“Kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.” There’s a sign at the entrance to the 'Write Cut Rewrite' exhibition at Oxford’s Weston Library which attributes those words to the American author of horror fiction Stephen King. Although due credit is soon given in an adjacent display case to the originator, Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch — the British author who wrote under the pseudonym Q — who advised writers to “murder their darlings.” Of course, both versions acknowledge the torturous business of editing, which is what this superb exhibition endeavours to illustrate — from the first drafts, the rubbing out and replacing, and the second, third and one-hundredth thoughts, to the cutting of whole sections (literally, in the case of Jonathan Safran Foer who scissored out the bits that displeased him, with the resultant holes appearing in the eventual published text).
In the first of a number of articles yet to be decided (which I feel truly adheres to the spirit of 'Write Cut Rewrite'), having got the introduction out of the way, we’re going to look at how Samuel Beckett went about things — including the reference to ‘erections’ in 'Waiting for Godot', which was excised from the play’s original text by the Lord Chamberlain, a sticky-beaked busybody who used to protect sensitive Brits from such risqué content.
I have already shared on social media a photo of Beckett’s workings on the back of a cigar packet, and it’s clear this wasn’t isolated scribble: A display case dedicated to Beckett alone also features a few lines preserved for posterity (and literary events in Oxford libraries, of course) which he sketched out on the back of a card from a whisky presentation box. Both are cunningly displayed with mirrors, enabling the viewer to…well, I guess if you don’t understand how mirrors work it’s unlikely you’d have read this far.
Here’s the opening sentence of Beckett’s first novel 'Murphy': “The sun shone, having no alternative, on nothing new.” That took him two weeks, ten attempts and the ditching of the bit about “the earth, spitted on its axis, straining away after aeons of roasting.” Despite a fondness for “spitted on its axis,” my vote goes to the final version.
Beckett’s final work 'What is the Word' considers the writer’s eternal grasp for the word that fits best. ‘What is the word,’ the author asks throughout the composition of a single sentence, ending on that note, repeating the question plaintively at the end. The display points out that Beckett’s life’s work thus ended in an unfinished sentence. Although couldn’t that be said of almost all of us?
There’s much more about Beckett and many other famous authors (I'll be giving you the rundown on a few of those in the weeks ahead) at this excellent exhibition, but my aim here is to keep these pieces short, so I recommend you pay a visit.
'Write Cut Rewrite' is on at the Weston Library, Oxford, until January 5, 2025.
Admission is free, so why not show your support by heading to the adjacent Bodleian Shop?
Next: James Joyce and the comma.
Comments