Last Saturday I was grateful to attend a talk by Philip Pullman, author of the internationally best-selling His Dark Materials series. Following a busy childhood of global travels due to his father’s work in the RAF, Pullman now resides in Oxford, the place that I also call home when I’m not in Sheffield. Pullman’s talk formed part of a series, all focussing on the art and importance of storytelling. What’s more, the event took place in a local church, which afforded quite the atmosphere – echoing and lofty – to Christians, those of other faiths, and atheists alike.
Those in attendance on Saturday evening were treated first to an introductory talk about the Old Fire Station, a building rich in history which in 2011 became a hybrid arts hub, café and training centre for homeless people. Associate director Jeremy Spafford showcased the Oxford company’s myriad efforts to champion storytelling by providing everyone with an equal platform from which to share their stories with other people. Spafford stressed that stories provoke self-reflection in both the storyteller and the story-receiver.
Something Spafford said that really stuck with me was: ‘Why do we need the arts? Well, they’re what make you a real person, and not a statistic.’ This first talk, chock-full of anecdotes both funny and touching, laid fertile groundwork for the star guest of the evening: Philip Pullman. As I mentioned above, Pullman was quite the globetrotter in his early years, and he opened his talk lamenting the fact that we rarely travel by sea anymore. He said that in doing so, we’ve lost some of our awe for the world we live in, so big and so varied. Of his nautical adventures, Pullman said: ‘These memories were quite physical, as memories often are.’
That’s when the magic kicked in. Pullman’s captivating voice drew us into his past, and we became trusted companions on his journey to making a career out of storytelling. Just like me, Pullman’s favourite subject at school was English. He was especially fascinated by poetry, and its ability to convey a double-story. That is, the message of the poem plus the poetic method of expressing it. Fast forwarding through his university studies and subsequent years as a schoolteacher, we arrived at his final form: Philip Pullman the writer.
On the art of storytelling, Pullman told us that the best practical method he’s found to get all his thoughts on paper is to write three pages a day, no less and no more. And with true Pullman fantastical style, he said that his ideas for characters come to his desk. If he’s there, they’ll stay in his office and end up in his books. If he’s away from his desk, they’ll leave because they can’t stand waiting.
Pullman brought his talk to a close with a reading of a lesser-known Brothers Grimm tale, from a new edition of their work which he was invited to edit. As he read ‘The Three Snake-Leaves’ to an audience of just under 200, his voice held all in rapture. Peppering the short story with dramatic pauses and a few character voices thrown into the mix, Pullman showed that he’s a storyteller in all meanings of the word.
Bestowing a large portion of his success as a writer to the accessibility of books in his youth, Pullman has always been a vocal advocate for the existence of libraries in school, with trained librarians. Encouraged by this perspective, during a Q&A portion of the talk I asked him for his opinion on how book bans could affect the storytelling abilities of future generations. His response was succinct yet full, and I think it can be characterised by his pithy final statement: ‘The best way to draw attention to a book is to ban it.’
After the talk, Pullman welcomed attendees to a more intimate reception, during which he signed my copy of Northern Lights, the first instalment of the His Dark Materials trilogy. When I told him my name, he asked whether it was spelt Lucy with a ‘y’ or Lucie with an ‘ie.’ This quiet kindness and attention to detail are a testament to Pullman’s fictional worlds, carefully crafted as vehicles to share the joy of imagination with others.
