Tag: Graham Caveney

I Am Beeston: Graham Caveney, author

“I was born in the Accrington area of Lancashire and moved to Beeston some eighteen years ago now, when I got the post of lecturer on American Literature at the local university.”

“Beeston is home to me now. Manchester wasn’t really part of me, due to its distance from Accrington. But Nottingham is certainly my home city. And I’m proud to be part of it. Beeston has a separate identity, even though Nottingham is close by.”

“Beeston has a real mix of people. I like the diversity and the tolerance towards others. People arrive here for whatever reason and tend to stay. Locals in some places can resent these incomers, but it doesn’t seem to happen here.”

“Beeston has a great deal of culture, with poets like Jenny Swann and John Lucas and bands like the Madeline Rust. I used to like going to the Greyhound. I attend a local yoga class. I also like going to Highfields and seeing the lake. I can get the tram into the city centre in about twenty minutes, or I might walk there using the towpath.”

“I don’t drink now, so I tend to just go into coffee shops. The Bean is my favourite. I also like the Flying Goose and the Bendigo Lounge. One thing that I’d like to see in Beeston is a Labour MP. I’m all for having a cinema here, but I do think that we now have enough coffee and charity shops.”

CDF

The Boy with the Perpetual Nervousness: Graham Caveney in conversation with Deirdre O’Byrne

On the snowy evening of Wednesday 28 Feb, at Middle Street Resource Centre, Beeston residents were treated to a talk and exploration of Graham Caveney’s book The Boy with the Perpetual Nervousness.

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His book, described as ‘a memoir of adolescence’ is a powerful recounting of Caveney’s life growing up in Accrington, from a working class Catholic background. It explores his love of music, literature, and brings to the fore issues such as class, religion, and the abuse he was subject to by his teacher and headmaster at his local grammar school during the 1970s.

Having kept his abuse quiet from his closest friends, and parents, his book comes at a time of recovery from years of mental anquish, drinking problems and trips in and out of rehab. At the start of the event, after everyone has settled with hot drinks, Graham Machin, chair of Beeston Community Resource (BCR), and one of our Beeston Heroes, speaks about the history of MSRC and its role as a mental health day centre.

Attendees of the event were encouraged to donate money towards a fund which helps people with mental health problems when they are in need of emergency support. This was done on a pay-what-you-can basis, and that Caveney agreed was a fitting cause for the event to raise money for.

Deirdre O’Byrne starts off the conversation by asking Graham about how his book came to be written in the first place, revealing a link to the hosts of the event, Five Leaves Bookshop, who had given Graham a job when he proclaimed himself as unemployable. It was then being surrounded by books that struck the right chord and enabled him to begin telling his story. What began as an attempt to rewrite Kafka’s Metamorphosis, became the courageous and endearing book that now exists as an object in the world (something Graham appreciates in books generally).

He’d sent paragraphs to his friend Julie Hesmondhalgh as a way to tell her about himself and his past, and she asked him if he’d thought about having it published. “When writing it, it never occurred to me that it would be published, and that was a good thing, otherwise I’d never have written it,” he says.

He had contacts that would be able to help towards publication, but, “I wasn’t prepared to cash in on those friendships,” he reveals. He then received an email from Julie with the subject heading ‘oops’ saying that she’d sent it to Jonathan Coe, an old friend and author in his own right, who got in contact with Graham’s former agent, who sold the book within 3 months.

The conversation is split up with a few readings, each of them read wonderfully, and eliciting laughs from the listeners. Deirdre picks up on this, and asks about the humour and presence of quite dark jokes in the book. Graham says humour can be a great way to express trauma and abuse, and that he didn’t want to write a sad, gloomy book which expressed how bad abuse is. He wanted the focus to be on the stuff he liked as a fourteen-year-old and his adolescence, which the abuse happened to occur and coincide with.

I wouldn’t have been able to write it without the education given to me by my abuser, and that’s something that I’m deeply grateful for.

The event as a whole gets into the heart of the story behind the book, and Graham provides listeners with many insights, such as the book’s publication leading to the un-naming of a performing arts centre which had previously been named after Graham’s abuser, something which Graham says is a ‘minor victory’. He also tells of a few instances of negative reactions, such as one person telling him that Graham, by writing the book, had just ‘pissed all over my childhood’ and another pointing out that he’d misspelt a teacher’s name, thereby throwing everything else into question. In reaction to this, he says: “People are eager to find ways to discredit it.”

He discusses class, memory and the issue of trigger warnings, which he says suggests that there’s a process to solving a problem. He reels off a list of seemingly insignificant things that can trigger him: a certain perfume, the texture of someone’s collar etc.

When receiving questions from the floor, Graham is asked what it’s like having the book out there being read and reviewed. ‘Strange’ is his main feeling towards it, but he says that the strangest part isn’t the book being reviewed by publications such as The Guardian , The Times and TLS, it’s actually when he’s in a coffee shop such as The Bean in Beeston, and someone comes up to him and says ‘I read your book’.

He says those are the moments he realises that the “book doesn’t belong to you, it belongs to the world.” He doesn’t regret telling his story, that he feels both “insulated and exposed” by it, but that ultimately its existence “validates something that I’ve carried around with me.”

The book itself holds a number of fascinating realisations in terms of Graham’s being able to write it in the first place. He says, “I wouldn’t have been able to write it without the education given to me by my abuser, and that’s something that I’m deeply grateful for.”

It’s also apparent that he couldn’t write it until his parents had passed away. His mother clung to her faith, and Graham believes that it was this that kept her going after his father had died. Revealing his abuse from his priest and teacher “would have been like telling her that God doesn’t exist.” So it was only after her death that he was able to write about it.

At the end of the event, the attention turns to his next book, which he’s 25,000 words into already, and which will be on the history of agraphobia. He says that he never made a conscious decision to write another book, he just carried on from this one.

A wonderful, insightful evening with plenty of books bought and signed by Graham, it was enough to make everyone want to get home and start reading (or re-reading) the book, with the added knowledge of all that he shared with us.

Read our interview with Graham Caveney.

JM

Interview with Graham Caveney

Graham Caveney is an author who, up until now, has written books about other people. He wrote the biographies of two great writers, Allen Ginsberg and William Burroughs. But having put time, effort and research into the lives of others, he finally got round to writing his memoir…

The Boy With The Perpetual Nervousness is a memoir like no other, and is a true testament to not only Graham’s adolescence, but his ability to turn his life around and produce something to be proud of.

The book explores Graham’s early life growing up in a catholic household in Accrington during the early eighties. The book is packed full of endearment for the working class society he lived in, his trips to Blackpool, and his parents. The events of his early years are described with a steady balance of nostalgia and wit. Yet, casting a shadow over his memories of growing up is the abuse he suffered from his head teacher and priest, who, with an affinity for culture, theatre and literature, at first seems like a friendly, literal father figure in the book. Graham has done well to present ‘Rev Kev’, as he is called, in a way that lets readers make their own mind up about him, rather than lacing his words with resentment or retrospective suffering. Graham takes us back to that time, and puts us exactly where a young, teenage boy stood.

The memoir almost doubles as an exploration in the memory process. There are a few layers to it, although it remains uncomplicated and surprisingly easy (and addictive) to read. Graham’s memory works more like a film, but he acknowledges that his past relationship with drug and alcohol abuse affects this, as he writes: “You cannot live the life of a drug addict and/or alcoholic and still expect to trust your memory.” This is where the chapter titles come in. Each chapter starts simply with ‘Next’, ‘Next’, ‘Next’…which, he tells me, wasn’t the original intention for the book.

“It was a way for me to remember where the chapters were, and when I finished it I thought ‘I’m gonna keep that’”. He adds: “I was trying to get the weird way memory works. There’s no linear cause and effect ‘abc’ structure, they have a life of their own, they’re all over the place and that temporal shift is what I wanted to get at.”

It’s clear that Graham is a book-lover, both from meeting him in person and reading his book. On the day of the interview, Graham had been reading Ongoingness: The End of a Diary by Sarah Manguso. This is a fitting choice for the man himself, as another feature of his book is that every chapter begins with a quote, whether from a book, song, or film, each quote holds meaning for Graham.

“They’re all quotes I wrote in my journal,” he reveals. “I used to keep a journal, and still do.” At this point he points out that after writing his memoir, he burnt the journals from his teenage years. His reason? “I’d got what I needed to get out of them, it was time for them to go.”

Graham moved to Nottingham in 1999 to begin teaching American Literature at the University of Nottingham, but sooner after his mum died, and drink took over. Living in Beeston during his time with alcoholism, his life used to consist of journeys to and from Sainsbury’s. He describes himself at the time as having “a deathwish, but with cowardice about doing it” and that it was self-harm on a scale he will never return to. He acknowledges the kindness of local ‘Dutch friends’ who came to his rescue, “They were kind to me and helped me out in ways I will never be able to repay.”

During this period, he still read books, particularly those by Anita Brookner. He read poets, listened to music, but he’d stopped writing altogether. In 2009, he finally went into rehab, and the next few years were taken up with having therapy and attending AA meetings which he did for two years.

Sobriety came in early 2010, at which point he was unemployed, which fed into the reasons for him writing the book. He also volunteered for a short time at Oxfam Books and Music in Beeston, a place which allowed him to “learn what it’s like to be in the world again, at an age when you are too old to learn.”

But it was while he was working at Five Leaves Bookshop in Nottingham (the first place to give him a job) that he began writing his memoir. Previously, he’s written three books: Shopping in Space: Essays on American ‘Blank Generation’ Fiction (with Elizabeth Young); The “Priest”, They Called Him: The Life and Legacy of William S. Burroughs and Screaming with Joy: The Life of Allen Ginsberg.

It was being surrounded by books, objects which he is ‘in awe of’ that provided him with the boost he needed to begin writing again. Originally, The Boy with the Perpetual Nervousness was going to be a semi-autobiographical novel called ‘Meta-Metamorphosis’ taking the opening lines of Kafka’s Metamorphosis for inspiration. However, this idea was scrapped, and he began putting together scraps of memories which would form the early process for his completed memoir.

He then shared these scraps with close friends, “a way of introducing them to a bit of me”, and it was Julie Hesmondhalgh, known for her role as Hayley Cropper in Coronation Street, who read some of these scraps and offered encouragement, which was greeted by him with reluctance. She sent some of these to Jonathan Coe, who Graham says he has “never been out of touch” with and this was the springboard for him getting the memoir published by Picador. “All my heroes were published by Picador,” he says. “They were my dream publisher.”

The Boy with the Perpetual Nervousness is out now

Rhymes with Purple: Review

An evening with the beats…

Until I got asked to review it, I didn’t know that this monthly poetry event even existed. It was set up by The Beestonian’s very own Darren Kirkbride, as a replacement for the Flying Goose event which ended a year ago. He mentioned the idea to Alan Baker when he interviewed him for the January issue, and, with the additional support of Sarah Jackson and John Lucas (the man behind the Flying Goose events) he was able to set it up. There have only been three events so far, including the one I attended, and guests for each have been Alan Baker, Rory Waterman (coincidentally my former dissertation tutor) and Graham Caveney. The event is held at The White Lion, and commences at 7pm.

The event was slow to start, with only a few attendees present at the start time. However, eventually people started to filter in, and there was a good turnout for when Graham Caveney, the guest speaker, began his talk. Graham is a biographer of Alan Ginsberg and William Burroughs, and when listening to him, I found the English Literature student in me was satisfied. It was almost like being in an especially interesting lecture. I admit I’ve never read any Ginsberg or Burroughs, but I have had Burroughs’ Naked Lunch on my bookshelf for a couple of years, waiting until I get round to reading it. And why was this month’s subject on The Beats? It is 60 years since Ginsberg’s poetry collection HOWL was published.

Anyone who finds themselves in a pub on a wet Wednesday in Beeston probably owes that presence to this bunch of psychiatric casualties, self-styled outlaws, and, occasionally, brilliant, inspiring poets.

The talk lasted just under half an hour but covered lots of ground, and many different areas of the Beats and Beat poets. I found out that their influence was far greater than I initially thought, and collided with other well-known figures from modernists to musicians. Graham mentioned that ‘Burroughs coined the term Heavy Metal’, and ended his talk with an apt observation. He said ‘that anyone who finds themselves in a pub on a wet Wednesday in Beeston probably owes that presence to this bunch of psychiatric casualties, self-styled outlaws, and, occasionally, brilliant, inspiring poets.’ This set the tone perfectly for opening the floor to questions.

I’m used to these moments being filled with silence and awkwardness, from my experience in lectures at uni, but here, there were plenty of questions to be asked. Since I felt I was learning about the Beats, I decided to listen to the questions and answers rather than contribute one myself. After the Q&A there were a series of clips from Youtube lined up for us to watch. These included a visual interpretation of Ginsberg’s poem ‘A Supermarket in California’, video footage of Burroughs giving a speech (I really liked this one; there’s something strangely satisfying from having heard about someone, and then actually seeing what they look like. He didn’t disappoint).

At this point, we took a break. I heard many Beat-related conversations going on around me, and I took in the ever-cosy atmosphere and looked forward to the next part of the night: Poetry Readings. The brief was to ‘bring along your favourite Beats inspired poem as well as read your own work’. The readings began with a reading from Tony Challis of one of Ginsberg’s poems, and then a poem he’d written in the fashion of Ginsberg’s. Next, Russell Christie read out another Beat poem, followed by an extract from his novel The Queer Diary of Mordred Vienna. More reading’s ensued, ranging from poems inspired by travelling, to humorous haiku, Primark, and the love of cheese.

All the money raised from the evening was donated to helping the migrant crisis in Calais. All in all, it was worth going. Unfortunately, the event won’t be running over the summer, but I have it on good authority that the next one will take place on September 27.

Jade Moore

 

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