In university, where Paula & I
met (studying creative writing), each semester we had an assignment entitled
'Reading as a Writer'. And sometimes, when I wasn't too busy protesting or
talking about representation, I did
the assignment. We analysed the work of playwrights,
poets, screen writers, novelists and memoirists. We discussed their form their
structure, what themes we would apply to our own work and how, if the work was
effective and (audible gasp) what we would improve.
Now, it's one thing telling your
classmates their time travelling-rapping-werewolf-romance
novel would be a more consistent read if the dialogue was tighter, but comrades, it is an entirely different bag of fish to critique a
"real" writer. A
"real" writer with that elusive published masterpiece (following film
adaptation, cult classic t shirt references). Yes, obviously I chose George
Orwell.
Believe me. I am picky. I may not be Judy Blume myself but I can sniff out holes in stories at the speed a quiche disappears at a family buffet (dead quick). I guess the reason I'm saying this is that when I read Jump I felt that I was reading as a writer, reading the work of an established and effective writer. Paula writes beautiful and delicate stories of people (mainly women, woop woop feminism) at their extremes. These circumstances that life pushes up to live through, documented in such a grounded style.
Believe me. I am picky. I may not be Judy Blume myself but I can sniff out holes in stories at the speed a quiche disappears at a family buffet (dead quick). I guess the reason I'm saying this is that when I read Jump I felt that I was reading as a writer, reading the work of an established and effective writer. Paula writes beautiful and delicate stories of people (mainly women, woop woop feminism) at their extremes. These circumstances that life pushes up to live through, documented in such a grounded style.
And that's the point. Paula's work is
effective because it's written about women I could know. Working class
situations we recognise, grief, crushes and money problems, community.
Struggle, really. How often is it that we see our own experiences played out on
the page interspersed with magic realism and hilarious dialogue? Never.
On reading Mr Phillips I was transported to my own teenage
years. And with Paula's gentle, yet uncompromising humour I began to recognise
the hilarity of youth. The story plays out before you and after all you can do
is think God, do you remember -. Even now I spend time too wrapped up in
social justice causes (arguing with Tories on the internet) to consider the
relationship between activism and fiction. But I believe healing is part of
justice and Paula's work was, for me, healing.
Jump is a story that rings with
heartbreak and shines light on an area so often wrought with shame and
secrecy. Tara is a story that twinkles with promise and the unsaid. The fact
that these three stories can sit side by side in unison is a testament to
Paula’s skill, precision and bravery. It is brave to speak out, to construct
these voices that whisper truths to us, in a world that seeks to scare us into
silence.
Seeing the stories of working class
people, especially women written down, it's transformative. Sometimes, just
existing in a world where you are abhorred and tested is radical in itself.
Depicting the stories we are too scared or embarrassed to tell is one step
further. If doing so with elegance & care is not justice I don't know what
is.
- To buy Jump (for less than £1!) click here Content note for still birth and child death in Jump, slut shaming in Mr Phillips.
- For weekly updates on Paula's hilarious life and musings on feminism and parening you can follow Paula's blog.
- To keep up to date with Paula's writing you can like her on facebook or follow her on twitter @paulakellyince.
