English and Drama blog

On literature and theatre collections from the 16th century to the present day

147 posts categorized "Manuscripts"

24 May 2013

New Beatles acquisition at the British Library

We are pleased to announce that the British Library has acquired six manuscripts created by John Lennon. The manuscript collection has been donated to the British Library by Hunter Davies, the writer and journalist whose acclaimed biography of The Beatles was first published in 1968. The collection was donated under the Government's newly launched Cultural Gifts scheme, which allows individuals and companies to donate pre-eminent items to the nation during their lifetime in return for a reduction in their UK tax liability. The scheme has been created to encourage philanthropic giving by individuals during their lifetime. This photograph shows Roly Keating, the Chief Executive of the British Library, Culture Minister, Ed Vaizey MP and Hunter Davies with one of the six manuscripts-

DCMS Beatles photo
(Image © The Department of Culture, Media and Sport)

The collection consists of three song lyrics, 'In My Life', 'Strawberry Fields Forever' and 'She Said She Said'. The lyrics illustrate Lennon's creative process whilst also showing alternatives to the final recorded versions of the well known songs. 'In My Life' includes references to 'tramsheds with no trams' and to the demolition of 'The Dockers' Umbrella', an affectionate name for the elevated railway which followed the line of the Liverpool Docks. The lyrics of 'She Said She Said' were amended before recording as the band had to remove the word 'crap' to prevent the song from being banned! The lyrics provide us with an insight into Lennon's life in Liverpool. The name 'Strawberry Fields' came from Strawberry Field, a Salvation Army children's home in Liverpool near Lennon's childhood home.

Further context is provided by the two letters and one postcard which make up the donation. The first is part of an unsent letter to Lennon's friend (and former Beatle) Stuart Sutcliffe. Sutcliffe was the original bassist for the band and had met and befriended Lennon when they were both at art college in Liverpool. The Beatles spent extended periods playing in Hamburg in the early 1960s and after leaving the band Sutcliffe decided to stay in Germany. This letter was probably sent by Lennon after the Beatles had returned to England. It is a rather rambling letter to a much missed friend and includes some sketches by Lennon -

G70089-40

(Letter image © Yoko Ono Lennon)

Tragically Sutcliffe died of a brain harmorrhage in 1962 aged 21. Lennon gave the letter to Hunter Davies in 1966 when he was writing The Beatles' biography.

In the second letter, which was written to Hunter in 1968, Lennon requests that certain information be removed from the biography. The letter reveals Lennon's concerns for the privacy of his family, specifically for his half-sisters Julia and Jackie Dykins, his mother's daughters with her common-law husband, John Dykins. The final item is a postcard sent to Hunter and his wife, Margaret Forster by Lennon and his first wife, Cynthia. The Beatles were in Rishikesh in India, staying with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi and attending seminars on Transcendental Meditation. I'm not sure that Margaret Forster would have been pleased that the card was addressed to 'Hunter Davies and Thingy'!

This new collection can currently be seen in the Sir John Ritblat Gallery: Treasures of the British Library where it can be found in addition to the existing Beatles display. Please come along and see the items for yourself. Also see the press release on the Library website for more images.

05 April 2013

Neil Bartlett's Desert Island Discs

Neil Bartlett appeared at the Library recently performing pieces from his repertoire and discussing his varied career as writer, performer and director with Amy Lamé.  Doing her best Kirsty Young impression, Amy invited Neil to select and perform extracts from some of his favourite shows. Neil chose pieces from A Vision of Love Revealed in Sleep (first performed at Battersea Arts Centre, 1987), Night After Night (a show based on the night his parents met, Royal Court, 1993), Seven Sonnets of Michaelangelo (Lyric Hammersmith, 1998) and A Picture of Dorian Gray (Abbey Theatre, Dublin, 2012), as well as a recent solo piece, What Can You Do? (Theatre Royal, Brighton, 2012).

 

A clip from the event recorded at the British Library on 22 February 2013, followed by an archive video of A Vision of Love Revealed in Sleep at the Drill Hall, 1989. Performers are: Neil Bartlett, Ivan, Regina Fong and Bette Bourne.

Over the course of the evening Neil reflected on what it was like to be a performance artist before he was even aware of the term, the challenges of taking over the Lyric Hammersmith, and his eclectic love of high and low art (but indifference to ‘everything in between’).

Out of the five pieces he performed, he chose ‘The Song of Solomon’ from A Vision of Love Revealed in Sleep (inspired by the life of Simeon Solomon, the pre-Raphaelite painter persecuted for homosexuality) as the piece he would most like to save from the waves. It stands, Neil said, as an overwhelming reminder of the AIDS crisis of the 1980s, and is also the only piece to be tattooed on his body. For his luxury item he plumped for an endless supply of paper and pencils, to be put to use translating Racine’s final play, Athalie (his chosen book). This was his second choice, his preferred—though disallowed—luxury item being the Wallace Collection.

The event marked Neil Bartlett’s donation to the British Library of his video archive and working papers. The video collection, acquired with the help of the Live Art Development Agency, has now been digitised and catalogued and is available to view by appointment with the British Library Listening & Viewing Service, or at the Live Art Development Agency’s study room in Hackney Wick. Neil Bartlett’s working papers document his 27 books (novels, adaptations, translations and original work for the theatre) and 79 theatre pieces. Researchers wishing to consult these papers should contact [email protected].

11 January 2013

New Year, New Acquisition

This week we took delivery of our most recent acquisition, the archive of Michael Meyer, best known for his translations of Ibsen and Strindberg. The archive contains drafts and annotated proofs of Meyer’s translations of Norwegian, Swedish and Danish authors. His work as novelist, playwright, adaptor, biographer, editor and reviewer (in a literary capacity as well as for The Good Food Guide) is also well represented in the collection which includes annotated books from his Library as well as archival papers. It’s a timely addition to the national collection following on from the Literary Translators conference held at the Library in 2011, which brought the creativity of translators into greater focus.

Before Meyer’s translations, English-speaking theatre audiences knew Ibsen primarily through the efforts of William Archer, whose lengthy versions in rhyming verse had given Ibsen a reputation for being old-fashioned and tedious. That changed when Meyer met the Finnish director Caspar Wrede who asked him to translate Ibsen’s The Lady From the Sea and John Gabriel Borkman for television, followed by Brand for his 59 Theatre Company. Today Meyer is credited with establishing Ibsen as a modern master in the eyes of Anglophone audiences, thanks to his understanding of the nuances of the Norwegian language and his sensitivity to Ibsen’s sub-text.

Whilst it’s easy now to take Meyer’s pre-eminence for granted, his initial attempts at translation from Norwegian were something of a struggle. He accepted his first Ibsen commission for a radio adaptation of Little Eyolf on the basis that Norwegian sounds much like the Swedish language (which he had learnt while lecturing at Uppsala University after the war). Unfortunately for Meyer the two languages look quite different written down and he had to engage a Norwegian friend to help him – an experience which set him firmly against the use of crib translations ever afterwards.

With the help of Caspar Wrede who coached him through The Lady From the Sea and John Gabriel Borkman, and Michael Elliott, who directed the 1959 production of Brand, Meyer quickly learnt his craft as translator and dramatist. Some of the most interesting letters in the archive on the subject of translation are Michael Elliott’s letters to Meyer commenting on his act-by-act drafts of Brand. Ironically enough they show that restoring Ibsen’s reputation involved rather a lot of irreverence; Elliott repeatedly urged a ruthless approach to the original. Pictured is a spread from Meyer's copy of Brand, in which all but 12 lines were cut.

Cuts to Brand

Michael Meyer is important not only for his legacy as a translator but for his position in the literary and theatrical circles of postwar London - and Stockholm too. His special correspondence file reads like a Who’s Who of writers, actors and directors, but the star items are undoubtedly a collection of 90-odd letters from Graham Greene, the majority of which are unpublished. Meyer and Greene had become good friends together in the mid 1950s – embarking on a round-the-world trip together in 1959-1960. It was Meyer who introduced Greene to the Swedish actress Anita Björk, with whom Greene had a significant affair and many of the letters from Greene make mention of Anita.

Other highlights include letters from George Orwell from the time he was writing 1984 and a variety of material concerning the poet Sidney Keyes who was Meyer’s friend at Oxford and sadly died in World War II at the age of twenty-one. Meyer posthumously edited a collection of his verse and hung onto his his friend’s books and a poetry notebook, which now form part of the archive here. His correspondence reveals a good deal of appreciation for Keyes’s work among his acquaintance, not least from Ted Hughes who carried a copy of Keyes’s poems with him whilst on National Service. 

 It’s not surprising that Michael Meyer’s Archive contains so many gems about other literary greats. His memoir Not Prince Hamlet tells more of the lives of his friends than it does about Meyer himself – he liked to stay in the background as he admits in the book and translating suited him for that reason. Whilst that may be a common feeling among translators we hope the acquisition of the Meyer Archive will open the way for greater appreciation of literary translation in its own right.

 Zoë Wilcox, Curator of Modern Literary and Theatrical Manuscripts

 

03 January 2013

'Putting a bomb under Scottish literature'

Edinburgh-programme

Somewhat overshadowed by the more spectacular cultural events of this past Olympic year, the celebration of the 50th anniversary of the 1962 Edinburgh International Writers' Conference, considered the world's first literature festival, passed with a relatively modest share of media attention.

The introduction of a literary element to the Edinburgh Festival was the idea of Jim Haynes, an American transplanted to Edinburgh who opened Britain's first paperback bookshop and founded the Traverse Theatre, and John Calder, publisher of Samuel Beckett and others. After successfully pitching the idea to Festival Director Lord Harewood, they persuaded Sonia Orwell to join them in planning the Conference.

As Jim Haynes put it in his 1984 memoir Thanks for Coming!:

             I took care of the Edinburgh end of it, of accommodation for people, arranging parties and arranging for the building and all that. John dealt mainly with Lord Harewood and keeping the Festival happy, and with certain writers. Sonia got all her pals to come up, including people like Mary McCarthy and Nicolo Tucci, whom I fell in love with, and we have remained friends ever since.

The conference drew an unprecedented line-up of Scottish and international writers to Edinburgh University's 2300-seater McEwan Hall. Among the 60 or so writers speaking over the five days of talks and discussion were Hugh MacDiarmid, Edwin Morgan, Alexander Trocchi, Muriel Spark, Khushwant Singh, William S. Burroughs, Lawrence Durrell, Mary McCarthy, Norman Mailer, Henry Miller, Angus Wilson, Rebecca West, L.P. Hartley, Colin MacInnes and Simon Raven. In his 2001 memoir Pursuit John Calder noted that only a handful of the biggest names were subsidised by the conference budget (which had to be covered by ticket sales), with the costs of bringing in most of the writers absorbed by the British Council, foreign embassies or individual publishers.

Each day was devoted to a particular theme. Day two was concerned with 'Scottish Writing Today', and featured a lively spat between the anarchist bohemian Alexander Trocchi ('I am only interested in lesbianism and sodomy') and Scotland's best-known living poet (an 'old fossil', in Trocchi's opinion) Hugh MacDiarmid ('I resent the preponderance of paper and ink that is wasted on issues that seem to me peripheral and undesirable').

Going somewhat against the political grain of day three's addresses on the theme 'Commitment', English novelist Simon Raven was mainly concerned with making a living:

    I find from my notes that during the whole course of the afternoon everyone has been too polite to mention one subject and that is money. To listen to the talented ladies and gentlemen who have spoken, one would have thought that they never had, any of them, squirmed with delight at the prospect of a £5 note, that they had never seen money at all.

    Now, I wish to be quite honest about this. I count myself in a very minor way, as an old-fashioned professional novelist who writes to make a livelihood and pay for his expensive tastes.

Day four, on 'Censorship' featured a coolly logical address by the then little-known American William S. Burroughs (Naked Lunch was still two years away from its British publication by John Calder). 'What would happen if all censorship were removed', mused Burroughs, 'I think not very much'. 

The Conference made the front pages of the Scottish newspapers ('Writers' Conference Goes into Orbit' was a headline in The Scotsman) and in many ways served as an early indicator of the cultural revolution that would erupt fully into the public consciousness just a few years later.

Jim Haynes had no doubts as to the event's success:

            It was wonderful - lots of people, lots of parties, lots of gossip. We had delightful, buzzing parties virtually every night. The alcohol flowed and everyone had a good time. I know I did. Altogether it was a great five days. The McEwan Hall, at Edinburgh University, a great barrel of a building, was filled every day with people, which made it exciting, and people came for lots of different reasons. I think we were well satisfied. The public enjoyed it, the writers enjoyed it and enjoyed meeting each other.

            For me the most important part of the Festival, with the Writers' Conference and, later, the Drama Conference, was just bringing people together. That has been one theme in everything I have done in my life: I think people should be brought together and that we have to create environments and situations to bring people together.

Haynes and John Calder were invited back to Edinburgh last August, to formally open the 2012 World Writer's Conference at the Edinburgh International Book Festival with a look back at the events of 1962 in a public discussion titled 'The Edinburgh Writers’ Conference 1962: The Legacy: Putting a Bomb Under Scottish Literature'. The organizers of this discussion, Dr Eleanor Bell and Dr Angela Bartie (both are academics from the University of Strathclyde, Glasgow), have produced a book to commemorate the original event: International Writers' Conference Revisited: Edinburgh 1962 (Cargo Publishing, 2012) featuring transcripts, new interviews and previously unpublished archive photographs.

For researchers wishing to dig even deeper, the British Library holds a copy of the original programme (front cover shown above, BL ref. Cup.21.ee.41.), a complete transcript (11881.g.1.), and the complete BBC audio recordings of the proceedings (NP550-NP561).

11 December 2012

Privates on Parade- Theatre of War

Peter Nichols’s Privates on Parade (with music by Denis King) opened on Monday night at the Noel Coward Theatre, and has been garnering rave 5* reviews from the print press this week; good enough to raise a smile on even this (faux-) grumpiest of playwright’s faces.

 

 

Having enjoyed the final preview of Privates on Saturday (the title doesn’t disappoint, incidentally, with no lack of Privates’ privates on parade), I went back to Nichols archive in the British Library this week to look again at the papers relating to the play. Peter’s archive is a key component of our post-War British theatre collections– although his wickedly subversive formal experimentation marks him out from many of the more formally cautious social realist writers of the period.

The first item in the folders relating to Privates (British Library Additional MSS 78985-78988) is a glossy hotel brochure for the Merlin Hotel Group: ‘a most exciting holiday experience in Malaysia and Singapore’ with ‘a standard of service that makes you feel really important’. The ‘standard of service’ the brochure promises British visitors to Malaysia in the 1980s is a far cry from Peter’s play, set during the Malayan ‘Emergency’ in 1948, although the region’s post-war economic miracle is cheekily signposted in Michael Grandage’s new production. 
 
The play follows an entertainment unit called SADUSEA (Song And Dance Unit South East Asia), a fictitious version of the real-life Combined Services Entertainments Unit in Singapore, in which Nichols entertained the troops between 1946 and 1947. As Peter recently recalled, his unit toured a show called ‘At Your Service’

‘We’re men of the service,

We’re at your service - Entertaining you’


around mainland Malaya and Hong Kong to uninterested conscripts, unaware that the show’s performers included soon-to-be stars such as Stanley Baxter and Kenneth Williams. Privates on Parade reworks these memories into a rambunctious ‘Play with Songs’, which balances the narrative of their mission to track down Communist rebels in the jungle, and the stage world of the group’s performances – a separate play within a play that casts the audience as the show’s spectators.

The play was written in the mid 1970s, although some of the set-pieces drew on earlier sketches that Peter devised for end-of-term revues while working as a schoolteacher in the late 1940s (see ADD MS 78985), and the several stages of drafting and redrafting are documented in the archive.

Synopsis

The play was first performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company at the Aldwych Theatre, London, in February 1977, where the star role of flamboyantly camp Captain Terri Denis

‘You dare to speak to an officer like that, and I’ll scream the place down’

was played by the late Denis Quilley, and the fanatically austere Major Flack by the late Nigel Hawthorne (programmes in MS ADD 79185).

 

Cast


It’s the first time that the play has run in the West End for many years (Michael Grandage directed an earlier production with Roger Allam at the Donmar a decade ago), and it remains a subversively sly, wholeheartedly entertaining evening that is well worth catching.

Peter has talked more about his work, including Privates on Parade, for the Theatre Archive Project (Peter talks about Privates on Parade from ca. 8'50" from the player below)

 

Peter Nichols_Part 1 of 2



 

18 November 2012

'Just a name on a list'? Archives: traces of the past, guarantor of the future

I was lucky this week to be invited by the French Culture Ministry to take part in a series of hugely rich workshops around the theme of archives and their role in society, coordinated by the marvelous, and indefatigable, Jean-Pierre Defrance from the Directorate General for Heritage. I was the representative from the UK, alongside a wonderful range of colleagues from all over Western and Eastern Europe, for the most part directors of national or regional archives, as well as some colleagues from NGOs.P1010115

Coming from a background of literary archives - of writers, poets, publishers - I have often had a particular perspective on the relationship between archives and the societies they record, describe, or imagine. Many of the sessions this week covered slightly different stakes: whether archives of former Soviet republics, of World War I combatants, or Jewish children hidden during the Occupation of France...the importance and impact of archives in good governance; in personal and political memorialisation, reconciliation, and validation; can be both harrowing and humbling.


One of the themes that ran across the discussions was the significance of the place of archives in governmental structures - and the consequences of coming under Culture Ministries, or not. Many felt that incorporation in structures concerned with cultural patrimony might sometimes elide the crucial, active role of archives as lever for, and guarantor of, human rights and good governance, with several examples taken from processes of democratic transition, and disaster recovery.

In terms of the literal place of archives and society, it was interesting to speculate on the impact of the imminent moves of France's own National Archives. Currently housed in the Marais (and at Fontainebleau), a new site will open early 2013 in Pierrefitte, Pierrefitte a commune in the Seine-Saint-Denis department; an imaginative distance from the grandeur of the Hotel de Soubise ...resolutely extra muros (though conveniently located next to the terminus of Line 13, with an extension of Line 14 to come soon). A new signature building, with the aesthetic impact you'd expect of a contemporary art museum (the public art onsite includes a new work by Antony Gormley), it is surrounded by both HLMs, and a University campus ....suggesting interesting new collaborations, users, and employment prospects for the quarter.


I was happy to be able to share our work in the UK around the documentary commemoration of the forthcoming 1914 anniversary (including our work with Europeana on the Collections 1914-18 mass digitisation project) when we visited the wonderful new Museum of the Great War in Meaux- a spectacular contemporary building housing a collection of objects and documents put together by a private collector. The Museum has had a huge impact on visitors to Meaux (50kms from Paris), and is, in my opinion, developing innovative collaborations with nearby Disneyland. Walt was in France as an ambulance driver in 1918, and I was fascinated by the way the Museum and Disneyland have had the imagination to realize that apparently heterogenous 'attractions' have a huge amount to offer each other.

The most moving presentation this week was from Yoram Mouchenik, psychologist-psychotherapist at the University of Paris XIII. Yoram talked about his work with a group who, as Jewish children, had been hidden during the Occupation. The subject was taboo in the immediate post-War years: what Yoram described as a 'freezing of memory' meant that the official  status of deported French Jews was listed as 'missing', as if people had simply vanished, evaporated. When new laws were introduced to provide compensation  and pensions for those who had been hidden during the War, and whose property had been confiscated, archives became key to establishing proof. But of course, as the subject began to be opened up, Yoram described how archival research offered a personal reinsertion into a genealogical line - a re-filiation. Archival work became a form of substitution, or compensation, for family conversations that were too painful, or simply impossible, to have ever happened. The most poignant quote from a member of the group that Yoram worked with was a man who described how he 'was looking for his father on microfilm'. The title of Yoram's book sums it up: Ce n'est qu'un nom sur une liste, mais c'est mon cimitière (It's just a name on a list, but it's my cemetery)...and of course archivists themselves cannot be immune from the affective forces that inform this kind of archival work.

The vastly diverse world in which archives operate was brought home to me the evening after this talk- when I popped by the Sotheby's Paris viewing of their forthcoming sales. It's fun looking at the liggers, the lapdogs, and the Lots: that included manuscripts of everything from Serge Gainsbourg's crisply arranged lyrics, to historical letters. The sale rooms are a vital part of the circulation and transmission of original documents, but it's important to be reminded how the sometimes astounding number of zeroes in the estimates listed in the auction catalogue are but a tiny part of the value of archival heritage.

19 October 2012

"As I write this letter...Treasure these few words 'til we're together": John Lennon's Letters

Last Thursday the Library celebrated the work of John Lennon at the launch of the newly published The John Lennon Letters

John_lennon_letters239x150

We all know Lennon’s  music - but he was also a quite remarkably inventive and quirky writer and poet - the author most notably of works including In His Own Write (1964) and A Spaniard in the Works (1965), both adapted for the National Theatre in 1968.

Lennon corresponded widely, and many of his correspondents were present in the Library auditorium last week: from a well-known art critic, to a Manchester based consultant obstetrician.

Hunter Davies, the first and only authorised biographer of the Beatles, has collected around three hundred of such letters for his new collection. He found them in museums, with private collectors, and, in some cases, still in the hands of the original recipients. Some had been sold for astronomical sums…others had just about fetched enough to cover a new washing machine.

Hunter_low_2693

Hunter talked for over ninety minutes about his quest to track down as many letters as possible, and also discussed his own collection of Beatles lyrics that he had amassed while hanging out with the band in the 1960s on tour and in the studio. One of these lyrics- an early and vastly different draft of ‘In My Life’  - was a star exhibit at the British Library’s summer 2012 exhibition, ‘Writing Britain’ , while a rotating selection of the lyrics and memorabilia is a permanent feature of our free Sir John Ritblat Gallery, Treasures of the British Library.

008_John Lennon Letters (2)

After Hunter had finished his talk, we had a special treat at the publisher’s launch party- with a set by the reformed Quarrymen (formed in 1956 by John Lennon and school friends, before Paul McCartney joined a year later- photo above is courtesy of the Quarrymen) filling the Library with the sound of skiffle…before a brief appearance by Yoko herself: looking stunning in black top hat and shades, and speaking generously about Hunter’s work editing the Letters.

Hunter_yoko_low_2706

She assured the guests that Hunter had made only two small mistakes that she had had to correct…and tantalisingly explained how Hunter- or rather a particular part of Hunter – had almost featured in her 1966 film No. 4- otherwise known, and with good reason, as….Bottoms.


Yoko_low_2689
 

16 October 2012

British Library has acquired the James Berry archive

We are very pleased to announce that the British Library has acquired the archive of the Caribbean British poet and writer, James Berry OBE. James Berry, one of the first black writers in Britain to be widely recognised for his work, came to Britain as part of the first wave of immigrants from the Caribbean in 1948.

Berry's archive includes poetry notebooks spanning the length of his career, along with manuscript and typescript drafts of his poetry and prose (including notes for an unpublished novel), diaries, photographs and audio visual material. Notes and heavily annotated drafts in the archive illustrate Berry's creative process and the meticulous attention to detail in his writing. This fascinating and varied archive will provide researchers with a real insight into Berry's life and work.

Much of Berry's work explores the relationship between black and white communities and in particular, the excitement and tensions in the evolving relationship of the Caribbean immigrants with Britain and British society from the 1940s onwards. James Berry's passion for and involvement in education, which developed out of a concern for the low priority given to multi-cultural education in British schools, led to numerous visits to schools and a year spent as Writer-in-Residence at Vauxhall Manor School in 1978.

For more information about the archive and some lovely images of items from it please see the press release.

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