The secret diaries that underpin the book

Recently I published a list of the 10 questions I commonly get asked about Poolhall Jail Library.

However, one aspect which readers have focused on since then has been the detail involved in the book.

How do I remember so many precise details about conversations and places?

How could I recreate my mother’s memories so starkly?

Did I invent some things to create a convincing setting in the mind of readers?

The answer to this is the combination of a few things.

Firstly, my mother kept a diary of almost every day of her life since I was born.

It’s an antiquated practice which you don’t find nearly as common these days as it was for my mother’s generation.

As is revealed partway through Poolhall Jail Library, she also had a pen pal from childhood through to becoming a grandmother, and there were boxes and boxes of letters she exchanged over numerous decades.

I was aware of the existence of her diaries and letters from a very young age – and you’d be correct to assume that a mischievous, inquisitive Loxton probably pried at these in infancy and adolescence.

I also skimmed through the diaries in the week after her death.

But the truth is that I now find the diary details so raw, confronting and angering that I will probably never read them again in full.

I didn’t want to rely solely on the rather robotic diaries to create Poolhall Jail Library, because I had so many shared memories of the challenging times with my mother seared into my own mind.

That said, I always had the content of the diaries to validate my recollections.

My real-life sister, the character ‘Kim’ in the book, is now the keeper of these diaries and is the most recent person to have read through them in full.

When she perused the manuscript for Poolhall Jail Library and correlated it with what is in Mum’s diaries, they matched perfectly in most places.

‘Kim’ was also present for the vast majority of climactic points referenced in the book, and her own memories back up what is written.

There was one chapter – and you’ll know the chapter when you get to it – that involves a lot of rapid-fire revelations about our family history in a heated showdown.

My sister and I remembered almost word-for-word, action-by-action the same circumstance.

It was like that for most of the defining scenes in the book.

Ever since I was little, I’ve been told I have a strangely photographic memory.

I can remember most things that took place from the age of two. I’m good with names, places, maps and sequences.

Whenever I’m out with friends and we get nostalgic (ie drunk), the phrase “How on Earth do you remember that?” is sure to get used once or twice.

For my main profession, sports journalism, it’s been a blessing.

There are scores, events and interwoven relationships that most people wouldn’t care to remember that stick in my mind for whatever reason.

I may have been born a ginger-headed scruff with the social skills of a turnip, but a memory for the minutiae seems to be my secret power.

During my first overseas backpacking trip, I also kept a brief journal for six of the 12 weeks I was abroad.

Poolhall Jail Library definitely draws upon this for names of streets, meeting places and menu items, but again, for the main part I sourced the contents predominantly from memory.

I stopped updating the journal partway through the trip because I began enjoying myself too much.

Late nights, hangovers, adventures and romances are not conducive for dedicating time towards dwelling on the past.

I began to live more and more in the present as the trip wore on.

Readers will probably be able to identify a point in the book where it diverges from almost representing a travelogue to a recount where sensory recollections take precedence.

And within this is the crux of the story.

Poolhall Jail Library is available in paperback and digital formats by clicking on this link.