Paperchains E-Book

• Herausgeber: Story Machine
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 60

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

'There have been many amazing projects to help people during the pandemic and Paperchains is one of the very best.' Queen Camilla An anthology of 30 stories of lockdown, from people with experience of prison, homelessness, addiction, and families of people in the armed forces. When the history of the Covid-19 lockdowns is written, who will be the storytellers and of whose lives will they tell? Will they tell of the prisoners spending 23+ hours each day locked in a cell, inhaling and exhaling, over and over again, the same recycled air? For months on end. With no visitors? Will they tell of those addicts who were just starting to recover and rebuild, only to find themselves back on the edge? Or the people down your street who had nowhere to live, or those whose house was never really a home? What about the families of service personnel, or young people stuck at home? These are experiences from inside the storm. From people whose stories are rarely heard. This anthology includes works of prose, poetry, drama, and art. Powerful, often irreverent, heartfelt: voices that history cannot forget. A chain of words, poetry and art that binds us all together. A chain that will survive beyond this turbulent time and stand as a testament of who we were during it.

Leseprobe

Paperchains

Our Stories from Lockdown

Edited by Sam Ruddock

Foreword by Stephen Kelman

Introduction by David Kendall and A.G. Smith

Afterword by Nell Leyshon

Paperchains, Copyright Story Machine , 2021

Print ISBN: 9781912665129

Ebook ISBN: 9781912665136

Published by Story Machine,

130 Silver Road, Norwich, NR3 4TG

storymachines.co.uk

The individual writers and artists have asserted their rights under Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, recorded, mechanical, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher or copyright holder.

This publication is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Contents

Foreword: Stephen

Introduction: Alan and David

Simon

Michael

Shirley

Jed

Shelley

Anonymous

Xavier

Ryan

N

Malcolm

Debbie

Luis

Gary

Steve

Leena

Shaun

Jonathan

Harrison

Sharon

Gary

Kirsty

Anonymous

Jack

James

Afterword: Nell

Foreword

When my friend Alan texted me in April 2020 to say that he was working on a project in response to the COVID-19 pandemic, and the national lockdown that had begun the previous month, none of us had any idea that, over a year later, life would still be so restricted and uncertain. But Alan, and David Kendall, co-founders of Paperchains, know all about restriction and uncertainty, having spent their professional lives in prisons and Young Offenders Institutions, and working with homeless people, and young people in care. Paperchains was created to ensure that those people’s voices – people who would end up suffering most acutely from the isolation that lockdown imposed – were heard. A means of sharing their experiences, and contributing as equals to the record of a national event that has affected us all.

When we come to look back on the Coronavirus years, it is important that nobody’s perspective is excluded. Since April 2020, Paperchains has been collecting submissions from up and down the country. From the heartrending to the hilarious, the satirical to the sublime, and every point between, the stories, poems, essays and artworks that flooded in from prisoners and other marginalised groups provided an invaluable insight into how things were for them during this unprecedented time. That insight will go a long way towards bridging the considerable gap between society’s perception of its forgotten citizens and their reality. It is a reality I have been invited into as part of my own work alongside Alan, visiting prisons and Young Offenders Institutions under the auspices of Books Unlocked, a programme run by the National Literacy Trust and the Booker Prize Foundation designed to bring literature to places where its capacity to enlighten and transform can be most powerfully felt.

There is nothing more damaging than a voice silenced, and nothing more wonderfully productive than a voice unlocked; this anthology is a testament to the belief that by telling our stories we learn not only to understand ourselves but to understand each other. A story is a vehicle for empathy, a delivery system for love, and we will need these things more than ever in the post-COVID world, where the inequalities that have defined our society for so long will be exposed as never before. What kind of world we get to live in will be determined largely by our willingness to reject easy prejudices about our fellow citizens and instead to assume the best of them. Only by working together will we survive and flourish.

The contents of this anthology can be read as individual reports from the frontline of the first national lockdown: personal accounts of fear and hope, despair and determination, worry and wonder. They made me laugh and cry and re-evaluate what I think and believe. Together, these accounts form an alternative collective memory as real and beautiful as any from the so-called mainstream. A memory of a time none of us wish to relive, yet a time we can all take lessons from, if we choose to. So read, and enjoy, and ponder, and then ask yourself: what did I learn when the world got sick, and what can I do to make it better?

Stephen

Introduction

HMP&YOI Brinsford Library. Monday 23rd March, 2020

‘Can you catch it from books boss?’

In thirteen years working in prison libraries I’ve heard many questions. But this is a first. On a different day I might have answered with a joke; but today isn’t a different day.

I am aware of the underlying tension in the room and it’s reflected in the face of the man in front of me.

‘I don’t think so.’ I answer truthfully, but before I hand him the book I clean the cover with an anti-bacterial wipe.

Over the radio we hear a request for officer assistance in another area of the prison. Then a second burst of static followed by an announcement of a standing roll check. Prison life carrying on as usual and I’m reminded of a passage in H.G. Well’s The War of the Worlds

‘It seems to me now almost incredibly wonderful that, with that swift fate hanging over us, men could go about their petty concerns as they did.’

The day carries on like any other Monday, except that by eight o’clock that evening we are all sitting down to watch the Prime Minister’s announcement. In one life-changing moment all the invisible strings that have held us up are cut away. We’re left floundering.

The next day I learn I’m amongst the fortunate ones. I can work from home. See out the pandemic from a safe place. Going on with my life whilst others, quite literally, are now stepping in to frontline hell. The only emotion I feel at this point is guilt. There has been no time to prepare. No time to put anything in place to help my prison community. I wondered whether, if human contact had suddenly become a threat, how we could safely reach out to help those who needed it the most? After all, when there is physical separation we can still be linked through creativity.

Several years ago I faced a serious illness and during that period I felt separated from those around me. On one hand life had continued as normal, but I no longer felt part of the world – almost as though I were looking at it through a hazy mirror. My creative voice hadn’t been lost, but I felt as though no one was listening anymore. I told myself, why would someone want to ruin their day hearing my story?

The physical scars of that time may have faded now but the mental ones will always remain. I’m glad, because they are the reason I couldn’t bury that feeling of guilt at now being safe and do nothing. From that feeling, the idea of Paperchains was born.