Article by Wendy Blaxland
[Armadillo 6.1 Spring 2004]
Its clear to see why Michael Morpurgo will make a superb Childrens Laureate, a position created to raise the profile of childrens literature. He is not only a commanding speaker, with the unselfconscious presence which comes from dealing with groups of children all his working life, but he is able to speak with children directly on their level, honestly but with never a hint of condescension.
Recently I had the opportunity to speak with Michael and his wife Clare, and to watch Michael speak to several classes of children at the Wix School in London which two of his grandchildren attend. The childrens mother is French, and this is a French school, situated in a true Alice-in-Wonderland scenario above an ordinary English primary school, sharing playground facilities with staggered hours. The children are disciplined and well-prepared, with thoughtful questions written down for him.
However, Michael is not just a writer. He and his equally impressive wife Clare have run an educational charity called Farms for City Children for thirty years, bringing disadvantaged city children to work on a farm for a week. They were able to start this with a legacy from Clares father Allan Lane, who was the founder of Penguin Press and the concept of paperbacks, making books much more affordable.
'We bought a farm in Devon in 1974, says Clare. 'My mission was to enable the most disadvantaged children from our cities and urban areas to share the experience of living and working in the countryside and thus gain a sense of responsibility and commitment.
Michael adds 'We had both had taught in schools in towns - in Canterbury and Cambridge. English life is urban and the children didnt know where their food came from, and their heritage in the countryside.
Michael and Clare felt these children were missing out, so they decided to found a place where children who were disadvantaged could make a difference and find a sense of self-worth. 'We saw two parallel education systems in Britain, continues Michael, 'one where children from good homes go up, and another where kids who dont have the same advantages go down. The original circumstances are being replicated, so the system is perpetuated. We felt the only way to change things was to touch children by something when they are very young: something to extend them physically, intellectually and socially.
In January 1976 Clare sent hundreds of letters to schools outlining the project. She started with nine groups of children, then twenty five or thirty the next year. Farms for City Children has now grown so that they have three farms: one in Devon, one in Wales and one in Gloucestershire, a mediaeval manor house with a moat.
'A thousand children come through a year now, Clare says, 'in groups of forty with their teachers. They are either eight to eleven or twelve to thirteen-year-olds, who stay at the farm for a seven day working week, from Friday to Friday. The programme runs every school week, except for school holiday times, and the children work alongside the farmers, who are running their own farms too.
'So it isnt a teaching experience but a working one, she explains. 'It is really work experience for children. Clare and Michael found a working farmer prepared to come in on the project.
'We pay him because we have to keep him content, says Clare, 'and we have the same farmer as when we started thirty years ago. He has to have the patience of a saint. She is at pains to emphasise that the farming the children take part in isnt a put-up job. 'It has the intensity of a commercial organisation, and the farmer is bound into it.
Farms for City Children is a charity in order to operate, because it costs two hundred pounds for each child to participate. They charge the children one hundred and twenty pounds, so there is a shortfall of eighty pounds each, and a thousand young people a year come through the three farms.
Clare has learnt a lot through the project. 'I had to deal with local authorities, demoralised teachers, and attitudes such as that the countryside is very dirty.She didnt begin the project with any thoughts of kudos. 'For a very long time I wanted no publicity, and didnt talk to journalists, she says.
But the project is now well-recognised. There have, however, been complaints that the children come face to face with sex and death in their farm experience. Clare rolls her eyes. Life on the farm is for real.
However, Clare and her husband are approaching their sixties, and have now handed the project over.
'We survived the foot and mouth epidemic in which we had no children for nine months, says Michael. 'We could have gone under. Since we employ forty people we had to put them on short time, and found ourselves staring down a black hole of debt. We started again with help from donors, but were advised by friends to find a successor. They found one at the publishers Faber: Jane Feaver, the daughter of a poet. Now she has taken over.
Michael used to walk with the children, help with the milking and so on. 'It fed me ideas, he explains. 'It helped me as a writer, because I am continually inspired by children and my own grandchildren. They are the centre of my writing life and my working life. Michael also read his stories to the children at the farm.
'I would do my dreaming while I was working with children, he says, 'moving sheep, for instance. Then I would write my rough drafts in the school holidays, which were twenty weeks a year. Michaels output includes picture books such as Sams Duck, but he is better known for his stories for older children. He writes up to six books a year, and has an impressive swag of awards, including the Whitbread childrens book award for The Wreck of the Zanzibar, the Smarties Award for The Butterfly Lion, and the Childrens Book award for Kensukes Kingdom.
His books have been turned into films and plays, such as Why the Whales Came, and he has also written a couple of musicals. Often his protagonist is an outsider, and he explores strong friendships between those of different generations. Understandably, given the Farms for City Children project, they show a strong love of nature and often focus on animals. Out of the Ashes is a young girls diary of the foot and mouth epidemic on her fathers farm in Devon.
Watching Michael interact with the seven year olds at Wix School, it is clear he is both a superb teacher and a great storyteller. He begins by telling them that he is old, and a little stupid, with an energy that belies both statements. 'And I speak French with a horrible accent, because I was born in England, he continues. 'It is my fault. I am 59. The children laugh and he pulls them up.
'No, he says, 'being 59 isnt funny, it is tragic. They quieten to think about that one. Michael tells the children about the process of writing.
'Normally, he says, 'people think writers begin with a blank page. But its not true. As a writer I start with a piece of paper, a pen, and what I see and hear. I start with my memories. Me, I have 57 years of memories; how old are you? You may have seven years of memories. But I have travelled, seen the birth of my children, the death of my mother. I can choose what I want to work with. Tomorrow I will be part of your memories, and you will be part of mine. You can see the children thinking.
He talks about the genesis of the book Toro, Toro. 'I had been to a ruined village in Spain, where I had seen a well, a knife and a church. I met an old woman and asked her about the village. Thats what began the book. Then I went into a room, shut the windows, and dreamed.
He grins at the children. 'I get paid for dreaming. Good, eh?
Michael invites the children to ask him questions. Inevitably comes 'Where do you find your stories?
It might be the first time he has ever heard the question. 'In my head, he says and taps it. 'How do they get there? With my eyes. There are lots of holes in your head, he explains, 'the eyes, the ears, the nose. Through the five senses, everything fills your mind.
'Every story, he continues, 'begins with something normal. For example, a dead cat. There is that complete silence that shows total attention. Michael extrapolates. 'Perhaps the cat had a family which loved it, a little boy who loved it. The cat is hit, and the little boy comes back home and there is no cat. The children are beginning to understand how he builds his stories. 'For me, he says, 'a story has to have a history, it has to have a nugget of fact.
He continues. 'I dream. I dream - what if? Each night, I sit in bed with my knees up, and write without hesitating; I shut the windows because I want to concentrate. I write in an exercise book. A story comes from the head through the arm onto the paper. Then a publisher says No, I dont like it," or Yes, I love it".
Michael tells them 'You always start with something new, an untruth. Then you live it, you believe your untruth. I love dreaming, and I love getting and reading the books. But the bit in the middle, thats hard work. I get ten per cent of the price on the book; its not much, but it buys my shoes. Mention of money prompts another question. 'Are you rich? Michael turns it deftly into an insight into their power as readers.
'Its the readers who decide whether you will be rich, he says, 'because they are the ones who buy the books. If you buy them, a writer can afford to eat...The children follow their train of thought. Who is this person? 'Are you famous? asks one. 'Yes, I am famous in my area, he says, 'but not outside. Next question?
Another evergreen. How long does it take to write a book? Again Michael offers real insights. 'The idea is always as difficult, whether it is a long or a short book, he answers. 'It takes me two to three months to dream as I do my other work, two to three months to write it. To write Robin Hood, I needed to do lots of research, and to visit Robins forest.
And of course, the children ask him which is his favourite book.
'The Butterfly Lion, he replies. 'It began with a book called The White Lions of Timbavali. I was reading this book in the train, and the train stopped where there is an enormous white horse on the side of a hill. So I decided to write my book.
The students are interested in how Michael actually writes his books.
'I write in longhand in an exercise book, he tells them, 'then I correct it, and then it is put onto the computer. Then, he encapsulates neatly, 'three months to edit, three months to illustrate, three months to print, and three months to get into the shops. Done.
Michaels body of work is impressive. He has published 97 books in 28 languages. Later he tells me 'I have seventy still in print, but at least ten of them shouldnt be. Michael didnt start writing early. He fills in the story for me. 'I was thirty before I came to be a writer. I was told I was bad at English, that I had no imagination. And I didnt read because it was thrust down my throat. I read Enid Blyton, and comics for the thrill.
'Then I went to University and read English, but they were just texts that had been sliced up, and nothing was alive in them. I was put off the subject until I read Gawain and the Green Knight - and it touched me. Then I became a teacher and I was teaching children to write and enjoying their freshness. Then I began to tell stories.
'I was teaching a class of ten-year-olds, he says, 'and they were bored with the book I was reading to them. My wife said Write something for them; write a story". No," I said. She asked me Are you scared?" I was. The next day I asked the children Are you bored with the book I was reading you?" Yes," they said. So now," I said, I am going to tell you a story". It was the ten minutes that changed my life. My students looked at me with horror, but I made faces right back at them, and then told them stories. And it went on from there. I looked up one day to find the headmistress at the back of the classroom, entranced. And she asked me to write the stories down.
The children ask him who he writes for. 'I write all my stories for myself, he tells them. 'Even though I am a grown-up of 59, I have all my earlier ages inside me. He explains later that he re-found his early love of Stevenson and Kipling, and that reading these authors out loud is vital.
Ted Hughes was another important influence. 'I read Ted Hughes book Poetry in the Making, Michael says. 'Then when I left teaching in order to start up the city schools project with Clare, I moved, coincidentally, to within 4 km of where Ted Hughes was living. I met him one day when he was coming from the river in the dark. He read Warhorse and said it was a fine book, then he said something Ive never forgotten. He said But youre going to write a finer". It was wonderful.
The children also ask Michael about his subject matter. 'Why do you write about animals? asks one. 'Because I live on a farm, he replies, 'along with cows, sheep, ducks, pigs, horses and dogs. I dont particularly love animals, but I do enjoy watching the relationship between boys and girls and animals. What animals does he like? wonders one child. 'Wombats, he replies. And if anyone has read his great book Wombat Goes Walkabout, written after he had visited Australia, they will know he can think like a wombat too. 'My wife loves horses and donkeys, he says, 'but I find them stupid.
One student has a curly question. Does the character in Toro Toro really live? 'No, says Michael, but then expands for them. 'It is difficult to say no, because he does live in your mind. Yes, the centre of the book is true, and it lives. Lots of the information in the book is true, but the story itself isnt true. It is a sort of mix of truth and fantasy, he finishes
.Another asks 'Do you talk about your work with your wife? 'Yes, he answers, 'Of course. A child wrote to me once, suggesting I write a book about a child on an island. I asked my wife about it and she said no. But if there was someone on an island, with another person, for instance, a Japanese who didnt know the second world war was over, then it becomes interesting.
'Are some of your stories sad? he is asked. 'Of course, replies Michael, 'because some sad things happen. Like war. Michael has tackled this topic a number of times. We talk about it later. 'I hate war, he states emphatically. 'I was born in 1942, and played in the ruins of London, surrounded by ruins from the war. Adults didnt talk about the war, although everyone had lost someone. I had an uncle who died before I was born, so I grew up with an image of him. We had a photo of my uncle. My mother and her brother were both actors, and my uncle was shot down in a bomber. While people who live go on ageing, he became an icon. The loss of her brother to some extent ruined my mother, because she was a butterfly, very fragile, and he was the only other butterfly in the family. That image always made me aware of the waste of war.
Michael has intimate knowledge of the army. 'I went into the army at the age of eighteen, in order to play sport and travel, and came out at nineteen and a half, he says. 'So I have had the opportunity to see the army from both the inside and the outside. I went to a public school which gave me a set of public school ambitions, and I wanted to do what I could do easily. I didnt read books until I met Clare. She asked me why I was in the army. Clares questions have been important. Michael left the army. 'I dont regret it but it was just one of those obviously false moves.
Michaels latest book, Private Peaceful, is also set largely in war time.
'There is a link to Warhorse, he says, 'which stemmed from a picture I saw of British cavalry charging uphill, with the horses getting entangled in barbed wire. There were 2 million horses killed in World War 1.
Michael talked in his village to three old World War I veterans, and two of them had taken horses with them. 'So I decided to write a view of World War 1 through the eyes of a horse, he says. 'His rider is killed in the first charge, and the horse goes to the German side. That book won the Whitbread prize and was my first successful book. It also fixed in my mind the notion that you could tackle very difficult subjects for children. Farm Boy continued the story of the warhorses.
'Private Peaceful began with Flanders Fields, a conference of writers who had written about war. I got talking to a man who knew about three hundred men who had been shot by the British army during World War I, some after brief trials, with rigged witnesses, two of them just for sleeping. Some of these men were villains, but at least half were traumatised by the war. And these people still havent been pardoned. I followed the case of one young man recovering from wounds in a rest camp. He heard the guns and simply walked off. They tried him and he was shot as a deserter.
'I also came across an old gold watch, dated 1916. It could have been a watch out there. So I wrote Private Peaceful and set it during a mans last night. The chapters take place between each time he looks down at his watch. He wants the night to be as long as his life, so he runs through his life, right up to the present moment. War is a subject you take on because you are passionate and angry.
Michael doesnt always find writing easy. 'The writing is feverish. he says. 'There are some strong moments and others where I struggle. But even when Im going through a bad patch, I still write. My advice is never to give up, or throw stuff away.
After Michaels time with the classes we talk further about his recent appointment as Childrens Laureate for two years. The idea of a Childrens Laureate was something that Michael and Ted Hughes instigated four years ago, and the first two incumbents were illustrator Quentin Blake and writer Anne Fine.I ask him how he sees the role.
'I have a good idea of the job, he replies. 'It goes in many directions. First you have to get through to children, reinforce the fact that stories are for them, and are fun, and that they can do it, they can write. Then I want to access teachers. Many of them are under pressure to fulfil the curriculum, and many of them dont give a love of literature to their children. Sometimes they do" literature. I want to infuse them with the love of literature and story, without the cold hand of literacy".
Michael was reported as claiming the nation-wide SATS English test was silly and boring. So the Times Literary Supplement challenged him to sit the test. He did. The markers said that his writing was among the best but his spelling was poor. Michael grins.
He has further ambitions for his two years. 'I want to meet the Poet Laureate, he says. 'I want to get creativity back into the teaching of English, to get children to write poems and stories, to enthuse them; children need time and space and room to dream. I also want to take writing and writers to places writers dont usually go: to islands, to Wales, to Scotland. I want to go to Australia and work with children in the outback over the radio.
And of course he has other writing plans, too. 'You always have to challenge yourself, to break new ground. I may repeat myself but not intentionally. My current project is retelling the medieval tale of Gawain and the Green Knight with Michael Foremans illustrations, for Walker Books, he says with relish. Michael Morpurgo is a Childrens Laureate with no lack of ideas.