Picture Angela Carter
. I see a very clear image of Angela sitting at a desk
in her study
and scrap paper are strewn across the desk and her typewriter
is peeping out from a further pile of notes. To her left is her book shelf
. It is large.
Think of a book title, and it will be there. Most of the novels have multiple bookmarks
with scribbles assigned to them.
A fire burns away on the right of her and to the front, is the window, the window through which she sees the world. Undressed, Naked. The world is bare and Ms Carter writes as she sees it. Void of social constraint and traditions. Pure unadulterated life. Life is very important to her. More important than anything society can throw at her.
Back to her desk. Look carefully to the rear and you will see a well thumbed copy of ‘The Complete Works Of Shakespeare’. Possibly the most used collection of pages bound in leather there has ever been.
The top and the sides have Post-it notes all over. Angela has found her true love and she can’t get enough. Ravenous, she devours the fruit of the Stratfordian poet.
After months of planning, Angela pulls away the typewriter’s veil, inserts a fresh sheet of paper. The pure virgin whiteness of the unstarted novel. Fear not! Ms Carter will soon whisk the paper’s virginity away as she begins to write. After a while, she reaches for her notes and smiles, Wise children is born.
If bill were alive now, he would have trouble suppressing a grin. No man had more of Carter’s love than he.