Two Outcasts Form An Artistic Bond In 'Mr. Mac And Me'
Thomas Maggs is a lonely little boy. When Esther Freud's new novel Mr. Mac And Me opens, he is 13 years old. His brothers have died, his father, who runs a bar, drinks too much of his own stock and beats his son. Thomas dreams of sailing away – and then World War I descends on his small English sea coast town. Tours stop coming, blackout curtains go up, village boys enlist and go off to war.
Thomas, left behind, walks the beaches and marshes, limping on a twisted foot. It's there that he meets a man in a black cape who puffs on a pipe and stares at the waves as if looking for clues. Thomas thinks he must be some kind of detective, but he turns out to be Charles Rennie Mackintosh, the architect and designer. He has an accent; people in town wonder who he is and what he must be doing there.
This story, of an unlikely friendship between a lonely little boy and an isolated artist in a world growing dark with suspicion, is at the heart of Esther Freud's novel, Mr. Mac and Me. Freud tells NPR's Scott Simon that Thomas' town is particularly suspicious of strangers. "When the war was declared, it was considered to be an extremely vulnerable and dangerous part of Britain, right opposite Flanders," she says. "Everybody who could leave left, but Mackintosh and his wife who are by now very impoverished and not so well ... they didn't leave, and it was their staying, staying longer than they should have stayed, that aroused so much suspicion."
Interview Highlights
On distrusting a man who sketches
Well I think that they might not have, but what I found when I did my research was that every day, every week, new posters went up outside the village hall, outside the post office, saying beware of loose talk. It took everybody's imagination and everyone's fear and tried to direct it somewhere. And I think in this environment, even somebody who sketched seemed suspicious.
On the friendship between Thomas and Mac
Strangely, I had already really created Thomas when I was writing, and I found that they had so much in common — and it sounds crazy when one of the characters I had actually made up. But Thomas has a lame leg. And he also likes to draw. He draws boats. He can't go on board a ship so as a second best he spends a lot of time drawing the different boats ... It turned out that Mackintosh was born with a club foot and was also one of a large family where all his brothers had died in infancy. So in a strange way, just by chance, they were drawn together through all sorts of common things that they had.
I knew very little about Mackintosh when I started writing the book, but I did know that he had spent time in this village, which is a village I know very well, a small area of Suffolk. And I, for many years, lived in a cottage that used to be the village pub, and what I discovered was that Mackintosh had stayed in the village pub, so I found myself kind of curious about this man, this extraordinary man, who made such beautiful buildings and designs, had actually stayed in the house that I was living in.
On being the daughter of a famous artist
It's interesting, because I think when you have something from nothing, you forget that you have it at all. So I was very focused on all the things I didn't know, all the research about the First World War, all the research about Mackintosh, trying to create the story and the structure. And I wrote very easily and happily about Thomas' watchfulness as Mackintosh draws his series of flower pictures, which he in fact did draw over the course of the year he spent there, and I was able to look at the real pictures and imagine Thomas watching this artist creating them. But of course I had forgotten that I had spent my own childhood doing something extremely similar.
On Mackintosh's devotion to his wife
One of the real insights I had in to the man himself were a collection of his letters that he wrote to his wife over the period of about a month, and he signed those letters MMYT, and I realized that it meant "My Margaret, Your Toshy." Toshy was his nickname. And I just thought that was so touching, and in fact the letters themselves are incredibly, incredibly romantic and touching and say beautiful things like "it's a week now since you've been gone and one less I hope 'til you return."
On whether we're living in a more suspicious era
Yeah, I think with the increased media, people are alerted endlessly to what they should be fearful of. And in a way that's a real reflection of what happened with all the posters and the things in papers saying you must watch and listen and always be vigilant. And I think people feel like that now, and they're suspicious of people in a way that almost always is unnecessary.
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Transcript
SCOTT SIMON, HOST:
Thomas Maggs is a lonely little boy. When "Mr. Mac And Me," Esther Freud's new novel opens, Thomas is 13 years old. His brothers have died, his father, who runs a bar, drinks too much of his own stock and beats his son. Thomas dreams of sailing away.
The First World War descends on a small English seacoast town in Suffolk, where he lives. Tourists stop coming, blackout curtains go up, village boys enlist and go off to war while Thomas walks the beaches and marshes. It is there he meets a man in a black cape who puffs on a pipe and stares at the waves as if looking for clues.
Thomas thinks he must be a detective, but he turns out to be Charles Rennie Mackintosh, the architect and designer. He's got an accent. People in town wonder who he is and what he must be doing there.
The story of an unlikely friendship between a lonely little boy and an isolated artist in a world growing dark with suspicion set the heart of Esther Freud's new novel, "Mr. Mac And Me." Esther Freud, author of of "Hideous Kinky," "The Sea House" and other novels joins us from London. Thanks so much for being with us.
ESTHER FREUD: It's a pleasure.
SIMON: I guess all strangers do arouse suspicion, but why this one in particular?
FREUD: Well, I think what's interesting about this particular area of the coast is that it was actually - it always attracted a lot of visitors. When the war was declared, it was considered to be an extremely vulnerable and dangerous part of Britain, right opposite Flanders, that everybody who could leave left, but Mackintosh and his wife who are by now very impoverished - they didn't leave. And it was their staying, staying longer than they should have stayed, that aroused so much suspicion.
SIMON: Yeah. People would distrust a man who sketches?
FREUD: Well, I think that they might not have, but what I found when I did my research was that every day, every week, new posters went up outside the village hall, outside the post office, saying beware of loose talk. It took everybody's imagination and everyone's fear and tried to direct it somewhere. And I think in this environment, even somebody who sketched seemed suspicious.
SIMON: And let's understand, Charles Rennie Mackintosh, whose name can draw thousands to an exhibit in museums these days, was on the outs during this period of time.
FREUD: Yeah. I mean, I knew very little about Mackintosh when I started writing the book, but I did know that he'd spent time in this village, which is a village I know very well - a small area of Suffolk. And I, for many years, lived in a cottage that used to be the village pub. And what I discovered was that Mackintosh had stayed in the village pub, so I found myself kind of curious about this man - this extraordinary man who made such beautiful buildings and designs had actually stayed in the house that I was living in.
SIMON: You are the daughter of an artist?
FREUD: Yes.
SIMON: In addition being the great-granddaughter of - oh, heck, I don't even want to have to mention his name - but in any event, your father Lucian was the preeminent British artist of his time.
FREUD: Yes.
SIMON: How do you think that connects you to this story?
FREUD: It's interesting because I think when you have something for nothing, you forget that you have it at all. So I was very focused on all the things I didn't know - all the research about the First World War, all the research about Mackintosh, trying to create the story and the structure, and I wrote very easily and happily about Thomas's watchfulness as Mackintosh draws a series of flower pictures. But of course, I'd forgotten that I'd spent my own childhood doing something extremely similar. I didn't live with my father. He was that kind of an artist. The art was his - at the absolute center of his life. But I used to visit him in his studio and I used to look at his paintings. And, you know, I gave all that to Thomas, honestly, without thinking ever about it. And it was only when I'd finished the book that someone pointed out oh well, obviously, you have this great insight.
SIMON: And do you think they're right?
FREUD: They are right because some - once I thought about it, I realized, of course. You know, I really did watch those paintings grow. And I can even remember how old I was by looking at certain of my father's paintings and remembering oh yes, I was 10, and I remember he did that painting, and he was still doing it when I was 11. Then that seemed like the most ridiculous amount of time to spend on a painting. Once I was in my 40s I thought, God, he's finished that painting already. He's just like a demon.
SIMON: I - without giving anything away, there's a sequence in the the novel where Charles Rennie Mackintosh will end a note saying and MMYT.
FREUD: Yes. I think that that's permissible to discuss. One of the real insights I had into the man himself were a collection of his letters that he wrote to his wife over a period of about a month. And he signed those letters MMYT, and I realized that it meant My Margaret, Your Toshy. Toshy was his nickname. And I just thought that was so touching. And, in fact, the letters themselves are incredibly, incredibly romantic and touching and say beautiful things like it's a week now since you've been gone and one less I hope until you return.
SIMON: Boy it makes it hard for the rest of us who are sending text messages to our spouses, doesn't it, to...
FREUD: Yeah, you...
SIMON: ...Come up something that...
(LAUGHTER)
FREUD: ...You're late. It's a tragedy.
SIMON: Of course, I've - at one point in the novel, you see those initials and you begin to think oh my gosh, maybe he is passing secret signals somewhere to someone. And I guess in a sense he is. But it's the oldest secret of all, isn't it?
FREUD: Yeah. Well, I guess I was following - you know, you're reading a novel through Thomas's eyes, and Thomas isn't sure.
SIMON: Yeah.
SIMON: Thomas really wants this man to be his friend and his mentor. But is he somebody he should be suspicious of? You know, and so we go on that journey with Thomas. And I wasn't sure, you know, entirely what Thomas was really going to discover for himself.
SIMON: I don't ask this to be polemical. But you read this novel and you wonder, are we also living in a time where suspicion comes very naturally to us?
FREUD: Yes, I think so. I think, in a way, with the increased media, people are alerted endlessly to what they should be fearful of. And in a way, that's a real reflection of what happened with all the posters and the things in papers saying, you know, you must watch and listen and always be vigilant. And I think people feel like that now, and they're suspicious of people in a way that almost always is unnecessary.
SIMON: Esther Freud, her new novel "Mr. Mac And Me." Thanks so much for being with us.
FREUD: It's a real pleasure. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
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