And another thing...
Reaction to George RR Martin's recent statement on adaptations
WRITING:
Event: First off, a final reminder that this coming Tuesday, 4th June, I shall be appearing1 at the fifth Norwich Book Slam at Anteros Arts Foundation. Ali Smith, Judith Heneghan, Guy Ware, Tim Cooke and myself will all be reading from our latest books2 and then participating in a Q&A with host and fellow author Andrew Hook. It’ll be fun, I’m sure, and you can buy3 tickets for this event from the venue at this link. I’ll have a few signed copies of Greyskin to sell, but if you already have a copy feel free to bring it along and I’ll sign it. Or anything else, for that matter. I’m not proud.
On my mind: Secondly, I hadn’t expected to return to the subject so quickly after the last issue, but you may have seen George RR Martin sounding off about tv and film adaptations this week, venting about how screenwriters make things worse “nine hundred ninety nine times out of thousand”4, and how nothing chills his veins more than a screenwriter wanting to “make a project their own”.
I just don’t get it. Martin’s a great writer, hugely successful. On the other hand, I’m a putz, I am aware of this, so this is just an opinion. That said, speaking as a writer who would love some day to be successful enough to see my work adapted for screen, I can’t imagine anything more pointless than sitting through an adaptation of my work and coming out saying “Well that’s exactly how I would have done it, I’ve certainly seen nothing new today.” Imagine seeing a film version of your book and then saying “Wow, that was so on the nose, you probably don’t need to read my book anymore. Good job.”
How much more exciting to sit down to watch an adaptation of your work and see another artist find something new within that you hadn’t necessarily seen or thought about? Even if you don’t like it, to say “Well, maybe not for me, but I can see that the director/writer/whatever was drawing something new out of it. It was at least interesting.” I’d like to be able to say to people who enjoyed it, “Yeah, that was great, but you should go read my book now, cos I take some different angles that you might appreciate.” Coming at it from the other end, I can’t understand why a filmmaker would want to adapt a pre-existing work unless they felt they had something new to add.
I think the key phrase there is “another artist”. It seems to me, reading what Martin said, that there’s a real sense of his perception of other forms of writing as hackwork. Like I’m the novelist, you’re just a screenwriter, don’t get ideas above your station. It’s a fundamental lack of respect for other artforms. And as I say, he’s a great writer, so okay fine, but I kinda feel that if you’re that precious about your sacred text, maybe think twice before taking their cheque. In a slightly different context, I’ve said before about the editing process, I can make the changes my editor wants and have a book, or I can ignore everything and have just a Word document, but one that’s exactly how I want it. The same applies here - you don’t want what you perceive to be shoddy interpretations of your work, don’t sell your work. There’s a choice there. But certainly don’t sell your work and then go around shouting about how much everything sucks.
Personally I can’t ever imagine having the chutzpah to imagine I’m the only person qualified to judge what my work is about. Once you put it out there (for money, let’s not forget), part of the deal is that you don’t get to read it over people’s shoulders telling them what to think at every stage. When you create, the thing created is its own thing. As an author, once I’ve published the book, I’ve no more authority on my work than a parent has over a child that’s moved out. You gotta let go, George, and just marvel at what your work can become without you5. And hey, maybe if you do let go, you might actually finish that bloody series…
Actual Writing: There has been writing. I currently have a draft of sci-fi novel Parallels sitting with my publisher, and I’m nearly at the end of a first draft of a novella about love and all that which I’m tentatively proud of. Working title is currently Last Call For Sin, but I may change my mind about that again next week. Ray Adams fans may feel a little unloved of late, but as soon as I’ve put the first draft of LCFS to bed, it’s back to the shockingly overdue Ray Adams VI.
I have enjoyed:
Aftersun - Charlotte Wells’ 2022 film is an absolute rollercoaster. I had to check to see if it was based on Wells’ own experience, it felt that real. Anchored by two incredible performances by Paul Mescal and twelve year old Frankie Corio, it tells the tale of Calum and Sophie, a father and daughter on holiday in Turkey, as remembered in flashback by a now-adult Sophie. It’s heavily implied that this holiday was the last time Sophie saw Calum, though it’s not explicit that this is the case. While there are some familiar beats (they get on, they fall out, they make up), it’s not overplayed and times when you think something awful may happen, such as Sophie befriending a group of older youths who she then hangs around with during one temporary estrangement, when there’s a fear that it’s building to an accident of some kind, actually the drama hinges on emotions over incidents. Really a remarkable film that delivers a genuine gut-wrench with its climax.
Frankie Corio and Paul Mescal in Aftersun Entertainment - I am completely unfamiliar with Gregg Turkington and his alter-ego Neil Hamburger, essentially the main character (though never identified as the Hamburger persona) in Rick Alverson’s 2015 feature. An awkward-looking, annoyingly-voiced weirdo who specialises in telling offensive jokes while clutching three drinks for… reasons, the Comedian is on a tour of the California desert. He plays a series of gigs to half-empty rooms of indifferent or hostile audiences, in between which he takes coach trips and sits miserably in identikit hotel rooms trying to make telephone contact with his daughter. Occasionally he catches up with his cousin (played by John C. Reilly), who is full of financial advice and clearly doesn’t get the Comedian’s routine. After 102 minutes, the film ends. My wife, sat in the next room, thought it sounded weird and awful. She’s right, but it’s also brilliant. As one Letterboxd user wrote, “I agree with every rating of this movie. 1/2 star? Absolutely. Five star? Couldn’t agree more”.
It’s this, but moving, and just over an hour and a half long. The Singing, Ringing Tree - I’m slightly too young to have seen this as a child, but I’m aware of its legacy. Children of 70s Britain grew up scarred by a showing of this weird, unintentionally creepy 1957 German fairytale, a variation of a Brothers Grimm story. A prince, for reasons unfathomable, wants to marry a beautiful6, but obnoxious princess. She demands he find and bring her the legendary Singing, Ringing Tree7. He strikes a deal with an evil dwarf, turns into a bear, she becomes ugly because she’s awful, then recovers her looks when she becomes nice, they build a cave, there’s a weird fish and a horse with antlers stuck on its head. It’s bizarre, it’s laughable, it’s awful and it’s fantastic.
Believe it or not, that’s not an actual bear, but a man in a costume. Lou Jameson - I mean, Leela, yeah, okay sure, but Anne Reynolds in The Omega Factor? Be still my beating heart…
Hummana-hummana Callbacks - you know when a comedian throws out a gag which refers to something said earlier in their set, or when a sitcom references a joke from an earlier episode? That.
Now that, my friends, is how you do a callback.
Greyskin (Deixis Press) and Playtime’s Over (Propolis) are both available direct from their respective publishers, as well as from all the usual places, online and off. You can also support my work by buying Ray Adams’ self-published books, or by simply buying me a coffee.
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That makes it sound dramatic. I won’t just suddenly reveal myself from a plume of smoke or anything. I’ll probably just be sitting there when people come in.
This is an assumption. Maybe one of them will read from an old book, I haven’t checked. But I’ll be reading from Greyskin and I’m thinking it’s likely they’ll be reading from new stuff.
Yes, buy. I’m sort of weirded out to suggest people pay to see me, but the other authors all look great, and the ticket price is basically to cover room costs.
Statistic unverified.
Within copyright law and with appropriate financial remuneration, obvs.
Apparently.
Disappointingly, while the tree rings, it most certainly does not in any sense sing.