Writing is a notoriously private activity. It is not the sort of thing
that prepares its exponents for public performance. And yet there is increasing
pressure on writers to perform; to stand in front of an audience and say
something that not only makes sense, but which also sells books. Such an
expectation is a formula for mortification, so why not write a book about it?
Robin Robertson managed to convince 70 authors that their worst literary moment
could be mined for the amusement of others. Mortification
tells the stories of well known writers’ moments of humiliation, and allows
readers 70 moments of schadenfreude. The collection includes winners of the
Booker, Pulitzer, Commonwealth Writers’ prizes, and numerous others. Poets,
biographers, novelists, critics and anthologists bare their souls, in some
cases by describing how they bared their more corporeal aspects. They include a
preponderance of Celts. Perhaps there is something in the Celtic temperament
that is given to humiliation.

The back cover blurb states: "there is
something about the conjunction of high mindedness and low income that is
inherently comic". The book wastes no time in demonstrating the truth of
that maxim, Margaret Atwood’s contribution of not one, but three, tragic
moments, all self-inflicted. After that, there’s a remorseless litany of
unfulfilled hubris, alcohol, and cringe-making foot-in-the-mouth confessions.
Alcohol and body fluids feature to a greater extent than would be expected by
chance, not that I’m suggesting any more than simple association. In any case, the
production of body fluids is often the result of mortification, rather than a
putative cause.

Most humiliating moment?  It
would have to be one of the incidents that took place in front of a substantial
audience. The more public one’s disgrace, the more complete it is. Private
mortification is just not the same. My prize goes to the anonymous American
novelist who chose to persevere with a reading despite an acute illness that
caused severe vomiting. In the middle of her performance she rushed, nauseous, from
the stage, having lied to her audience that she had misplaced a page of her
notes. The relief of heaving the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl
must have been somewhat mitigated by the realization that her lapel microphone
was switched on.

While most authors describe incidents (or several) from public readings,
others are more adventurous, revealing faux pas and embarrassing incidents
personal. Ciaran Carson supplies a ripping little vignette of his attempt to
outsmart a street gambling clique; Michael Donaghy gives us a collage of
mortifying moments; Sean O’Reilly a hilarious fantasy, or is it? Micheal
Oondatjie wimps out with an account of another author’s humiliation. Irvine
Welsh gives us something that could be an out-take from Trainspotting. And in the final contribution, surely kept until
last because it couldn’t be bettered, Niall Griffiths shares a private moment
so mortifying the only rationale can be that nobody could be impolite enough to
mention it again.

It is likely that there are other, unrecorded, mortifications out there;
experiences so humiliating that their victims cannot stand to bring them to
light. And it’s probable that some authors take themselves too seriously to
share their worst moments. They should lighten up. As Mortification demonstrates, there’s humor in the undignified, and
the contributors to this volume at least know that a future reviewer or
biographer is not going to be the first to expose them.

© 2005 Tony O’Brien

Tony O’Brien is a
short story writer, and lecturer in mental health nursing at the University of
Auckland, New Zealand: a.obrien@auckland.ac.nz

Categories: General, Memoirs