Appreciation - Marion Boyars

It was always a pleasure to receive a letter from Marion Boyars, who has died at the age of 71. Long, erratically typed (with amendments in her own hand) and buoyant with enthusiasm for her often neglected writers, her letters had a strange difference. And so did the woman and her list. Marion Boyars Ltd - along with Peter Owen and her former business partner John Calder - was one of the last great avant-garde houses, issuing books quite oblivious to fashion and commercial pressure. She specialised in experimental fiction, literature in translation, including the French nouveau roman of Claude Simon and Alain Robbe-Grillet, musicology and politically radical non-fiction. She opened a New York office when most of her rivals were mired in the domestic market. And she was always a defiant internationalist; her second husband, Arthur Boyars, with whom she enjoyed a long and happy marriage, was an accomplished linguist and music scholar, and together they spoke Russian, German, French and Italian.

Marion Asmus was born in New York, the daughter of a Jewish publisher. After Keele University she married George Lobbenberg, with whom she had two daughters, and settled down for a life of quiet affluence in Shrewsbury. She quickly became bored. In 1960, she answered an advertisement, placed by John Calder in the Bookseller, seeking a partner in his company. Together they enthusiastically embraced the counter-culture of the 1960s, publishing Samuel Beckett, Henry Miller's long-banned Tropic of Cancer, Alexander Trocchi's Cain's Book and Hubert Selby's Last Exit to Brooklyn. The last was the subject of a famous obscenity trial at the High Court, which Calder and Boyars, as the company was then called, won on an appeal, fought by John Mortimer, in 1968.

Calder and Boyars split in the mid-1970s. Under the imprint Marion Boyars Ltd, Marion continued to publish challenging work and had notable successes with One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey; Julien Green, not much read in this country but a cult author on the Continent; and with the work of Pauline Kael. To the end, she was championing her authors, while stubbornly disregarding the hard commercialism of the modern book trade.

I first met Marion when I interviewed Kenzaburo Oe, whom she published long before he won the Nobel prize in 1995. She sat in on our interview, a small, stern, thin woman with heavy make-up and a rich, tobacco-scorched voice (she was an enthusiastic chain-smoker). We spoke and corresponded thereafter without meeting. The book business will be a duller place without her.

Jason Cowley

Jason Cowley is editor of the New Statesman. He has been the editor of Granta, a senior editor at the Observer and a staff writer at the Times.

This article first appeared in the 19 February 1999 issue of the New Statesman, We are richer than you think

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How will future videogame makers design a grand strategy game about the 21st century?

With the diminishing power of nation states, and the lack of conventional warfare, what would a 21st-century grand strategy game look like?

In the world of historical strategy games, it always seems clear how to win. Paint the map your colour. Raise your flag over the capitals of your rivals. Pave the streets of your cities with gold. Games based around statecraft in olden times will tend to have diverse objectives, they usually focus on the greatness of a nation in the traditional senses of the word: military might, technological advancement, religious and cultural hegemony. These same priorities hold up from the times of the Roman Republic to the Cold War.

Yet if games designers in the future were to look at the world of today, how would they interpret the actions of modern governments? Do the same goals as before apply or have we moved on? Are the objectives of contemporary societies different, and if so, just what would a player in a game of 21st-century grand strategy be trying to achieve?

One thing is for sure, the conventional measures of success in historical grand strategy games don’t stack up so easily in a modern setting.

War, for instance, has always been a staple part of historical games and it remains a preoccupation of contemporary society too. In the 15 years of the 21st century, Britain has invaded two countries, conducted armed interventions in three more and is even now lining up the procurement of new fighter jets, new aircraft carriers and new nuclear weapons at incredible expense. So we can safely say we do not live in a peaceful age.

But despite having all this firepower and the political will to bring it to bear at the drop of a dossier, war doesn’t seem to serve Her Majesty’s Government in the way it does in either the history books or the strategy games. There is no territory to be won and no rival great powers being thwarted – only air strikes, occupations and teetering puppet governments.

Indeed the only country whose military adventures bear any resemblance to the old-timey way of doing things is Russia, with Putin perhaps the last of the breed of world leaders who still thinks swapping out the flags on municipal buildings constitutes a legitimate redrawing of national boundaries. Given his famous distrust for technology it seems quite likely he didn’t get the tersely worded Tweet from Obama about how that kind of thing isn’t supposed to work anymore.

On the economic side of things the approaches opted for by governments today don’t fit with the historical mind set either. Nations are no longer trying to get rich for their own sake. Privatisation relinquishes the assets of the state in return for a temporary financial gain and long term loss of revenue. Deregulation and poor tax enforcement bleeds capital overseas. It is here we see perhaps the key difference between games where you play as The State itself and real countries, countries run by people who have bank balances of their own and competing party financiers to appease.

The idea of running a country for the purpose of making that country wealthier and then reinvesting that wealth back into the country by developing assets and infrastructure has gone out of the window. Simultaneously both the leftwing model of a state run for the benefit of its citizens and the rightwing ideal of a country mastering its economy to become a more powerful force on the world stage have been quietly phased out. Outsourcing and tax havens suggest that there is no longer room for patriotism in economic policy – unless you’re China, of course, but it wouldn’t be much of a game with only one nation playing it.

On a technological front there was the space race, and there have even been games built around it. But in the 21st century, the urgency and the sense of competition has been lost. Rovers on Mars, probes on comets and space stations tend to be viewed in a spirit of collective human achievement, partly because of the collaborative nature of modern space exploration, and also, I suspect, because lots of people in those fields are Star Trek fans.

The idea of going to Mars so you can stand on the surface of another planet and tell the Communists to stuff it no longer appeals as much as that whole "pushing back the scientific boundaries for the benefit of all life of Earth" deal. It is laudable, but not ideal for games built around competing with other countries.

In the 21st century grand strategy game, we wouldn’t be looking to conquer the world, we wouldn’t be looking to buy it and we wouldn’t be looking to leave it in our technological wake either. So what does that leave? What would 21st-century grand strategy look like?

It could be argued that we’ve moved beyond the era of nation states as the bodies driving world affairs, and such a game might reflect that. Maybe something more akin to a Crusader Kings game would be the way to go, with the player taking the role of an individual – a connected political blueblood, perhaps, like an oligarch, a CEO, an activist turned politician, a drugs baron or a terrorist leader. Or maybe we would play not as an individual, but as an organisation, for example the CIA, ExxonMobil, Isis, Amnesty International or the Solntsevskaya Bratva.

It may be that we never see the present day immortalised in a strategy game, at least outside of that passing phase in Civilization where everything is either settled down or exploding in nuclear fire. Perhaps we’re destined to nestle into a historically obscure crack between the tumult of the 20th century and something spectacular or horrible yet to come. It is nice to think, however, that the times we live in are at least interesting and that maybe we’ll get to see it all laid out in a game one day, if only to find out what winning the 21st century would look like.

Phil Hartup is a freelance journalist with an interest in video gaming and culture