or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 978-1-5095-3823-2
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Martin, Andrew, 1952- author.
Title: With Child : Lee Child and the readers of Jack Reacher / Andy Martin.
Description: Cambridge ; Medford, MA : Polity, [2019] | Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018059989 (print) | LCCN 2019007407 (ebook) | ISBN 9781509538232 (Epub) | ISBN 9781509538218 | ISBN 9781509538218(hardback) | ISBN 9781509538225(paperback)
Subjects: LCSH: Child, Lee. | Reacher, Jack (Fictitious character) | Authors and readers. | Fiction--Authorship.
Classification: LCC PS3553.H4838 (ebook) | LCC PS3553.H4838 Z77 2019 (print) | DDC 813/.54--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018059989
Every effort has been made to trace all copyright holders, but if any have been overlooked the publisher will be pleased to include any necessary credits in any subsequent reprint or edition.
For further information on Polity, visit our website: politybooks.com
Andy Martin (right) with Child Photograph by Jessica Lehrman
Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend; inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.
Groucho Marx
FOREWORD
Andy Martin’s extraordinary Reacher Said Nothing was a day-to-day account of the writing of my twentieth novel, Make Me. The idea was he should witness the first word, the last, and everything in between, and he did. Job done. But naturally we stayed in touch afterward, and he joined me for some of the launch events, six months after that last word was recorded. It seemed only fair – he had witnessed the long gestation, and he wanted to see the birth. Which meant he saw the book’s early reception, and heard from its early readers.
Which led to another idea. We had talked a lot over the previous year, about the minutest minutiae of sentence construction, punctuation, word choice, and so on, but also about larger issues, one of which was my firm belief that writing and reading is a two-way street. First a book is written, then it is read, and only then does it exist. Readers create the story in their own heads, literally, at that point expending their own mental energy, burning their own calories. We agreed that the reader’s sense of what the book is about is just as determinative as the writer’s.
Andy was talking to the readers, listening to them, hearing their opinions. It struck both of us that Reacher Said Nothing was only half the story – the writer’s half. We felt the readers’ half should be recorded too. Hence this new addition. It completes the circle, and it tells me what the book I wrote is really about.
Lee Child
New York
2018
Dedication
For all the seven billion potential readers.
BEFORE ‘A LOT OF WRITERS ARE LIKE THAT, THEY START WITH DIALOGUE’
Three months later. New York.
CHILD: About a month after I finished Make Me I started writing ‘Small Wars’, the short story for the summer. I wrote the first line, ‘In the spring of 1989 Caroline Crawford was promoted to the rank of lieutenant colonel,’ and I turned around … and you weren’t there. Weird. I wanted to discuss the approach to setting the story in the past … about how to let the reader know this isn’t the present day. I felt it best to just announce, ‘In the spring of 1989,’ and have done with it. I’ll have to get back in the habit of talking to myself. Instead of you.
MARTIN: It’s like the end of a romance. There’s one immigration guy convinced I was having an affair. Wanted to know why I kept coming back to New York. I said I wasn’t working, it was just pleasure. How was it for you?
CHILD: The earth didn’t move. Except when the subway went by under the building. I’m used to having a housekeeper knocking around the apartment. It’s similar. And you had a knack of getting out just before I started to feel physically oppressed. I mean, I understood why you wanted to do it, but sometimes I thought, why me?
MARTIN: It could have been … almost anyone. In theory. Maybe not Donna Tartt – too slow! But you were willing. I liked your economy of style – very degree zero. And you said, ‘I’m starting Monday.’ So naturally I hopped on a plane. I’m still trying to work out why you let me do it, though. I used to think it was something to do with an ageing boxer wanting a spectator for his last big fight. Or maybe a magician who finally decided to twitch aside the curtain and say, ‘OK, come back here and see how it’s done.’
CHILD: Do you ever think there’s something crazy about writing twenty books about the same guy?
MARTIN: Well, no crazier than nineteen, I suppose.
CHILD: That’s why I did it. I thought it would make a change. I’ve been writing about Reacher for twenty years. I never had anyone watch me do it before. And it was a world first. A mad experiment. Literary criticism, but in real time. You were a wild card. What was the worst that could happen?
MARTIN: I was sitting about two yards behind you, reclining on a psychiatrist’s couch, while you tapped away. Trying to keep quiet. I could actually make out a few of the words. ‘Nothingness’ I remember for some obscure reason. And ‘waterbed’. And then I kept asking questions. I couldn’t help myself. How? Why? What the … ? Oh surely not! A lot of people thought I would destroy the book. I was like the ‘person from Porlock’ who stopped ‘Kubla Khan’ in its tracks (according to Coleridge, anyway). ‘You’re killing Reacher, man!’ as some guy said to me (after half a bottle of bourbon, but still).
CHILD: Here is the fundamental reality about the writing business. It’s lonely. You spend all your time writing and then wondering whether what you just wrote is any good. You gave me instant feedback. If I write a nicely balanced four-word sentence with good rhythm and cadence, most critics will skip right over it. You not only notice it, you go and write a couple of chapters about it. I liked the chance to discuss stuff that most people never think about. It’s weird and picayune, but obviously of burning interest to me. Previously only my daughter Ruth ever got it. Once we spent a whole drive to Philadelphia talking about a gerund we saw on a billboard.
MARTIN: And the way you care about commas – almost Flaubertian! I tried to be a kind of white-coated detached observer. But every observer impinges on the thing he is observing. Which would be you in this case. And I noticed that everything around you gets into your texts. You are an opportunistic writer. For example, one day the maid
