The setting(s) where the action(s) takes place in a novel is, I think, quite important.

In our day-to-day existence, we are quite conscious of where we are, and, when we find ourselves in an unfamiliar place, we tend to look around, taking in our surroundings.  We want to know and understand where we are.

For a writer, the challenge is to describe the setting sufficiently so that, to the reader, it seems plausible and real, but without so much detail as to be boring.  Sometimes one ties to paint a word picture of the setting.  Here, for example, (from Sin & Contrition) is Joseph Bishop’s study in the rectory at Central Presbyterian Church in New York:

The office looked south onto Sixty-Third Street, and the late morning sun streamed through the large windows, whose cream-coloured drapes had been pulled aside.  The pastor’s desk faced the windows, and I was seated in one of three brown leather, upholstered arm chairs in front of him.  Behind him, and covering the right-hand wall were over-flowing bookshelves – to the point where some newer acquisitions had to be content with being piled on the floor below.  The left-hand wall was covered with framed photographs – mostly black and white, but a few in colour – they were, without exception, pictures of people of all ages and walks of life.  

In other cases, it may be more appropriate to set the scene with sound descriptions.  Here is the description of the butcher shop in Sicily (from Fishing in Foreign Seas):

The butcher shop was packed with people awaiting their turns.  There were four butchers behind the counter, and it was noisy with the sounds of their shouted exchanges with customers and the ‘thwock’ ‘thwock’ of their cleavers hitting the huge cutting blocks. 

Of course, it is easier as a writer to have ‘been there and done that’.  The scenes in Sicily in Fishing in Foreign Seas reflect my personal experiences on the island.  As a brief diversion, I would add that my wife and I are just back from Sicily, and one of my agenda items on the brief trip was to take the ferrovia circumetna (the narrow-gauge railroad around Mr. Etna).  This would have given us the opportunity to see the lava flows, the wineries, the farms, the towns and the people who live at the base of Mt. Etna – all from the comfort of a moving seat.  But it  wasn’t to be.  The only day available was a holiday, and the trains weren’t running.

It is not essential to have actually been to the setting being described in the novel, as long as: the setting is important to the story, and the reader will find it interesting, and the writer has researched the place well enough that readers who have been there will find the description accurate.  For example, I have never been to a lingerie manufacturing plant in Taipei, but here is the one in Sin  & Contrition:

The Blue Dragon warehouse fascinated Bettina as much as the production hall.  Here, down the center of the room, and reaching floor to ceiling, were hundreds of storage cells.  Larger cells, at one end, contained bolts of fabric.  Smaller cells contained labels, herringbone, wires etc., but most of the cells were for the storage of completed lingerie. One side of the cells was the ‘production side’, where completed products were sent to storage and raw materials were withdrawn from storage.  The opposite side was the ‘shipping/receiving side’ where raw materials were placed into storage and finished goods were withdrawn for shipment to customers.  The warehouse was under computer control so that the basket of thirty-four B Precious Lady Pink Springtime bras would be automatically moved into cell BJ59, and the quantity automatically added to the stock level of that product.

I can’t visualise myself writing about an important political issue, real or imagined.

John,  Jamie’s brother in Fishing in Foreign  Seas, wants to be a politician.  He gets elected and eventually ends up as a US senator.  Gary, in Sin & Contrition, wants to be a politician, and moves up through the ranks to become a senior member of the US House of Representatives.  But, neither character faces a real political challenge, other than getting elected.  Both of them are motivated primarily by ego.  In fact, Gary vetoes the opportunity to be a well-paid lawyer so that he can gain political power.  John is a likable, devil-may-care character, and a bit of a skirt-chaser until he (at Caterina’s urging) meets a comely French nurse. 

Gary is a darker character.  The product of a broken family, he is a selfish bully, who commits adultery, misappropriates campaign contributions, becomes an alcoholic, and abandons his ill parents.  It’s hard to like Gary, but one wonders how he can get so many things wrong and still land on his feet with a devoted wife and two normal children.  I think we all know people like Gary.

Perhaps my attitude toward politicians is influencing my selection of political characters.  At the moment, in both the US and the UK, it seems to me that the number one objective of politicians is to  get (re)elected, and that number two is toeing the party line.  Whereas, I feel that the number one objective should be doing what’s best for the country and number two should be looking after the interests of constituents.  What do we have to do to change their priorities? 

Interestingly, here in the UK, about half of the MP’s (Members of Parliament) who voted against the directives of David Cameron (the Prime Minister) and in favour of a referendum on the relationship between between the UK and the European Union were newly-elected MP’s.  They said they voted the way they did because their constituents are very much in favour of a referendum.  They hadn’t yet been contaminated by the system.

When I worked for Westinghouse, I got to know a Congressman named John Murtha very well.  He died a few years ago; he was a long-serving Democrat in the House, who became chairman of the Armed Services Committee.  When I knew him, the coal gasification plant for which I had responsibility was in his constituency.  We were working on a new technology to give the US energy independence.  We could always depend on John to set aside the funds we needed to keep our research project going.  But it wasn’t just money, he believed in what we were doing and he gave us his time and attention.  He was a down-to-earth, likable guy – a family man,with a good sense of humour.  He wasn’t perfect, but he was a lot better than many of his present-day colleagues.

Those of you who have read my novels know that the characters are sometimes engaged in discussions about religion.  This is particularly true – unsurprisingly – of the characters in Sin & Contrition. Before I explain, I should tell you a little about my religious background.  In a word: checkered.  I grew up in a family where my father was an atheist, and my mother was agnostic.  Still, my mother thought I ought to be introduced to the church (Episcopal), and I was pressed into service as an altar boy.  I particularly remember, at the age of about eight, nearly fainting from a combination of incense smoke, heat, and sacred solemnity.  I also went to Sunday school in the same church.  When I was a little older, I was sent to a private Quaker day school: William Penn Charter School.  I wasn’t sent because it was Quaker, but because it was a good school, and my father had attended it.  Once a week, there was an hour long Quaker meeting, which was silent unless someone felt moved to say something religious.  (I was never so moved – mostly for fear of saying something stupid.)  I then went through about ten years of hibernation: in high school, college and in the Navy.  During this time, I went to church when it was socially necessary: weddings, funerals, baptisms, etc.  When I got married to my first wife, we were married in a Congregational church, and most Sundays we attended the service there.  But, because it was closer to where we were living, we joined the Presbyterian Church, and it was here that I was inspired by the minister, Joseph Bishop.  Those of you who have read Sin & Contrition will recognise that name as the minister I interview in the last chapter.  The real Joseph Bishop has been transformed into a fictional character preaching in New York City.  But his sermon about praying with Christ at the bedside of the dying woman is absolutely true.  So for a good portion of my adult life, I was a Presbyterian: teaching Sunday school and serving as an elder.  When I moved to England, I attended the Church of England, but this wasn’t particularly satisfactory because my wife, Anna, is Catholic.  When she found a church and a priest she liked, I went to see him, and he invited me to attend.  When I said that I wanted to take communion, he said I should do so.  So now, Anna and I go to mass on Sunday, and even though I’m not officially a Catholic, I behave like one.  Why have I not made it official (as Tony Blair has done)?  Because, while I have great respect for the Catholic Church, I don’t agree with some of its dogma. So, why do my characters talk about religion?  Because it says quite a lot about their character and values.  Caterina in Fishing in Foreign Seas is a committed Catholic, but she doesn’t question it.  Her faith is just ingrained in her: she believes in doing things the right way, which is what she was taught as a child.  Bettina in Sin & Contrition was brought up a Catholic, but she becomes a member of the Presbyterian church so she can meet the right people who will get her into the right country club.  She’s an amoral religious opportunist.  (And a little immoral.) Also, I think that a novelist should encourage his readers to think: to examine their own views and values.  Several of my characters are agnostic.  They have doubts of various kinds.  None is an atheist, because I regard atheism as a logical impossibility.  How can one say categorically that something doesn’t exist without proof?  Merely naming it suggests at least the possibility that it does exist.  In my third novel (not published yet) there are Muslim and Jewish characters, and for two of the characters, their faith is explored to reflect their values.  While I’m a Christian, I have respect for the Islamic and Jewish faiths, because we worship the same God, and because those religions have some core beliefs which I find attractive: a daily regimen of prayer in the case of Islam, and the strong sense of family and community in Judaism. As good as their core messages are, I have little interest in the polytheistic religions like Buddhism and Hinduism.

More recently, as in my fifth novel, Sable Shadow and The Presence, I have begun to explore the conflicts between good and evil on a theological level: if there is a God, is there also a devil?  If so, who controls our destinies, why and how?  If there is good in the world, is there necessarily also evil?  When I lay out these issues, I try, through the characters, to suggest what the answers may be, but, at the same time there are other characters who will take an opposing view.  Ultimately, the reader must decide.