After reading through the new horror release from Titan Books, The Book of the Baku, I spoke with its author, R.L. Boyle, to talk about how she went about writing such an amazing and emotional book. My review for the book can currently be found here.
Your story follows a teen who’s mute for much of the book, and pretty much the only times we get to hear him speak are in flashback sequences, did this make Sean harder to write in any ways or was it freeing not having to worry about what he’d have to say in scenes?
It was a challenge, as so much of character is revealed in dialogue, but it helped to know what Sean would say if he could speak. By writing his internal responses, at times you could almost get a conversation going, like in those scenes with Miraede and Grandad.
The fact that the reader knows his internal responses, but the characters in the story don’t, hopefully further highlights his isolation, too. We see his growing fondness for his grandad and how upset he is when the old man begins to pull away from him, but his grandad has no idea. It’s only the reader who sees into Sean’s struggle – of course, without understanding the reason why he can’t speak – and we know he is far more engaged with what other characters in the story are saying than they realise.
Sean is something of an artist, and it’s a big passion of his throughout the course of the book. As a subject that’s often overlooked or made light of how important do you think art is for young people?
Art is definitely a huge deal for young people and considering the fact it’s been shown to improve pretty much every aspect of learning and development, I genuinely don’t understand how it doesn’t factor more prominently in schools and education.
I think it is too often viewed as an extravagance where really it sits at the very core of learning. Empathy, understanding, creative thinking, self-confidence, all these things grow from play, from reflection, from sharing, from creating. It’s not only how young people explore their feelings and emotions, but also where they find relief or escape from them. It’s how they develop flexible thinking, without which we have intolerance, lack of understanding, adults who can’t handle ambiguity. It’s only through the arts that we will develop a creative, courageous culture for kids to go out and question the world.
And I think younger people tend to have an openness that can be more receptive to many different forms of art, perhaps because they don’t have quite as clear a vision of who they are yet... or maybe they do, and they just haven’t been moulded into something inflexible yet?! Kids are creative powerhouses and art is their oxygen. I think we owe it to them to give them the tools to foster their art, in whatever form that takes.
The Baku itself was a fascinating entity in this book. There are hints at where the creature could have come from, but this wasn’t really explored much in the book. How much of the real world mythology of the Baku did you draw upon, and were you tempted to go into more depth about your version of the creature?
The Baku in the book is only loosely based on the mythological creature of the Baku, which has its roots in Chinese and Japanese folklore. Legend has it that if a kid wakes from a nightmare, they can summon the Baku by calling out to it three times. The Baku will then come and eat the child’s dream and rid them of it, but kids should only summon the Baku with caution, because if it is still hungry after eating the nightmare, it will eat their hopes and dreams, too.
I remember the first (and only!) time I saw a Baku figure – I was with my husband and kids in a children’s museum in Halifax and there was this toy elephant statue beside a stack of paper slips and pencils. There was a plaque beside it which invited kids to write their nightmares down and feed them into its mouth. I’d never heard of a Baku, and even though it looked cute and friendly, something about the idea was incredibly creepy. I remember taking photos of it and wondering what it would be like to be force-fed the nightmares of children, to have to endure that for thousands of years, to bear witness to all the horrors of the world. At what point would the Baku snap? What would be the nightmare that tipped it over the edge?
It was hard to hold back writing more about the Baku, because there is so much that can be written. But as fascinating as it is, this always felt primarily as though it was Sean’s story, so the main focus had to remain on him.
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| The Baku as presented in mythology. |
The stories that appear within the pages of the book that Sean reads are really chilling, and seem to draw upon some very primal fears. What inspired these short stories, and were there more that didn’t make it into the final piece?
These nightmares were the most fun to write, but also the most challenging, in that there are so many frightening creatures and situations to choose from – I could barely scratch the surface. In the end, I narrowed it down by choosing a few horrors that scare me the most, hoping that would give them a kick of authenticity! I also tried to select nightmares from different eras and cultures and countries.
But it was fascinating to think about how our fears change with the times, the evolution of anxiety. A kid living in a cave thousands of years ago will have had completely different fears to a kid of today. And kids experience fear so much more intensely. Their boundless imagination and absence of logic makes everything so terrifying.
During the flashbacks to Sean’s past you give out a number of hints as to what happened to him before he moved in with his grandfather, and there are things that made me think a number of different possibilities as to why he ended up where he was at the start of the book. Were there ever any times writing the book where you were tempted to have something a little different happen to Sean, or was it always what we find out at the end of the book?
Initially, maybe the first couple of drafts, it was a different ending, but it became increasingly clear to me that it was the wrong one.
I remember when I was working on the ending, thinking I was writing myself away from a publishing deal. It takes guts for an agent – which I didn’t have at the time - and a publisher, to back something like this, especially in a YA book. But you can’t sugar-coat the lives of kids who live on estates like the one Sean was brought up on. If I eradicated the less palatable parts of his life from the story, then I would be doing him, and kids like him, a total disservice. It’s fiction, yes, but of course, in its own way, it’s also real. Kids like Sean do exist, and we need to hear their stories. I’m really happy neither my agent, nor the publisher, wanted to change the ending.
Mental health and dealing with trauma is something that is still often looked at in ways that aren’t healthy, and advocates are always fighting to have mental health more accepted and recognised. Was it important to you that you explored how trauma could impact a person as part of this story?
These things are so important, and trivialising mental health only does more damage to those struggling with it and who need help. But in all honesty, that wasn’t something I was directly thinking about as I was writing. The themes emerged on their own as the plot unfolded.
But when I realised what had happened to Sean, it was important to me to be as honest as I could be about what he was going through. I don’t really remember writing specific scenes, but I do remember writing the ending – I hadn’t planned it, but it was one of those rare occasions where it came out easily, and where I had complete trust in what I was writing, rather than the usual self-doubt. I think because it felt like the truth.
The Book of the Baku deals with grief a lot, and examines how different people process their grief and trauma differently. Without wanting to possibly dredge up any trauma by asking, but were you inspired to write the book as a reflection of a similar journey you yourself went through? Your book is being compared to A Monster Calls, which was created by a woman dying of cancer who was processing living with that, was this book something similar for yourself?
I love that book so much, and I think the comparison with A Monster Calls comes from the fact both stories feature a young boy and their individual struggles with grief. Also, the way they both turn inward and process their feelings in the most fantastical ways.
I can’t say I’ve lived through anything like what Sean has lived through, and if I had, I doubt I would be able to write about it. But I think, at my age, it would be impossible to say I haven’t been affected by grief or by trauma. These things inform the writing though, and perhaps I would struggle to write about them without having experienced them.
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| R.L. Boyle. |
As someone who’s had to deal with mental health issues and trauma myself I found the book to be an incredibly moving piece, and I thought that you brought a lot of care and attention to the issues. Because of the amount of emotion that is in the book imagine it was probably sometimes quite emotionally draining for you. was it a hard story for you to write?
I honestly don’t know that it was more difficult to write because of the content. In a way, the book carried me through quite a lot of my own personal struggles, because for over five years and over the course of writing the book, I was struggling with rheumatoid arthritis. My three kids were very young at the time, and that was pretty tough. I’m much better now than I was, but it took years to find the right medication.
During that time, the book was escape for me. Some days I could barely move, and I was on a lot of painkilling meds and steroids, but I knew if I didn’t spend time on the book, I would feel even worse. Disappearing into this alternate world helped me enormously and so, overall, rather than feeling emotionally drained by it, I felt energised by it.
I’m sure you probably can’t say, but the story leaves it quite open to interpretation whether the Baku and all of the horrors Sean was experiencing was real or part of his grief process, but can you say if the creature was real or not?
I love that you ask about that, because I felt that ambiguity was really important – the constant question as you’re reading over whether the Baku is real or a manifestation of Sean’s grief. I don’t know which scenario would be the scariest and I’d love to leave that open to interpretation.
Lastly, if people enjoyed this book (and I’d be astonished if they didn’t) what can they look forward to seeing from you in the future? Are there any upcoming projects that people should keep an eye out for?
I’m writing another YA/crossover horror novel at the moment, but it’s quite early stages. I’ve drafted the book a few times, but because I’m not a plotter, I have to go through quite a few rounds before I have anything that resembles something readable… and I’m a good way from that yet!
Anyone interested in seeing more of R. L. Boyle's work can head over to her
website to find more.
