Scoop! Journalists in Fiction

Boris beckons...

Several journalists appear as minor characters in Boris Johnson's Seventy Two Virgins (2004). Sam Smith alerted me to Baghdad veteran and Daily Mirror hack Barry White, but here's a bit about the MP Roger Barlow discovering quite what another Mirror journalist, Debbie Gujaratne, has in store for him.

"Well of course, it's very embarrassing for me to talk to you like this," she said, and then recited what purported to be a recent series events in Barlow's life.

It was not the truth. It was an abstract impressionist representation: crude, impasto blotches that might or might not stand for an object in the 'real world.'  But she knew she had enough to go on, and Barlow knew it too.

At length he said: "It's all rubbish, and besides, it was ages ago."

The reporter went for the crack. "It is either all bollocks or happened ages ago. It can't be both.

Barlow decides to speak his mind - at length.

Poor chap, thought Debbie, as he ranted on. She could picture it all. The basically happy family life... She pitied him, although she had no family herself (she was of course sleeping with her married news editor). And yet even as she pitied him, she knew she would have no mercy. It would be more than her job was worth.

A perversion of normal existence

It is hard to conceive of a bleaker portrayal of journalism than that offered by Gordon Burn in Fullalove (1995), a forensic and pitiless examination of the demons of self-loathing that shape Norman Miller, 'a hack, a scribbler' at the 'wall-shinning, nose-poking, leg-in-the-door, end of the trade.'

Reporting is a perversion of normal existence. Even (ex-wife) was forever telling me, "You get to know them so that they feel relaxed with you, ask them the questions you have no natural right to expect answers to, ask to see things you weren't meant to see, they open a window on the most intimate parts of their lives, and then you walk away."

Font of all knowledge

Veteran hack Walter Brand is in the pub, reminiscing over fonts:

"Degenerate, Manson, Exocet, Dead History Bold, Skelter, Arbitrary..."

• Brilliant, from Gordon Burn's Fullalove (1995)

The Inky Path 4

Newsworthiness does not depend on an absolute standard of what is or is not news.

• Quoted from The Inky Path, in Martyn Bedford's Exit: Orange and Red

"Well, it (Molecross's Miscellany of the Mysterious and Misunderstood) doesn't have a large audience. It's esoteric."

• Molecross, in Dr Who: The Algebra of Ice, by Lloyd Rose

Who is Doctoring the truth?

After Fred Cree it is heartwarming to meet Adrian Molecross, 'plumpish and bearded', 'scrupulously neat and clean', 'spotless and tidy', 'a scrupulous researcher'...

After all, he was a journalist, one of the world's highest callings. He pursued truth. Not just transcendent truth, but the ordinary, small earthly sort, too. Such as: what exactly happened last night?

Never fear, Molecross is a resourceful investigator and is particularly committed to uncovering Government cover-ups. As he remarks...

Someone from a marginal publication was more likely to find out about this crop pattern than any mainstream reporter, because mainstream reporters had to have their imaginations surgically removed before they were allowed to apply for their jobs.

As Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart says, Molecross is...

"A journalist. More or less. Writes one of those nonsene web magazines. Complete idiot."

Idiot or not Molecross's Miscellany of the Mysterious and Misunderstood

...had an impressive number of subscribers. This was because he could be counted on to get his details right

Molecross never leapt to conclusions... he stuck strictly to what he had seen and heard. No speculation. Well, except for saying the military were obviously covering something up and you couldn't really classify that as speculation, could you.   

• Adrian Molecross appears in Dr Who: The Algebra of Ice, by Lloyd Rose. Thanks to Neil Perryman of Tachyon TV for the tip.

Fred Cree, reptile

In Fred Cree, Michael Shea presents a particularly unattractive journalist. And every time Spin Doctor (1995) reveals more of Cree's character ("vicious, friend to no one, enemy to all") the reader remembers that Shea spent a decade as Press Secretary to the Queen.

Cree's motivation in life was envy; envy of those richer, better placed, better looking, more successful than himself. Like some Victorian beggar, he had his nose pressed enviously against the windows of society and privilege. He felt he was always missing out on life, constantly haunted by a regret for things never done, places never visited, people never known. Affectionate relationships were strangers. Bitterness or spite defeated ambition in the confines of his mind. It was inevitable he should have chosen journalism as his career.

His 'deeply unattractive' appearance, his 'red and watery little eyes,' are a metaphor for his life:

Fred Cree was a born misfit. He had a complexion of unappealling texture, the victim of a pockmarking impetigo of childhood, further harmed by heavy beard growth which gave him a permanently scarred and unshaven appearance. He was a hairy man all over; fringes of coarse black pile sprouted from the cuffs and collars of his shirts.Those who had the misfortune to see more discovered a matted torso, back and front, which accounted for noticeable probems he had with body odour.

... Had he ended up in prison, well meaning social workers would doubtless point to his appearance as a mitigating factor in any wrongdoing.

None of which, of course, influences Cree's writing which is 'intelligent and farseeing':

He composed well with a verve and style which few could match. He was, thus, always in demand in a media that was not always choosy about the lifestyle of its journalists.

The world's best - or worst - newspaper?

Whilst on Aldous Huxley's Island, journalist and special agent Will Farnaby asks how many papers Pala supports. He is surprised to learn that there was only one.

"Who enjoys the monopoly?" Dr Robert assured him, "There's a panel of editors representing the half a dozen different parties and interests. Each of them gets his allotted space for comment and criticism. The reader's in a position to compare their arguments and make up his own mind. I remember how shocked I was the first time I read one of your big-circulation newspapers. The bias of the headlines, the systematic one-sidedness of the reporting and the commentaries, the catchwords and slogans instead of argument. No serious appeal to reason. Instead, a systematic effort to install conditioned reflexes in the minds of the voters - and for the rest, crime, divorce, anecdotes, twaddle, anything to keep them distracted, anything to prevent them from thinking."   

An artist humiliated

Will(iam Asquith) Farnaby (Island, Aldous Huxley) is another of those 'artistes' who feel 'humiliated' by having stooped to earn money through mere journalism.

"And all the time I had been wanting to be a poet and finding I simply don't have what it takes. And then, after the War, I had to go into journalism to make money. What I wanted was to go hungry, if necessary, but to try to write something decent - good prose at least, seeing that it couldn't be good poetry."

...

"Wouldn't you be humiliated if you found yourself making money by turning out the cheapest, flashiest kind of literary forgery. I was a success because I was so irredemiably second rate."

Island was first published in 1962, and social class is clearly a factor in Farnaby's framing of his trade. Dr McPhail diagnoses: "Upper class.. but not a member of the military or county sub species."

"Correct. My father was a barrister and political journalist. That is, when he wasn't too busy being an alcoholic."

Bloomsbury-born Farnaby is beginning life from rather a different perspective than Constance Amory, Gary Pymore or Joe Donovan. It's as Dawn Stone remarks in Fragrant Harbour:

I daresay if I'd gone to Oxbridge I would have had at least half a dozen chums who fell out of bed into useful, networkable positions on the kind of paper I wanted to work for.   

• Thanks to Jack Yan for suggesting Island

The editor

In its loftiest form an editorship invites the journalist to perform a role of influence on the national stage, to engage in powerful and influential debate on matters of public interest, to challenge and shape governments (Ian McEwan's Amsterdam). Even at local level, the editor is well-placed, even obliged to become a pillar of the community.

Like Septimus Henry Kew, editor of the Crow (The Water Clock, Jim Kelly), and otherwise known as Woggle. Henry is tall and dessicated like a human praying mantis, with a small, stick insect body.

(His) thin frame, like a vision in a fairground mirror, enabled him to project his head around corners without revealing any other part of his body.

He has a tendency to 'extend his neck obscenely from his collar', allowing Philip Dryden to imagine his head turning through 360 degrees.

(Henry's) sex life appeared to be confined to the plain brown envelopes (which contain videotapes) and lifetime membership of the Boy Scout movement.

A poor manager, Henry lives above the Crow's High Street office, and occasionally appears in full scout unform, hence the nickname.

Henry was a stickler for the correct channels - one reason why was a lousy journalist.

The Crucible's editor (Exit, Bedford), Dougal Aitken-Aitken is of a different cut. No Scout uniform but his attire is just as telling - blue and white striped shirt with a white collar, pale green tie and red braces. He is the youngest editor in the group, his rise explained by the nickname Frugal Dougal.

The era of the high story count at the Crucible had dawned with daa appointment, an early memo setting out story quotas and word ceilings required by the redesign from broadsheet to tabloid. If it can't be told in ten pars, it ain't worth telling.

Loving the news editor

News editor is one of the toughest jobs on a paper, located bang on the fault line between management and workforce. It is a high pressure position that requires a sharp news sense, quick reflexes and ordered mind, complemented by well-developed diplomatic, motivational and social skills. As very few people have this mix it usually means the encumbent is unpopular with almost everyone; as ideal candidates are hard to come by many editors resort to appointing a self-centred, slightly paranoid bully.

Not so, the editor of the Crow (The Water Clock, Jim Kelly). who has appoint the ineffectual Bill Bracken.

... a striking illustration of the editor's ability to award jobs on the basis of inverse qualification ... in line with this innovaticve policy of positive discimination (Bracken) had got the news editor's job on the grounds that he was unable to deal with stress.

More typical is Lisa Marklund's Ingvar Johansson (Bomber) who can just about bring himself to briefly compliment Annika on a story.

"It's not bad," Ingvar Johansson said, turning around. "But that's all history. Tomorrow's paper is all that matters now."

Like all news editors is Johansson is driven by the constant fear that however well his team performs a rival might still get a better line (Studio 69).

"How the hell could we miss that angle? Maybe you could tell me that?"

Ink's news editor is Battersby

Battersby wore his hair brushed forward in a Nero style that made him look as if he were backing into a breeze. A jagged fringe hung down over his forehead. He had an abrupt manner and was apt to shut at people without warning. It wasn't clear if this was a way of trying impose his authority, or some neurological complaint he was unable to control.

Exit's news editor, Gary, is always up against deadlines, always fearful of the next yawningly empty newslist. Hence this exchange, when Constance is interviewing the manger of a shop called Fruits of the Churn. The phone rings...

"You've to return to base immediately," said the shop manager, smiling, as he replaced the receiver.

"Did they give a name?"

"Gary someone or other on newsdesk. Nice chap. He said 'Tell her fuck the cheese feature and get her arse back to the office'."

Quite.