Michael Morpurgo to read from War Horse at the Sheldonian

Had Michael Morpurgo not been brought up in war-torn London, his life might have been very different. For a small boy with a vivid imagination, the Blitz bomb sites were a breeding ground for his prolific career as an author, only improved by moving to the Essex coast — ripe for exploration and nature. A stint in the army, followed by a short-lived career as a teacher, completed his literary training, the icing on the cake being his final move to Devon where he and his wife Clare opened a farm for disadvantaged urban children.

The only surprise then is that it took him so long to start writing, but once realised, Michael’s career took off at a pace he has scarcely kept up with since, his 130-plus books and their many adaptions into plays, musicals, films and operas, well categorised.

More than that, they have engaged people of all ages, races and religions around the world, uniting them in his continual quest to tell stories that resonate, and bring the past back to life, through the fictitious lives he captures so movingly.

And yet despite his prestigious output, war is the theme he comes back to time and time again. “Growing up in the aftermath of WW2 is very much part of who my generation is. It was the most terrible of wars and everyone lost someone. There were bombsites all around London, which is where I grew up as a small child, so a lot of my books are about my memory of that collection of people.”

He tells me about bumping into an old man at the bar of his local pub in Devon who talked a lot about ‘the orses’, Michael gradually piecing together the First World War veteran’s experiences which he then wrote about in War Horse, his most famous book.

It is a trick he’s still using to this day: “My latest book Half A Man, is about Eric, who used to come to visit my parents once a year, which I used to look forward to and dread at the same time, because he had been a pilot in the war and was shot down, leaving him badly scarred and burnt. I was always told not to stare at Eric, but I couldn’t help it because he had so many bits missing. Half A Man is based on him and about a man whose injuries wrecked his life and his relationships, except with his grandson.”

As a former teacher, Michael’s ability to impart knowledge in story-form is, therefore, invaluable. “Yes, it’s almost more important now because for our youngest generation war is a virtual thing and they are protected from it. Only stories seem to break through that. It’s not always comfortable but it works.”

That it works in many forms is obvious, a prime example being his visit to The Sheldonian where he will read War Horse accompanied by John Tams and Barry Coope’s music. “We came to Oxford last year with The Mozart Question and we loved the acoustics and the audience so much we thought we’d return with War Horse, because it was an extraordinary evening which gave me great joy.”

Don’t all adaptions? “To be honest no. The majority are a bit disappointing, although we were of course extraordinarily lucky with War Horse in so many ways. First of all it was a play — they were looking for something iconic to follow Philip Pullman’s Dark Materials at The National to draw in the huge family audiences. They were also desperate to use these South African puppeteers and were recommended War Horse by someone who had just read it. And so began an extraordinary journey, two years at The National, then on to the West End, and now touring the world.

“Then Mr Spielberg came along and wanted to make a film of it. Then John Tams made a play for the radio. There have been so many adaptions and each one has been fresh and different, which all helped bring this horse alive and make him more personable.”

Has this multi-faceted aspect influenced his writing? “No,” he says in surprise. “I write as I see it in my head. It’s exhausting and challenging but it’s the only way I want to go on as a writer — to pastures new. It’s a blank piece of paper and you have to get the story down whether you are a young writer of 25 or an old man of 71. So it doesn’t get easier. If it did I think I’d be doing it wrong or just repeating myself.

“I have to convince myself the story is going to work. It’s important to me first. I have to believe it before anyone else can and afterwards I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it again,” he says. “And yet children are very responsive to my books and spontaneous with how they see things. They bring their own interpretations, so it’s always an adventure and very exciting.”

Poster for Steven Spielberg's War Horse

He does concede, however, that choosing the subject matter has got easier over the years. “When I first started, I had a huge mountain of ideas to climb but I have refined my interests. I do have a better idea of the subjects that work for me.”

Which are? “Often the relationship between ourselves and our fellow creatures, such as a whale and a boy, or a horse and a boy. Then there is the relationship between old people and young people of which I am endlessly fascinated, and the importance of memory which makes us what we are. We are no one without memories.”

His work with children, through his charity Farms for City Children, which he set up with his wife Clare in 1976, also keeps him in touch with his audience. More than 100,000 children have visited the three farms since and the couple were awarded MBEs for their work in education.

“In Devon we put into practice the desire to give children the same exper-iences Clare and I both had, a bucolic pastoral connection if you like. We felt it was a children’s right to experience that... running about in a muddy field.”

His marriage of 51 years is as much an achievement as his writing, with three children and six grand-children tucked under their belts. “I know,” he smiles. “And it was a most unlikely match. She was a quaker and I was much more conservative — a middle-class public school boy. We met in Greece on holiday and the spark caught. She appeared on a balcony. It was very Romeo and Juliet actually. So when we get bogged down by the elements in Devon, we just remember that the peace and quiet, and the lives we lead, far outweigh everything else. We got lucky: companionship is very important.”

Everything he needs then to write successfully? “I just like passing on other people’s stories and reminding people about the importance of reading and the different ways of doing it, like this concert in Oxford. If there isn’t a silence afterwards we will have failed because it’s such a heartwrenching story and performance.

“It’s not a celebration of war, but a celebration of peace, and makes poeple think about the suffering that goes on, on both sides. The opening of War Horse in Berlin was, therefore, a very positive moment for me,because you don’t move on by forgetting, you move on by forgiving.”

Blackwell’s Oxford Presents: Michael Morpurgo, John Tams and Barry Coope — War Horse
The Sheldonian Theatre 
Tomorrow, 7pm
Tickets: 01865 333623