Author Charlie Hill's story of a bohemian life in Moseley

Sep 17 2010 By Lorne Jackson

Author Charlie Hill tells Lorne Jackson how his peripatetic youth in Moseley inspired a novel.

For those who aspire to a career in banking, the law or accountancy, there is a regimented route to follow.

Hit the school text books. Hit the university library. Hit the jackpot in the working world by heading home with a plump pay-packet.

Forging a career as a professional novelist is supposed to be different.

Aspiring artists aren’t meant to march along a Roman road; they should stumble down a roaming road.

Regrettably, that’s rarely the case. Most graduate from a decent university – like the clock-punching professionals – then lead a commonplace existence of ambition bolstered by application.

Not Charlie Hill.

The Kings Heath novelist didn’t hit the text books, or a uni library.

He hit the gutter.

Okay, not quite the gutter. However, for many years, Hill was a man of no fixed abode. Drifting on a sea of floorboards.

Like Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire, he depended on the kindness of strangers.

“When I was younger, I had real problems with accommodation, to put it lightly,” he admits.

“I was living with my girlfriend, and that relationship went t**s up, so I was kicked out. I had literally nowhere to go. So I moved into an official squat with some other guys. It was just the three of us and a cold tap.”

He brushes a hand through a tangle of unruly curls, then recalls more of his tangled, unruly youth.

“There are ways of establishing a squat if you’re clued-up about these things. But there was no kind of organisation about ours. It was just more of a kind of ad hoc thing.

“It certainly wasn’t great, but it was the only place I had to go, as I was pretty hapless.

“I didn’t live in the squat long, but it was long enough. About six weeks.

“After that, there was a long period when I was of no fixed abode. I was just going from floor to floor.”

It was a tough time, but Hill has no interest in portraying himself as any sort of victim – even though it would undoubtedly be a crafty PR move and help promote his novel.

“My experience of being vulnerably housed, and of no fixed abode, was pretty grim. But it’s not remotely as grim as other people have it. I don’t want to play on that, and sell myself as the author who was homeless.”

The truth is that he doesn’t need to exploit his past to sell copies of his first novel, The Space Between Things, which has just been released.

The book has already garnered rave reviews from two of Birmingham’s most renowned novelists, Jonathan Coe and Jim Crace.

Coe is quoted on the front cover, proclaiming that The Space Between Things “packs a considerable punch”. Crace, meanwhile, says it’s “intelligent and witty... bursting with generous energy.”

The novel was inspired by Hill’s hand-to-mouth youth, which was largely spent in Birmingham’s bohemian hothouse, Moseley.

Though he was often in dire straights when it came to accommodation, Charlie still managed to hold down a variety of occupations after leaving school at 16 to work in the fish market.

He also became a committed follower of the 90s counterculture, taking an interest in radical politics and immersing himself in the burgeoning dance music scene.

Those rich and raucous experiences seep into the novel, which is about Arch, a less-than-gainfully-employed poet.

Arch meets, then falls in love with an enigmatic girl, Vee, at a Moseley party to celebrate the resignation of Margaret Thatcher.

Vee encourages her lover to become politically engaged, a challenge he accepts with relish.

However, it’s not just Vee’s nudging that turns Arch into a political animal.