Frederick Forsyth gave us thrillers. Brian Wilson gave us harmonies

Together, they proved that popular doesn’t have to mean shallow

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As we ease into serious summer, a column about something other than politics seems in order. So let’s give an appreciative nod to two popular culture figures who passed away over the last month—the English novelist Frederick Forsyth and the American pop/rock musician Brian Wilson.

Forsyth, who died on June 9 at the age of 86, was a reporter for Reuters in Paris and East Germany before going to work for the BBC in Nigeria. And when he found himself broke and unemployed in his early 30s, he set out to write a novel with the hope of clearing his debts.

Reputedly written in a mere five weeks, The Day of the Jackal drew on his earlier journalism stint in Paris and took its inspiration from the failed 1962 assassination attempt on then-French president Charles de Gaulle. But Forsyth didn’t base his story on the details of the actual event. Instead, his imagination took over.

He conjured up an alternative scenario, wondering what might have happened if a professional assassin had been hired for the job. And he approached his research with the thoroughness of the investigative reporter he’d once been, validating the plot’s plausibility by appropriating the identity of a dead child in order to (illegally) procure a false passport.

Forsyth’s manuscript was rejected by four different U.K. publishers, none of whom could see the viability of a novel where—de Gaulle never having been assassinated—the reader knew the denouement in advance. Eventually, though, a publisher agreed to a modest 1971 print run and favourable word-of-mouth quickly built a U.K. audience. In the U.S., two laudatory pieces in The New York Times launched it to major success.

Forsyth’s successor novels were built on the same model. Take real-life situations, do the investigative work necessary to build convincing background and then spin a compelling yarn. While some called his prose “graceless,” his huge strength was in his plotting. With his detailed research and vivid imagination, he could create a gripping narrative. My late father wasn’t much into thrillers, but he found The Day of the Jackal a terrific read.

Although Forsyth kept writing well into the 21st century, his peak popularity was in the 1970s. In addition to the Jackal, titles like The Odessa File and The Dogs of War were hugely popular, so much so that they were also adapted into popular movies.

Whatever the critics thought, Frederick Forsyth was indeed a master storyteller.

Brian Wilson died on June 11, just nine days short of his 83rd birthday. Born in California, he was a founding member of the Beach Boys and also their main creative force, writing or co-writing most of their hits and producing their records.

The band’s 1962-63 material revolved around images of surf boards, ocean waves and sandy beaches, such as Surfin’ Safari and Surfin’ USA. It was catchy, rhythmic and just plain fun. Harmonies were also important, more so than in typical pop records of the time.

When the Beatles took North America by storm in 1964, Wilson felt the need to up his game, part of which involved becoming more adventurous. Harmonies became more complex, vocals became intricately layered and the role of the studio shifted. Rather than just being a place to record, it became another instrument. In effect, Wilson was creating sounds that didn’t lend themselves to being fully replicated on the concert stage.

Various musical influences were brought to bear: George Gershwin, the Four Freshmen, Burt Bacharach and, most importantly, a desire to emulate the sonic effects of rock producer Phil Spector’s famous Wall of Sound. It all came together with 1966’s Pet Sounds, reputedly one of the most expensive pop albums up to that point in time. Continuous studio experimenting and refining burned through serious money.

The album initially got a lukewarm commercial reception, underperforming many of the band’s earlier releases. However, it ultimately became regarded as one of those things that elevated pop/rock to an art form. The music was becoming intellectualized. Simplicity was out and complexity was in. Introspection trumped fun. And rather than just being a talented guy who made successful records, Wilson was an auteur.

But he was also a deeply troubled man, prone to mental illness accentuated by prolific drug use. Consequently, he was generally absent from the band’s tours after 1964.

The Beach Boys’ popularity faded in the second half of the 1960s, only to be revived in 1974 with Endless Summer, a compilation of the most popular material from their early years. And it wasn’t the intellectual, introspective stuff that drew huge crowds again, but rather the simpler tributes to the glories of surf, cars and girls. As one song put it, “And she’ll have fun, fun, fun ’til her daddy takes the T-bird away.”

In their own distinct ways, Forsyth and Wilson understood the power of craft and story—one with words, the other with sound. Both made their mark by showing that serious artistry and popular appeal aren’t mutually exclusive.

Troy Media columnist Pat Murphy casts a history buff’s eye at the goings-on in our world. Never cynical – well, perhaps a little bit.