Free Gabriel's Gift by Hanif Kureishi Page B

madness.’ Lester was looking at Gabriel. ‘You’re talented,’ he told him. ‘I’m telling you – and now you know for ever. Hear my voice and carry these words wherever you go.’
    â€˜I don’t know. I just sit down everyday and start.’
    â€˜That’s how to do it. Talent might be a gift but it still has to be cultivated. The imagination is like a fire or furnace; it has to be stoked, fed and attended to. One thing sets another ablaze. Keep it going.’
    â€˜The thing is,’ said Gabriel, blushing, ‘I’ve been copying other artists. I don’t know why … it inspires me, I suppose. Is that wrong?’
    â€˜It’s what you make of the stolen objects that’s important. If you take something and use it, then it’s worthwhile. If you just copy it and it stays the same, then nothing’s been done.’
    Gabriel felt excited. ‘How do you start?’
    â€˜Like this.’
    Lester took a crayon and made a line on the paper, followed by another line. He wrote a word; more words followed.
    â€˜Y?u can’t will a dream or an erection. But you can get into bed, ‘he said.’ Any mad stuff that comes into my mind I put down. Wild pigs, fauns, guitars, faces … in dreams the maddest connections are made! If I know where I’m going, how will I get lost on the way? When I’m doing this I disappear. There’s no me there. I don’t know who I am. I draw and sing to get lost. If I’m not lost how can I do anything? This is how I live twice. I live in the world, and then in memory and imagination. If you listen to the greatest music like “Strawberry Fields” or Cosi Fan Tutte , or read the greatest books, like Hamlet , you’ll see how weird, almost supernatural and dreamlike they are.’
    Lester kept writing, colouring in and sketching, his white hand disappearing into the white page.
    â€˜You work quickly.’
    â€˜As quickly as I can, these days,’ said Lester, ‘to keep ahead of the rising tide of boredom.’
    With his face close to Gabriel’s, Lester began to talk of himself as a young man, before he was known or successful, and the difficulty of keeping alive self-belief when there was no one to confirm it. This was the hardest time for any artist.
    After a while Gabriel became aware of his father watching them from across the room. Gabriel had been so absorbed he was unaware of how much time had passed.
    Dad got up as though startled from a dream.
    â€˜What did you think, Rex?’ said Lester.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Of the new tunes? I’ve been working on them for a long time. I wanted them to be really good. They’re an advance, aren’t they? The same as before, but different enough, don’t you think? I’m sick of people saying it’s not up to what I did when I was twenty-five. Tell me.’
    Gabriel was surprised to see how apprehensive Lester was, as if it were his first record.
    Dad seemed to shake himself. ‘As good as anything you’ve done. If not better. What sounds! Yes!’
    â€˜Thanks.’ Lester took the piece of paper, looked at it, and turned it over. ‘You didn’t write anything down.’
    â€˜No, no. I was too stunned.’
    â€˜By which track in particular?’
    â€˜All of them … all stunned me.’
    â€˜The third track – the one featuring the trumpet, and later that jumbled piano – is my favourite,’ said Lester. ‘You?’
    Lester was looking at Rex.
    Dad hesitated. ‘I liked them all. The second, the third. The fourth especially. But I think the fifth took the biscuit. I’m still writing myself. You don’t want to hear one of my new songs, by any chance?’
    â€˜If only there were world enough and time.’
    â€˜Of course. Anyhow, I didn’t bring my guitar. I’ll send you a tape to the usual place.’ He offered Lester his hand.