The Beckhams, Harper Lee and me

When Victoria and David Beckham announced the birth of their fourth child, a girl, speculation began about what name they would choose for her. The pair are known for their slightly unusual name choices. It’s unlikely to have passed you by that there is Brooklyn, named after the city he was conceived in, Romeo and Cruz. And now there is Harper Seven.

They’ve outdone themselves this time, haven’t they? It has been reported that she has been named after either Harper’s Bazaar, the fashion mag or Harper Lee the author and the seven comes from David’s football number. I actually really like the name Harper and if indeed she has been named after the To Kill a Mockingbird author then I like it even more. I have to say the idea of the Beckhams sitting around reading is quite hard for me to imagine but I don’t want to pass judgement, I’m sure they’ve both read some great works of literature (ahem).

Anyway, Harper Lee is one of those authors who has a pretty remarkable story. For starters contrary to popular opinion she is in fact a woman and secondly To Kill a Mockingbird is widely considered to be one of the greatest books ever written.

Harper Lee or Nelle Harper Lee as she was named, was born in Monroeville Albama and was the youngest of four children. Her father, Amasa Coleman Lee was once a newspaper editor and proprietor but went on to become a lawyer. It was her mother, Frances Cunningham Finch Lee, where the name Finch (the surname of the main character in To Kill a Mockingbird) came from. Despite this and the fact that her father was a lawyer, Harper has always said the novel is not biographical in any way.

Growing up Harper was a tomboy. She spent her time reading and hanging out with her best friend, who just so happened to be Truman Capote. The idea of two of America’s greatest writers hanging out together as children is just wonderful, don’t you think?

As Harper grew older she became no more girly and while at the all-female Huntingdon College she really stood out from the others as she had her head down studying rather than letting her hair down partying. She can’t have been that shy and retiring though as she was reportedly a member of the college’s glee club, Rachel Berry eat your heart out.

Harper didn’t stay at that college long before transferring to the University of Alabama at Tuscaloosa. She became the editor of the school paper, known as the Rammer Jammer during her time there. However, when she was accepted into the school’s law programme, she didn’t have the time to continue being editor.

I was surprised to find out that Harper went to Oxford University on exchange for one summer. She was clearly a hugely talented and bright young woman. On her return her mind was made up, no more law for her. She was to pursue her dreams as a writer.

In 1949, at the age of 23, Harper arrived in New York City. Her old childhood friend Truman Capote was there at that time and was becoming a bit of a literary star. The pair started hanging out again and became friends with the Broadway composer and lyricist Michael Brown and his wife. She clearly made an impression on the pair because as a gift they gave her a year’s wages, with a note saying: “You have one year off from your job to write whatever you please. Merry Christmas.”

And the rest is history, she had written the first draft of To Kill a Mockingbird in a year and it was published in 1960. It became an instant best seller and it still is. I read somewhere that it is the second most read book after the bible.

What’s so fascinating about Harper’s story is that she never wrote a novel again. She attempted two others but never felt they were good enough to publish. And how could she feel that anything would be received in the same way as To Kill a Mocikingbird was?

If you haven’t read it you must, and likewise if you haven’t read any Truman Capote you should, In Cold Blood is one of the most well-formed and gripping books I have ever read. I remember a teacher at school telling me that Harper Lee spent the rest of her life playing golf and steering clear from the public eye, you’ll be hard pressed to find any interview with her. I don’t know about you but there is something that inspires me but also makes me a little sad when I think about this young woman who wrote something so remarkable and then never really wrote again.

So, although I am unsure about the Beckhams choosing the name Harper Seven for their newborn daughter I am pleased it reminded me of Harper Lee’s wonderful story and gave me a chance to share it with you. You never know Harper Seven might have a literary classic within her too.

News of the World – Not in my name

The revelations of the last week have sent me into a self loathing, guilt- ridden slump. No I’m not talking about Imogen Thomas reportedly dating Mr piss on Kim Kardashian in a sex tape Ray J but the unravelling of the illegal and seedy underworld of the News of the World.

For the past three years or so, since I’ve started really sinking my teeth into celebrity goss I have to confess that I have been an avid reader of the paper. I am ashamed to say that I would love nothing more on a Sunday than to crawl hungoverly to the newsagent, or more likely send my boyfriend and then sit trawling the pages seeing which unlucky celeb had been named and shamed that week.

I did not for one second stop to think about where these stories came from and the emotional impact it would have on the people involved to see their lives splashed on the front of a one pound paper. This was perhaps naive on my part or a subconscious decision to ignore any niggling suspicions or feelings of unease about reading it. If I had stopped to think about it rather than being consumed with this unhealthy desire to know about people’s private lives then I don’t suppose I would be feeling like this now.

I feel like a bad person. It is someone like me who drives these papers, I am a part of keeping Murdoch’s wallet brimming over with cash and I have given him a small bit of power a man like him should not be allowed. Growing up my parents always instilled Murdoch hatred in me. While all my other friends were watching Sky, we weren’t allowed it as my parents refused to let Murdoch play any part in their lives. And look at me now, I’m a disappointment to them and to myself.

Watching Steve Coogan on Newsnight last week was the final straw for me. I was surprised that I felt such pain for him and he’s a man who, let’s be honest, doesn’t seem particularly likeable. But why should his life be dragged out in the press in the way it is? People like Coogan should be lauded for their talent. Who cares if he sleeps with prostitutes while snorting coke or whatever it is. It’s got nothing to do with me and nothing to do with you and it certainly doesn’t affect his ability as a comedic writer and actor. Furthermore it is never acceptable to use illegal methods in order to uncover these bits of tittle tattle.

And so from this day on I promise to search out only positive news regarding celebrities and read nothing Murdoch owned. I promise to avert my eyes when I see stories of affairs, alcohol abuse or drug use. I am beginning a crusade to bring people happy, positive and talent-praising news. Celebrity gossip doesn’t have to be bitter and full of hatred but rather a celebration of that person and their achievements in life.

Wish me luck.