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About Richard Beard
I figured out the software by translating a very short book by Andre Maurois, now available under the Translation tag above. This means I can move on to whatever else is on my mind. If I run out of ideas, the next pre-computer age blog I plan to translate is another very short book, this one by Henry Miller, also in French, entitled I’m No More of an Idiot Than Anybody Else.
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France 19 England 12 – the French save the sport of rugby from extinction. Too much? I don’t think so. Martin Johnson’s team has been trying to prove that rugby games can be won in the gym. More muscle, more directness, eliminating mistakes. If he’d been right, and until this defeat nobody could be quite sure he wasn’t, then rugby as a game would have been thought out, thought through.
This may not be overstating the case. Billiards, as an example, was an engaging and competitive sport until training and application discovered its limits. When the Australian Walter Lindrum made a break of 4137 points in the World Billiards Championship in 1932, the game was up. Billiards had been an entertaining contest between happy-go-lucky amateurs. As a professional sport, when the players wanted to win at all costs, it was exposed as a pastime of limited skills and permutations.
The Johnson team wanted to demonstrate that winning was possible without basic catching and passing skills, without either intelligence or wit. They were attempting to defy the joy and spectacle of rugby, the hope for sporting astonishment. They failed. The ploy of standing props at first receiver, of leaving the hooker out on the wing comes from the same thought process that led to three second rows on the pitch at the same time. And perhaps four, counting Banahan in the centre. Johnson wanted to win the game with models of himself, in the way he knows best. Not enough. The game itself has bested him.
Unpredictability will still win big rugby games, spontaneity and evasion. If they didn’t, there wouldn’t be a game worth watching, and the sport has proved itself bigger than England’s limited ambition. All true believers must have hoped it would be so. I had such faith in rugby that Paddy Power had my money as a down-payment on the past and future belief that rugby union is a varied and intricate code of football.
Now I’m off to spend the winnings. On English beer, of course.
 I did some of this
For every reader who bemoans the end of the book, there’s another announcing the advent of the future book. There are in fact two separate issues here. The first is how books are read (old-fashioned pages, Kindle, iPad) and the second is how books are written. I’ve offered my opinion on reading platforms here, but whether for Kindle or paper pages the writer’s job remains essentially unchanged. Characterisation in a hardback will also work as characterisation on a hand-held backlit reading device. New gadget, same old reading experience.
The iPad has more potential, both for readers and writers. The digital design studio ustwo recognised this some time ago, and used traditional nursery rhymes as experimental texts. By adding interactive animation, they were hoping to reach at a new way of telling stories.
Their Nursery Rhymes are quite fun, but they barely scratch the surface of artistic effects that the platform makes possible. What ustwo needed was some contemporary literature. Oh yes. Some writers who could answer back, and test the limits of the form. Length was the first consideration. It costs money to do this stuff, and therefore it seemed sense to start with short stories. Ustwo therefore teamed up with Shortfire Press, itself an interesting outfit that sells e-stories one-at-a-time over the internet. Shortfire Press had already made my story James Joyce, EFL Teacher available as a download, and this was one of three stories chosen for the experiment.
Jonas Lennermo at ustwo is the man who makes everything happen (you can see him making things happening, and giving his own explanation of Papercut here) and he explained to me the capabilities of the technology the company had developed. This was the essential step forward: as the reader scrolls the text down the page, sounds and images can be triggered depending on where the reader is in the story.
The initial idea was to take a story and then ‘illustrate’ it in this way. However, for me, the audio-visual element was more interesting than that – I immediately wanted to re-write the story specifically for this new medium, and that’s what I did. And I do think it’s a new medium for writers, somewhere between the page and a film. The imaginative leap, it seems to me, is to understand that the audio-visual additions aren’t there to illustrate the text. Too boring. They’re there to enhance it, but genuinely, to add something new. The writer should keep faith in the writing, and then use the sounds and images to play with the meanings and rhythms and connotations sparked by the text. The interactivity isn’t only a complement to the words – it needs to be allowed to contradict the story and play with it and make additional layers and jokes of its own.
My kind of writing has always had a low reliance on realist devices. It’s suited to this type of experimentation. And now that I have a working idea of how effective the Papercut technology can be, I see no reason why the next step shouldn’t be the first interactive iPad ‘novel’, written exclusively as a new form for a new format.
All three stories are included on the Papercut application available for iPad (£3.99).
(Papercut is currently #1 in the Story Apps charts and Apple app of the week)
So far Lazarus is Dead has been reviewed in the Financial Times, The Spectator, The Eastern Daily Press, The Times Literary Supplement, The Glasgow Herald, The Sunday Times, The Catholic Herald, Sunday Business Post (Ireland), The Times and The Observer. Not everyone is entirely with the programme, but then a book that pleased everyone wouldn’t be a book by me. Also, there’s a writing truism that a bad review is better than none at all. From experience, I can attest that this is so (when the wounds begin to heal).
Standard practice at this point is to extract the best bits of these reviews to give the impression of unanimous praise. Or in a different mood I could do quite the opposite, often from the same review. I’ve done both here, so that anyone with preconceptions can keep them intact. From a couple of the reviews I couldn’t find anything good, but then elsewhere was nothing bad.
(If I haven’t included a link the reviews are unavailable online or are behind a paywall.)
Nice
‘What we end up with is an extraordinary hybrid: a scholarly reflection and a flesh-and-blood narrative. Precisely how Beard pulls this off will take several readings. However he does it, it works. The novel is seamless; as gripping as a thriller and endlessly thought-provoking. Not only does the novel ask central questions about belief and theology, it portrays a time which feels very real and very similar to our own … Surprising, spellbinding, witty and utterly original.’ Chris Dolan, The Sunday Herald, Scotland
‘… ultimately it is the narrative voice – cultivated, wry, yet not too knowing to sustain a note of wonder – that makes this novel so compelling and strange.’ Edmund Gordon, The Sunday Times
‘… this is a thoughtful, enjoyable book.’ Simon Baker, The Spectator
‘… this clever and original book keeps the reader guessing until the death – and beyond.’ Adrian Turpin, Financial Times
‘Richard Beard’s new novel is a fascinating mixture of fiction and academic essay, a re-imagination of the life of Lazarus from youth to resurrection and beyond. Using biblical sources and other, less orthodox ones, Beard weaves a compelling portrait of first-century Israel.’ unsigned, Catholic Herald
‘… the work succeeds because, overall, Beard is to be taken seriously. He can stir emotion quickly and simply … his essayistic digressions temper the mythic luminosity of his subject, contributing to the poignancy of his imagined “biography”‘ Laurence Scott, The Times Literary Supplement
‘.. this strange, compelling and inventive book. … a challenging, thoughtful read, even for a die-hard heathen.’ Stacia Briggs, Eastern Daily Press.
‘… a thoroughly entertaining elaboration of the miraculous Lazarus’s life. Lazarus Is Dead is no ordinary novel: it is a brilliant, genre bending retelling and subversion of one of the oldest, most sensational stories in the western canon.’ Sara Keating, Sunday Business Post (Ireland)
Not nice
‘There are risks, however, in breaking the “vivid and continuous dream” of fiction, in positioning the reader outside the central story and undermining our faith in it, and here it does not pay sufficient dividends. The dialogue between different texts is dry, lacking in drama or intellectual punch …’ Tom Lee, Observer
‘Hmmm. Unconvincing, but as well made as a brick can be without straw.’ Kate Saunders, The Times
Some contradictory pairs:
Structure:
‘Lazarus is Dead is described on the jacket as ‘genre-bending’, which is accurate, since it combines literary fiction with a highly speculative form of biography-cum-history.’ Spectator
‘Beard’s tale of second chances is both a novel and, to some extent, a cultural history of the Lazarus figure. This is hardly as “genre-bending” as the publishers suggest.’ FT
Language:
‘It took me time to warm to this book with its spare prose and matter-of-fact turn of phrase…’ Eastern Daily Press
‘Beard writes with sharp clarity; short, unadorned sentences that contain an unforced, incisive wit.’ Sunday Business Post
In a hurry
One-word extracts: ‘Stimulating’ Sunday Times, ‘Impressive’ FT, ‘Beautiful’ EDP, ‘Imaginative’ Observer,’Well-made’ The Times, ‘Enjoyable’ Spectator, ‘Cinematic’ TLS, ‘Spellbinding’ Sunday Herald
Or not: ’Detached’ FT, ‘Dry’ EDP, ‘Dry’ Observer, ‘Glib,’ TLS, ‘Clogged’ Spectator, ‘Hmmm’ Times
That’s before we even get to the book blogs. I’ll come back to these, but the non-aligned critics have more space and can produce more considered writing than some of the hurried squibs in broadsheets (‘Hmmm’ is a limited critical term).
I enjoyed the thoughtful reviews of Lazarus on dovegreyreader, Just William’s Luck, The Bookbag and a full-colour illustrated piece at James Russell on the Web
Lazarus is Dead is officially out from 18 August, so I’ll add reviews as they come in, if they’re good. The literary blogs can be ahead of the papers (in more ways than one) and so far the astuteness of these comments has made me happy for hours at a time:
‘Beard tells about the decline and rise and decline of Lazarus with wit and charm. I was blown away by Beard’s delivery and creativity. I haven’t read a book quite like it in a long time. So good it’s almost off the scale for me. Brave, brilliant and utterly readable. Highly recommended.’ Louise Laurie, The Bookbag
‘Reading this novel is exhilarating for many reasons. As Beard himself says, ‘A point of stagnation has been reached in scholarly and theological studies. A new approach is needed’ and this book with its melding of fiction and non-fiction, critical analysis and detective work, consolidation and controversy, is a potent combination that breathes life not only into the ‘imaginative representations’ of historical events but also into the possibilities of what we think a novel might be able to achieve.’ William Rycroft, Just William’s Luck
There are also some events planned around the publication:
Sunday 21 August Edinburgh International Book Festival, 7pm, RBS Corner Theatre £7 with John Niven
Friday 26 August Greenbelt Festival 11, 8.30 pm The Hub
Sunday 25 September Wigtown Book Festival 6pm, County Buildings £7 with Owen Sheers
Thursday 20 October Bristol Festival of Literature (venue and price tba)
With the National Academy of Writing I shall be giving mini NAW Masterclasses and workshops at:
Saturday 1st October Henley Literary festival (free)
Tuesday 11th October Cheltenham Literary Festival
Thursday 20 October Bristol Festival of Literature (free)

There was an extract from Lazarus is Dead in the July edition of Prospect magazine. When the magazine decided to run the extract this was their first question (as it had been the first question of an American publisher): are you a Christian? Admittedly, this story is a departure for me. The book is set in first-century Israel and although the structure is unusual (as readers of the earlier novels might expect) the book really is set in first-century Israel. Really. Most of it.
The novel tells the story of how the bible-character Lazarus became ill, and his first death is at the physical centre of the book; the second half tells the story of what happens after he comes back to life.
Lazarus is Dead is not a satire, even though my appearance at the Edinburgh Book Festival is listed in the print catalogue as a Religious Spoof – ‘God won’t like what he sees.’ I’m not so sure about that, but I am sure that a re-imagined bible story is difficult to classify, and can engender a kind of panic. The default assumption is that if a modern novelist re-writes a Christian story he must be mostly against. Then the book gets read, and the question changes. Am I a Christian?
I shall probably be asked this question again, so thought I’d try to work out an answer here on the blog. The advantage of doing it here, of course, is that I can come back and edit whenever I change my mind.
Most recently, the Sunday Herald reviewer didn’t even ask. ‘Beard is not himself a believer,’ Chris Dolan decides, ‘but he enriches the dull, simplistic debate between bishops and imams and Dawkins and co.’ I was very glad to read this, as it was part of what I wanted to do (and Dolan is excellent on the ‘point’ of the book.) However, I don’t quite believe that I’m not a believer. So what am I? The more I write the more I realise I’ve done a lot of thinking before now that might once again be relevant.
I looked this up from Dry Bones, a description of a character soon after he leaves University. His Dad is a vicar:
‘Every evening he drove home from the city in his roadster with electric everything to a kitchen with a glass kettle, and by his second year in London, eating Japanese noodles on expenses, he earned five times as much as a vicar after twenty years on apologetics and paste sandwiches. Mason Senior wrestled with the divine secrets of existence. Tom Mason Junior bought from the bottom and sold at the top. Thine is the glory, Tom. Our Dad still had his uses: an Anglican vicar in the family could be good value, especially at dinner parties with Bachelors of Arts and Sciences, where not one highly paid graduate under the age of forty had progressed much further than not believing in god.’
This is what I believed some time ago (Dry Bones came out in 2004) and is what I believe now. Everyone should get to the stage of not believing in god. That’s the easy part, and also not the end of it.
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About Me
About Richard Beard
I'm a novelist and non-fiction writer, and Director of The National Academy of Writing in London. As time goes by I'm gradually transferring the material from the old site (stories, articles, squibs) into the categories tabbed above. There's information on each of my books, with summaries and reviews, and now that I'm permanently back in the country I'm available for events and readings. Email me using Contact, below. I'll get back to you.
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