Trash

Yes. I was anxious that the book was never seen as an attack on one country. Corruption and child-exploitation are vile facts of life that exist (or have existed) in every country in the world. I did not want to localize the book when its issues are international.

Not really, no. I used to teach from 11 upwards, so I suppose I was writing for the children I taught…but really, I write for myself. I like books that are plot-driven, with characters that intrigue me. I wanted the narrative ease of a Huckleberry Finn, with the danger of ‘Lord of the Flies’.

Sure, but I’m not sure what the connection between South London and the books I’ve written might be – I haven’t given it much thought. I had a safe and happy childhood half an hour from central London. I went to a boys’ grammar school, and English was the one subject that I really enjoyed. I met teachers who cared passionately about literature, and instilled some kind of work-ethic. But I think my books have emerged from much later experiences – the wildness of teaching overseas, and – in the case of ‘Trash’ – the enormity of meeting street kids.

I was out of work. Mrs Thatcher, bless her, was closing the country down, so I was making nothing. I was made redundant, and as if by magic a friend invited me out to India, to visit an orphanage. India simply turned me upside down. I got a job teaching there, and returned to the UK determined to spend time in the classroom. Sitting around waiting for an arts subsidy no longer seemed an option.

Absolutely, yes – what I wanted to do with ‘Trash’ was learn from authors such as John Grisham and John Boyne – I wanted characters to jump off the page, and I wanted the meanstreets. Yes: writing it was an exciting period.

I haven’t read or seen ‘Slumdog’, so I am not sure of the comparison. I think most writers simply take a story forwards, without any agenda as such. I know and love the George Orwells of the world, who do have major social purposes, and hope to confront, educate and change. I know of writers who use their writing to deal with pain – that isn’t me. I have met street-children. I visited the dumpsites. I was astonished and upset, and a story emerged.

The problem of child-labour, child-exploitation is vast and it doesn’t go away when you feel sad, and make a donation to charity. I often think of Kurt Vonnegut’s ‘Slaughterhouse 5’ and his intention to make it an anti-war novel. A friend says, with withering scorn: ‘Why not write an anti-glacier novel?’ He means, of course, that a puny book purporting to oppose epic, natural forces is a pathetic thing – and I’m sure he’s right. That doesn’t stop you writing, though. I can’t account for why so many people have billions, whilst billions of people have nothing. I can’t find an ideology that makes sense of it. All I can do is respond to the specific details I see, with a story.

They are boys I’ve met melted down and re-forged. When JM Barrie wrote ‘Peter Pan’ he claimed that he took the five Davies boys – his beloved adopted sons - and “rubbed them together as savages do with sticks, to make fire”. Each boy in ‘Trash’ is an amalgam of the street-children I’ve met: vulnerable and dangerous, uneducated and smart, desperate and resourceful.

I hope they get involved with the boys, and live closely with them. I hope they enjoy the thrill of the chase. I hope they find the ending rewarding, and I hope they think – because we all need to think. I find the debate about ‘white heroes’ saving the developing world very interesting – it crops up again and again, most recently during Comic Relief. In ‘Trash’ the white heroes misunderstand everything, and it’s the boys who grab the wheel and lead the fight-back. I do like that.