By Susannah Clapp
Angela Carter used to be probably the most vibrant voices of the 20th century: a lot studied, copied and cherished. while she died on the age of fifty-one, she had released fifteen books of fiction and essays; outrage at her omission from the shortlists of any Booker Prize resulted in the basis of the Orange Prize. February 2012 would be the 20th anniversary of her dying yet no biographical paintings has but appeared.
Susannah Clapp and Angela Carter have been pals for years. The postcards that Carter despatched to her shape a paper path via her lifestyles. the photographs she despatched have been occasionally family, occasionally flights of fable and surrealism. The messages have been regularly stinky.
From Stratford, Ontario, she defined that Canada was once 'like Scandinavia, with liquor'. From the States, the place she was once smarting from a serious onslaught within the London evaluate of Books, the place Susannah then labored, she despatched a terrifying photograph of Texan chili, with the message: 'Carter's respond to the critics ... is going via you love a dose of salts ... I'd beloved to feed it to that drivelling wimp...'
Through the medium of her postcards - small files which are the emails of the 20 th century - Susannah Clapp will evoke Angela Carter's anarchic intelligence, her fierce politics, the richness of her language, her ribaldry, the nice swoops of her mind's eye; she's going to additionally say whatever approximately her existence. Intimate, humorous, unforeseen, it is going to capture this specific artist at the wing.
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Extra resources for A Card From Angela Carter
At many a dinner party, my uncles would recall how on the boat trip Dad wouldn’t let anyone touch the steering wheel, other than the designated drivers, and even threatened to throw people overboard if they did. But for long stretches of the voyage, he would hold me up to the wheel and let his two-year-old kid have a go. Dad’s enthusiastic, ‘You can do anything’ attitude, coupled with Mum’s caring, ‘Look after those less fortunate’ approach, sounded like incredible advice to a kid, but I had to figure out the subtleties and deeper meaning of their advice.
But there was still a chance, still a small amount of hope that the boat approaching us was benevolent. We might be rescued. We waited. As the boat got closer we realised they were also pirates, but Dad could do nothing. The vessel rammed into ours and within minutes a gang of nine men were on our boat waving guns in the air and screaming. It was too much. We stood there silent and numb, like sheep awaiting slaughter. We were forced to strip off our clothes again, and the pirates stalked up and down the rows of naked bodies, inspecting opened, trembling mouths, occasionally pulling out a gold capping.
Then you’re really in trouble, much more than if you got caught selling stuff in the first place. It is all truly frightening. A bloody and merciless war has just finished and the murky, ugly rules of a stain-covered jungle now apply. The girl knows that people sometimes disappear for no reason. The two new guards don’t take to the old man’s offerings. The girl knows she can’t just get up and walk away, as that would bring attention to her. So she sits as still as she can, drawing back a little even, behind an old woman and her chicken cages.