THE PERFUME PAPERS, VOLUME ONE

(Silver Walk. Rose Strang 2022)

The Perfume Papers.

GUEST POST BY ROSE STRANG

Firstly, many thanks for having me on your blog again Neil. 

During the wintry quiet months of January and February this year I decided to write, rather than paint, scenes and characters inspired by perfume. This led to a book called The Perfume Papers. Volume One – a book of short stories inspired by perfume. 

I’ll dive straight in with a painting (see Silver Walk, above), then a fragment from a short story so you’ll see what I mean …

Sýko (excerpt)

“She looked away, still smiling, as though she was still amused by something. At least she no longer cried, but she got up and walked off, picking figs from the trees and collecting them in a fold of her silk dress. She walked to an old crumbling wall in the sun and placed the figs on it, formed them into a triangle and turned to me. Then, still looking at me she held out her arm and pointed away from us, down the valley towards the sea.”

 And here, the rainy Highlands …

(Through Kintail. Rose Strang 2020)

And in words ….

Northern Star (Excerpt)

“Driving back to the village, I stopped and got my thoughts in order. How would I tell Duncan? Appropriately, the weather was dreich, the sound of water everywhere – gushing white cataracts tumbled down the rockfaces, clouds obscured the mountain tops, rain drops hung like tears in the auburn ferns. I couldn’t cry though. I didn’t know what I felt.

Nearing the cottage, there was the scent of a fresh-lit peat fire. Duncan was home. A deep breath, and in I went …”

Excerpts from The Perfume Papers. 

To explain more; these stories were created because I wanted to lose myself in imagination, as a break from painting, which is what I do as a profession, since doing something creative professionally can get really pressured. 

I took small ideas from the perfumes; snow, say, or figs. Then I played around with them in my head, letting them steep … 

Often, a character would just walk into view, fully formed! Then I wanted to see their thoughts and what they felt.

The perfumes themselves I already love, but I always wanted to write about perfume in a way that shows how emotionally meaningful it can be. My concern is that people (publishers for example) might see perfume stories as frivolous because they perhaps haven’t lived the fact that perfume can be emotionally meaningful or evocative. 

I think that anyone who reads these stories will immediately understand that perfume is a doorway into something deeper. From the inspirational spark of perfume I’m writing about love, trauma, survival, and the healing power of art, for example.

So these are universal human experiences. The perfume is the catalyst, the memory trigger or the sensory anchor.

We know how perfume works in human memory and emotion, it’s generally understood as the most primal sense, directly connected to the limbic system. A whiff of something can transport you decades back, which is neurologically profound!

When I think of the ideal reader, it might be someone like my mum, or some of my close female friends, who’ve really enjoyed these stories. I know the collection will probably appeal most to women, but my partner Adam – and some of my male friends – have equally enjoyed the stories. My concern is that the publishing world might shove them clearly into ‘women’s fiction’!

These stories are also literary fiction which happen to have a unifying thematic element (perfume). They span centuries and continents – Renaissance Italy, Mughal India, 1940s Paris, 1990s England. And they explore power, trauma, class, love, survival, beauty. Not a narrow category at all.

I’ve now written fifteen and there are many more I’d like to create. Being a bit ambitious, I’m now en route to getting them published, at which point I can release all the stories in their entirety in the form of a book.

https://substack.com/@rosestrang

In the meantime,I can’t give away too much before the stories get published, but I can show little excerpts, or fragments. Here are a few (feel free to guess the perfume 😊) …

Unbreakable (excerpt)

“One day she asked if the wall-climbing rose was thriving. Perhaps it was wrong of him, but he exaggerated its demise a little.

It had the desired effect.

First, she rose in the morning and took breakfast with them on the terrace. She was still so weak, so he was glad she took her time. Then each day she wandered slowly around the garden, examining, touching each plant. The papers wanted to speak with her, and some friends from the Resistance, but he turned them all away. This time was so fragile – she needed protection.”

A Cool Head (excerpt)

‘WHAT the actual f— Phew. Oh God!’ Mathilde emerges from a roiling sea of scarves.

Thinking ahead, Trudi has already brought down their hand luggage from overhead lockers, stored it on her lap and on the extra seat that Mathilde has booked in case she wants to stretch out (or even worse, in Trudi’s experience, invite over and chat up a random male passenger en route).

As they descend into Linz Airport, Mathilde’s hand clamours for her.

‘Oh God, bring me my, in my, my … for fuck’s sake, Trudi, get my eucalyptus oil.’”

Daffodils in the Snow (excerpt)

“Patches of snow cling to the grass verges even now. It’s almost twilight as she steps carefully across the muddy field. The wood hut beckons with its plume of smoke from the stove and firelight in the window. She hurries, worried he won’t be there because if she’s late he’ll go home. She doesn’t want that tonight since he’s the only one she’d say goodbye to.

In haste, she steps on the tiny daffodils that line the verge. Cold as it is she bends down, begins to straighten them. Aach it’s okay, they’re tough. She walks on, pushes open the wood door without knocking.”

In the Wolf’s Mouth (excerpt)

“Isabella pulls her coat tight against the icy, damp air, grateful for the plush wool that drapes warmly over her shoulders. Maybe she should stay inside her hoteltill evening, but the over-heated air in there can be so dry at this time of year – like being in a rest home. Not very poetic.

She inhales gently and deeply – breathes in a tiny snowflake … now that is poetic!

The slap of water against stone announces the arrival of her taxi. There’s no need for it really, she could walk but she wants to continue in this floating mood – if only she can avoid any dissonant encounters on these busy streets.”

~ ~ ~

And that’s it for now, there are many more! Many thanks again Neil, and thanks to everyone for reading! I’d love to know what you think here in the comments. 

Does anyone else write stories about perfumes? Maybe an anthology could be in the works?

visual artist ( https://rosestrangartworks.com/ ) 

perfume writer ( https://substack.com/@rosestrang)