Member Reviews
This book was really good, but it was also a little much. It was ‘part’ so many things, almost like the author couldn’t decide what kind of book they were trying to write.
This was not something I would usually pick up to read, but the description of it being an ‘anti-memoir’ sounded very intriguing. This ended up being a chaotic and rambling mess and I’m still not sure what I read. Maybe it all went over my head, but I really didn’t get the storytelling employed in this. I did really love some of the messages delivered especially with regards to writing.
Thank you to @sagapressbooks for the copy of the ARC. All thoughts are my own.
Thank you NetGalley and the publisher for an advanced readers copy.
WISH I WAS HERE at first gives the sense of an outside perspective looking inward—wishes of what could have been, who Harrison could have been, if things had been done differently. There’s a sense of historical telling through the eyes of Harrison as a young boy growing up in the 50s, realities of countries at war or in crises while delving deeper into interpersonal realities about self and others. Ruminating on his writing career while simultaneously giving advice on writing fiction through the lens of personality rather than starting with plot. The deep separation he felt from the real world by needing to write fantasy—the alienation and obsession of it. The way in which Harrison writes of growing older, beginning with his elderly cat before moving on to the human experience of memory, experience, reminiscing about the past through beautiful language that strikes the reader so tenderly, so throughly-provoking, that lingers with you long after you stop reading for the night.
My first and still favorite M. John Harrison read was The Sunken Land Begins to Rise Again, in which the speculative fiction elements take place so far in the background of the story that they're barely noticeable. The focus instead is on a pair of mostly dysfunctional characters, barely competent at living their own lives, utterly incapable of even paying a little attention to the bizarre changes taking place to the landscape and society around them, which feels faintly like a prequel to J.G. Ballard's The Drowned World might -- if we're interpreting the subtle and widely scattered clues, clues like a sudden and seemingly culture-wide obsession with Charles Kingsley's Victorian era children's book The Water Babies -- at all correctly.
Author and editor and all around badass M. John Harrison's new book, Wish I Was Here: An Anti-Memoir, works on much the same principle. The details of Harrison's life and career are present mostly in the negative (with the exceptions of some anecdotes about an aging cat and about his obsession with rock climbing); the positive space is filled with the figures and ideas and opinions and bits of imagery that have occupied his mind while all of that was going on. It's a fascinating and original way to approach the arts of biography and memoir that I, only the most casual reader of these genres, have never encountered before, and I love it!
Thus instead of "I" and "me" and banal narratives of mere events in Harrison's life, we get accounts of a sort of dream-self he calls "Map Boy" (everybody writing about this book is going to remind you that "the map is not the territory, blah blah blah, how anti- do I have to get, here?), exploring remembered landscapes and word games and dreams, and of "Beatrice," Harrison's "writer friend" to whom he attributes various mini-manifestos about genre and character and why world-building is pretty bad, actually, and other matters of writing and inspiration and work. Were we to create an image in which these two constructions face one another in profile, the space in between them might in some way be a portrait of Harrison -- but it would be a pretty weird and distorted one. Just the way he wants it, I suspect.*
I can't say for sure that I like Wish I Was Here; I found it beautiful on a purely aesthetic level, full of striking ideas and images, and the very concept of it fascinates me. I do plan to read it again a few times as I become more acquainted with the rest of his work, though. I think it will resonate much more strongly for me when I recognize more of the material in it from his fiction, as it did on this first read when I kept recognizing notions and locations from The Sunken Land, like this:
We find that, pinkish and surrounded by brand new wire netting, the surface of the tennis court is already sinking into the mud, so that the drainage channels around it, which are still to be filled in, look more like the remains of a half-hearted rescue attempt. Someone has scratched the mileage off the nearby road signs, as if to hide the town or perhaps deny its existence.
I mean, I didn't really feel like I got The Vorrh on the first reading but now it's very likely my favorite of all trilogies.
I have a very strong feeling that Wish I Was Here will grow on me like that. But I don't mean to use it as a sort of key to all his mysteries, which I'm pretty sure was not remotely what he set out to, or indeed did, write. As he pointed out several times in this text, he deliberately cultivates ambiguity and sets out to leave much to his readers' imaginations. Guys like that don't write Dummy's guides.
What they do write, apparently, is the kind of "huh, look at that" narrative that I most associate with (again) Ballardian protagonists, though Harrison has shown a lot more agency than those passive and detached observers of their lives. Ballard protagonists don't cultivate habits like base jumping in middle age, for instance! I mean, if Harrison ever wants to write a whole big non-fiction book about what that's like, I'll sure as hell read it. For I have at least concluded this: I'm down to read whatever he cares to write, and I'm very excited to read his back catalog, much of which has occupied space in my to-be-read piles, sometimes for decades. Sometimes it just takes something special to make me yank them out of the heap and let the stuff that was on top of them fall as it may. Wish I Was Here was more than adequate to that job, if nothing else.
*But can't say I know, because I'm still very much an M. John Harrison newb, for all that much of his career has had significant impact on much of what I've enjoyed the most in my reading life. But, I mean, I haven't even read all of the Virconium tales yet!
First of all, thank you to Netgalley and Saga Press, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, for the free e-copy of Wish I Was Here by M. John Harrison for review. Wish I Was Here is a wonderful and very unique anti-memoir that also serves as an ode to writing. I enjoyed how each of the sections was very descriptive and seemed to be like reference points in Mr. Harrison's life. The sections especially referenced how they seemed to further Mr. Harrison's journey as a writer. I would recommend Wish I Was Here to people interested in memoirs or who want to refine their writing.
My thanks to NetGalley and the publisher, Saga Press, for an advance copy of this new book that serves as both a memoir, a history of consciousness, and a guide to art of writing ,by a person who has always tried to never be similar, or complacent in his art.
I read a lot of memoirs, but I have come to treat many of them as fiction in a way. I can't remember what I had for dinner two nights ago. A memoirist can remember a conversation in a crowded recording studio about the origins of a song, or why a member of the band wanted to leave, sitting in front of a huge pile of cocaine, at 4 in the morning. As humans we write in the gaps we have with what we think might have been, either making us the hero, the villain of the bystander depending on our moods. Memoirs have a main character, one that gets all the focus. Maybe sometimes too much focus. For what if the person being written about, wasn't really there? Wish I Was Here, is a memoir, a technique guide to the life of a writer, and a look at a time that has passed, by M. John Harrison, a writer of science fiction, fantasy, and other speculative works.
The memoir is based on the notebooks that Harrison has kept since he was a child. Though sometimes that is not enough to prove that these are true or not, even to himself. Harrison grew up in the Midlands, feeling that he didn't fit in, not smart, not handsome, and not ability to craft things, except for the one year he made a model plane that beat all the other kids, kids whose parents worked in aeronautics. Harrison took to skipping school, using the library as a sanctuary, not for the books but for the peace that he was able to get wandering freely among the stacks, and taking in the titles. Harrison's first job outside of school was cleaning out stables, a job that helped in his later writing career. Leaving finally he came to London, where as a man too old to start he took up climbing, one that gave him more peace, and comfort than all the writing he was doing and drugs that were around at the time of peak counter culture. Harrison talks about his life, but also discusses his works, the ideas and conscience of a writer, and how as a writer, he wonders how much of himself he has constructed, and what is nonfiction around him.
A super dense book for its small size, with lots of references, allusions, maybe even a song or two hidden in the text. That might be just me. This is a book that one reads slowly, taking things in, and wondering why one would write this. Or wonder that someone else has had the same thoughts and continues to go on. I read Harrison years ago his earliest trilogy, in paperback that makes one think of the 80's but with writing that takes on out of time. Which is similar to this book. Just little things, like a discussion about hitchhiking, Harrison couldn't find a car to take him out of town, but when he gave up and decided to go home, cars appeared almost in a line to get him there. I'm not sure if this will inspire writers, except to remind them that writing is a task that one must think about constantly, as I did this review while helping customers and sorting out a messed book display. Though this is a book that writers should read, just for the sheer enjoyment.
I recently delved into *Wish I Was Here* by M. John Harrison, and it was quite an experience. Harrison is often hailed as one of the best writers working today, and this memoir-turned-mystery certainly supports that claim. Described as a revival of his earlier memoir, it’s just as slippery and intriguing as his fiction.
Harrison’s writing career spans a vast array of genres—space opera, speculative fiction, fantasy, magical realism, and literary realism. This book explores the enigma of Harrison himself, posing the question: Is there really an M. John Harrison, or is he just a construct? The memoir takes us through forty years of his life, pieced together from his notebooks, or “nowtbooks,” which question the nature of presence and identity.
The book covers his childhood in the industrial Midlands, his countercultural youth in London, and his adult years spent escaping into hill and moorland landscapes. These fragments paint a complex picture of the artist. Each of his books is so distinct that it feels like they were written by entirely different versions of him.
Harrison’s prose in this memoir is aphoristic and witty, filled with sharp observations and subtle humor. It’s an anti-memoir that defies traditional storytelling, offering ruminations on life, society, writing, and the bittersweetness of aging. It’s interesting, frustrating, and beautiful—a deep dive into the mind of one of Britain’s most original writers.
I have to admit, though, this book is dense. It’s not long, but it’s packed with layers and subtle nuances that I found challenging to fully grasp. Maybe it’s my own fault—mea culpa. I might have been too tired or distracted to extract everything it has to offer. This isn’t a straightforward book about writing like Stephen King’s *On Writing*. It’s darker, more meditative, and subtle, requiring a level of engagement and struggle that I wasn’t quite ready for.
*Wish I Was Here* will likely resonate more with those who have grappled with the art of writing themselves. It’s not easily parsed by someone without that experience. But even if I didn’t catch every thread or nuance, I found it to be a fascinating and worthwhile read.
Engaging, entertaining, and erudite. A recommended purchase for collections where writing craft and literary memoirs are popular.