Article: A Love of Legend (1960)
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sutcliff_spaceThis is a profile of Sutcliff by Elaine Moss, based on an interview evidently conducted at Sutcliff's home, and includes some interesting quotes about her writing habits and reading tastes. It was written for the magazine Books & Bookmen in 1960. I found it in Moss's memoir Part of the Pattern: A Personal Journey through the World of Children’s Books, 1960-1985, which you can view on Internet Archive.
A LOVE OF LEGEND
Rosemary Sutcliff’s passion is the continuity of history. ‘History,’ she says, ‘is not a collection of isolated set-pieces. It is a continuous process and very much alive.’ So she sets her books at times of upheaval and change––Roman conquering Briton, Saxon overcoming Roman, Norman ousting Saxon and so on––and her theme is not death, but survival.
This theme is never bolder or more striking than in The Lantern Bearers. It is the story of a young Roman officer, Aquila, who, when the last legions were withdrawing from Britain, leaving the land open to the invading and plundering Saxons, deserted the Eagle and stayed behind in the land which his family, though Roman, had known as ‘home’ for generations.
Aquila is symbolic of the light and culture of Rome which he carries forth into the Dark Ages. He is the personification of Rosemary Sutcliff’s conception of living history and it is therefore fitting that the Library Association should have had the prescience to wait for this novel in order to bestow upon its author the Carnegie Medal for the best children's book of 1959.
Rosemary Sutcliff does not come from a literary family: when I asked her if writing was hereditary she said drily, ‘Well, my father used to write Admiralty sailing instructions and his only advice to me has been, “never use two words if one will suffice”.’ Neither can she draw from her own childhood experiences since Still’s disease has held her in its thrall since the age of two; yet the children in her books spring free; they run with the air of Devon (or the Downs or the Lakes) fresh in their nostrils, climb, swim, ride, with joy and vigour. They are touched by the wand of a wizard.
Rosemary Sutcliff lives with her father in a long, low white house near Arundel in Sussex. ‘It was probably the stables and still-room of the old rectory,’ she says, ‘and I suppose our garden was the paddock.’ She works in a room with windows on three sides, her table piled high with books of reference, the telephone right by her. Writing is a way of life for her and she takes it quite calmly; if the telephone rings (‘this is the room where everything goes on,’ she says) it disturbs her for a moment ‘but I’m soon away again in my work.’ I asked her if she ever worked in her lovely garden. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I cannot concentrate. I’ll see a bird or an insect and spend my time watching it.’ This acute sensitivity to nature and joy in the outside world is reflected in the superb background drawing of countryside, birds and animals which gives a satisfying wholeness to Rosemary Sutcliff’s novels.
How many hours a day does Rosemary Sutcliff work? ‘I start when I’m ready and finish when I’m tired.’ How much does she write in a normal day? ‘About 1,800 words,’ she said, ‘a page like this.’ And she indicated a foolscap sheet covered with elfin writing. I asked how many drafts she made before sending her manuscript to the typist (she is unable to type) and she said, ‘Four.’ This immense labour is worthwhile because the result is a book for which the foundations have been carefully laid (‘I’m not one of those people who can start writing without knowing what the end is going to be,’) and subsequently cloaked, a seemingly effortless work of art.
But sensitivity and a capacity for hard work cannot alone make a writer of Rosemary Sutcliff’s calibre. Imagination is the spark which has ignited the flame, an imagination richly fed in childhood by her mother who read to her tirelessly––Kenneth Grahame, Lytton, but mainly Kipling: the Just So Stories (her sense of humour is exactly attuned to the Elephant’s Child whose first act with a newly acquired trunk is to spank all his insufferably interfering relations), Puck of Pook’s Hill, The Jungle Books, Stalky and Co.
Her love of legend, her compassion for animals, her deep sense of comradeship and intense interest in Roman times are, of course, personal, but they were undoubtedly nurtured by Kipling. Her first writing venture, in fact, was a collection of legends. Were these rejected, then? ‘Well, yes and no. They were passed from hand to hand at a regimental dinner and ended up at the Oxford University Press who didn’t want legends but on the strength of them commissioned Robin Hood.’ ‘And have taken everything you’ve offered them since?’ ‘Yes,’ she answered simply, as though every author may place his outpourings simply at the cost of posting the manuscript.
Rosemary Sutcliff did not begin to write until she was twenty-five. ‘It seemed unlikely when I was a child that I should ever succeed at anything,’ she said. ‘I hated school and was hopeless at everything.’ ‘Not English and History, surely?’ ‘Oh yes, I loathed them and Nature Study and Latin and all the things that interest me now. But I loved drawing, so at fourteen––one could leave mercifully early in those days––I was taken away from school and sent to Bideford Art School where I was thoroughly happy painting in oils.’ A chance question brought to light the surprising information that this modest young woman, she is thirty-nine, became an expert miniaturist whose work has been shown at the Royal Academy and has brought her membership of the Royal Miniaturist Society.
She gave up painting after she began to write, ‘because I found it was becoming more of an exercise than an art. My writing became my art and I’m glad because people bought my miniatures and I never saw them again whereas I can keep my books by me.’
The note of affection in her voice prompted me to ask which of her books was her favourite. Unhesitatingly she chose The Eagle of the Ninth, the first of her Roman novels. And whilst on the subject of favourites I also asked her whether she read adult historical novels and if so which authors she admired. ‘I don't have time for much reading outside my work,’ she answered, ‘but I’m devoted to T. H. White (though I’ve given up recommending him to people because I never seem to be right about who is going to like him). I admire Mary Renault tremendously and,’ she added shyly, ‘I enjoy Josephine Tey.’
As miniaturist and children’s author, Rosemary Sutcliff has the honours in her pocket. But she is certainly not resting on her laurels. This autumn has seen the publication of no less than three new books by this versatile author for children (who, incidentally, has also written two highly successful novels for adults.)
To the Batsford ‘History’ series Rosemary Sutcliff has contributed a volume which will bring delight to the lover of English country houses, Houses and History. She has written a monograph on Rudyard Kipling, which is an intensely revealing personal appreciation, a miniature in print. And there is her new children’s novel, Knight’s Fee, the story of a half-Breton, half-Saxon dog-boy at Arundel Castle who, by strange fortune, becomes a knight in Norman England. Here again is the insistence on race overlaying rather than superseding race. Knight’s Fee is in small compass compared with some of Rosemary Sutcliff’s more ambitious projects, but because of its vividness and warmth it yet adds to the stature of this courageous and remarkable author.
A LOVE OF LEGEND
Rosemary Sutcliff’s passion is the continuity of history. ‘History,’ she says, ‘is not a collection of isolated set-pieces. It is a continuous process and very much alive.’ So she sets her books at times of upheaval and change––Roman conquering Briton, Saxon overcoming Roman, Norman ousting Saxon and so on––and her theme is not death, but survival.
This theme is never bolder or more striking than in The Lantern Bearers. It is the story of a young Roman officer, Aquila, who, when the last legions were withdrawing from Britain, leaving the land open to the invading and plundering Saxons, deserted the Eagle and stayed behind in the land which his family, though Roman, had known as ‘home’ for generations.
Aquila is symbolic of the light and culture of Rome which he carries forth into the Dark Ages. He is the personification of Rosemary Sutcliff’s conception of living history and it is therefore fitting that the Library Association should have had the prescience to wait for this novel in order to bestow upon its author the Carnegie Medal for the best children's book of 1959.
Rosemary Sutcliff does not come from a literary family: when I asked her if writing was hereditary she said drily, ‘Well, my father used to write Admiralty sailing instructions and his only advice to me has been, “never use two words if one will suffice”.’ Neither can she draw from her own childhood experiences since Still’s disease has held her in its thrall since the age of two; yet the children in her books spring free; they run with the air of Devon (or the Downs or the Lakes) fresh in their nostrils, climb, swim, ride, with joy and vigour. They are touched by the wand of a wizard.
Rosemary Sutcliff lives with her father in a long, low white house near Arundel in Sussex. ‘It was probably the stables and still-room of the old rectory,’ she says, ‘and I suppose our garden was the paddock.’ She works in a room with windows on three sides, her table piled high with books of reference, the telephone right by her. Writing is a way of life for her and she takes it quite calmly; if the telephone rings (‘this is the room where everything goes on,’ she says) it disturbs her for a moment ‘but I’m soon away again in my work.’ I asked her if she ever worked in her lovely garden. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I cannot concentrate. I’ll see a bird or an insect and spend my time watching it.’ This acute sensitivity to nature and joy in the outside world is reflected in the superb background drawing of countryside, birds and animals which gives a satisfying wholeness to Rosemary Sutcliff’s novels.
How many hours a day does Rosemary Sutcliff work? ‘I start when I’m ready and finish when I’m tired.’ How much does she write in a normal day? ‘About 1,800 words,’ she said, ‘a page like this.’ And she indicated a foolscap sheet covered with elfin writing. I asked how many drafts she made before sending her manuscript to the typist (she is unable to type) and she said, ‘Four.’ This immense labour is worthwhile because the result is a book for which the foundations have been carefully laid (‘I’m not one of those people who can start writing without knowing what the end is going to be,’) and subsequently cloaked, a seemingly effortless work of art.
But sensitivity and a capacity for hard work cannot alone make a writer of Rosemary Sutcliff’s calibre. Imagination is the spark which has ignited the flame, an imagination richly fed in childhood by her mother who read to her tirelessly––Kenneth Grahame, Lytton, but mainly Kipling: the Just So Stories (her sense of humour is exactly attuned to the Elephant’s Child whose first act with a newly acquired trunk is to spank all his insufferably interfering relations), Puck of Pook’s Hill, The Jungle Books, Stalky and Co.
Her love of legend, her compassion for animals, her deep sense of comradeship and intense interest in Roman times are, of course, personal, but they were undoubtedly nurtured by Kipling. Her first writing venture, in fact, was a collection of legends. Were these rejected, then? ‘Well, yes and no. They were passed from hand to hand at a regimental dinner and ended up at the Oxford University Press who didn’t want legends but on the strength of them commissioned Robin Hood.’ ‘And have taken everything you’ve offered them since?’ ‘Yes,’ she answered simply, as though every author may place his outpourings simply at the cost of posting the manuscript.
Rosemary Sutcliff did not begin to write until she was twenty-five. ‘It seemed unlikely when I was a child that I should ever succeed at anything,’ she said. ‘I hated school and was hopeless at everything.’ ‘Not English and History, surely?’ ‘Oh yes, I loathed them and Nature Study and Latin and all the things that interest me now. But I loved drawing, so at fourteen––one could leave mercifully early in those days––I was taken away from school and sent to Bideford Art School where I was thoroughly happy painting in oils.’ A chance question brought to light the surprising information that this modest young woman, she is thirty-nine, became an expert miniaturist whose work has been shown at the Royal Academy and has brought her membership of the Royal Miniaturist Society.
She gave up painting after she began to write, ‘because I found it was becoming more of an exercise than an art. My writing became my art and I’m glad because people bought my miniatures and I never saw them again whereas I can keep my books by me.’
The note of affection in her voice prompted me to ask which of her books was her favourite. Unhesitatingly she chose The Eagle of the Ninth, the first of her Roman novels. And whilst on the subject of favourites I also asked her whether she read adult historical novels and if so which authors she admired. ‘I don't have time for much reading outside my work,’ she answered, ‘but I’m devoted to T. H. White (though I’ve given up recommending him to people because I never seem to be right about who is going to like him). I admire Mary Renault tremendously and,’ she added shyly, ‘I enjoy Josephine Tey.’
As miniaturist and children’s author, Rosemary Sutcliff has the honours in her pocket. But she is certainly not resting on her laurels. This autumn has seen the publication of no less than three new books by this versatile author for children (who, incidentally, has also written two highly successful novels for adults.)
To the Batsford ‘History’ series Rosemary Sutcliff has contributed a volume which will bring delight to the lover of English country houses, Houses and History. She has written a monograph on Rudyard Kipling, which is an intensely revealing personal appreciation, a miniature in print. And there is her new children’s novel, Knight’s Fee, the story of a half-Breton, half-Saxon dog-boy at Arundel Castle who, by strange fortune, becomes a knight in Norman England. Here again is the insistence on race overlaying rather than superseding race. Knight’s Fee is in small compass compared with some of Rosemary Sutcliff’s more ambitious projects, but because of its vividness and warmth it yet adds to the stature of this courageous and remarkable author.
no subject
Date: 2020-02-01 05:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-02-02 09:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-02-02 01:34 pm (UTC)Oh, man. Talk about an interviewer who hasn't done her homework.
Interesting interview, though! Incidentally, I own a copy of Houses and History but haven't gotten around to reading it yet.
no subject
Date: 2020-02-03 09:08 pm (UTC)