The Story Behind the Story

The Gift

Writers often pose questions for themselves and their stories are answers to those questions.The Giftis very much the answer to a question I pondered. To go way back, I adore poetry and have read and recited it since I was a little kid.The Pied Piper of Hamelin, the narrative poem by English poet Robert Browning, has always been something of a favourite of mine. As a kid I wondered very much about where exactly it was the kids of Hamelin were taken when the mysterious piper piped them away into that mountain cavern. As a kid I came up with all kinds of scenarios, preferring the magical one where it stayed pleasant, even joyful for them all. But on a re-reading of the poem recently, I did a little background research and found some theories about the Hamelin kids being forced on the so-called Children's Crusades as soldiers; or worse still forced to be slaves in far off lands. Even more interesting to me as a writer was the plight of the little boy in the poem (mentioned oh so briefly) left behind because he limped and could not keep up. What kind of childhood and adolescence would he have in a town deprived of his own age-group? I decided Icould write a poem about this child–is whole life in fact. And this I did, where, in a history repeating itself, the grownup child loses his own kid to the Pied Piper. My publisher loved the idea but not the verse format and convinced me not to compete with Robert Browning but to write my story in prose. As I worked on the story, which I found a delightful task, of course it changed, and then it changed again. It became the young boy's story. Greg Rogers' innovative artwork was a shock in its architectural influence and its bright rendition (especially after his artwork on Way Home which was so beautifully and convincingly dark). An unusual book,The Giftwas named a White Raven at the Bologna's Childrens Book Fair in 2000, which was a great thrill to both of us. These days, from time to time, I just love looking at the generous and colourful pages Greg's created, and then turning to my old friend the poet Browning. Another question occurs. I wonder what he'd have thought?
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