Behind Blue Eyes: a Memoir of Childhood
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Copyright and Access Declaration This copy is the property of Edith Cowan University. However, the literary rights of the author must also be respected. If any passage from this thesis is quoted or closely paraphrased in a paper or written work prepared by the user, the source of the passage must be acknowledged in the work. If the user desires to publish a paper or written work containing passages copied or closely paraphrased from this thesis, which passages would in total constitute an infringing copy for the purpose ot the Copyright Act, he or she must first obtain the written permission of the author to do so. i Behind Blue Eyes: A Memoir of Childhood Who Am I?: A Collection of Essays Glyn Parry, BA, Grad. Dip. Ed., MA Thesis submitted for the award of PhD (Writing) in the Faculty of Community Services, Education and the Arts, at Edith Cowan University, on 30 June 2006. ii Abstract How should one approach childhood memories for the writing of literary memoir? Behind Blue Eyes is my childhood revisited. I have fashioned my earliest memories in order to tell a story. My story, and the story of my family. It covers the years between 1963 and 1967, when I was a boy growing up in the north-east of England. I made the decision from the outset to tell the story through the eyes of a child. This is an approach seldom taken, but one that has intrigued me for some years now. Could I sustain the voice of a four-year-old, a five-year-old, a six-year-old, and so on? Yes, I believed so. Could I capture the essence of a boy’s life in the north-east of England back then? I hoped so. Behind Blue Eyes is now in the hands of a publisher. There is a book there and I should be well pleased. But I worry about what my parents will think, particularly my mother. Soon I will have joined that growing number of novelists who turned their hand to creative non-fiction. Some may argue that I have merely delivered another novel anyway. They may well be right. Yet, this is my childhood as I recall it, several decades on. It’s not so much a historical record as a personal journey. It’s my square mile of childhood faithfully reproduced. I just don’t wish for my mother to be hurt. Who Am I? is the set of essays that immediately followed the writing of Behind Blue Eyes. The ficto-critical approach best suited my purpose, which was to explore the way memory worked for me (or didn’t) as I plundered my past. As the research progressed I found myself increasingly alarmed by the sheer inventiveness of memory. Can the story of one’s childhood be laid out with any degree of authenticity? I started to have my doubts. How, then, should one go about the tricky business of packaging one’s life into a narrative structure suitable for publication? And what gets lost along the way? I was interested to find out. iii Candidate Declaration I certify that this thesis does not, to the best of my knowledge and belief: (i) incorporate without acknowledgment any material previously submitted for a degree or diploma in any institution of higher education; (ii) contain any material previously published or written by another person except where due reference is made in the text; or (iii) contain any defamatory material. Signed: __________________ 30 June 2006 iv Acknowledgements I wish to thank Dr Richard Rossiter of Edith Cowan University for his unfailing enthusiasm and wise counsel over four years. He is a very wonderful teacher and friend. I also wish to thank my parents Glynne and Josie for their decision to migrate to Australia with their thirteen suitcases and two thousand pounds. Finally, I wish to thank my wife Sandra for not allowing me to throw in the towel. v Table of Contents Copyright and Access Declaration……………………………... i Title Page………………………………………………………. ii Abstract………………………………………………………… iii Candidate Declaration………………………………………….. iv Acknowledgements…………………………………………….. v Table of Contents………………………………………………. vi Behind Blue Eyes: A Memoir of Childhood…………………… 1 Who Am I?: A Collection of Essays…………………………… 262 Works Cited……………………………………………………. 342 Bibliography…………………………………………………… 348 vi Part One 2 Two Laughing Skeletons The first thing I like about the place is the daffodils. They grow in the field behind our caravan. They grow beside the river. If you look closely, See, a big fish, Dad. At first Dad cannot see. He’s a blind man. He shields his eyes from the sun. He says, What fish? Where? I’m pointing, and then the big fish jumps and there is a splash. Oh, now I see. You’ve got good eyes, Glyn. Soon we are walking again, as far as the riverbank allows. We come to a fence and long grass where there could be snakes. There might even be a baby dragon. Dad lifts me high up and over. They’re called salmon, he says, meaning the big fish wearing the silver shirt with buttons and bells. And this is the Tamar River. Dad, you could jump in the river. But would I even want to? With a little laugh he shakes his head. Daffodils are everywhere, even on the other side and up the slope into the woods. I like the daffodils. I’m not so sure about the woods. They look dark. A boy could easily be lost. Dad says, Did you know there were pirates? Pirates! Now I’m forgetting all about a salmon. It’s the sea for me and a yo-ho-ho. Oh, yes, Cornwall’s famous for pirates, says Dad. They looted lots of villages here. Spaniards, they were the worst. This makes me think of two laughing skeletons standing over a treasure chest. Their home is a beach that is palm trees and monkeys. I tell Dad what’s in my head. Laughing, you say? Dad, they were happy pirates to the end. They fished and hunted and dreamed. 3 When we are back on the lane away from the river, Dad brings up the pirates, saying, Glyn, I don’t know that they were ever a particularly happy crew. Mostly they ran away to sea to escape the gallows. I know about the gallows. That’s the hangman’s noose and a rope that swings. Swish! That’s another one gone off to the devil. Dad says, Come on, we should be getting back. Your mother and sister have been baking. Let’s beat the crow. 4 Gypsy After our walk beside the river I don’t see Dad for two more weeks. He’s away at sea again. He’s a Navy man. Some days he’s at port and some days he’s at sea. Today he’s at sea. Mum says, Damn that Navy for stealing my man. It’s too much. She stabs out her cigarette and marches up her end of the caravan for a good cry. Again? says Julie, looking up from the curlers. She is on the cushion on the carpet, arranging Mum’s hair curlers into colours: red, green, blue. You shouldn’t be touching Mum’s things, I say. I am ignored. I sit at the table listening to Mum sob, then it’s all quiet. After ten minutes she’s back. Her eyes are puffy. She smiles at us both and says, Silly me. He’s a good man and look at me, not even out of my dressing gown yet. She puts on the kettle. Now, where Dad works is Plymouth. That’s where the ships get scrubbed and sanded and painted, ready for more weeks at sea. Dad is in stores. His job is so important the Navy would be lost without him. Like Mum is lost without him. But I must not stand in his way, she tells Queenie, the next time Queenie comes knocking on our door. Queenie is always knocking on our door. Mum is saying, I think Cornwall was a mistake, I really do. I see even less of him now. She is tucking her hankie up her sleeve after another cry. There, there, Josie. Let’s get you another cup of tea. I need my cigarettes, says Mum. Of course you do, sweetie. Queenie is Mum’s best friend in Notter Bridge Farm, so she’s allowed to see her crying. 5 Mum laughs anyway. I’m being daft, she says. Now he’s talking about migrating to Australia. This is a surprise. Oh, I’ve heard Australia is lovely, says Queenie. It’s quite civilised. Yes, but, Australia. He’s a gypsy, our Queenie. I’ve married a gypsy for my sins. And a handsome Welsh one at that! And this makes Mum laugh all the more. 6 Shoes When Dad’s back from his days at sea, I’m sitting on the grass in front of our caravan helping him polish our shoes. The Cornwall sun is warm on my neck. He says, Look after your shoes and they’ll look after you. You’ll be able to walk into any job. But it’s not shoes I’m worried about. It’s the idea of leaving Cornwall so soon. Mum has the idea stuck in her head. We’d all be better off in the north- east and no Dad in the Navy. But Dad hates the north-east, I know. The place makes him sad. He doesn’t know how to get comfortable there. A Welshman is lost in a place like that because the language they speak is geordie.