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Life is a Library - a guest blog by Laurence Anholt

Posted By Jacob Hope, 03 December 2024

 

We are honoured to welcome Laurence Anholt to the blog.  Laurence is the author and illustrator of Small Stories of Great Artists.  He was longlisted for the Carnegie Medal with The Hypnotist and has had books published in over 30 languages.  In this poignant guest blog, Laurence considers the impact personal grief has played on the creation of his own work.

When my daughter died, I thought about libraries. This is how it came about…

 

In the spring of 2023, life seemed easy for my wife Cathy and me. It would be hard not to find contentment on this Devon hilltop overlooking the sea. In the wildflower meadows below the house, gentle long-horned cattle graze, while our grandchildren run amongst the trees.

 

After 35 years as a writer and illustrator, a golden opportunity had been presented to me – I received an invitation from the legendary art publisher, Taschen to launch their children’s list. They proposed a super high-quality 336-page anthology called Small Stories of Great Artists, based on my series about great artists and the real children who knew them. What a privilege it was to collaborate with the enthusiastic and efficient editors and designers in London and Cologne.

 

Together we created fresh layouts, and Taschen employed their expertise in Art publishing to obtain licences for dozens of high-quality reproductions of the artists’ work. I set about creating new illustrations and writing child-friendly biographies of the artists. The book would be translated into several languages and would even have a silky ribbon bookmark, they promised me! Our aim was to create a gorgeous object for a child to handle. Something that would provide a springboard into a lifetime’s love of art.

 

When things are going well it’s as if we inhabit a bubble in which health and happiness will last forever. It’s easy to forget how perilously thin the skin of a bubble may be.

 

In her own studio Cathy was lost in her work, putting together a one-woman show of her lovely paintings in Seoul. Our grown-up children were well and happy; and best of all, our daughter Maddy and her new partner came to live just half an hour away.

 

Maddy was a powerhouse – a fearless standup comedian, an actor, an activist and a Women’s Aid Ambassador. When Covid thwarted her run at the Edinburgh Fringe, Maddy didn’t grumble, she sat down, reimagined the stage show as a book; found an agent; got published by Pan MacMillan.

 

Now pregnant with her first child, she and her partner managed to scrape together a deposit on a romantic tumble-down chapel, which they set about converting into a family home, just in time for the arrival of their first child.

 

When our granddaughter was born our happiness seemed complete. I have never met a child quite like her – from the very start that kid had a sense of independence and easy contentment. Basking in love, she slept well, rarely cried and laughed easily. After all, that girl is Maddy’s child.

 

There was only one small cloud of worry in our bubble world - Maddy began suffering from headaches, which her doctor put down to postnatal anxiety.

 

And then, late one night and very quietly… the bubble burst.

 

At home in the chapel, Maddy collapsed in the kitchen. Within an hour we were propelled into a vortex of blaring ambulances, glaring hospital corridors and CT scans. Within a fortnight, Maddy had undergone a traumatic ten-hour operation for a brain tumour. Within months, the long drive to Bristol for radio and chemotherapy had become almost routine. By the time the superb NHS consultant took us to one side and told us, with tears in her eyes that it was all over, we were burnt-out shells.

 

Declining the offer of a hospice bed, my wife and I brought our daughter to our home above the sea, where we created a different kind of bubble – a sanctuary of tranquillity and love.

 

The 13th of September 2023 was a golden, dappled day. Through the open doors and windows, you could hear boundless birdsong, as our beloved 35-year-old daughter died in our arms.

 

There are no words to describe that kind of pain. In the dark days that followed it was all we could do to put one foot in front of another, let alone organise a traditional funeral. In any case, Maddy wasn’t one for Onward Christian Soldiers. Church services made her giggle.

 

In a moment of insight, we realised that we had a choice - we could do whatever we pleased. We decided to create something extraordinary to honour that vivacious, rebellious, compassionate, funny and beautiful woman. Huddled together in grief, we began to plan a kind of mini mid-summer festival. We would call it Maddy’s Full Moon Celebration.

 

The mammoth task of organising the event became a welcome distraction. Our friends rallied around. We erected a huge marquee in our fields. There would be delicious homemade food, a huge firepit and flowers everywhere. Some kind neighbours promised miniature ponies for the children. Twenty or more friendly musicians offered to play for free.

 

There would be speeches of course, and rashly, I promised to speak. But with the stultifying grief and the sheer effort of organising that event I prevaricated and failed to prepare, beating myself up for letting everyone down. The truth is, I was lost for words.

 

And then on the morning of the celebration, 22nd June 2024, something magical happened. I woke before dawn, and discovered an odd phrase had lodged in my mind like an earworm: ‘Life is a Library.’ The words seemed meaningless and bizarre.

 

I dressed and wandered into the fields where a lone fox returned from a night of villainy. I spotted our resident pair of twin deer – particularly poignant as Maddy is a twin. In the half-light I entered the huge, empty marquee. Walking past bare tables I came to the shrine we had set up beside the stage. There was that magnificent photo of our girl, shining like a flame. And in my mind, I heard that stupid phrase again: ‘Life is a Library.’

 

The sun rose like a golden ball above the sea. Around midday, more than 200 of Maddy’s friends rocked up from far and wide. Dressed in colourful clothes, they represented every walk of life; every age; every race; every gender; united by love and tears and laughter. It was beautiful. It was sad. It was dappled.

 

As we assembled in the marquee, I felt anxious. Very shortly it would fall on me to speak and still I had no plan. As I clutched the microphone, I peered through my grief at these wonderful, expectant humans. I spotted Maddy’s angelic daughter, blissfully unaware on the lap of her big cousin. I glanced at the huge photo of Maddy who beamed at me. “Go on dad. Own the marquee!” she seemed to say.

 

Someone made a recording of my speech, and I swear those words were not mine, and that was not me talking. “Life is a library,” I began. “Everything is on loan. We don't own anything at all.

 

“When our children were small, I came across the famous words about parenting by Kahlil Gibran: ‘Your children are not your children, they are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself’. I had always thought of that as a caution against helicopter parenting, or a platitude about letting go - like when a child takes their first steps, when they begin at school, or when they have their first relationship. What I didn't know… what I had never wanted to contemplate, was the true immensity of this concept: we literally cannot hold on to a thing. Everything must be returned in the Library of Life -our youth, our property, and all we love.”

 

I heard myself expound on the Buddhist teaching of Impermanence - nothing is fixed; nothing lasts except spirit. Nothing lasts except love. Everything is in a state of flux and flow and the more we try to cling on, the more we suffer. Happiness and sorrow are inseparable. Health and sickness are two sides of the same coin. Birth and death are twins. Peace comes from acceptance of the dappled quality of life.

 

“When Maddy left us, we were faced with the brutal reality of this fact,” I continued, “I would give anything to extend the return date on our precious girl.

 

“And I should acknowledge that there is nothing unusual or singular about our grief. I fully realise that we are always in the presence of people who are mourning the loss of a loved one. Death is an everyday catastrophe.

 

“But if nothing lasts, what is the point of it all? Well, I won't lie to you, there were moments in those early days when we felt as if we were stumbling through a dark labyrinth and life seemed utterly futile. All we can do is find a way of accommodating the pain. To make some kind of meaning of it all.

 

“What I am learning is that I am closer to Maddy when I'm creative; or when I'm in Nature. And here's another thing - whenever you think of Maddy, she's smiling or laughing, am I right? Hard as it is, we must relearn happiness. We're closest to her when we're with laughing with friends. That’s why I feel she's truly with us now.

 

“So the answer to the question, what's the point of it all if nothing is permanent? is that we are custodians. We are Life’s Librarians. All we can do is take the book home. All we can do is enjoy it as fully as we can and learn from it.

 

“I learnt so much from Maddy about forgiveness and tolerance and humour, and I continue to learn from her now more than ever. Life is so fleeting and unbelievably precious; all we can do is feel gratitude for what we have, and then return it graciously to the Library of Life.”

 

The other speeches were better than mine. My god there was some talent in that tent - young actors and comedians who sung, recited poems, told hilarious stories about crazy times with our girl. Her mum, her sister and twin brother spoke tenderly. Her younger cousins celebrated her lustrous hair, her banter, and more than anything, her kindness. Late into the night we sat around a fire as a full Strawberry Moon rose in the starry sky.

 

And in the coming days, when everyone had gone, and the marquee was dismantled, I went back to my studio to work on this book - Small Stories of Great Artists. Somehow the events of this year made me want to work with more love and care than I ever had before. When the bubble bursts we reevaluate. We appreciate the truly important things in life: family, friends, nature, art, books, and children… especially the children. I hope Small Stories of Great Artists brings joy to many. I’ve dedicated it to my grandchildren, ‘with a starry night of kisses.’

 

Heartfelt thanks to Laurence Anholt for the blog and to Dannie Price for the opportunity.

 

 Attached Thumbnails:

Tags:  Art  Creativity  Illustration  Life  Reading  Reading for Pleasure 

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Punching the Air - An Interview with Yusef Salaam and Ibi Zoboi

Posted By Jacob Hope, 01 September 2020

We are delighted to welcome Yusef Salaam and Ibi Zoboi, authors of the verse novel Punching the Air, a searingly honest and hard-hitting novel that leastes a lasting impression upon the minds of readers.

 

Please could you tell us a little about your backgrounds and how you came to work together on Punching the Air?

 

I met Yusef in college when he walked into one of my classes and our professor embraced him and said something like, “I knew you didn’t do it.” Moments later, I discovered who Yusef was and chased after him for an interview for my college’s newspaper. I never got that interview, but three years ago, I ran into him while promoting my young adult novel, American Street. Yusef was selling his self-published book of poetry and we both agreed that he needed to tell his story to young people. -IZ

 

The thing about when Ibi and I met was that I wasn’t ready to share my story. I was trying to hide in plain sight because the world had already labeled us as monsters. The truth had not gotten out yet and here was this person who wanted to help me get the truth out. I’m a member of what was known as the Central Park Five who were falsely convicted of a heinous at the age of 16. We were exonerated in 2002. When Ibi and I reconnected a few years ago, I was ready to tell another version of my story. -YS

 

How did the collaboration itself work?

 

Yusef and I had several long conversations and we came up with the name of a boy: Amal, which means hope. Amal’s worldview and personality is inspired by Yusef and I crafted the poems around how Yusef was able to reflect on his experiences as an incarcerated teen. Yusef’s own poems served as a foundation for the book and four of them are infused into the novel, which helped shape the tone and cadence for Amal’s voice. Amal is a very self-aware teen who can clearly articulate the injustices he’s experiencing and his greatest desire is to channel that awareness into art. This is how I saw 16 year-old Yusef and I had the task of allowing him to live on the page through Amal. -IZ

 

Can you introduce us to Amal Shahid and the situation he is facing?

 

Amal’s rage gets the best of him one night. It was more than just a matter of being in the wrong place at the right time. It was a matter of being in the center of a boiling point. Tensions were brewing in this neighborhood and someone would eventually get hurt. But unfortunately, a white boy is in a coma and a Black boy pays the hefty price even though he was not responsible for the fatal blow. Justice wasn’t served. Amal has to find a way to keep his mind and spirit free even while trapped behind walls. -YS

 

 

Amal's story was informed by parts of your own experience Yusef, were any parts of your past challenging to revisit?

 

I would say no. It was actually liberating because this is not my story. I was able to channel certain ideas through this character and Ibi was able to help me shape what it is that I was saying in order for it to resonate with the most readers. -YS

 

Self-expression and art are important themes in Punching the Air, how important is it to give a voice and a platform for young people?

 

While Punching the Air addresses juvenile justice and wrongful imprisonment, this story is ultimately about the healing and redemptive power of art. There is very little we can do right now for the young people who are serving time. By the time we begin to see drastic changes, they would’ve already been processed through the system and in danger of recidivism. This book addresses the present. It asks young people, what can you do now to to keep your soul in tact and speak your truth. Creative expression and channeling rage is vitally important and this is the most important message in Punching the Air. -IZ

 

The novel is told in verse, what were the freedoms and constraints of this and how did you arrive at this decision?

 

There was only freedom in writing this novel in verse. Because there are gaps in Yusef’s memory of his own experiences, the white space on the page represented those gaps. We wanted to focus the story on Amal’s emotional journey and didn’t want to bombard readers with irrelevant information. We didn’t want readers to ask, “Well, did he do it?” Through a series of poems, we can a deeper understanding of Amal’s perspective—his highs and his lows, his self-doubt, his fleeting moments of joy. All of that can be expressed through poetry. -IZ

 

Poetry is a profound way to get to the heart of something. I wanted to be a rapper when I was a kid. I listened to message-driven hip-hop and that in itself was poetry. In my mind, there was no other way to tell this story. -YS

 

Amal is disinterested in schooling because it does not reflect his experiences and culture, does the education system need adapting to encompass different perspectives? What do you feel are the pitfalls of not doing this?

 

It’s not just about perspectives, it’s about experiences, which of course shapes perspectives. The experiences of a Black child in an urban environment needs to be validated in the classroom. Instead of focusing on lack or punishing children for behaviors that are a direct response to their environment, why not give them outlets to express bottled-up emotions? How do we expect children to retain information when they haven’t processed the injustices in their communities? -IZ

 

We have to start valuing the creativity that is all around us, the creativity that children produce. A child not being able to sit still in a classroom can be a gift. That child is asking the teacher to change direction. Switch it up, play a game, take the classroom outside. Otherwise, the child is being asked to conform to set of rigid rules that can be detrimental to him. That child will not live up to his or her potential in that classroom. Creativity is stifled. Living a purpose-driven life is stifled. This is a cycle that begin in the classroom. -YS

 

 

Many of the comments around enslavement and its ongoing impact for communities and individuals are hard-hitting  'I'm the only one with an anchor tied to my ankles' (p47), is there adequate recognition of the ongoing impact of slavery on the lives and life-chances of people today?  What can people do to better address this?

 

Absolutely. We can never forget. Not forgetting and constantly making connections to America’s violent past will unveil centuries of injustice. This is when I look to my mentors— Nelson Mandela, Maya Angelou who said we mustn’t be bitter about these injustices. We have to speak it, vote it, dance it, paint it. This is how we continuously address the effects of slavery in this country. -YS

 

I truly believe that trauma can be passed down through genetic memory. In fact, the idea of DNA is referenced a few times in Punching the Air. Again, I’ll go back to the idea that art can be heal. Truth-telling through art can break generational curses. -IZ

 

 

 

'Your mind is free, Your thoughts are free, Your creativity is free - '

The importance of books and reading is explored int he book, the following writers are mentioned:  'The Mis-Education of the Negro' Carter G Woodson... (p371) James Baldwin, Richard Wright, Toni Morrison, Octavia Butler, Ibram X Kendi, Michelle Alexander, Ta-Nehisi Coates... 

The Youth Library Group is made up of  librarians working with children and young people across the whole of the UK, are there other writers that you consider to be must haves for library collections?  What role does reading play in terms of helping our understanding?  

 

Any and every book by Black writers published now should be included in your collections. Pair a book about social justice with a book about Black children being carefree and safe. The books should reflect a range of experiences for Black children—ones that are rooted in addressing social change and ones that are simply fun and joyous. This would highlight the humanity of Black children. -IZ

 

While I was in prison, books were what allowed me to create pictures in my mind. I traveled to any and everywhere through the pages in a book. It’s what freed me. And even when I met Ibi, we were given books to read that helped shaped our understanding of the world. I have so many books, my most prized possessions! -YS

 

 

What gives you hope and what advice would you give to people feeling imprisoned by stereotypes and prejudice in the way that Amal is?

 

Being able to share my story gives me hope. There was I time when I felt the world was against me. The current president of the United States put out an ad in the New York Times calling for our execution. I was only 16 when I thought the world wanted me dead. And now, I get to share my story with the world and people like Ibi and Ava Duvernay are helping me do just that.

 

 

It is hard to imagine anyone reading Punching the Air  and not being affected by the injustices it describes.  How can people get involved with helping to combat this?

 

Share Punching the Air with everyone you know. Read other books like this one. Start a dialogue. Get involved with local activism. Speak out when you see injustice. See others as fully human first while acknowledging systemic racism at every level. See Black children as children. -IZ

 

Thank you to Yusef Salaam and Ibi Zoboi for the interview, to HarperCollins for the opportunity.
Photo Credits: Yusef Salaam by Staci Nurse, Staci Marie Studio; Ibi Zoboi by Joseph Zoboi.

 


 Attached Thumbnails:

Tags:  Art  Black Lives Matters  Diversity  Raising Voices  Reading  Reading for Pleasure  Verse 

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