GREAT READS FOR JUNE, 2016
The Summer Before the War, by Helen Simonson
In mid-1914, School teacher Beatrice Nash arrives in
Rye, a pretty coastal Sussex town to teach Latin to the local children. She is under no illusions that they will
share the same love for the great language as she, but she means to make her
very best attempt to instil within young minds the epic poems taught to her by
her father, an internationally recognised and revered classical scholar, from
whose death she is still recovering.
Beatrice is determined to make her own way in the world,
to support herself by her own efforts, rather than to depend on her father’s
aristocratic but socially isolated (by their own rigid ideas of self-worth)
relatives – who are not so eager to see her depart their care, for the sole
reason that she may embarrass them by being ‘employed’ – which only makes
Beatrice more determined to succeed. She
also vows never to marry, to yield all the decisions of her life to a man perhaps
not smart enough to make them, especially not financially. Beatrice admires Women’s Suffrage too, which
makes her a square peg in a round hole, particularly in Rye, whose traditions
and customs have been set in stone for centuries.
Until
the Great War changes everything. In Ms
Simonson’s lovely story the social strata of Britain is revealed in all its
degrees of ugliness: Dickie Sidley
nicknamed Snout, Beatrice’s top Latin scholar (there aren’t many of them, but
he is sharply intelligent and reads Virgil for the huge enjoyment it gives him)
is denied the school Latin scholarship because his father is a Gypsy – and even
if Snout didn’t have the Romany taint he still wouldn’t be eligible because his
family is poor.
Hugh
Grange, an aspiring young doctor under the tutelage of an eminent Harley Street
surgeon (and in love – he thinks – with the Great Man’s charming daughter) is
railroaded into enlisting in the Army Medical Corps, not because lives must and
will be saved by their expertise, but just imagine the scientific glory to be
heaped upon those who can be at the forefront of new treatments for wounds
great and small! Hugh is privately
uneasy that ‘men’ are not mentioned – just wounds. The surgeon’s daughter, too, announces that
any admirer in her circle who doesn’t enlist will be presented with a White
Feather, the symbol of cowardice, by her and her equally patriotic friends.
Snout
is so crushed by the school’s decision to award the Latin scholarship to a
rugby player that he persuades his father to give him permission to enlist – a
15 year-old child, off to fight the Hun just as his favourite Trojan heroes did
thousands of years ago. His fate towards
the end of the book is horrifying and undeserved, a searing and terrible
example of inept and privileged leadership by those ill-equipped to have power
over men, at the front because they had a title, and had inherited or bought
their commissions.
Ms
Simonson has marshalled a great cast of characters, too many to name here but
all equally important for the many secrets they hide and hypocrisies they
represent. She has a lovely gift for
writing humour in every form through all the social strata, and while I warn
that this book is a real door-stopper (580 pages – yep, you’ll need strong
wrists!) it is beautifully written and completely absorbing to the last
page. FIVE STARS
Coming
Rain, by Stephen Daisley
‘Traitor’,Stephen
Daisley’s debut novel six years ago (see review below) earned him several
distinguished Australian literary awards, and ‘Coming Rain’, his second novel,
has recently gained him New Zealand’s top literary prize. And rightly so.
Set
in the Western Australia of the 1950’s, Mr Daisley paints an enormous canvas of
harsh, bright horizons, red dust and flies ( I swear I can still hear them
buzzing and feel the dust clog my nostrils), myriad wild creatures trying to
survive and mean little settlements peopled by men and women as tough and
unforgiving as the landscape. Mr
Daisley’s word pictures are breathtaking and brutal as he introduces us to his
protagonists, Painter Hayes and Lewis McCleod, itinerant shearers-cum-charcoal
burners on their way to shear sheep for Mr Drysdale, a landowner in
decline; his wife has recently died and
the land is starting to get away from him. Even though his lovely daughter Clara has
returned from that posh finishing school to help him out, he can’t seem to find
the old motivation, the old drive to farm the way he used to. He is wallowing in his grief.
Painter
and Lew are an unlikely pair: Lew has
been with Painter for ten years, since he was eleven when his mother sent him
off with a shearer’s agent after she was given a carton of Lucky Strikes; fortunately for Lew he was taught the job by
Painter, a Gun shearer – and a brawling, boxing drunk on his days off. Painter lacks a lot as a father figure, but
Lew is not complaining, for they look out for each other; they work hard and travel from job to job in an
old truck that becomes more scarred with each journey – but it still gets them
there, as reliable an old horse. He
can’t imagine a different life for himself – until he meets Clara Drysdale,
gloriously fit, charmingly pretty, a great horsewoman and dog-lover (she has a
whole pack of adoring canines) – and the boss’s daughter.
Painter
tries to warn Lew away from certain disaster, but Clara is just as smitten and
persuades her ardent admirer to ask her father for permission to ‘see’ her –
and the consequences of such a respectful and timid request are more brutal and tragic than anyone could
imagine: this reader didn’t see the figurative
sledgehammer coming, and I am still shivering with horror, but again full of
admiration for the sheer power, the absolute mastery of narrative that Mr
Daisley displays, especially in his parallel story of a female dingo who keeps
on crossing Lew’s path, both of them ultimate survivors in a brutal world.
What
an honour it was to read this book. I
wish my review could do it justice, but I don’t have Mr Daisley’s wonderful
word-power. SIX STARS
Traitor, by Stephen Daisley
This
is a novel about friendship, sure and true and everlasting, born in the carnage
of battle and strengthened by terrible subsequent adversity. There are no happy endings in ‘Traitor’ for
its theme is an exploration of what is traitorous: the betrayal of friendship or of one’s
country?
David
Monroe is a New Zealand soldier at Gallipoli;
he has already been mentioned in dispatches for his bravery at Chunuk
Bair, but his life is changed forever by his meeting in the heat of bombardment
with a Turkish Officer, a Doctor who is frantically trying to save the life of
an Australian Digger – his enemy. They
are all victims of the next explosion;
the Australian dies and David, badly wounded by shrapnel, ends up being
guard to the Turk Mahmoud, who has lost his foot and most of the fingers of one
hand. They bond with each other to the
extent that David tries to help Mahmoud to escape, with disastrous results,
especially for himself: he is now
regarded as a deserter and a traitor and undergoes terrible punishment,
especially from men he formerly regarded as friends – they have no time for
‘conchies’.
He
demonstrates his courage again and again as a stretcher bearer on the
battlefields of France and Belgium, where he has been sent after his prison
sentence, but he is never forgiven, then or after the war; people don’t care to associate with him for
consorting with the enemy, a murderer of ‘our boys at the front’.
This
is Mr. Daisley’s debut novel and it is a searing, powerful evocation of a time
when ‘King and Country’ meant everything to those at home and to those young
men who went to fight – until they encountered the dreadful theatre of war,
experiencing first-hand the great divide between patriotism and the bloody
reality of destruction. It is a story of
love in many forms, parental love – in David’s case, the lack of it – the love
of mateship, romantic love and the love of the land. Mr. Daisley has crafted a superb and poignant
story with unforgettable characters, and a wonderfully accurate portrayal of a
life and times now barely remembered in this new century. His prose is beautiful and elegiac – and
utterly compelling. SIX STARS
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