Author Interview with Nicholas Royle

I first discovered Nicholas Royle when I began reading Best of British Short Stories, which he edited, published by SALT. I began with Best of British Short Stories 2011, and was hooked. I have a deep love of second-hand bookshops, and when I wrote a recent blog post on how people arrange their bookshelves, and he responded with a photo of his white-spined Picador books, I knew it was time for an interview.


White Spines: Confessions of a Book Collector (Paperback – 15 July 2021)

A mix of memoir and narrative non-fiction, White Spines is a book about Nicholas Royle’s passion for Picador’s fiction and non-fiction publishing from the 1970s to the end of the 1990s. It explores the bookshops and charity shops, the books themselves, and the way a unique collection grew and became a literary obsession. Above all a love song to books, writers and writing.

Your latest book, White Spines: Confessions of a Book Collector, has just been released. Can you tell us about your passion for second-hand books, notably, white-spined Picador books, and the inspiration behind White Spines? 

It goes back to my late teenage years. A surrealist painting on the sleeve of a single by Bauhaus. A painting by the same artist – Paul Delvaux – being used on the cover of a novel, Ice, by Anna Kavan, which was published by Picador. A wall of white-spined books – all Picadors – in a second-hand bookshop, Skoob Books, in London, where I’d moved to go to university. A Christmas present from my parents, Alberto Manguel’s Black Water: The Anthology of Fantastic Literature. That was it. I was hooked.

Do you have any favourite second-hand bookshops or charity shops? 

Skoob has to feature in that list, since they’re partly responsible. Some of my favourites are closing, or have switched to online only, which is little better than closing, like Sharston Books in Manchester. But, in or near to Manchester, we still have Greenhouse Books, Didsbury Village Bookshop, George Kelsall, Lyall’s. Barter Books in Alnwick is amazing; Leakey’s in Inverness is incredible. Church Street Bookshop in Stoke Newington, north London. Loads of great branches of Oxfam Bookshop and Oxfam Books & Music, in particular Islington, Crouch End, Herne Hill, Bold Street in Liverpool, Leeds (at Headingley). I could go on. I could fill the internet.

Having written several volumes of short fiction and edited many anthologies, I have to ask, short fiction or novels?

Short stories. Then novels. Short novels ideally.

What’s your best editing advice for authors editing their work before it reaches a professional editor? 

Read it out loud. If you wince at a word or phrase, if you just feel the tiniest doubt, whip it out, because otherwise you’ll wish you had done when it’s published. If publication is not necessarily on offer, bear in mind that editors (and agents) are not only looking for something that makes them sit up; they’re also looking for a reason to reject your work as soon as possible and move on to the next thing. So don’t give them an excuse.

What led you to set up Nightjar Press, is there a freedom in being able to hone in on one story at a time, and how do you discover stories for chapbook publication?

For many years I’ve believed that short stories are so special – the really good ones, I mean – that they need their own cover, their own artwork, maybe even their own ISBN. Short stories are worth making a fuss of, worth cherishing and treasuring, and collecting. I invite submissions, from writers who get what we’re doing, and I’m open to submissions, ideally from writers who get what we’re doing. I’m not massively keen on those submissions that come in with an email from someone, who has never ordered a Nightjar, saying, I think my 25,000-word historical fantasy set on Venus would be perfect for Nightjar.

What have you learned from being head judge of the Manchester Fiction Prize and and Reader at MMU, and how quickly can you tell whether or not you will like a story?

I can tell on the first page if the writer can write. It takes longer to work out if they’ve written a good story. That’s what I’ve learned from being head judge of the Manchester Fiction Prize and it’s also the answer to the final question. What I’ve learned from working with MA and MFA students at Manchester Met is that anyone can improve their writing if they want to, if they listen to feedback from peers and tutors. Obviously you have to make a judgment about what advice to take and what to ignore. Very occasionally you get someone who doesn’t listen – and they tend not to give either, in terms of generous, intelligent feedback. We try to weed these writers out at application stage, maybe in interview, and usually succeed.

What should writers look for in a good mentor and how do they go about finding the right one?

A mentor should get what you’re trying to do and be able to help you do it better, much like both a creative writing tutor and an editor. The three roles are very similar. How do you find a mentor? There are some schemes. Arvon run one. I was lucky enough to be one of their mentors and work for a year with three excellent writers – Sonia Hope, Nicola Freeman and Adam Welch – who I was able to help select. Otherwise, I think it’s probably a good idea to try to get personal recommendations.

Your impersonation of Dominic Cummings during lockdown, followed by many other well-known people, was highly entertaining. I think the highlights were Adele and Moby. Who’s next? 

Thank you. I’m doing some Picador authors at the moment. Someone requested Picasso. Shouldn’t be too much of a stretch.

You are stuck in a bookshop with four authors or public figures, who would they be, and why?

Anna Kavan, Giles Gordon, Elizabeth Young, Joel Lane. You didn’t say they had to be alive. It’s a second-hand bookshop, of course, given that that’s the only place where we might find books by all four of these writers. Some of Anna Kavan’s work is in print with Peter Owen, and Joel Lane’s back catalogue is being reissued by Influx Press in beautiful editions, but you’ll struggle to find anything by Liz Young or Giles Gordon in a new bookshop. For now. I imagine a reading. Each of the four reads one of their stories and, as long as we are stuck there, they keep on reading. Bliss.        

What are you currently reading?

I’m reading DM Thomas’s The White Hotel, which celebrates its 40th anniversary this year. I last read it 30-odd years ago. I’m reading the 1981 King Penguin paperback edition with cover illustration by Peter Till, which I regard as the edition against which all other editions should be judged. I’m also reading Ben Lerner’s The Hatred of Poetry (Fitzcarraldo Editions), which I found recently in the Oxfam Bookshop Shrewsbury. I wouldn’t have bought this new, as I’m not a fan of Lerner, but I’m not a fan of poetry either, so thought this might be interesting. Thirty pages in, I’m on the fence. I’m also reading a novel published in the last few years that’s supposed to be hilarious, with laughs on almost every page, one reviewer suggested. I’m on page 96 and have had four LOLs and one half-smile.

Nicholas Royle is the author of seven novels, including Antwerp (Serpent’s Tail) and First Novel (Vintage), and four short story collections, most recently London Gothic (Confingo Publishing). He translated Vincent de Swarte’s novel Pharricide for Confingo and is series editor of Best British Short Stories for Salt Publishing, who also published his latest book, White Spines: Confessions of a Book Collector. He is Reader in Creative Writing at Manchester Metropolitan University, head judge of the Manchester Fiction Prize and founder-editor of Nightjar Press. You can find him on Twitter or his website.

How Do You Organise Your Bookshelves?

FC Malby

A friend told me yesterday that their books are all arranged in alphabetical order. I smiled and said that mine are roughly arranged by type. I have a section for psychology, travel, theology, biographies and autobiographies (which are mostly political, but I also have one on Miles Davis), crime thrillers, short stories, poetry, literary fiction, commercial fiction, favourite books (mostly by J.M Coetzee, Julian Barnes, Hilary Mantel, Alice Munro, Colm Tóibín, Milan Kundera, Deborah Levy and Alison Moore).

This morning, I noticed that I have a selection of books with yellow covers, although I’m not entirely sure how the lime green snuck in! It’s the only colour I seem to have grouped together, purely because I love yellow. I don’t think I will ever match my books by colour, having seen a few well-known figures (who shall remain nameless) adding the results of this to Instagram. It feels a little too OCD for my liking, by we are all beautifully different.

The Home Edit

How about this cascading cover colour bookshelves look from Book Bub?

Book Bub

As a writer and a reader, I love books, bookshelves and other people’s bookshelves. If I go to a home and there is a large book collection on the shelves, I like to scan the collection and see what the owner reads. Sometimes I find we like similar authors and there are other occasions where I find something new. Amidst the Covid pandemic over the past 15 months or so, and with life as we knew it transferred to Zoom and Teams meetings, a background of bookshelves never fails to capture my attention. Personally, I like a more mixed approach to bookshelves.

Indie Wire

Douglas Hill

Michael Sinclair

Bespoke Carpentry

How do you arrange your bookshelves? Do you have any favourite bookshelves? Drop a link to a snap in the comments, or tell us how you organise your shelves, and share the book love.

I Want to Wear a Dress with Lemons All Over It by F.C. Malby – Sledgehammer Lit Mag

“Ready for war but not yet called up, fuelled on coffee and vodka with a lick of cynicism and delayed hope.”

My poem, I Want to Wear a Dress with Lemons All Over It, has been published in Sledgehammer Lit Mag. It was inspired by a photograph of a dress that Jill Biden wore, along with an ensuing conversation on Twitter about said dress. As a writer, I questioned why it had caused such a stir, especially because I’m not keen on the media focus on what women wear, so I played with the idea that it was the boldness of the colour and the print…

“the brazen cheer of it, the rebelliousness with which is stands out against the grey and drudge of news bulletins.”

And there began my poem….

“Somewhere there must be a place for a dress with lemons all over it, if not here, then there.

I want to wear a dress with lemons all over it,

a bright yellow citrus burst of colour like the

pansies in the garden. The brazen cheer of it,

the rebelliousness with which it stands out

against the grey and drudge of news bulletins

and long faces, people in their houses, locked

away with slippers, computers fixed to bodies

like combat clothing. Ready for war but not yet

called up, fuelled on coffee and vodka with a lick

of cynicism and delayed hope. The blackbird sings,

establishes itself as the Beethoven among birds,

competes with the Woodlark, Thrush, Skylark and

Robin. Song that pierces the dawn, punctuating

thoughts of another day, another unsent email

dishes rising in dank sinks, laundry spills

out of baskets waiting to be slipped against

flesh or folded and stacked, but the only things

folding in these times are dreams and jobs. Doors

close as we wait for a window to chink open.

Somewhere there must be a place for a dress

with lemons all over it, if not here, then there.

This is the Year I Learn to Float

Today is the National Flash Fiction Day 10th Anniversary and I have a flash fiction piece published in their Flash Flood Journal which was chosen from 2,000 entries!

I am eight years old and this is the year I learn to float. It is the year I learn to speak Spanish, although I firmly believe floating will be more useful, especially if I want to become a magician’s assistant. You don’t need language qualifications.

“Heather?” Mum yells up the stairs. “Come down and set the table.” I wonder if I can do this by floating, but I will need more practise. She doesn’t understand magic. Not many people do. I set the table and float back upstairs, but I have to stop half way as I lose my focus.

At the dinner table, later in the evening, the conversation revolves around government policies, shopping lists and Harry’s exams. “I can levitate,” I say. Silence falls across the room. Grandpa is snoring in the corner in his rocking chair. Dad gives me an eat-your-food look and that’s all I say for the rest of the evening. At breakfast tomorrow, I will try Spanish. It will be more acceptable.

Find out more about what’s happening this weekend and beyond at National Flash Fiction Day.

You Fold Yourself into Tiny Spaces

My story has been longlisted in the Reflex Press Quarterly International Flash Fiction Awards 2021.

You fold yourself into tiny spaces, words come at you like rain. You tuck in your arms and feet – soles digging into your calves – so that the words don’t slice your limbs. You hide your competition win in case it’s seen as an indulgence, like the cakes you get for afternoon tea: Miniature, crustless cucumber sandwiches, cakes and scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam. Saliva lines your lips as you imagine this.

You squeeze your words into shorter sentences and, sometimes, single words. Your arms sting with the folding and the tucking. The tiny spaces make her feel bigger, less threatened; more. You listen hard and speak less, reaching a point where the bird flying overhead, beyond the skylights, provides the distraction you need.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asks, but you know you can’t give a proper answer.

‘I forgot,’ you say, and take a swig of hot tea, the mug leaving a ring on the mat. This will be noted… continue reading at Reflex Press.