Jersey-based writer Jack Hall spoke to TOM OGG about the inspiration behind his unique short stories
HAVE you ever read the tale of the Tuba and the Nightingale? Or how about the one about the Bloke Down Our Way? If not, then you’ve clearly yet to be acquainted with the work of Jack Hall.
Born in Yorkshire, but based in Jersey since the 1960s, the local writer specialises in naturalistic short stories and has recently seen a selection of his observational tales adapted for BBC Radio, both in the UK and here in Jersey.
“Jenny Mullin once played three of my stories on Radio Jersey, for which I’m ever so grateful,” says Jack, chatting outdoors in his home parish of St Helier.
“My brother, who lives in Leeds, told me that BBC Radio Leeds was looking for short stories, which led to me sending them The Tuba and The Nightingale. They recorded it with a narration and even put music to it. It pleased me no end to listen to someone besides me reading my work.”
Still, as anyone who has listened to Jack reading his work aloud in his characterful Yorkshire accent might argue, there is no one better suited to reciting his short stories than Jack himself.
“I was recently filmed reading six of my stories by a brilliant local DOP named Will Jack Robinson,” says the Leeds-born wordsmith. “I would describe my writing style as being more down to earth than grammatically correct. I allow my characters to speak as they deem fit because, well, I reason that real people in normal conversations veer from the straight and narrow. In fact, my characters have complete artistic licence. I mean, they can’t help the way they’ve been brought up to talk, can they?
“Mind you, I do like the way some posh folk talk too and I make the odd allowance when one of them creeps into one of my storylines. Actually, some of my best friends are posh and I’ve never held it against them. Live and let live I say, which I hope is reflected in my way of writing.”
A self-employed painter and decorator by trade, Jack speaks much as he writes, with an appealingly straightforward manner, replete with memorable turns of phrase and plenty of self-deprecating good humour. A traditionalist, he always writes by hand (“just the pen and me”) and says he has never so much as tapped a computer keyboard, nor has he any desire to do so.
“I don’t possess a laptop – none of those sorts of things. In fact, to tell you the truth, if I ever did, I feel sure my pen would throw the towel in – and that would never do.”
It is, he says, only when he has a pen in hand that “the real me” comes to the fore.
“I follow my pen subserviently, whatever way it feels fit on the day, and I never argue with it. After all, the pen has always been deemed mightier than the sword.
“I much prefer to write when my day job is done and dusted,” he continues. “That is when I turn my head off from doing what I have to do to doing what I want to do – which is to write. The time it takes me to write a story differs wildly. It could be half an hour or it could be 20 weeks.”
Given his sociable approach to writing (“I like to write while I’m among the rest of the human race”), Jack says he has found the Covid-19 pandemic and its subsequent lockdowns a struggle, with the enforced solitude negatively impacting his muse.
“Writing in isolation has never been my cup of tea. You see, my pen and I like to look around when we are pensively seeking some kind of divine intervention. After all, how can you gain inspiration staring at a blank wall?”
Growing up in post-war Yorkshire, Jack first developed his interest in writing while at school, something which he recounts in typically self-mocking style: “I reached the dizzy heights of being the editor of our school news sheet, which had a circulation of perhaps 50 on a good day. I think this came about more by default than talent.”
Initially, Jack’s inspirations came not from the world of literature but from tabloid newspapers and, in particular, the work of novelist-turned-columnist Keith Waterhouse.
“He was a big influence,” says Jack of the Billy Liar author. “At the time, he wrote columns in the Daily Mirror, one of which remains etched into my brain from that day to this. Pure genius, that’s what he was to me – I hung on his every word.
“Then along came the first book I ever read, which was The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell. Then, one day, I happened to put my head into a book titled The Liverpool Scene – a poetry book. I never thought ‘owt about poetry until I read McGough’s Let Me Die a Young Man’s Death and Adrian Henri’s Tonight at Noon, along with Brian Paten’s Before It Happened. They were a revelation to me because I was a poetry virgin at the time.
“I’m glad to say those words of wisdom seduced me into throwing away the shackled conformity of what was expected of the likes of me at the time. It was then that I became a fully-fledged avid reader. From then on, I was easy meat – susceptible to all kinds of literary fodder. From Beckett’s Waiting for Godot and Bennett’s Talking Heads to umpteen others. They were all ambrosia to me. One short storyteller I feel deserves a special mention, and who appealed to me no end, and still does, is Guy De Maupassant.”
It was the mid-1960s when Jack, then aged 24, first came to Jersey, his plan being to work the summer season and then venture further afield.
“I planned to go off to Australia, which was the thing to do in those days,” he recalls. “Little did I think I would still be here all these donkey’s years later. But here I am and, by and large, I’m still happy to be so. I like the parochial way of life here, the natural beauty – and The Hungry Man’s sausage rolls. In fact, my favourite part of the Island, without a doubt, has just got to be the square half-mile around The Hungry Man in Rozel Bay. They sell the most palatable veggie sausage rolls without butter known to man. It’s just a pity the ducks are no longer waddling their way around the bay like they used to do. Rumours have it that duck à l’orange is to blame, but I hope not.”
As is no doubt apparent, Jack has a witty and infectious sense of humour, and replies to a query about his marital status thus: “I’m amicably divorced – she, delightedly so! But together we produced two beautiful daughters, which in turn has resulted in two equally enchanting grandkids. I’m proud of the whole lot of ‘em.”
And so, despite the restrictions of the current lockdown, Jack is continuing to write his short stories, in addition to putting the finishing touches to his first novel, titled Soubrette.
“It’s the top end of 120,000 words,” he says. “Rewrite after rewrite it took me, each one of which endeared me to the main character even more than the one before. Lovely she is, though she suffers from more than her fair share of foibles, with the main problem being that she finds it impossible to cope with success. Maybee is her name, jazz singer extraordinaire. My story, set in the 1950s, takes us through her many ups and downs and introduces us to many of her equally delightful friends along the way. I just love every page of this tale and I’m keen to find some professional guidance and editing so I can take it further.
“Without wanting to sound too much like Ernie Wise, I’m also currently working on the final rewrite of a play I wrote called Uncle Fred’s Head. It tells the story of a Yorkshire/French clown. I’m looking forward to seeing him strutting his stuff on stage on day.”
*To listen to Jack reciting his short stories, visit Jack Hall TV on YouTube
