that appears as the superficial theme of the play, is, of course, simply a literary device to carry the more contemporaneously dangerous theme of religious hypocrisy.

In the days before genetics was properly understood, the Father’s obsession with the question of paternity is understandable, vaguely pathetic but, at the same time, laudable. He wants what he perceives as the best for his child, but his motives are basically selfish, in that his reason for wanting her to be brought up with his beliefs is so that his own ‘spirit’ will have continued existence after his death. His concern, therefore, is not for his daughter, but for himself. Of course, this is the typical obsession of most religions: the safety of the supplicant’s soul being the driving force that’s supposed to make such followers into ‘good’ people.

A man of science, he’s plagued by doubts, and these uncertainties inevitably bleed into his faith. As more knowledge becomes available through scientific discovery, so the position of certainty that was previously held by the various churches rapidly becomes undermined. It’s within this world of change and its accompanying questioning of fundamental creeds that the play is set.

None of the characters in this play come out well. They are all driven by selfish motives and although love is recruited by the main players, it’s a false love, driven by selfish concerns rather than by care for those for whom it’s expressed.

Of its time in the way that women are considered less important than men, its employment of the Omphale myth demonstrates the Father’s ultimate feelings of emasculation by what he sees as his wife’s tricks.

This is tragedy in the true sense of the word; the flawed hero brought down by his inability to understand and modify his own character to deal with realities. Although not an entertainment, this is a play I would gladly see performed, were it ever produced at a theatre accessible to me.

The Circle, by Somerset Maugham, Reviewed

A play very much of its time, The Circle, nevertheless touches lightly on themes which continue to have relevance today. Superficially dealing with infidelity and its consequences, there are deeper threads that weave around the war of the sexes, real love, class and sex.

It’s set in the home of a man of independent wealth, a man who is also a Member of Parliament with a ‘position’ in society. His wife is, of course, beautiful and much younger. She is also, predictably, bored by her life of privilege and ease. The plot revolves around the fact that the MP’s father was deserted by his equally beautiful and superficial wife in the name of love, and he is quickly revealed to be in the same boat as his father shortly after the play opens. Just in case you’ve either never heard of the play, or might have the chance to see it, I won’t spoil the ending by revealing the outcome.

As a seed bed for comedy, the situation ought to be bursting with potential life. Unfortunately, the comedy of manners here doesn’t travel through time as well as the famous Pride and Prejudice. I think the reason for that is that it’s very difficult for a modern reader to have any true empathy with any of the characters. The only ‘common’ man in the cast is as difficult to like as are the spoilt brats of the upper classes that take most of the roles.

There’s some amusement to be had by laughing at rather than with the players at times. But I found it sparse for a play that’s described as ‘comedy in three acts’. I was mostly either appalled at the utter hypocrisy and shallowness of the people portrayed or indifferent to their perceived problems or their fate. It wasn’t that their problems were unreal, merely that they, as individuals, failed to convince me that I should give a damn.

I’ve no doubt that gifted actors and a bright director could bring more to this play than I gleaned from the page. But I wouldn’t be tempted to make a trip to the theatre to watch it. Just possibly, were it to appear on the goggle box on a wet afternoon when I had nothing else to do, I might start watching it. For me, it lacked the wit that lifts Wilde’s plays above such considerations and it left a taste of self-satisfaction and smugness in the mouth.

Wordcounter: An Invaluable Tool to Prevent Repetition.

For comparison, here's the Wordle version of the same chapter

Described as a tool to spot overused words, Wordcounter is a website that allows you to upload your text and check it for repetition of words. Most writers have favourite words that they use, often without thinking. These are the familiar friends that get us past blocks and barriers. I frequently employ the same word when creating a piece and then change certain instances by replacing the word with synonyms when I do the editing. This makes for richer prose but allows the writer to construct the piece without having to stop the flow in order to come up with a new or different word. The problem is, or can be, that we are often not aware of those words we use frequently; they are so familiar that the brain skips over them when the editing process is under way. This is one of the reasons that professional writers always allow some other, preferably a professional, to edit their work towards the end of the writing process.

The sample I used for this exercise is the next chapter in my romantic thriller, which will appear tomorrow. I thought it might be a useful and practical way of demonstrating the value of the Wordcounter.

In this sample, which is 5,383 words long,  the word ‘just’ appears 25 times. I hadn’t come across this tool at the time of writing and, although the piece has been through 3 different edits by well-read and well-educated people, none spotted that overuse. Fortunately, many of the examples appear in dialogue, where it reflects the everyday usage of the speaker. However, there are other sentences or paragraphs where ‘just’ could easily have been substituted by ‘only’ or by a small change in construction.

Other frequent uses appear in three character names, which are instances where the repeated word will rarely be able to be substituted. By the way, when you use this tool, you’ll notice that the results are returned without capital letters. I’ve inserted capitals to make the demonstration clearer.  And the word ‘car’ is a star in this case simply because the chapter is set in a driving school situation.

So, a very useful tool and one I wish I’d discovered earlier. I’ll certainly use it for everything I write in the future. It has the advantage of being mechanical and therefore indifferent to a writer’s particular preferences. It spots those overused words and points them out with brutal efficiency.

I’d certainly recommend this tool and would like to publicly thank its creator, Steven Morgan Friedman.

You’ll see there are a couple of other tools available on the site. I haven’t yet tried these, but will do in the future and let you know what I find. Of course, you could always try them for yourself.

The text shown below is what appears on the website:

Wordcounter ranks the most frequently used words in any given body of text. Use this to see what words you overuse (is everything a "solution" for you?) or maybe just to find some keywords from a document.

(New! - See the Political Vocabulary Analysis - to try to predict if a document has political leanings!)

Wordcounter is useful for writers, editors, students, and anyone who thinks that they might be speaking redundantly or repetitively -- and it's free! Eventually, I'm going to expand it so that you can upload documents, but not yet.

If you enjoy the Wordcounter, you might enjoy my new web page, Smugopedia - pretend you know better. It's smartly weird and funny. 

Top of Form

Enter the body of text here (to count & rank the word frequency):


Include Small Words ("the", "it", etc)?   No -- exclude them  Yes -- include them

Use Only Roots (group variations together)?   Yes (beta)  No

How Many Words should I list?   25  50  100  200

Bottom of Form

Here are your results... 

Word	Frequency
just	25
I’d	21
know	20
Shirley	20
it’	19
you’re	18
sex	17
Tony	17
car	16
very	15
‘I	15
you’	15
I’m	15
Faith	14
case	14
don’t	14
go	13
test	13
time	13
back	13
went	13
look	13
down	12
take	12
one	12

http://www.wordcounter.com/

The Emotion Thesaurus, by Angela Ackerman & Becca Puglisi, Reviewed

I promised my wonderful and long-suffering wife that I wouldn’t buy any more book until I’d read everything on our shelves. Now, here I am buying a new thesaurus after reading only 31 of the original 188 titles awaiting my attention. Why? Well my friend, Avril Field-Taylor, (she’s a friend, and she made me break a promise to my wife?) passed on a review of this book. Here's the link to that. It was the review that persuaded me to bend my knee and ask my lovely other half to bend the rules. Being the woman she is, she agreed, of course.

So, what’s this reference work like?

Well, surprisingly, it’s in the form of a thesaurus: novel, eh? There’s a short introductory section that provides a brief overview of emotion and its place in writing. A short article on avoiding common problems in conveying nonverbal emotion follows. And a short explanatory piece then explains how best to use the thesaurus. After these pieces come the listings.

Now, I don’t know about you, but perhaps because I’m a man and therefore emotionally challenged, I’d have found it difficult to come up with a list of more than ten emotions. So it was something of a surprise to discover 75, yes seventy five, listed here. For each of these, the authors have provided a definition of the emotion, a list of physical signals, the internal sensations experienced, the mental responses felt, cues of acute or long-term encounters with and cues of suppressed experience of the emotion. The final piece on each is a short writer’s tip.

The book sets out to enable writers to convey emotion in the time-honoured fashion of ‘showing’ rather than the easier and less satisfying ‘telling’. By equipping the writer with a variety of physical signs (body language), visceral experiences (the true and unavoidable internal responses) and degrees of response, the authors help writers to bring deeper feelings to the readers of their works. It succeeds in its stated purpose, by the way.

I shall keep this book beside me as I edit in the future, ensuring I create real emotion on the page rather than allow cliché and familiar expression to convey the feelings of my characters.

My thanks to the unknown reviewer and my great thanks to Angela and Becca for a super little reference book that I expect to improve my writing for years to come. I think it’s probably redundant for me to say I recommend this book, but, there, I’ve said it anyway.

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Blood Wedding, by Federico Garcia Lorca, Reviewed

Described as tragedy in three acts and seven scenes, Blood Wedding is, of course, a theatrical classic. Now; plays are intended to be seen as they’re performed on stage. But, having had some small experience of playwriting and being a novelist and short story writer by nature, I enjoy the challenge of setting such works within the landscape of my own imagination.

This is a work from a culture that’s alien to me and that makes it all the more challenging. It also tests its credentials as a renowned classic. If I can glean the essence of the piece simply by reading it from the page, then it clearly deserves its literary reputation.

So, a tragedy: of that there can be no doubt. A sad and sorry tale of love distorted by tribal and cultural considerations that defy comprehension in a modern mind, this story reveals the ultimate stupidity that supports certain primitive codes of honour. Religion is rarely mentioned in the text, but it sweeps through the work like a mudslide invading a village. Passion drives much of the play, directing the characters and forcing them to make decisions that a moment’s quiet contemplation would quickly countermand.

Various devices are employed to illuminate the tale. The ubiquitous horse clearly has a significance that largely escaped me during the reading. Though, I suppose, it might be a metaphor for a certain type of power, or it may have the sexual connotations of the dream. I don’t have the advantage of the study notes that would undoubtedly explain the play through the eyes of some scholars, and I prefer my ignorance to the pretentions of such critics.

There are large passages of poetry expressed as song and these are relatively repetitious and often obscure. Such references carry more meaning for the intended local audience, no doubt. The simmering sexual tension swells through these passages, evoking those stirrings of passion often experienced by most of us in our youth. That it is here applied to more mature individuals increases the feeling that we are witnessing a primitive society.

Whilst there were elements of the text that bypassed my conscious understanding, the play as a whole found its way into my heart and soul so that I felt the emotions and discovered I had empathy with the protagonists. The inevitability of the denouement did nothing to decrease its utterly senseless tragedy.

I can only hope that the people for whom this was, presumably, written would leave the theatre in a state that would encourage them to examine the traditions and customs by which they lived. Otherwise, the tragedy is destined to be repeated ad infinitum.

Would I attend a stage performance if it were to come my way? Yes.

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The Black Angel, by John Connolly, Reviewed.

I suspect that this is a very good book of its type, but I’ll never know. Sometimes, as a reader, I pick up a book and begin to read and know, very quickly that it isn’t for me. This is, obviously, a personal response.

Other readers may, however, gain value from the reasons why I failed to get past page 33 of a 596 page book. The book is described as ‘dark and powerful yet beautifully written’, by Big Issue, and that, I suspect, would have been my own assessment had I finished it. The writing is, without doubt, good. And it is a very dark piece of work. Which is why I didn’t read it.

For me, this was too dark and gave no glimmer of hope for any lightness. I’ve read and enjoyed horror, thrillers of all sorts, but I need to have some hint of lightness to balance the dark. In The Black Angel, there was no such hint. And the darkness all revolved around brutal mistreatment of women, around trading in women as objects. I find that a difficult subject to deal with but could have continued had there been even a sprinkling of lightness, perhaps a touch of humour here and there. But, when all is darkness, I find the text depressing. And depression is something I can do without.

We all have our own peculiarities: my own is that I can write very dark material, but always add lightness. I can’t read dark material that lacks such a touch. I’ve probably missed out on a very good book. The writing is generally good and I’ve little doubt that the author can tell a tale. But this one wasn’t for me. I hope this is of use to some potential readers, but stress that this is a very personal response.

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Seeking Readers’ Views on Matters of Fantasy.

Those of you who’ve followed this blog for any time will know I’m in the process of completing an epic fantasy trilogy. I’ve written the first 2 volumes and edited book one to the point where it’s ready for publication. Book 2 is currently undergoing the penultimate edit and book 3 is yet to be written, though I know where it’s heading, more or less.

So, how can you help?

Well, I’m seeking the opinions of readers on various aspects of the fantasy genre:

My book is an adult tale, containing references and descriptions unsuitable for those under 15 years of age. Would that concern you? (there’s no erotic content, but there are sexual references).

The major theme of the whole work is hypocrisy in organised religion, though this is very definitely thematic and doesn’t push the story, which is largely character driven, with the actions of those characters resulting in the drama and adventure of the tale.  Clearly, I’m not about to alter the theme, but I’d like to know if the very fact of it would deter you from sampling the book.

Book 1 is 216,000 words, or around 680 pages of a standard paperback. The other two volumes will be around the same length. Assuming the story and characters carry this length, as a reader, does this excite, inspire, worry or inhibit you?

Clearly, publication of such a tome is likely to be difficult to sell to a traditional publishing house. Would you be likely to try such a book as, A, a paperback, B, an ebook, C, both of these, D, neither, if self-published?

What sort of price would you expect to pay for such a work?

The story needs maps to allow the reader to enjoy the location of the fantasy. I’ve drawn the main map on a sheet of A1 (approx. 60x80 cms) and had it scanned electronically so I can produce it both in full and in parts to suit the story as it ranges over the wide territory imagined. How would you feel about the inclusion of such maps in an ebook? And, would you like a ‘fold-out’ map in a paper book, if possible?

I’ve decided not to publish volume 1 until volume 2 is ready for publication and volume 3 is already underway. Would that decision help you decide whether or not to sample the first volume? I know it’s not uncommon for fantasy writers to start a trilogy and then abandon it before it’s finished. I want to avoid falling into that trap and, by taking this action, wish to assure my readers that I’ll give them the full tale.

Later in the process, I intend releasing short tasters so that readers can have an idea of the quality of the writing and some clues regarding characters, theme and storyline. Would you welcome such samples?

That’s it for the moment. Later on, I’ll explain some of the techniques used in the writing, introduce some of the major characters and give clues about the imagined land I’ve used as a setting. Watch this space.

Thank you for your help in this process.

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The Best After-Dinner Stories, by Tim Heald, Reviewed.

A book better presented than compiled, Tim Heald’s The Best After-Dinner Stories is a special edition available through the Folio Society (£19.95). As is often the case with such books, the text is illustrated, in this case by Paul Cox, who does an admirable if somewhat cosy job of work with the material offered.

There’s an underlying tone to the collection and the introductory passages which will undoubtedly appeal to those of a clubbish or socially elevated nature. I found it complacent, self-satisfied and smug and not at all attractive. In fact, I was tempted to stop reading after a short while because of this slightly snobbish and superior tone. I’m glad I didn’t.

In the collection, Tim Heald introduces readers to such luminaries as Chaucer, Shakespeare, Churchill, Samuel Johnson, Horace Walpole and Her Majesty the Queen, amongst others. A few less elevated entertainers jostle for space within the pages, including Joyce Grenfell, Eric Idle, Gyles Brandreth, John Mortimer and Joanna Trollope, again, amongst others.

Of course, the very title of the book should have warned me of the probable approach: after dinner stories are, after all, mainly the province of establishment organisations such as Oxbridge, Gentleman’s clubs and various scholarly or exclusive societies. It is telling that the book was published by the Folio Society, a book club specialising in high end quality book production, where all volumes are hardbacks and most editions are presented in slip cases specially designed for the organisation. You’ll find it available on Amazon, but only in the form of the original publication; sometimes offered as ‘new’, when it is clear that it’s a book passed on to the seller by a society member.

Apart from the social snobbishness that drives the text, there’s an intellectual snobbishness that presents certain references, likely to be familiar only to scholars, as if these were common knowledge amongst common readers.

So, why did I continue to read? Well, the simple fact is that some of the stories presented were very amusing. Some. There was a good deal of comedy I could enjoy, though there was as much that left me cold due to its class basis. I skipped large portions, bored by the pretentions of the narrator. But I also learned the true sources for a number of lengthy jokes that have become popular through re-telling and clearly attributed to the wrong creative minds by that reprocessing.

I obtained the book as a returning member of the Folio Society, an organisation that attracts those of us who love real books. It was part of a free introductory package. I’m glad I didn’t pay for it but also glad I stuck it out to the end. Would I recommend it? That depends on the reader, really. The old-fashioned, club members, Oxbridge dons and graduates, and those who consider themselves upper-middle or upper class would undoubtedly enjoy a number of the ‘in’ jokes. For the rest of us less elevated readers, the pleasures are less obvious. If you enjoyed Punch, you’re likely to find something to amuse you here.

Reading to Write

Writers need to read, in the same way that painters need to visit galleries, plumbers need to visit home improvement shows, computer programmers need to keep up to date with online developments and pianists need to listen to music. We gain our knowledge of what works best by soaking ourselves in the best that’s out there. But, if we don’t read the work of others, how can we know what is best, how can we understand whether our efforts are poor, mediocre, good or bloody wonderful by comparison? It’s very easy, and very lazy, to believe that we, as creative artists, can exist outside the work of others. That our work exists in isolation, untainted by contact with other creative minds. Not only is this lazy, however; it’s crap. All art is derivative. If you don’t think that’s true, you haven’t read enough.

There is a saying that there are only three, five, seven or nine plots, depending on which ‘scholar’ you consult on the issue. I think that’s an oversimplification, but the general idea is right. There are a limited number of ways in which a story can be told.

What each of us as individual writers brings to our own stories is our voice; a combination of experience, education, style, point of view, personality, location, and tone. Boy meets girl is, of course, the most frequently told story. But that basic premise is changed by each writer who approaches it. The tale told by a pessimistic, misogynist, right wing, catholic priest living on the edge of a swamp in Louisiana will be entirely different from the tale told by an optimistic, philanthropic, liberal brain surgeon living in a penthouse overlooking the River Thames. And that is so even if both writers are restricted to the same characters, settings and even incidents.

But, and this is where reading comes into it, the same story told by very similar people with similar experiences, even siblings and identical twins, will be different due to subconscious influences imparted by exposure to different authors. A writer who has dwelt in the world of the classics will write an entirely different story from the one who reads nothing but contemporary romance. Reading informs us in so many different ways. The best writing educates as it informs and entertains. Writing in the absence of reading, far from enabling originality and novelty, actually stunts the writer’s mind and leaves him wallowing in the false world of his own limited imagination. It might be a safe and exciting place to be; living inside your own mind, with your own ideas. But is it a place others will want to share? Is it a place that others will find enticing, exciting, enriching? You can’t know if you don’t read the work of others. Your judgement is inevitably skewed by your prejudice against anything that isn’t what you believe to be your own invention.

Many writers cite the fear of unconscious plagiarism as a reason not to read. This is understandable but mistaken. Unless a writer actually copies the words of another writer (and such does happen, though what these people hope to gain is uncertain) he is unlikely to plagiarise. He may take an interesting idea from another work. But his own voice will alter the tale and make it his own. He may discover a wonderful character, but his own experience will subtly alter that protagonist and, by placing the character within a different frame, the person on the page will be different from that first admired.

One other reason for a modern writer to read is, of course, the need to know what is currently being read in the field of interest or the genre in which the writer operates. It’s impossible to keep up with the multitude of books published daily, whatever type of fiction you produce. But it’s perfectly possible to gain a feeling for what is now being read, by reading what is now being written. I don’t mean the ‘latest’ or ‘best-selling’ books. I mean reading those works that are ‘of the age’, and that can include timeless works that have become classics as well as more modern works that have caught the imagination of the reading public. The timeframe for what is happening ‘now’ in any field will be wider than merely this year, this decade and, in some cases, even this century. Clearly, science fiction is subject to events that occur almost daily. But that doesn’t mean that a scifi story has to include the latest developments. It may mean, however, that a story on a given theme is no longer something that attracts readers. By reading, writers become attuned to what is uppermost in the minds of readers.

Theme is the aspect most affected by the passing of years. So, a modern writer would find it difficult to sell a piece that treated western women as goods and chattels, although the same story set in many contemporary Arabic cultures could be perfectly acceptable, since the customs and traditions in those lands remain locked in a past the west abandoned long ago.

But the single most important reason for a writer to read is that of judging the quality of his writing. Without the work of others with which to compare his output, the writer exists in isolation with only his own standards and limited knowledge and experience to filter his judgement. He must reach a distorted verdict on his own work; it’s inevitable.

So, if you want to write with a sense of certainty that your work is brilliant, with a confidence that will never be questioned by your own ego, don’t read the work of other writers. You’ll likely never sell much and only your family and friends will praise your work. But you’ll live in a falsely elevated state of self-delusion and will be forgotten by posterity, if you were ever noticed, that is.

If, on the other hand, you’d like real readers, real reviewers, real critics to enjoy your work and tell the reading world about them, you’d best read the work of others and learn from the excellent and the dire. Without such benchmarks, your inner critic has no reliable sources with which to make comparisons and you are destined to fail. Unless, of course, you really are a genius.

A great source of information about which books are worth reading, is the excellent online readers’ community, Goodreads. I recommend it to you all.

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Bedroom Farce, by Alan Ayckbourn, Reviewed.

Alan Ayckbourn, in Bedroom Farce, has written another in his series of very funny and insightful farces. A play, of course, is intended to be seen in order to be fully appreciated, but, as a playwright myself, I have an interest in reading the scripts.

This one is staged using three sets that appear together: three bedrooms, which allow the action of the interrelated couples to indulge in the farce of the title. However, what could so easily have descended into smut and exploitation of sexual mores, is instead a complex and well-observed comedy about English suburban life. Ayckbourn is a superb recorder of the idiosyncrasies of his family of English characters. He portrays them with love but doesn’t hold back in showing them for what they are. Often silly, sometimes selfish, frequently lacking in understanding, but never stereotypical, boring or trite.

He uses his sets to make points, giving the locations roles that place them as mute characters on stage to comment silently on the peculiarities, peccadillos, personalities and preferences of his flesh and blood characters. Imagination permits the reader to experience the text in much the same way as the theatre-goer might experience the performance. Though this is not to say that talented actors fail to raise more and greater laughs from the audience than the reader can develop from imagination alone.

Should this play be produced on a stage near me, I shall certainly attend and watch as the text is brought to life by performers who will undoubtedly enjoy the experience as much as the audience. And I’d recommend you to do the same. It’s a play full of laughter for the audience and brimming with under-stated and sometimes subtle asides at the characters. Well worth the reader’s and the viewer’s attention.

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