I
told you so. You shouldn't have...! Why didn't you...?
Familiar, eh? In this case they're on about the jacket design of
MHFTB (“My Heart Forgets To Beat”). Yes, they warn me, I'll make
a hash of it. They tell me to get a professional in to do the job.
They urge me not to waste any more of my precious time.
Phooey
to the lot of them. OK, I'm not a trained book designer; I'm no
multi-tasking Comrade Billy of Blake; I do this for kicks. I love pens
and pencils, brushes, crayons, photographs, scanning devices, artwork
programmes, anything to do with the creation and manipulation of
images. One of my favourite films is David Hockney's A Bigger Splash.
Not actually a great movie, which is hardly the point, just a real
delight to watch. Hockers spends a whole year painting and repainting
this sexy poolside scene, trying to get the figure of an on-looker
right. Friends/cronies go mad at him to finish the piece. Twice, he
casually cuts the canvas up in bits and starts over. He doesn't care
what anyone says.
I'm
obsessive about texts, though hopefully a better writer than artist.
So what's behind the jacket of MHFTB? What's the cover story, eh?
While the novel should be self explanatory, the elements on the
jacket derive from all the research I did on the project. In that
sense, they are badges of authenticity. They show how immersed I
became in the history; to what extent I got lost, and how the final
writing and publishing has been the struggle to find my way out.
There
are ten elements in the cover design. Ten's not a significant number,
though maybe a large one to the orthodox,
That's
nine too many! Keep it simple!
So
they say. My response?
Nay,
nay and thrice nay! Simple is not how it is.
The
first element derives from a banner showing the Spanish Republican
flag,
I
scanned the colours from this museum piece. I absolutely love these faded pastel shades. Well, that much IS simple.
Overlaid
on the background colours, there is text, pictures and three bars of
music.
Six
of the pictures are small, thumb-nail images. In the top left corner
of the front cover, there is a Dornier 17, a German schnellbomber
(fast bomber) which flew with the Fascist Condor League,
It
was one of the types of aircraft used in the infamous attack on
Guernica. I traced the profile from a scale drawing and have slightly
elongated it because the plan-view doesn't really show its
pencil-thin shape. A pair of Dorniers from the Condor League carry
out a bombing raid in the Prologue of MHFTB.
Opposing the bomber, in the top
right corner of the front cover, is the three pointed red star of the
Spanish Republic. The Estrella Roja (Red Star) Café also appears in
the Prologue,
The
Estrella Roja (Red Star) Café also appears in the Prologue. Three
pointed stars are quite unusual and it's hard to find good examples,
even on the internet. I drafted this one myself and gave it a thin
white outline, which is not exactly authentic, but helps in the
definition.
In
the lower left corner of the front cover is a 1935 Bentley Tourer,
which appears in Part Three,
Vaughan
Thomas, the poet-hero, helps to drive this car from England to the
South of France in the summer of 1936, hence its rather
worse-for-the-road appearance. While in this car, which is owned by
the left-leaning son of a press baron, the Spain-bound London
Volunteers are encountered. I hand-traced various vintage Bentley
photos to produce this image. Incidentally, I've produced more
detailed, coloured versions of some pictures for this blog. This is
what I mean by getting lost in the process!
Vaughan's
own wheels are much less grand, though no less legendary; opposing
the Bentley is a 1927 KTT Velocette, a two-stroke engined bike of
349cc's,
A
bike enthusiast friend suggested incorporating a Velocette and lent me an old
handbook from his collection, me knowing next to nothing about the
subject. The model Vaughan rides (with Ruth as passenger) is no
slouch; the TT in its name deriving from the Isle of Man races, where
it won fame. Once again, the image I use has been traced from various
sources; the pillion seat is an extra on pre-1930's models. Here is a
poem Vaughan writes about Sunday motorcycling,
Sonnet
- new troubles in the old kitbag
The
two-stroke mob, on leave from weekday jobs,
our motors stuttering like Vickers guns,
in Air Force goggles, surplus Army boots
and Navy loader’s gloves we signal turns
that camouflage the pacifist in us
our motors stuttering like Vickers guns,
in Air Force goggles, surplus Army boots
and Navy loader’s gloves we signal turns
that camouflage the pacifist in us
And
lasses too, hunching on barbèd steeds
we rip your peaceful town and village squares
not like the choirboys that sheepishly marched
to drown in gas of Ypres, mud of Somme.
we rip your peaceful town and village squares
not like the choirboys that sheepishly marched
to drown in gas of Ypres, mud of Somme.
Why
don’t we halt at chapel doors, pack up
your troubles in our cast-off killers’ bags,
or put on bun fights down the orphanage?
Instead, we roast your Sunday mourners’ ears
yowling for freedom in the togs of war.
your troubles in our cast-off killers’ bags,
or put on bun fights down the orphanage?
Instead, we roast your Sunday mourners’ ears
yowling for freedom in the togs of war.
-
V.T.
“Yowling”
is the sound peculiar to two-stroke engines.
Turning
to the spine. At the top, there is a Liver Bird,
At
first, I was tempted to use the Liverpool FC logo, but of course that
is an over-protected species. Then, after research into the origins
of this mythical bird, I wondered if a cormorant wasn't more in
keeping. The image I finally came up with is much fatter and
fowl-like than either of the above. There's also a touch of pigeon in
its olive sprig. I grow olive trees, so I consider it a point of
honour that the leaves look right. Here's part of an Oh Reilly poem
(from Leaves of the Poets Vol. 2):
odd of the liver bird
eh
blue which god vouchsafed this perch
so
far above the ships at berth
in
fervent scenes of graft or work
and
did I plead for such a perk
to
stand and squawk for what it's worth
skulking
up here all out to lurch
d'ye
ken yon gulls upon the church
St.
Nicks by name which comb the earth
no
sparrows they of belfries' lurk
that
eye the bat and miss the quirk
of
early worms for there's a dearth
and
precious nowt without a search
but
blue to whom the beak addressed this dirge
flew
fleet and dumbly by the giant's verge
-
Alain Oh Reilly (from work in progress)
At
the bottom of the spine is the Welsh dragon,
Though
Liverpool is famous for its Irish connection, in fact the Welsh more
or less built the city. Where I grew up (in Walton, next door to
V.T.'s Anfield) the old tongue was still spoken on the streets in the
1960s. Why is it so many English people despise the Welsh? That game
show presenter, Anne Whatsername, got away with murder. What would
she'd have been called if she'd said all that about British Asians or
Africans? She'd have been lynched, that's what; but because she
vented her spite at the Welsh, she got clean away. Some people seem
to forget that without Lloyd George this country would have been
finished. He was the genius who pulled us through 1916-17. And where
did the Tudor family come from, eh? I am proud of my Welsh heritage
and will never forget it. In 1992, I was so disgusted by what Murdoch
did to Kinnock, I left the UK. Lost the thread again, eh?
The
large image on the front cover is inspired by one of E. Dean's B&W
seaside pier photographs,
Dean
was active in the mid-Thirties, providing Newspaper and Picture-Post
type images from all walks of life (i.e. crime, sport, politics,
current affairs, human interest, etc.). He was often sent to cover
seaside or maritime stories, having an eye for “bathing beauties”.
I dug up a shot with another link to Vaughan Thomas's story. Getty
Images hold the copyright of this Topical Press Agency photograph and
I can't reproduce it here for fear they will sue for royalties! You
can view it here:
http://www.gettyimages.com/2672559.
Look at the expression on the well-dressed, dishevelled protester’s
face. Like Vaughan Thomas, a decent bloke who had the prescience to
understand the dangers of fascism. I hope those bobbies didn't put
the boot in after throwing him in the back of the Black Mariah.
To
return to the “bathing beauty” theme. The pier-end “peep show”
image is from 1936, almost ten years after the seaside resort scenes
in Part Two of MHFTB. And yet, the date is right for Part Three, if
the girl in the picture represents not Ruth Parry, but rather the
younger Maura Carter peeking at Vaughan's goings-on in Spain. Note
the texture of the bathing costume, made to look like heavy towelling
.. when will such fabrics make their comeback? I vaguely remember
seeing their likes at New Brighton outdoor swimming pool, circa
1962...
So
much for the graphics. The music, six descending notes from Ray
Noble's song, “The Touch Of Your Lips” are sung to the words, “My
heart for-gets to beat”:
I'm
no more of a musicologist than artist, but here I attempt to analyse
these notes. In fact, Ray was a top British band leader who went over
to the States in 1935 and who, among many other accomplishments,
schooled Glen Miller in the mysteries of orchestration. The six notes of
MHFTB are haunting, I guess, because the first three descend through
C minor, while the second three segue into B major. The changeover
from minor to major (i.e. from sad to happy) – on the word
“for-gets” - gives the effect of your heart skipping a beat. On
one level, MHFTB is about a guy's discontent with the sedentary life.
Ray, who was a genius (me Dad's fave), wrote both music and lyrics.
The song was often sung by Al Bowlly. I put Ray in the book, though
the character Larry LaSalle isn't supposed to be Al. I wanted a title
from a 30's popular song partly in homage to the TV series, “Pennies
From Heaven”. Elsewhere in the novel you will find other quotes;
for example, “the fight for love and glory” - from another famous
30's song with a Spanish Civil War connection.
Now
we come to the texts on the jacket, which I consider a single
element, though they could be sub-divided into four. (i) At the top
appears the line, “Leaves of the Poets, Vol 1.” There will be
four volumes in the series, though the numbering will be Ø-3. Each
deals with a Liverpool poet of the 20th century. (ii) I've
already talked about the title, so that leaves (iii) my name at the
bottom and (iv) the publishing details/ISBN on the rear.
Also
on the rear cover there are bleached and reversed-out texts and
images from the front. I guess this is not particularly original, but
having thought of it, I simply couldn't resist expressing the idea
that the book is both transparent and deep.
Finally,
I tried through the faded colour scheme and sepia tints to give the
book an old or even second-hand look. My purpose? Well, I love second
hand books. As the digital age progresses, we will begin to lose such
things, which seems a shame. I anticipate a huge nostalgia for old
books and I want my books to seem old, even though I've only started
my publishing career in 2012. Ideally MHFTB, and possibly the rest of
the series, would come already packaged with the tea stains and
folded corners of second hand. And I wouldn't care two hoots what the
usual crowd had to say about it:
A
word about formats. You can purchase MHFTB as a paperback or as an
electronic book. Follow the link on the top right of this blog for the version of your
choice. I would be most grateful to any reader who cares to post a
rating or a review, on Goodreads.com for example. Trade enquiries
should be made to downwritefiction@gmail.com.
Professionals who want to request a review copy can also contact me
there.
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