January 13, 2003 Wife and Husband Compete for British Book Prize
By SARAH LYALL LONDON, Jan. 12 ? Over the years the biographer Claire Tomalin and her husband, the novelist and playwright Michael Frayn, have developed various strategies to cope with the inevitable irritations of life in a two-writer household. She works at home, in a mess of books and papers; he escapes to his orderly office around the corner. Neither takes personally the other's regular lapses into existential gloom and sullen despair. And they address the divisive issue of breakfast (she likes chat; he prefers silence) through a compromise in which he reads the papers and she listens to the "Today" program on BBC radio, using headphones. But one thing they have not yet worked out, this being a new experience, is how to cope with their sudden status as the first couple ever both to be shortlisted for the Whitbread Book of the Year award. Ms. Tomalin was placed on the list when she won the biography category, with "Samuel Pepys: The Unequaled Self," her account of the life of the 17th-century diarist and naval administrator. Mr. Frayn is the winner in the novel category, for "Spies," a story of suspicion and half-understood childhood memories set in an English suburb during World War II. "All this is new territory," Mr. Frayn said ominously, sitting opposite his wife on a cozy sofa in their airy house in north London and calculating that the odds are 3 to 2 against either of them winning. "It might just finish us." Not likely. In a joint interview several days after the announcement, the couple proved that although they hardly agree on everything, they are generous in their ability to agree to disagree. In the piranha-filled world of literary London, Mr. Frayn and Ms. Tomalin represent a rare breed: writers whom everybody else seems to like. Their mutual concern was illustrated last week, when the news that they were still in the running for the prize came from their publishers. As happy as she was about her own telephone call, Ms. Tomalin was also stricken with worry. She did not know whether Mr. Frayn ? who had been nominated in the novel category, along with several other novelists ? had also advanced to the finals of the competition, and she did not really like to ask. "I had this slight feeling of, `Oh, great ? now what about him?' " she said. As it happened, Mr. Frayn was in the same boat, having won his category but loathe to tell his wife for fear of hurting her feelings. "For a time I thought I would ring and ask his publisher," Ms. Tomalin said. "Finally, he said, `Have you had any messages today?' and I said, `Have you?' and we both began laughing." So it is that Ms. Tomalin and Ms. Frayn, both 69, find themselves in a real-life kitchen-sink drama as they wait for Jan. 28, when the overall Whitbread winner is to be announced. The Whitbread is a strange competition that pits a number of literary genres against one another for a final prize, like different breeds of dogs vying for best of show. This year the finalists also include the poet Paul Farley, for his collection "The Ice Age"; the children's author Hilary McKay, for "Saffy's Angel"; and the first novelist Norman Lebrecht, for "The Song of Names." The winner, to be selected by a panel that includes the novelist Joanna Trollope and the actress Joely Richardson, will take home about $48,000; the losing nominees get about $8,000 apiece. The couple's two books are very different animals, reflecting their authors' divergent interests and careers. Ms. Tomalin's work, which the Whitbread judges called "a superb biography by a writer at the height of her powers," is a thick, rigorously researched book. Ms. Tomalin's earlier books have included acclaimed biographies of Mary Wollstonecraft and Jane Austen. By contrast Mr. Frayn's novel is a slim, sparely written story, full of moodiness and atmosphere, that was praised by the Whitbread panel as "beautifully rendered." The extraordinarily versatile and prolific Mr. Frayn, who is known for farces like the play "Noises Off" and serious dramas like "Copenhagen," has already finished his next project, a play about German politics in the 1970's. "It's original and completely brilliant," Ms. Tomalin said. Mr. Frayn said, "It's an incredibly serious, heavy, tedious play." The couple met in the early 1960's at the Society for the Discouragement of Public Relations, a satirical, anti-P.R. lunch club set up by Ms. Tomalin's first husband, the journalist Nicholas Tomalin. By then Ms. Tomalin was familiar with Mr. Frayn's early work as a novelist and newspaper columnist. Mr. Frayn knew about her, too, from their days as undergraduates at Cambridge: he had admired from afar the poems she had written for a university magazine under her maiden name, Claire Delavenay. "I thought if I could meet a girl with a name like Claire Delavenay, my life would be much better," he said. Ms. Tomalin's first husband was killed by a Syrian rocket in Israel while reporting on the Yom Kippur War of 1973, and she and Mr. Frayn ? who was divorced, with three children ? moved in together in 1981, along with her three children. They married nine years ago. "My theory is that Michael suggested we get married to cheer me up because we were both about to be 60," Ms. Tomalin said. They don't talk much about works in progress, which can sometimes lead to silence in the home. They don't meet for lunch, and daytime conversations are generally restricted to phone calls about who has invited them where, and why they don't want to go. But each is the other's first reader, most trusted critic and fiercest champion. They have had their share of nominations that led to prizes, and nominations that didn't. Ms. Tomalin's first book, her biography of Mary Wollstonecraft, was shortlisted for the Whitbread 30 years ago. Mr. Frayn's novel "Headlong" was a finalist for for the Booker Prize in 1999, but did not win; his "Noises off" was nominated for a Tony in 1984 but lost out to "The Real Thing," by Tom Stoppard. The couple joked about how at such events, the television cameras invariably train on the faces of the losers to see how they will react. "That year Michael said, `Shall we both burst into tears?' " Ms. Tomalin recalled fondly. As far as the Whitbread goes, they have begun to think about the mechanics of the evening. "We will go in a taxi together," Ms. Tomalin said. "Although if Michael has his way, we'll take the Underground." They cannot take each other as their dates ? they are the guests of their respective publishers ? so they have decided each to take a daughter. "If we sat at the same table, fights might break out," Mr. Frayn said. "He's very relaxed about these things," Ms. Tomalin said. "And I find it's a good idea to assume you're not going to get it." Still, she dreams of a joint award. "I wish they would share it between us, but life isn't like that." Mr. Frayn is playing all the angles. "The ideal resolution would be if Claire won it," he said. "Then I'd feel rather noble, and she'd feel rather bad and rather guilty. It would give me a tremendous moral advantage for the rest of our lives. Whenever we argued, I could say, `I behaved so well over the Whitbread.' " -- saurav
