The Shepherd’s Hut, by Tim Winton

The Shepherd’s Hut, by Tim Winton

5 September 2019, The Hop Pole: book choice AA, apols MT.

I chose this book because I am fond of the Australian outback and really enjoyed Cloudstreet and Dirt Music by Tim Winton. I think he writes beautifully about Australia with evocative prose which brings land and people to life - like his compatriot and Nobel Laureate Patrick White - but in a more lively and contemporary way.

He starts his books with a place – in this case the salt flats of Western Australia (WA) – and here gives us a tale of survival and self-discovery, trust and faith, penance and salvation, masculinity and the possibility of redemption.

Most of the group found it compelling stuff from the start with a great sense of place and suspense all the way through. 

RV wanted to keep reading, thought the characterisation was excellent, Jaxie’s voice authentic, Winton’s language wonderful, and that the book was full of interesting ideas and descriptions. He found Winton reminiscent of Cormac McCarthy in the way they capture place and people:

Just before a summer storm one time when the Cap was away shooting horses and sawing them up into prime Angus beef. The sky was black and the paddocks the colour of bread. 

However, the end was far too quick and disappointing. Overall, a little thin despite all the positives, and didn’t seem to live up to the high praise in the long list of review quotes at the end of the book.

WM, who grew up in rural NSW, found the prose evocative and Jaxie’s language perfectly apposite, enjoying the “whole immediacy of the book”. He found Jaxie’s character believable and the descriptions of the bush good. He wondered if commitment issues might explain Jaxie’s delay in ending Fintan’s torture and noted that Lee was probably also unstable in view of her behaviour including her shaved head. Overall, great, a striking book, really enjoyed it.

CW, who has an Australian brother and lived there for a year, including months camping crossing the Nullarbor Plain, enjoyed the vocabulary and thought the characters were fantastic – spot on, their voices real and natural and enjoyed the contrast between them. He found Jaxie clever with intuitive ideas and excellent survival skills – ironically something he had learnt from Captain Wankbag. He really enjoyed the tension and suspense throughout and also commented on how Jaxie was right to be so scared of the drugs culture. However, he felt disappointed as the book ended too quickly and would like to have seen Jaxie getting out with the priest so they could have survived together allowing the opportunity for confession. He thought the signposts towards the end of the book eg: “If I’d known now…” broke the suspense, but absolutely loved the characters and the atmosphere of the outback.

SC came to the book unaware of the author or the setting and with the title conjuring up for him the type of expensive garden office installed by David Cameron for writing his memoirs. Not until page ten was he in Australia and although he found the language a distraction at the start and thought it could have been a bit more nuanced, he then got thoroughly immersed in it and totally drawn into the plot. He had huge empathy for Jaxie and wondered if Fintan was more myth than character – a cypher for Jaxie. He thought the scene with the two of them sitting on the salt flat discussing the stones and the moon was fantastic, but lost interest after the sudden plot change with the drugs gang. The magic of the middle of the story was undermined by the need to wrap it up. Overall, thoroughly enjoyed it.

CB, arriving promptly from Manchester despite British Rail, smartly besuited and with suitcase, found it a satisfying read with fantastic energy, excitement and tension. He loved the way Jaxie’s character emerged through his vernacular language, and how his relationship with Fintan emerged subtly and sensitively despite the brutality of their outback environment. However, he felt cheated not knowing why Fintan had been exiled, and that the torture scene didn’t work other than as a plot vehicle. Overall, like a fine meal, the book was enjoyable at the time but didn’t stay with him. There was nothing important about it. Enjoyable but not enduring. 

MW, suitcase-free, but just off the plane from Glasgow, found it a compelling and enjoyable read and, like RV, disagreed with the reviews at the end of the book which called it a masterpiece. It gave him the flavour of the old road movies with not much plot – all about the experiences of the characters on the road. Like those characters whose backgrounds are hazy or absent, we don’t get to know Fintan’s crime. The relationship between Jaxie and Fintan was the dominant theme, and he found this original and enjoyed it. He didn’t like the intrusion of the real world when the gangsters turned up with their mull farm and torture. He didn’t find Jaxie particularly likeable or engaging and the style took a bit of getting used to, but the relationship between the two actually was interesting and well observed and developed. The priest’s big secret, hinted at rather than disclosed, formed a large part of the relationship, with Jaxie’s subtle character development the other main theme. Overall, enjoyable – good but not great. 

JH, bang on time despite having submitted himself to the vagaries of Britain’s mass transit system from the smoke of Shoreditch, and who had lived for three years in Australia, started by saying that this was not the Australia he knew. The only member of the group to have read some Winton before, he enjoyed Breathbut absolutely hated Cloudstreet, and this book didn’t start well for him. After twenty pages he though ‘sod it’ and only tried again after seeing SC’s email calling it a ‘right, rollicking read’. He then picked it up again and read it in one go, finding it hard to put down and really enjoying it. Some lovely use of language and imagery. He wondered who the book was about – was it a parable about Fintan with Jaxie as the centurion while Fintan was dying on his cross. Was the story about Fintan, who he found the more interesting character, rather than about Jaxie?

MT, heading southwest with his bicycle courtesy of Great Western Railway, emailed from his carriage to say he had initially hated the book passionately.  He didn’t like the bad language, the un-PC comments eg. ‘spastic’, the writing style and all the words he had no idea of e.g. roo, euro etc. He didn’t like the abrupt change of time, and after 20 pages found it agony but slowly kept going. He even started to enjoy it slightly and found bits actually enjoyable. He liked Jaxie’s growing relationship with his cousin Lee and the sadness about the last bits of that. The violent father reminded him of past violent fathers.  The wild camping perked up when he met the priest and he enjoyed that. The discussion about God was good as well. The tension at the end was well done as well. In the end, not a bad book and the strange words made sense in the end.

AA had wanted to introduce those who hadn’t read Winton before to his beautiful prose, but this story is narrated by Jaxie rather than Winton. However, I thought the narration by Jaxie worked well – and I enjoyed his often humorous phrasing and way of seeing things, and his raw style seemed to fit with the brutality of the landscape and life in the desert. And I liked the directness of Jaxie’s young voice – hearing exactly what he is thinking:

I tried to get me thoughts straight while I went. But there was too many of them. Then for a long time, hours it was, I had no thoughts at all. And when they come back it was like fuzzy radio.

And although we couldn’t have Winton as the narrator his style was still evident and there were bits of more lyrical prose and not just when Fintan was speaking:

The heat and salt and flies. A place so empty a fella’s thoughts come back from it as echoes.

I was so tired the swag felt like a sponge that soaked me up. I went to sleep like someone disappearing from the earth, like rain sopped into dust

I enjoyed the dialogue with its contrast of Jaxie’s teenage street slang with his aggressive jerky delivery, and the much older priest with his more formal language with its Irish and priestly tones:

I am in earnest, boy. Get fucked, I said still laughing.

I thought the two main characters and their relationship were fascinating.  Jaxie always on the alert, full of bravado, wanting to show how tough he is to scare people off, and tough, resourceful, and resilient with great intuition. And also impetuous - really still a child just wanting to be understood – and to be safe. I think Winton develops him really well as he learns to replace the suspicion and hostility which have protected him with trust, and to recognise and accept kindness. And he tells us about Lee, perhaps his only point of reference and a Quixotic quest, given that they are cousins and the size of the body count. And Fintan with his constant chatter, and his need to confess constantly thwarted in his dreams just as he is able to start.

Overall, the characters and place stayed with me, but not on a level with Cloudstreet or Dirt Music, as like CB, I didn’t find it an important book.

Many of us thought the creation of the priest and his hut worked well and the group was split on whether or not it would have been better to learn exactly how he had transgressed. And most were surprised by the intrusion of the outside world with the discovery of the mull factory and concerned by Jaxie’s delay in intervening to save Fintan. Like MT, RV and CB thought the discussions about religion worked well:

But I suspect that God is what you do, not what or who you believe in. Well. Whatever.

Scores: RV 7.25, WM 8.3, CW 7.5, SC 5.5, CB 6.5, MW 7.3, JH 7.3, MT 6, AA 7.5

English Journey, by J. B. Priestley

The Pulteney Arms, August 8th 2019. Apologies from MW, JH, CW.

I (Steve) chose this book because I'm confused and puzzled by this country’s decision-making in the last few years. I wanted to read and discuss a book that provided a context against which to make more sense of where this country seems to be headed in 2019.

This report is longer than I usually like to post, but people had a lot to say! We'd recommend this book to anyone interested in the history and the future of England.

Priestley was not well-known to many members, though some knew his plays. The book is an account of a journey Priestley takes around England in 1933 – to a fairly random selection of locations which seem partly to be chosen on the basis that he’s put a play on there, some family connection, or friends have recommend contacts.

To me, the book was full of observations that reverberated, either in the way they underlined a massive contrast with our lives today, or echoed things that are still prevalent. In the first few pages he meets a travelling salesman who talks of:

“I was in the wireless trade one time, about six years ago, in Birmingham. But mind you, wireless then and wireless now–oh!” and he gave a short laugh– “different thing altogether. Look at the developments. Look at the way prices have come down and quality’s gone up.” Precisely how we talk of consumer technology today.

Priestley writes in quite a modern idiom – personally, conversationally and often  humorously (such as his beautifully-written description of his hero fantasy, which we all succumb to from time to time but few would care to admit to, least of all in print), which makes him very readable. He carries you with him even when you are perhaps a bit stunned by what seems to us to be shocking political incorrectness. His splendidly grumpy comments about hotels are mixed in with what now appear to be unguarded and downright offensive observations and generalisations about regional types and in particular the Liverpool Irish. And how dismissive his comments seem today, about women and their (in his eyes) predilection for boring unchallenging work, not to mention their physical appearance. One hopes this says more about the times than the man.

His humanity, his recollections from the not very distant past of his wartime service and experiences, made one realise that this man had seen some things. His socialist colours take a while to fully unfurl and only do so as he travels North to the areas most fully hit by the post-war depression. His passions seem to rise as he sees more, but he manages to remain for the most part informative, entertaining and engaging. Shotton Colliery does for him though.

These industries are now more or less gone, yet the tribulations affecting the populations of these often quite short-lived communities mirror the problems facing many today – no work, little support, and not enough entertainment. How astonished he would be by the internet though, and perhaps amazed that the creative arts have survived as well as they have, given the changes in society, industry and commerce.

Andrew enjoyed the way Priestley ate, drank and smoked his way round the country – just as austerity was approaching: a Socialist commentator being chauffeured around in a big Daimler. There was passionate detail in there: the Liverpool prostitutes and their mixed -race children; the boy tobogganing down the slag heap. Something of a ‘no filter’ splurge of opinion, and the old-fashioned views which were often based on ‘traditional’ assumptions rather than hard evidence (eg ‘travelling salesmen are generally good fellows’) meant he could sound patronising and condescending.

Priestley was very interesting on Bournville village, initially very in favour, but he wasn’t afraid to show his own opinions changing when describing how Australia had responded when the model was attempted over there: rather than spend all that money on facilities that keep us ‘on the premises’, why not give us the money and let us decide how to spend it?

Andrew noted that Priestley spoke to very few women, and that the end of the book, as his homeward journey is thwarted by a pea-souper, perhaps presages environmental chaos to come.

Willm was struck by the feeling that Priestley was describing this in order to get something done about it – but what could he do? Does the responsibility lie with the rest of us, and if so, how do we make something happen? Somewhat stereotypical views for the 1930s – it’s grim up north. In places rather boring, and though leavened by a cunning use of phrase, each town seemed to get worse than the last. Orwell’s Road to Wigan Pier was mentioned in comparison – perhaps a more focused job as a socialist manifesto.

Chris B enjoyed the book but found it a bit wordy, with a slightly hectoring tone. His views on women, the blues and the Irish were negative and the worse for it. But the descriptions of the effect of industrialisation, and the way the working class continued to be the fodder to provide wealth for others were powerful.

Chris particularly enjoyed the description of working in the theatre – what motivated people then seems very close to what encourages them nowadays: it can’t be the money… The club was new to the concept of civic theatres. The football descriptions could have been written today: it’s like a weekly drug. No mention other than references to ‘Mr Hitler’ of the coming war (still 5 or 6 years away of course).

A strong sense of conflict between the improvements in working conditions and the invention of ‘diggers that can do the work of 800 men’ – absorbed and concerned by the prospect of change.

Despite the fact that Mark T generally doesn’t like non-fiction he got stuck in and found himself enjoying the book. He felt compassionate about some of the passages described, although it often made him feel like a soft Southerner. He commented on the fact that for Priestley Bristol was a prosperous and successful city – whereas in the 1970s it was a huge wasteland. The passages on the Cotswolds are easily forgotten as the author gets into his stride northwards, but they were full of relevance and interest. The description of Coventry before WW2 were affecting. And there was a lot in the book about ‘mating’ – how it was gone about through the rituals of the time, and there were resonant words about the desolation of Sundays. Possibly rather rushed final chapter – as though he just wanted to get through the fog and put his feet up by the fire.

Richard found a lot to like in the book: the style, the detailed observation of individuals, a woman who looked as though she was ‘busy hating somebody’, the way he used small but meaningful details to differentiate characters. In writing about the Cotswolds he made on ask ‘why have they remained so unchanged’? Because of the influx on moneyed outsiders, who Priestley already identified as being the reason for their preservation.

Priestley wrote of a society in which class was slowly being eradicated: the advent of the classless society. The book was illuminated by passionate descriptions of simple features of life: local papers; the way a waiter talks to ‘sir’ about his steak in a completely different way to the way they would talk about any other foodstuff.

Priestley shows the effects of war still resonating, as he sees the army still deployed around the countryside. His reunion evening was very descriptive and underlined how relatively little time had passed since the Armistice. ‘All the good people had been killed’ and thus he had taken up his career in their absence. The way he wrote about the Quaker movement, valuing their contribution and yet questioning was it too interventionist? Richard also raised the point that Priestley makes about world religions: why our god? Why do middle eastern religions work and inspire people to follow without question?

Mark W went through ‘a bit of a journey’ with the book and particularly with JB himself.

To start with he found him rather tiresome, patronising and a bit of a prig. It took him a while to get used to this view of the comfortably off successful author and playwright doing a tour of the great unwashed.

This attitude continued through Birmingham and the Black Country but by the Leicester chapter Mark was starting to warm to him. It was a particular description of the hunting, shooting and fishing class: ‘Men and women whose whole lives are organised in order that they may ride in pursuit of stray foxes two or three days a week, who risk their necks for a vermin’s brush, who will deny themselves this and that to spend money on packs of hounds, who spare no pains to turn themselves into twelfth century oafs, are past my comprehension’. He forgave JB his patronising comments as the main theme of the book settled into his outrage and anger at the treatment of the (Northern) working classes during the depression years, following the failure of the Victorian expansion.

For John, Priestley’s English Journey is very much a book of its time – as a commentator on England and the English he holds that space between Dickens and Bryson. Initially put off by his rather wordy and somewhat pompous style, he warmed to him and the rhythm of his style.

Among the pleasures of the book were his narrative observations such as the description of the Black Country as a “smouldering carpet” and “immense hollow of smoke”… his descriptions of a world much changed by wars including Bristol and Coventry… his pithier comments – for example that Bradford “was a city entirely without charm”… his bouts of anger at the injustice and inequality of the society of the 30’s.  He particularly liked JB’s comments about kids throwing stones on the roof of a warehouse in the Black Country and that “who could blame them” and enjoyed his little rant about the wretchedness of Sunday evenings in the big industrial cities

At the same time JB was full of self-awareness, including the impact of his own status and personality. His reminder of how awful English hotels and food were made one give quiet thanks for Premier Inns

And for Chris W, he read part of it while travelling around Yorkshire. It really makes you glad to be alive now and not then, and also to be a southerner and not northerner (though his parents were born in Liverpool and Leeds). This book has so many good features: Priestley‘s prose is very easy to read and the subjects that he’s chosen on his journey are fascinating. His description of the poverty of the many northern cities is heart rending , particularly  the scenes he describes when leaving the Adelphi hotel in Liverpool and being conducted around an old seamans’ hostel and the decaying Regency terraces filled with prostitutes.

Like a number of members Chris said that he’d made a great number of notes while reading this book – more than usual. It seems to have proved to be very effective as a touchstone to the past. Perhaps these were innocent days in comparison with 2019, but clearly they were not necessarily better. And yet – arguably the issues are just the same: the rich getting richer at the expense of the poor – it’s just a global phenomenon rather than a national one nowadays. The far right rear their heads at regular intervals (much like Hitler in 1933) and while some member of the club are confident that we have learned enough to be able to manage our destinies in a more peaceful and less confrontational way in the future, others feel strongly that the evidence so far simply doesn’t support this.