Something Old

Not everything worth reading is hot off the press. In this section, we recommend "something old" that is still well worth reading. "Something Old" can mean anything from a venerable and antique classic to a good book first published year or two ago.      

            “THE PAPER MEN” by William Golding ( Published 1987)

William Golding wrote The Paper Men in1987, after he had written Rites of Passage but before he had decided to write two more seafaring novels Close Quarters and Fire Down Below which later were put together as an omnibus called To the Ends of the Earth. The Paper Men is very, very different. Over it looms the idea that "vanity, all is vanity" as the Bible says, and an awareness that only by mental pain and struggle will one understand what the real meaning of life is. Who are the "paper men"? They are writers - novelists, historians, journalists, academics -who hope they will be remembered or win prestige. Golding had already won his Nobel Prize in 1983 when he wrote The Paper Men, and he obviously knew a great deal about how publishers behave, how novelists create characters, and how there were academics who wanted to pick apart his works and perhaps misunderstood what he had written.

Written in the first person, The Paper Men is narrated by Wilfred Barclay, a well- known and admired novelist. Approaching his 60's he is a heavy drinker and a lecher. His marriage is falling apart. His wife Elizabeth has been keeping all his papers and letters in boxes. An annoying American academic, Rick L.Tucker, wants to get hold of Wilfred's papers as he aims to make his name by writing a biography of Wilfred; but Wilfred loathes the idea of somebody writing up his life. Rick goes so far as looking into Wilfred's rubbish-bin to find things Wilfred may have written. They have a [drunken] brawl. But, becoming aware of Wilfred's philandering, and hearing too much of a woman called Lucinda, Elizabeth finally divorces him.

Cut loose, and now in his 60's, he still wants to chase women. but he finds he's not good at it. He begins to wander on his own in Europe. For some time he has an affair with an Italian woman. but he gets annoyed with her when she proves to be religious and she follows the word of Padre Pio with his stigmata. He scoffs at such nonsense and moves on. His moods are not improved by going to conferences about literature, which he finds to be pompous and pointless - critics who talk about novels but have never written a novel themselves. His own books are still highly esteemed, but he is now an alcoholic, his mind often filled with what can only be called nightmares.

Some years go by. He goes to Switzerland and books into a prestigious hotel, the Weisswald, high up in the snow-covered mountains. and he is accosted by Rick L. Tucker, who is now a professor in a minor university in the U.S.A. and who is escorted by a young woman [his wife], Mary Lou, who majored in flower-arranging and in Wilfred Barclay's works. [And, dear reader, you can smell here the disdain William Golding has for American universities.] Tucker pleads to be allowed to read all Wilfred's papers, which are still being held by Wilfred's ex-wife, and he once again pleads to become Wilfred's authorised biographer. Running through Wilfred's head are memories of all the women he had bed... and young Mary Lou looks interesting. When Wilfred is drunk on brandy, Tucker tries to get him to sign a note saying he will allow him to have access to all Wilfred's papers and works. It doesn't work. Later the tempting Mary Lou also tries to get him to allow Tucker to write a biography of Wilfred. Again, no dice. But Wilfred again becomes the lecher. He invites Mary Lou to his balcony, where she can see the beauty of the stars in the clear night. He puts his arm around her... and she leaves the room. His mind bubbles with brandy. He has incoherent dreams.

 Tucker invites Wilfred to take a walk along a steep track where the snow is high and there is impenetrable fog. Holding on to a rail, Wilfred walks ahead, in his mind thinking about writing a novel ridiculing Tucker. And the rail he is holding collapses. He plunges down, clinging to rocks and roots, in peril of falling to his death. It is Tucker who pulls him up and saves him. Wilfred is grateful for only a short time and again thinks of writing something denigrating Tucker. He goes onto more benders and wanders from place to place. He wants to know about this man called Halliday whom Tucker had so often mentioned.

Wilfred goes to Greece but is harassed by a boring queer man whom he used to know. This bore tries to gossip, but it is inane and Wilfred understands how empty some people are. Where is his purpose in life? Once again, Wilfred cannot settle down anywhere. He goes again through Italy and Sicily and finds himself drinking more coffee than alcohol. He stumbles into a dark church where he has a sort of fugue, a wild dream of all he should have known about life. A breakdown follows and he is in hospital... and concludes "Not. Sin. .I Am.Sin"... meaning sin is an idea but sin is within us.

So more years go by. Wilfred  has become fatter and his body has decayed as he still drinks too much and he wanders aimlessly around Europe. He has lost the ability to be a lecher. After all these years, he meets Tucker again at Weisswald. Tucker has lost Mary Lou  to another man, Halliday. Wilfred and Tucker walk along the track that they had once walked, but this time the weather is clear and with no fog. But there is no real compromise, and Tucker says that Halliday had said that he [Tucker] should be the man to write Wilfred's biography. And at this point Wilfred rages to Tucker about all the people who are after him. Half drunk, he rants to Tucker "Think Rick, all the people who get lice like you in their hair, all the people spied on, followed, lied about, all the people offered to the great public - we'll all be revenged on the whole lot of them, ha et cetera..." [Pg. 152].

In his mind, Wilfred travels, crossing valleys and mountains and having what can only be called a greater fugue. He dreams, having nightmares, and lands in Rome. Does he taste religion in Rome? Or, in the fugue, is he categorizing religion with science and psychology and philosophy.

He goes back to England and visits his ex-wife Elizabeth. She makes it clear that he has always been narcissistic, thinks only of himself and had never been able to get on with other people. He has never taken seriously how other people think.

. . . And so comes what can only be called farce. Wilfred goes to a club in London that he used to frequented ... and Tucker catches up with him, self-confident that Wilfred will sign a note saying Tucker can write the biography of Wilfred. But in the same club there are frivolous writers who barge in drunk, and Wilfred refuses to sign Tucker's note in such company... and there is a riot in which they and the rowdies are kicked out. And Wilfred says he hates London anyway.

So he returns to his old home. His ex-wife Elizabeth has just died. His daughter is selling the fanily house... and now does Wilfred understand that life can only be understood when we have gone through suffering, pain and loss; and understanding that other people are needed in life. After Elizabeth's funeral, Wilfred accosts the Anglican priest who had presided. Wilfred says "You will find this difficult to believe but I suffer with the stigmata. Yes. Four of the five wounds of Christ. Four down and one to go. No. You can see the wounds, unlike with poor Padre Pio. But I assure you my hands and feet hurt like hell – or should I say heaven?" And so he continues for a while, bantering with the parson. But looking back through his life, there have been real wounds in his mind - all the things he should not have done.

He burns all his letters and all the boxes, so there will be no biography of him.... But as is often the case, William Golding ends this novel in an ambiguous way. Does Tucker, his life-long hope of being a biographer gone, stalks Wilfred and shoot him dead... or is this another of Wilfred's dreams? 

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Now, dear reader, you are shouting at me because I am once again giving you nothing but a synopsis of The Paper Men when I should have given you a critique. Be patient then please.

First, I would say that the language Wilfred Barclay uses is often confusing, very much as was the case with William Golding's novel Darkness Visible. Once again I have to use the word cryptic, but in this case the main character is balancing his sceptic, rational (and often angry) views with his growing belief in some force greater than reason. In other words, something like God. No, I'm not making this up. Despite his atheist father, in his later years Golding saw himself as Christian, though he did not subscribe to any particular denomination even though for years he taught in an Anglican boys' schools. Note in this novel the references to Padre Pio and the churches in Italy.

Second, The Paper Men was written after Golding had won his Nobel Prize, and he was getting mighty sick of having academics and others knocking on his door or asking if they could have an interview or maybe even asking if they could write his life story. At the same time, he took a shine to a young American woman who wanted to write his biography. He was in his seventies. They did not have an affair, but his wife politely asked her to go away. She went. [This I know from a B.B.C. documentary in which Golding's daughter discussed the situation.] Much of the thrust of The Paper Men is Golding's disgust at the way journalists, academics and others misunderstood what his novels were really about. By the way, in the novel Wilfred Barclay says he hates London. This was what Golding also thought. He much preferred the small towns and rural areas - and of course sailing.