The power of storytelling

My own reminder of Fred Robinson

The most important thing for me, whether reading or writing a book, is a good story.  I have read a couple of Pulitzer Prise winning novels which were beautifully, beautifully written but so boring I struggled to finished them.  On the other hand I have read a cracking good story ruined by really bad writing. As I have staggered my way through reams of telling not showing, the most basic skill of story writing, overuse of adverbs - my weakness, or limited vocabulary and abundance of commas, I wonder which editor has allowed this novel through their editorial process. I can think of several well-known, best-selling authors who have a good yarn to tell but whose writing lacks even the basics of good creative writing. 

My mother read voraciously and read to me all the time which created in me a love of stories.  This started young, very young as I was weaned on Beatrix Potter, Orlando the marmalade cat and Madeleine. I devoured Enid Blyton, surely the worst possible example of what I have been complaining about and onwards and upwards to Jennings and all the other favourite novels of 1950’s Britain.  

When in my 40’s, I started my Primary teacher-training programme, one of the first lecturers in Literacy implored us to read to our class at least once a day, every day, no matter how old the children. I was always happy to oblige. I can remember with pleasure the children hanging on every word of an exciting story and I was delighted when an ex pupil of mine, now into his 20’s, told me how much he enjoyed one of the books I had read to the class.  

However one of my favourite storytellers was my Uncle Fred. He wasn’t an actual relative of mine at all, but on at least two occasions I found myself in the car on holiday with 4 adults. This was the penalty of being the youngest in the family. My brother and sister were off enjoying the delights of Crusader camps and my parents were on holiday with their good friends. I was the plus one. 

The four adults liked to take what seemed to me to be long car rides around the Welsh or maybe Scottish scenery and I was sandwiched in the back, bored.  Uncle Fred stepped in to stop my whining by telling me long, convoluted, impromptu stories.  Apparently I sat there rapt saying, ‘And then …’ in order to keep the story flowing.  Whenever Uncle Fred stopped to draw breath I would be ready with, ‘And then …’.  I have no recollection now of any of the stories but I do remember the storyteller. 

The final twist of this story is that one day I was tired, grumpy and we were meant to be walking up some mountain or other and I just cried and complained. Apparently I was given an orange to eat which was unusual as oranges are messy affairs to consume when out and about. Your hands become sticky and smelly, but it did the trick. Food always did the trick for me.  Restored, we all then walked wherever it was that the adults were planning to go. However I now have a permanent memento of that day and of all the times that Uncle Fred entertained me in the car.

Fred Robinson was a gifted children’s comic strip artist for various well-known children’s comics both before and after the War, and I have two pictures from him that are great heirlooms. One is of a little girl running up a path holding an orange. The other was given to me on my 21st birthday praising the virtues of women taken from Proverbs 31. Unfortunately I can no longer find this masterpiece. 

For me, my picture is a lasting reminder of the power of storytelling. Look carefully at the picture and along the bottom you can just about read Fred Robinson Private Storyteller. 

Uncle Fred’s obituary can be read here – if you are interested. https://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/obituary-fred-robinson-2316178.html 

Lydia Williams - friend of slaves

Lydia Williams who features in my book Nick North: Into Africa is actually an historical figure. She was an emancipated slave, born in 1820 and died in 1910 (aged 90 years).  Slavery was abolished in 1834 when Lydia was 14 but slaves had to carry out a post Emancipation apprenticeship and she was finally freed when she was 18.

District Six in 1964

lived in District 6, one of the most infamous areas of Cape Town. It is situated near to the Central Business District (CBD) and the docks. The view over Cape Town, the sea and the docks is beautiful. By the beginning of 20th century it was a lively, bustling community made up of former slaves, artisans, merchants and other immigrants.  The 60,000 inhabitants were mainly coloured – a South African accepted term for people of mixed race, many descended from slaves. However there were also black and both Afrikaans and English speaking white people as well as some Indians.

It wasn’t a rich area but the community got along really well and were happy to celebrate each others religious festivals as Christians, Muslims and Hindus lived there. After the Second World War, the national government started to pursue policies which eventually led to apartheid being established in 1948. All people were classified by race and given an area to live in. People needing to work or go to another area on legitimate business had to have a pass.

Forcible removals

the light of this, the government decided that interracial areas, such as District Six, bred conflict. They considered it was a slum with all manner of crimes being committed but many thought that the government actually wanted the area because of it closeness to the CBD and the commercial value of redevelopment.  District Six was declared a whites only area and the residents were forcibly removed to the cheerless Cape flats, far away from their places of work and the community they loved. The whole area was bulldozed apart from places of worship. However international pressure meant re-development was practically impossible and now over 50 years later, much of District Six is still barren land. A few old residents have now been re-housed in the area. 

District Six today

I try and cover all this complex history in Nick North: Into Africa. As part of my research I came across Lydia Williams also known as Saint Lydia for the work she did amongst the emancipated slaves. She was an extraordinary woman who still bore the scars on her body from whipping when she went in search for her daughter who was forcibly taken from her. She taught and held prayer meetings to help former slaves recover from the trauma of slavery. On December 1, Emancipation Day, each year she held a celebration at her house with treats and memories shared.

Here is an excerpt from Nick North: Into Africa where Nick and his two cousins Marieka and Johan find themselves in District Six.

At the bottom of the alley, it widened out into a junction of roads and alleys. On one corner was a small cottage tucked in the grounds of a church. Its small front garden was decorated with flowers festooned around the scraggly bushes.

‘I think this is our destination,’ Nick said. 

‘How do you know?’ Johan sniffed. 

‘House decorated and standing out from all the others. Next to a church. This is it.’ 

The three of them hovered on what passed for a pavement staring at the cottage and the flowers. As they looked closely they could see sweets hung amongst the flowers.

‘Do you think I could have a sweet or two?’ Johan asked.

‘No,’ Nick and Marieka said and Nick grabbed Johan’s arm in case he was tempted. 

Sitting on the doorstep of the cottage, on a low wooden chair, was a plump lady with short frizzy grey hair and a pale brown skin.  She was looking very closely at them but smiling.

‘Come on you three.  You look a bit lost and out of place, but I think this is where you were making for.  Am I right?’

‘Yes. I think so. The Shepherd sent us but we don’t really know why.’

The lady smiled. ‘The Shepherd told me to look out for strangers today. It’s our special day. And here you are.’

The lady beckoned them in. ‘My name is Lydia Williams but most people call me Sister Lydia. And who are you?’

The three of them walked up the path to the tiny cottage. ‘I’m Nick and these are my sort of cousins, Marieka and Johan.’

‘Welcome. All of you.

Genius or villain?

When writing my books, I do like to be as historically accurate as I can be. I research the region, the history and the people. Sometimes knowledge comes from my own experience and sometimes from the Internet. 

I always like to include historical people if at all possible. This may be alluded to as in Nick North: Cross Wires where I based the character Yvette, Nick’s great grandmother, on Eileen Neame a real life SOE operative in World War 2.  You can read about this in my blog: 'The Amazing women of SOE'  published in February 2018. 

However in Nick North: Into Africa I actually used two historical figures – first Governor Willem van der Stel and Lydia Williams. 

Governor Willem van der Stel 1664 - 1733

He was the son of Simon van der Stel, the first Governor of the Cape in South Africa, and later became Governor himself. In those days the Cape was little more than a watering station for the wealthy Dutch East India Company, who traded between the East Indies and Europe. 

Vergelegen

In 1700, Governor Willem established his residence at Vergelegen which literally means Far Away as it was a day’s ride from Cape Town. He transformed the uncultivated land into a paradise, planting vines, fruit orchards and olive groves and he kept thousands of sheep and cattle.  He was gifted in the whole area of horticulture and agriculture and experimented to improve yields and investigated and explored the many species of plants that flourish in southern Africa. He built a beautiful homestead and a hexagonal garden. He planted camphor trees and irrigated his paradise by digging channels from the nearby Lourens River.

The hexagonal garden today

Today, part of the house remains as does the hexagonal garden, a place of great quiet and beauty and the camphor trees stand majestically towering over the homestead. It is a beautiful location and I would recommend a visit there should you ever be in Cape Town.

However Governor Willem fell out with the other free burghers in the Cape as he used Company money to expand and develop his estate giving him an unfair advantage over the others. They complained to the Company and eventually Governor Willem was recalled to the Netherlands and the estate was divided into four.

Many however consider him to be a genius due to his knowledge of plants and horticulture and feel his great vision contributed to the development of the Cape. 

In my book, he makes a brief appearance right at the start. His manager, Master Anton, has whipped a slave to death.

At that moment, a man strode out from the homestead and across the lawns to where Master Anton stood over Jacob. He was wearing black britches, a long, black tunic, a white shirt with a cravat tied at his throat, and he had a grey wig.

‘What’s happening here, Anton? Did you do this?’ he asked, looking at Jacob’s battered and bloody body.

‘Yes, Governor Willem. I caught him stealing.’

‘Bit extreme, wouldn’t you say? Meant to be a couple of lashes, not an execution. You’d better be careful or your temper will get the better of you one day.’

With that, he strode back to the homestead and turned away his son, who had come out to see what had been going on, not realising that his careless actions had cost someone their life.

Next time: Lydia Williams

 

Nick North: Into Africa

We spend part of every year near Cape Town in South Africa. Anyone who has visited the city will know it is a fantastic place to go especially when the cold and wet weather is bombarding UK. 

Apart from the sunshine and blue skies, there is Table Mountain, Robben Island, the penguins at Boulders Beach, Cape Point, the Waterfront and many other wonderful attractions and places to see. Outside the actual city there are literally thousands of wine estates and not only are they delightful places to visit to sample the delicious South African wines, many of them are beautiful in their own right.

The old manor house at Vergelegen 

One of my favourite wine estates is Vergelegen (meaning situated far away) which is nowadays about an hour from Cape Town.  The whole estate is very attractive with the historic, old manor house in the centre, with rooms furnished with period furniture, surrounded by amazing gardens. It is possible to spend a few hours wandering the extensive grounds overlooked by towering mountains. It truly is a spectacular place.

The gardens with the towering mountains surrounding the estate

On one of our first visits there, the seed for Nick North: Into Africa was planted. In the grounds there is a roped off area with a board stating Site of the Slave House.  This piqued my interest but then inside the manor house, there are extensive display boards outlining the history of the estate including the use of many slaves.  It was from these things that the story was birthed.

Vergelegen was founded in 1700 by Willem Adriaan, son of the first governor of the Cape Simon van der Stel, when he succeeded his father as governor. He was a great entrepreneur building an extensive estate with over half a million vine stocks, orchards, cattle and sheep as well as the manor house. However his enthusiasm knew no bounds and he overstepped many boundaries and in the end the other local burghers (estate owners) informed the Dutch East Indies Company bosses in Holland of his corrupt practices, including having many more slaves than was permitted. In 1706 he was ordered to return to the Netherlands and the estate was divided into four lots.  Nevertheless Willem Adriaan was considered a genius for his knowledge of farming and his visionary mind contributed greatly to the agricultural development of the Cape. 

In recent years, Vergelegen is now open to the public but many world leaders, presidents and our Queen and the Prince of Wales have visited Vergelegen, owned and run by the Anglo American oil company.  

I decided to place the beginning of Nick North: Into Africa at Vergelegen where a slave is murdered, setting off a chain of events lasting hundreds of years until the Shepherd invited Nick, on holiday with his family in South Africa, to change the course of history. Before he left, Nick dreamt …

‘Oi you! Slave Jacob! Stop! I want to talk to you,’ Master Anton shouted.

Jacob stopped and tried to look up as the slave master approached, but the setting sun burned in his eyes and made his head hurt. He waited for the master to dismount. 

‘Did you take an apple from the orchard on your way to work?’ Master Anton’s eyes blazed angrily at him.

‘No Master Anton. I wouldn’t do that. That’s stealing.’ Jacob held out his hands, his palms facing upwards in a gesture of submission.

‘You’re dead right it’s stealing. So why is there a large apple core right where you’ve been working?’ Master Anton’s face twisted with disgust.

‘I don’t know Master Anton. It wasn’t me.’ Jacob’s voice trembled…

‘Well who was it? You know what we do with liars and thieves?’ Master Anton yelled, his face bright red.

‘Yes, Master Anton. You beat them.’ 

Jacob buried his face in his hands as the first lash of the horse’s whip landed on his bare shoulder, splitting his skin. He could feel the trickle of warm blood start to ooze out of the wound. The next lash fell on exactly the same spot, causing him to scream out in anguish. 

‘Please stop, Master. Please stop.’ 

He fell to his knees…

‘Why should I do that, you revolting slave?’ Master Anton’s voice rose to a scream as he continued the beating. Lash upon lash followed as Master Anton lost all control while the blood flowed. He went berserk, bawling and whipping.

Jacob felt a red haze pour over his eyes as he slipped into unconsciousness. He never regained his senses as his lifeblood poured out. He died with Master Anton still yelling and cursing him.

Fascinating research - incredible story

One of the fascinating things when doing research for a novel are the incredible little nuggets that you dig up that are crying out to be included in your story.

One such occurred when I was researching for Nick North: Cross Wires. Nick and his friend Ashley were taking Nick’s great grandmother and her friend across Nazi occupied Germany at the end of the Second World War. I was trying to work out a realistic route from Ravensbruck, the concentration camp where they were imprisoned, to the approaching Allied armies where they would be rescued. I was debating whether they should go to Leipzig or Magdeburg. For some very good reasons which I cannot now remember, I opted for Magdeburg.

It was whilst I was researching images of Magdeburg at the end of the War to help authenticate my descriptions of the town that I happened upon this extraordinary story that had lain dormant for over 60 years.

Matthew Rozell, a history teacher at small town Hudson Falls in New York state was interviewing Second World War Army veterans about their experiences and quite by chance one Army tank commander told him about how they had liberated a train full of Holocaust survivors in April 1945. One of his fellow liberators had even taken photos.

One of the photos taken of the liberation of the train. It became a famous Holocaust image.

The Nazis had packed 2500 Jews into a train of cattle trucks to send them from Bergen-Belsen to another camp.  These were Jews with foreign passports and the Nazis hoped to be able to use them as hostages for prisoner exchanges with the Allies.

However the rapidly advancing American army overran these Nazis who abandoned the train in a siding near Magdeburg. Matthew Rozell posted the account on his oral history school website and there it lay till about 4 years later extraordinary things started happening. Jewish survivors from the train began to contact him and authenticated the story.

Matthew Rozell decided to host a reunion in US between the survivors and their rescuers in 2007 and that was when this story went viral. They even had to temporarily close the school website as it was inundated with hits. Since then they have had ten such reunions. Matthew Rozell has written a book and apparently a film is also to be made.

This was just the sort of extraordinary event that you couldn’t make up but it fitted in perfectly with my Nick North novel. 

If you would like to read the original post that got me started on this journey it can be found https://teachinghistorymatters.com or via a Google search at teaching history matters.   The book about this incredible event is called A train near Magdeburg by Matthew Rozell.

A fuller account of this story can be found at https://www.haaretz.com/world-news/europe/.premium.MAGAZINE-the-holocaust-train-that-led-jews-to-freedom-instead-of-death-1.5446799

Finally if you would like to buy my book you can purchase it from Amazon either as a Kindle or paperback. 

The poignancy of war memorials

I was standing on the bowls green playing a friendly match against another club in our hometown. In between times when we were not required to do anything but watch what was going on, I got into conversation with one of the elderly bowlers from the opposition team.

The war memorial in our home town.
Private Coulson's name is on the bottom of the plaque behind the memorial

I have no idea how the conversation started but he told me about his National Service in Suez in the 1950’s. I always enjoy listening to the older generation tell of the events of their lives – it’s living history. He related to me how upset he had been that one of his fellow soldiers and mates who had died fighting in this conflict had not had his name added to the war memorial in the centre of our town.

He was so incensed by this injustice that he had petitioned the British Legion who look after the war memorials in UK to have his fellow soldiers’ name added to the memorial. He was delighted when they agreed and urged me to go and look when next I was in town. Sure enough there was Private R Coulson Suez 1953. This brave soldier had been given a special plaque at the bottom of the main list of names.  

It was this conversation and subsequent visit to the war memorial in our hometown that led to a sub plot in my book Nick North: War Zone. Leone’s great grandfather had survived the First World War but was severely damaged by what is now known as Combat Stress or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder but was in those days called Shell Shock. He had done a terrible thing and as a result his very good mate, Harry Dodds’ good name had been so dragged through the mud that it was not included on the war memorial even though he had been killed on active service.

Part of the putting wrongs right process was to have Harry Dodds’ name added to the monument in their hometown.

‘I still think it needs putting right. You said yourself his name isn’t on the war memorial. That’s wrong.’  The stubborn look on Leone’s face meant the matter was not going to be brushed under the carpet.  

‘All them soldiers is dead now.  It’s in the past. Let’s leave it alone.’

‘No Granddad.  That’s not right. We need to tell someone.’

‘O, Leone.  I’m too old now.’

‘I agree, Mr Cartwright. We ought to do something. Who could we contact?  Government, the solders’ regiment or what?’

‘Aye it was the Northumberland Fusiliers.  I could write to them I suppose or the Royal British Legion. I think they do the war memorials.  Let me think about it lass.’

‘Alright, Granddad.’ She leaned forward and kissed his wrinkled cheek. 

* * *

Nick pulled the other letter out of the envelope. It was from the Royal British Legion.

Dear Sir,

Thank you for informing the Legion about the circumstances surrounding the death of Private Harry Dodd in 1916. We have contacted the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers who confirm that you have been in touch with them.

Following their advice …. you will be glad to know that we will be adding Private Harry Dodd’s name to the war memorial in Burradon as soon as possible.

Extracts from Nick North: War Zone

The amazing women of SOE

One of my favourite television shows is Foyle’s War. Set in Hastings in the Second World War, it covers the work of Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle as he maintains law and order despite the war. Apart from the excellent acting and scripts, the production values are first class. The series looks like it takes place in 1940’s wartime Britain with authentic clothes, sets, vehicles and locations. But what I enjoy most is the whole idea of what the police had to deal with in wartime, crimes were still being committed including murder, black marketeering and dodging the call up or trying to avoid the war by living in a hotel in the country. There were dodgy dealings in a shipyard and the factory that was secretly making masses of coffins to put all those killed by the Blitz.

Ellie Haddington as Hilda Pierce

However there are several times that Foyle runs foul of the intelligence services in his pursuit of justice. On these occasions he is put right by the redoubtable Miss Pierce beautifully acted by Ellie Haddington. In the final episode of the whole series now set in post war Britain, Foyle is working for SIS (MI6). Miss Pierce is shot and it becomes apparent that during the war she and her current boss ran SOE.  She was portrayed as the real life Vera Atkins who sent many young men and women to France to work with the Resistance. Many of these women were betrayed or caught and tortured, then sent to concentration camps, hanged or shot.

Vera Atkins

Whilst researching Nick North: Cross Wires I read a lot about SOE, their French agents and Vera Atkins, the woman who recruited and trained them. Her story alone is fascinating. She was born in Romania and was raised in a wealthy Jewish family in what is today Ukraine. She was brought up in a life of privilege but when war was brewing she escaped to Britain in 1937. Her own life was shrouded in mystery much of which was not uncovered till Sarah Helm wrote her fascinating biography A Woman of Secrets. Amazingly she was able to work in SOE from 1941 even though she was not a British naturalised citizen till 1944.

Despite all manner of clues that the Nazis had infiltrated some of the SOE circuits in France, the young women continued to be sent to France where they were captured. Many disappeared and nothing was known about their whereabouts till after the war. Vera Atkins then single handedly toured war torn Europe to find out what had happened to her girls. She left no stone unturned till she knew exactly when they had been captured, where they had been taken, who had questioned and tortured them and where they had been sent and the manner of their death. It was an enormous task in incredibly difficult circumstances interviewing former Nazis and surviving prison inmates and warders.

Most SOE agents died, usually at the hands of the Nazis but one or two survived and I based the story of Nick’s great grandmother Yvette on the life of Eileen Nearne, who was parachuted into France from a Lysander plane and worked as a radio operator in France. Yvette also parachuted into France but I made her a courier in Paris. Eileen was captured and tortured and sent to Ravensbruck and then to another camp from which she escaped by miraculously fleeing from a work party.

Yvette too was captured and tortured and then sent to Ravensbruck camp. Nick and Ashley help Yvette and her friend Claudine to escape from a working party sent to work outside the camp.

As always the research for the Nick North books is fascinating. Here is an excerpt from Nick North: Cross Wires as Nick’s Gran finds out about her mother’s wartime career.

‘Incredible.  To think. All this about my own mother. I never knew.  She was a heroine.’

Gran studied another paper. ‘Oh.’ She dropped the paper and her hand flew to her mouth.

‘What’s up, Gran?’

‘She was sent to Ravensbrück.’

A bell was ringing in Nick’s head. ‘Where’s that?’

‘A death camp.’

‘She must have got out.’

‘Yes. Says here she escaped April 1945.’

Gran dropped the paper and sat back in her chair. Tears started to trickle down her face.

‘My poor mother. Avenue Foch. I bet she was tortured. And Ravensbrück.’

She started to sob and Nick handed her a tissue as he squeezed her shoulders.

‘Sorry, dear.’

‘It’s alright.’ Nick’s smile was tight. He sat beside his Gran and held her hand.

‘I’m not sure I should have started this,’ Gran said, smiling at Nick with watery eyes.

‘Yes, you should. She was a hero. At least you know now why she wasn’t much of a mum.’

‘You’re right.’