The Shadow King by Maaza Mengiste

 

The Shadow King by Maaza Mengiste

Introducing the book Mark W noted that this was another book set within a historical event with a mixture of real and fictional characters. Past experience is that this can work well (e.g. Apeirogon) or can be a disaster (The Sunrise). This book deals with the Italian invasion of Ethiopia in 1935, an event which has a relatively low profile in the UK, very much overshadowed by the Second World War. It’s not until one reads about such wars, (one sided as they tend to be), from the point of view of the nation that has been invaded, that one realises how catastrophic they can be, particularly as those on the losing side tend to be  ‘less developed’ from the military and economic point of view if not from the social and intellectual point of view.

The book itself is a great mix of an interesting narrative, a number of strong characters and an original lyrical style which is one that Mark felt would be either loved or hated. The two main characters of Hirut and Ettore in particular were beautifully developed but the supporting cast as well, in particular Aster, Kidane, Fucelli and the cook, (always known as cook), were also memorable.

Mark identified three scenes in particular that were particularly memorable, all horrific: firstly the scene near the beginning where there is a graphic description of Aster whipping Hirut after she found that she had stolen some items from the house. Secondly the scene where the Italian planes dropped poison gas on the retreating Ethiopian fighters and thirdly the final part of the book set against the construction of the ‘prison’ which consisted of a small building and a cliff between two large rocks where prisoners were thrown to their deaths, being photographed by Ettore during their descent. The scenes where Aster and Hirut were held and abused in the prison were full of tension although we know that Hirut, at least, must have survived.

Finally, the Epilogue, which Mark felt to be a well-crafted bringing together  of Hirut and Ettore, continuing the Prologue, and bringing Haile Selasse into the mix at the Station. It was interesting to go back to the Prologue having read the book, just to get a different perspective having got to know the characters.

There was even a bit of local colour, in that Haile Selasse fled to the UK and was domiciled in Fairfield House in Bath for a number of years. Worth going to see the house which is tucked around the back of Kelston Rd!

Willm struggled to get into the book at the beginning. He thought it was going to be a ‘fall in love with your enemy’ story but maybe it was from Ettore’s side.  However, as the plot moved on to preparations for, and engagement in, the war, he found it very interesting and something of a page-turner. There were some beautiful descriptions, though somewhat overblown and florid, in places, and some good characters. The idea of shadows - the light and dark - displayed within the characters and exemplified by the photos was quite clever. As was the mythic quality of the king - be this symbolic figure ‘real’ or ‘fake’, and the illustration that under the robes and the pomp is a rather small creature - like the Wizard of Oz. He was surprised by the ending but overall found the book to be very well written.

Chris W opened by providing us with some background To Fairfield House. Apparently it reopened in 2015 after 15 years of closure. Regarding the book itself, he wasn’t sure if he enjoyed it. He felt it was too long and found he had to re-read paragraphs several times because of the over cinematic style. Some of the descriptions were to florid (second use of the term (Mark W comment)). He found the educational and historical side of the book interesting, particularly regarding Mussolini wanting to create an Empire. He was aware that the Italians had used all sorts of illegal methods against the Ethiopians. He found the characters to be very well explained but rather over-exaggerated. He got a bit fed up with the continuous repetition of all Haile Selassie’s names. It was interesting that the photographer was Jewish. Overall he that the book was ok but far from excellent.

Steve was a bit conflicted by this book. Overall he thought it was good and enjoyed reading it. Some bits were brilliant, particularly some of the descriptions of combat. It was a very person based description and very powerful in places. Although he was gripped by some sections but he was also frustrated. Some of the bits of prose were over written. He found himself frequently stalled by some of the passages, and was a bit confused by some of the characters. Although it was slow going, he still enjoyed it. Like Chris W, he found some of the historical aspects interesting. He did add that he hadn’t finished it and would let us know whether he had any changes of view!

Later, on finishing it, he added: it’s a good book, covering a (to Steve) little-known aspect of 20th Century history. The part played by women in the Ethiopian struggle was fascinating, shocking and deserves wider recognition. However there were aspects of the writing that grated. The permanent present tense is always tricky, and here, where the timeframe jumps around a bit (not much but a bit), it added a strange sense of aimlessness. Some of the text had a style of of almost biblical portentousness that inflated the sense if its own importance. It’s good but not great.

Mark T was unable to get into the book and gave up at around page 100. He was disappointed that he didn’t get into the flow at all.The one bit that kindled his interest was the wedding scene. Overall disappointed.

Chris B thought it was an incredibly powerful book, beautifully and originally written about the power of women and the violence of both war and men. He loved the language, poetic and full of new juxtapositions of words and phrases, full of colour and action as well as reflection and personality. It conjured up the place, the individuals, the action and the deep conflicting feelings of the protagonists. It brought to life the way of life, the politics and the course of history.

He liked the structure with interludes getting inside the head of the emperor, the chorus commenting poetically on what was happening to individual characters, the photos and their meaning. He found the story to be full of real characters doing real things, living real and harsh lives, especially for women and for the poor within a culture that embraced terrible violence to women, making it impossible for men to be soft and yet also creating huge pride in its people, its institutions and its customs and set piece events.

 

It appeared to be meticulous in its telling of history, the Italian invasion of Ethiopia in 1935, a generation on from the last time when they were defeated. This was something he was barely aware of. It captured well the distended connection between Il Duce’s high command and the local action of their army under individual commanders. It highlighted the long reach of the fascist machine for the elimination of Jewish people, including those fighting in the army.

 

The characters were very full and complex, Hirut, Kidane, Aster, Carlo, Ettore, alongside the important but smaller roles. Ibrahim, the cook, Ferres/Fife, Haile Salassie. There was a very strong focus on family relationships, especially fathers with daughters and sons with the long arm of childhood experience affecting the characters along with the betrayals of children by parents.

 

It was full of action which made it exciting and tense, including the terrible arguments and hostility between characters e.g. Aster and Hirut, egged on by pride, class and jealousy. The scenes leading into and during battles were at once exhilarating and frightening. The scenes of cruelty towards prisoners and even to people on one’s own side were told realistically and full of horror and yet with beauty in the descriptive language e.g. the flights of people thrown off the rock.

 

He liked the careful, restrained and recurring use of cultural references e.g. Aida, Ethiopian folk songs recalling heroism.

 

The book left him with two questions: firstly, was there too much violence, especially the violence towards women and people considered inferior? It did not feel unreal or excessive for the sake of it. It seemed to reflect what actually happened in families, between people and in war. Secondly, was it all bad, leaving people scarred, angry and bitter? There was some kind of redemption in the final pages as Hirut was able to leave her rage and disrespect of Ettore behind. It seemed that Aster and Hirut became friends and neighbours. Even Haile Salassie found a modicum of peace in Hirut’s protection. Even Carlo showed humanity to Ettore and his men before he was killed.

Richard, on the other hand, didn’t enjoy the book, finding it hard going. He thought that the history was very interesting, as was the colonial material, the longer history of Ethiopia, and the contrasting cultures between Italy and Ethiopia. But, he also found the writing style not at all to his liking, the characters not very interesting and the overall effect of the book being like seeing things through a fog. He thought it was very long-winded, with weak, scared characters, most things seeming to be  very unsubstantial. One sentence was “Since the photographs were taken weeks ago, a thick fog surrounds her every thought” - and that was his feeling all through the book. He thought  both Hirut and Aster seemed weak, scared, damaged, ignorant – was Ethiopia really so awful? The writer seemed to hold Ethiopia in great contempt, full of ignorant and insubstantial people! Hirut was described: “She is a feeble light slanting into the room through a crack in the wall”. And in fact, Hirut did not appear to inhabit this story. She seemed almost throughout to be just a passive onlooker.

This seemed to be the same with all the characters, especially the Emperor! “Time has collapsed and there is only this: an invasion. Haile Selassie reads the telegram again and stares into the stunned face of his adviser. He doesn’t want to ask, How? He cannot bring himself to say, Like this?” So Haile Selassie is the same as Hirut – a paralysed observer. And later: “Emperor Haile Selassie sits rooted in place, afraid to move, afraid” - Again!? And yet later: “Haile Selassie sets the bag on the floor then walks out of his bedroom into the hallway and down the stairs, uncertain of where he is going.” He always IS uncertain, in this version of him.

And then people have all sorts of ill-described emotions: arrogance, and especially anger, where both the cause of the anger, and what they might do about that anger, are badly explained. “she has inherited the arrogance of those born into noble households and it is a fire that burns inside of her, illuminating every feature. It is something the poor are not born with: that way of gliding into large homes and expansive fields as if the ground begged for their footsteps.” (In the UK this is something that education at private schools confers!!) “What are you? Kidane asks. What have you done? Beneath his anguish, beneath the defeat and fatigue, glows a bright and curdling rage.” What is this even about? Why would he be so angry?

About half-way through the book, Hirut shows a few signs of being a more interesting figure. She says “the dead are stronger. That they know no physical boundaries. They reside in the corners of every memory and rise up, again and again, to resist all our efforts to leave them behind and let them rest.” This is an interesting thought, but not a thought that the person so far described in this book would have had!

Richard did admit that it was not all bad - there were a few interesting themes, but he felt that they were all badly developed. One was ‘How difficult it is for women to be taken seriously’. “You’ll follow behind us and tend to the wounded. Pack bandages and medicines, he says. Tell your women this is their way to fight.”

Another was how women seem to get blamed (often by other women) for men’s bad behaviour: “I’ll kill him, Hirut says softly. Though her voice is steady, the words deflate her. She is speaking against a current. The problem is you think you’re the only one, Aster says quietly. You don’t know how common you are. Then she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. If you do anything to hurt my husband, I will kill you myself.” - It is always the woman’s fault.

And there were a few short passages where he thought the writing was good, scattered throughout the book – examples are:

· “a fist of sunlight” which I thought caught the heat in such hot countries;

· “the familiar scars of village life: the poorly grafted broken bone, the cratered marks of childhood disease, the raised knot of an old burn” again good and capturing the reality of life in such physically impoverished countries.

· “Hirut cannot see past the shifting paleness of his skin to really look at him” which catches the difficulty of different races really seeing each other-

· “Every day, he will grow back into himself until he can be who he is: a man who was once everything to everyone, then was reborn again to be nothing” which was I thought a rather lyrical description of Minim’s movement back to being who he once was.

· “A drop of sun zigzags through the valley to skid along the grass.” The occasional felicitous phrasing.

John interestingly had spent some time in Ethiopia and made the point that this was a very Ethiopian book, and she captured the sense and style very well. The fogginess and lyricism, that some of the book club had difficulty with, was very indicative of their writing style.

The message of the book was that war is deeply unpleasant (s**t), particularly these small colonial wars, of which there are a whole raft of overlooked ones such as the British in Aden. In the end Nationalism overrides Feudalism. At the time of the invasion, the country was run by a pretty nasty top-heavy regime but this was almost forgotten by most of the people when asked to defend their country. As always, however, there were exceptions. In fact the book also touches on the early stages of the overthrow of Haile Selasse in 1974 and his eventual replacement with Mengistu Haile Mariam in 1977 (Good illustration of ‘Be careful what you wish for’ (Mark W comment).

John felt that the book did capture the role of women and captured relationships, particularly the tensions where people are thrown together, very well. For John, the stand out character was Ettore, who was portrayed very sympathetically. It illustrated the great importance of war photographers . Although he recognised some of the flaws in the book he felt that overall, it captured the themes very well.

Andrew, on the other hand, wasn’t sure. It was interesting to read a book about women soldiers usually written out of history, and about female power. Every character was damaged or had suffered trauma, but seemingly these made the women stronger and better leaders, while the men descended into shows of power which diminished them.

He read that the author spent 9 years writing this book and nearly gave up after 4 years when the novel was strictly historical and dull. She then delved into mythology, and rewrote it completely, finding out at some stage that her great-grandmother had taken her father’s gun and gone to war herself.

He liked its themes of shadows and light, echoes and memories, and belonging – to ancestors and land. There was physical and psychological violence everywhere, both from the invaders and the feudal system, particularly towards women and the poor.

The rather ethereal start wasn’t a strong hook for Andrew but immediately after that, the glorious writing made him want to get to know Hirut in a hurry. There were numerous tremendous descriptions – battle scenes, Seifu attacking Fucelli, whippings, and wedding nights – and some beautiful writing:

“They have crept behind dozing guards and sleepy administrators and left nothing but slumped figures. They are everywhere and nowhere, men and women of a shadow world where a different king rules.”

“Hirut, he repeats. It is a name and a call for forgiveness, a sound falling at his feet to clear a path for him to walk.”

“The two of them stare into each other’s faces, gazing into what the years have done”.

However, he felt that quite a few other passages were a bit florid, (again, Mark W comment),and overwritten. He also didn’t like all the colons at the start of sentences and found these distracted from the beautiful prose – they’d have been less obtrusive had the prose been ordinary. They disrupted the flow - and worked against the atmosphere and magic that the words by themselves were creating.

Andrew really enjoyed the story and thought the plot was strong, with Hirut as a prisoner of Fucelli and the cook plus Fifi, sister of Seigu, in the centre. Also, Ettore being Jewish made him vulnerable despite being one of the invaders. Hirut and Aster ending up as neighbours happily ever after seemed a bit weak, and the ending at the train station meant the story lost some intensity, but he wasn’t sure how Mengiste could have ended it better, and it did link nicely with the start. It also seemed odd how Ettore was able to remain in Addis. However,  he found Hirut’s journey compelling, the cook too, and Fifi’s intrigue, and the internal dialogue of Fucelli, Ettore and Kidane was excellent.

He liked the way Minim went from Nothing to Emperor, and it seemed the author wanted to the reader to see Haile Selassie as a similar construct, going from Emperor to Nothing. Perhaps the shadow king of the title is in fact the absent Haile Selassie.

Overall, he felt it to be a great story, beautifully written with some compelling characters – and some detracting colons.

Two favourite quotes to end with:

“what do girls like her know about resistance, what do girls like her know but how to live and obey and keep quiet until it is time to die?”

“She is Hirut, daughter of Fasil and Getey, feared guard of the Shadow King and she is no longer afraid of what men can do to women like her”.

Mark W Post Discussion Summary: overall, a book that resulted in a very interesting discussion, particularly as there were so many different views. The main difference seemed to be the reaction to the writing style of the book; many found the style to be over florid, whereas others really enjoyed the style. Most felt that the subject matter was interesting, but there were differing views on how the book dealt with the treatment of women and how the characters developed through the book.

One other interesting fact was that three of the Book Club members actually read some of the book while in holiday in Sicily at the same time!

Scores: Mark W: 9.0, Willm: 7.25, Chris W: 6.0, Steve 7.0, Chris B: 8.5, Mark T: 3.0, Richard: 4.5, John: 6.75, Andrew: 7.0

A Pilgrimage to Eternity by Tim Egan

 A Pilgrimage to Eternity  by Tim Egan

Discussion venue: Chris's garden in Wellow, suitably socially distanced. 6th August 2020. A lovely evening.

Although this book scored no more than average results from the bookclub all agreed that the subsequent debate about Faith and Religion was one of the most wide ranging and interesting for several months.

Timothy Egan is an American journalist, a lapsed Catholic with Irish family,educated by Jesuits who sets out on the Via Francigena seeking faith and spiritualism in his life.
He plans to “Find God in Europe before God is gone” however, most of the 40,000 pilgrims who walk the route each year are simply,according to the body which maintains the VF “seeking space to learn how to waste time“. Early on he tells that his sister-in-law is dying of cancer and also that his brother suffered badly In his childhood having been molested by a local priest. He sets out on the twelve hundred mile journey from Canterbury to Rome writing about the history of Christianity up to the present day. He finds that in this cradle of Christianity religion is almost dead which he finds unsurprising since  “God seems to ignore suffering whilst presiding over the slaughter of countless millions in the Wars of Religion , the slave trade, the great war, Stalins mass executions and genocides in Germany, Uganda and Cambodia.

Whilst walking, driving and taking buses and trains he is accompanied by his son, daughter and wife on stretches of the route with whom he discusses their beliefs or lack of them whilst at the same time offering up prayers for a miracle to help his dying sister-in-law.

He is also joined by a long line of the most important figures in Christian history, Saints Augustine and Jerome, Joan of Arc, Martin Luther, Calvin, Henry VIII and current personalities - the Archbishop of Canterbury, Pope John Paul and Pope Francis with whom he unsuccessfully tries to arrange a meeting  to discuss some of his questions and doubts.

He has a particular respect for Pope Francis who he believes is doing much to turn around the Catholic Church and atone for the many generations of sexual exploitation in the past within the priesthood. He respects Pope Francis for his modesty and simplicity and lack of pomp and ceremony.

Early Christians and the early monasteries that were established through Europe taught enlightenment, skills and everything that was progressive and humane. By the Middle Ages this code of living had become more a means of dictating authority and control as the monasteries became corrupted. The upper echelons of the monastic hierarchy were often the most corrupt sinners in need of the religion that they preached.
Although his journey is  gruelling at times particularly crossing the Alps he passes through some staggeringly beautiful scenery and untouched villages which seemingly have stood still since the Middle Ages when more than  2 million pilgrims walked  this route yearly.

Mark W
Quite a pleasant and easy read, interesting in the description of the places on the way and a bit of European history thrown in and a bit of self discovery which he didn’t actually find particularly enlightening or engaging. The middle was ok, through France and Switzerland, and over the Alps, with some interesting places but he thought the Italian section a bit weak, and was starting to be irritated by the end. The book was obviously written for an American audience.
The most profound line in the whole book was the opening line ‘The passage to eternity begins in the Piccadilly line to Cockfosters’.??
The observation at the end when he got his certificate that he felt ‘like the scarecrow when he got his brain’ was just a bit of a disappointing end to the journey, which made him feel that this was, after all, a bit of a travelogue with some historical bits thrown in. He felt the author was running out of steam, both physically and inspirationally by the time he got to Rome. 

Willm
Better than expected because there wasn’t much “spiritual stuff“ He questioned whether we are spiritual beings-in his view we are more like animals. The book was a very decent travellogue. The descriptions of the authors struggle with the weather and the mountains was very real as was his description of the horrors of religion. At the end of the book he didn’t understand why the author still clings to the Catholic Church and his desire to believe. This was beyond Williams comprehension given the level of religious corruption over history. He could not understand why one would wish to grasp for religious belief!
A decent informative reading experience. 

John
To his surprise enjoyed the book much more than expected. He assumed it would be just another voyage of personal discovery by a “lost” American – as so many have written about their Compostela walk.  This was a much more nuanced and thought-provoking story of a pilgrimage/walk/journey through time. The author surfaced many of the confusions and contradictions that those who struggle with formal Christian teaching face. He well-captured the complicated relationship with the Christian (particularly Catholic) church as an institution/faith – with its spiritual strengths, ability to provide comfort and inspire hope, yet also the source of so much suffering and bloodshed.
As a story he found it took time to get into and felt that it petered out towards the end but he particularly enjoyed the time in France and Switzerland not only by capturing the drudgery of such a long walk, but also the way he explored some “big” issues such as Christian-driven slaughters or using St Joan to highlight the uncertain attitude of the Catholic church to women (a church in which there are 50% more nuns than priests???). He also warmed to his positive take on the present Pope’s fraught balancing act between the forces of the past and the needs of the future.  
Maybe not a travel masterpiece, but certainly readable and provocative 

Steve
Struggled significantly with this book. because the author was an American. He liked the breezy style.The book was easy to read. He liked the fact that this was a walk with a purpose and all the interesting facts connected with the VF. He knew nothing of Joan of Arc or the massacre of Wassy. The author was good at descriptions but the book contained so much cliche and self indulgent writing. He struggled again and again with the American style. It was as if the book was being written for a National Geographic audience. Steve commented that the major problem with religions have been the “dumbed down“ institutions created around those religions and not necessarily the religion itself.
He was thankful that the author had flagged up various questions but he had not given Steve any answers nor did he care about the authors quest. 

Chris B
Well researched but somewhat haphazard book. A lot of fascinating facts and musings about the places and people encountered. Sometimes felt more like a guidebook. He had hoped for more about Faith And the author never seemed to resolve his uncertainties and doubts about God. In that sense was the book and the authors pilgrimage a failure? He liked the authors admiration for Pope Francis – an even more radical figure than he had suspected but will he be able to make a difference in the long term? It confirmed for Chris the sense that the church is fundamentally a human institution subject to the same prejudices, deceptions and cruelties but at the same time compassion of any human institution. Like other organisations it closes ranks to try and hide its errors as with sexual abuse of priests. At the same time it has compassionate leaders who try to do the best for their communities.
The author said  he owed his belief in the resurrection to the VF. Because it sums up the power of love?He also forgives the church for what it did to his family and his brother particularly. He accepts that some faith quandary is irresolvable. His main lesson seems to be to keep walking, looking and thinking along the way.
One of Chris‘s chosen quotes :
When the Pope was asked about his secret to happiness he said: “Slow down. Take time off. Live and let live. Work for peace. Don’t keep negative feelings bottled up. Enjoy art. Enjoy books. Play”. And one more suggestion, another reason to join the queue of travellers getting ready to leave Britain in the harbour at Dover(For the VF): “Please don’t see life from afar“.

Mark T
Mark enjoyed this book from the start. He liked the style , the spiritual  search and journey and he liked the playfulness of the author.
He referred to the interview by the chief Abbot as to the suitability of the author to stay overnight in his monastery. The clinch question was whether he supported Donald Trump!
The book was full of facts which Mark liked, comments on sex, the corruption of the church, war, the Sunni/Shia divisions mirroring those between catholic and Protestant, Sexual abuse, and his perception that French were unfriendly, Religious relics and the fact that 25% of Italians are over 60 years old.
Finally he enjoyed the authors reunion with his wife. He found this description beautiful.

Richard
Richard has developed his spirituality over 20 years particularly since suffering with chronic fatigue syndrome 20 years ago. Are we all spiritual beings? The Maoris for example connect their spirituality with the land. From Richard‘s point of view he is confused by spirituality and doesn’t really understand it. He felt that the author became more and more repetitive on his journey and was disappointed that he didn’t learn anything new about God or religion in the book. Of course, the philosophy of goodness doesn’t need God. We cannot prove that God exists or doesn’t. However, the author was searching for Faith. Richard hasn’t found Faith. He liked the authors writing touches. Belief motivated projects over generations. Religion created time to think.
Inspired by the book Richard however tabled several topics for possible discussion.
The joy of walking
Religious certainty – how do some people have this?
The nature of pilgrimage - In this case the author didn’t walk the whole route but used several means of transport.
The difference between fiction and non-fiction. Non-fiction is essentially either biography or travelogue whereas fiction comprises many different varieties and themes.
Religion that preaches peace but commits war. Only now at the end of the 20th century when large parts of the world have disposed of religion are we at Peace.
There is nothing in the Bible that sets out the complex legislation that is followed by many people who follow Jesus.The book for example correctly gives the church a hard time on such a good initial message.
Richard concluded by highlighting Victor Hugo‘s edifying view of a unified Europe as predicted over 100 years ago. 

Andrew
Enjoyed the start and found the history of Christianity interestingly written, pointing out the inconsistencies between philosophy and actions. He had no idea of the proportions of national populations which were killed in religious wars.
Christianity changed nothing. No sooner had the kingdoms converted to a God known as the Prince of Peace than they took up nearly nonstop war for a thousand years.
He thought Diderot was a “dude”, Calvin wasn't. He enjoyed the Franciscans’ explanation of their life in the fraternity, and thought Egan held Pope Francis in much higher. regard than he did the Archbishop of Canterbury. In fact, he was most irreverent about Welby although he came in for some redemption later on.
Diderot  didn’t mince his words:
Man will never be free until the last king is strangled with the entrails of the last priest.
But although he found the facts interesting and the writing good, and at times humorous, it  began to feel like reading a textbook. although I suspect it will get more personal, I’m not sure I’ll finish it – partly as it’s so long and feels a chore.
He did however enjoy some of the observations eg:
My hotel is an easy walk from anything I need for short-term happiness.
He’s full of graduate school enthusiasms, his mind alive with the questions that many people stop asking after forty - hour weeks of study are replaced by forty - hour weeks of work.
And particularly this description of his dinner:
Dinner outside at a small bistro is duck with cherry tomatoes on top. It is perfectly presented, burnished in buttery twilight 

Chris W.
This was a book that he  enjoyed because it covered  a topic that would normally not have been of interest to him.
The book was  informative and interwove the present with history making it very readable. He was impressed by the bibliography and the fact that this was not just a collection of the author’s own opinions but a synthesis of an extensive number of articles written about religion which he had collected to accompany his pilgrimage.
Initially he didn’t take to him as a character. He felt he was a bit “full of himself” with a chip on his shoulder particularly against the French and British  but after a while came to like him as relatively modest and as a good parent. He liked the description of his daughter walking in front of him seeing her at different stages of her youth which every father has experienced at some stage and he described his feelings very well.
A good read, informative and entertaining.
Quotes:
An interesting commentary on the church view of sex and how rules were written by repressed monks: “The Catholic Church is still trying to legislate the rules of the bedroom yet their biggest problem are priests who molest children“

The Invisible Crowd by Ellen Wiles

Another book with a wide range of views and scores for the Club. Some really enjoyed it as a novel and looked forward to picking it up to read, others emitted an audible groan! For some, reading it was like wading through treacle, others through flour, light and easy.

For some, the structure of Yonas’ story interspersed with the perspectives of other characters in the story worked well, with Yonas told in the third person, Jude, the barrister in the second and the others in the first (as if in an interview). At first, Chris B (blonde beer please, in a straight glass) wondered if it was more a documentary than a novel but Richard (the ordinary in a jug please) liked the book because it was a novel with a plot and good characters (in contrast to the more factually based books read recently). Willm (a large glass of red please) saw the value of separating out the main character, the barrister and the other characters but wondered if it was necessary and found the use of “you” in Jude’s sections aggravating.

Richard liked the range of voices and felt that Ellen had ‘got’ most of them very clearly, and that many were very different to each other. Some were less convinced, for example with Joe the Binman: Andrew was not convinced by his voice, Willm by the singing of “Like a Rolling Stone”. And Steve thought it odd that there was no attempt to tell us how Yonas spoke, no accent, no use of English as a second language.

The book certainly tells the story of both the individual character, Yonas and many other illegal immigrants and asylum seekers. The fear, the likelihood of being driven into the hands of gang masters, the impossible choices of evading arrest or voluntarily submitting to a hostile system that will wilfully disbelieve your story, the choice of starving or stealing food, the miserable experience in a detention centre, the inability to work whilst waiting (often years) for a decision. The immigration official was all too believable in his prejudice and resentment and raises the issue not only of recruitment practices and training but also low pay and the risk that they will feel they are worse off than the successful asylum seeker. Some of us had just watched Sitting in Limbo, the BBC Windrush play which showed similar experiences with immigration officers and detention centres.

Richard felt that there was a fundamental ‘truth’ to this story – that Ellen got how it was, for people coming here as refugees, and the awfulness of having to prove all of the time that their lives had been so shitty and terrifying.

Richard found it quite gripping from the start.  Ellen got the conflict between work and home very well:

“You were all set to leave chambers at 6 p.m., for once, when your clerk phoned. You so nearly didn’t pick up, but the receiver tugged at your hand like a magnet.”

And also, the problem with being a barrister rather than a solicitor:

“At least solicitors get to spend time with their clients, taking statements. Barristers barely get to meet them, usually.”

Andrew (yes, another pint of ordinary would be lovely) liked the themes of survival and sacrifice and bravery, destitution and hope, kindness and unkindness, groups and groupings, power and powerlessness, ordinary people doing extraordinary things - and human rights and human wrongs.

Willm saw that the author wanted to give a broad, or rounded, account of a refugee's, or more generally, refugees' experience, He found the chapters telling Yonas' personal story quite effective: the forced labour in the seafood factory, the wandering through London with no money or food, the work and living with the gang in Canning Town. The use of real newspaper headings at the beginning of each chapter illustrates the constant barrage of bad press refugees, asylum seekers and immigrants have to contend with.

The book tells the story very much from the viewpoint of Yonas and his friend, Gebre. The reasons for their escape from Eritrea are clear and persuasive, the horrors of the journey show what risks they are prepared to take and how tough it is to get to the UK. It is explicitly critical of the hostile environment created by Theresa May at the Home Office (“driven by UKIP”, observed John) and reflects the hostility in the clippings that Yonas collects from the right-wing press and which crown each chapter.

As such it does not try to offer how we should run our immigration policy, though the implication is that we should be more open and sympathetic to asylum seekers and refugees. Nor does it talk about wider attempts to support the countries from whom asylum seekers come. But then it is a novel not a policy report. It does highlight that those who represent asylum seekers and refugees are doing so out of huge commitment. They certainly do not earn the rewards of lawyers in other parts of the law.

The defence of a repressive regime chimed for Richard with our last book (about Israel and Palestine) This is the exact same narrative: “‘Hey hey, listen,’ I said, putting my hand onto his shoulder. ‘Melahaye, it sounds like you have had a hard time. I get that. I am sorry about your family. My father died in the struggle as well. And your girlfriend as well – that is really bad luck. But you have to remember the bigger picture. We would not even have our country if it was not for our President. He has been protecting it, despite all the strongest countries in the world being set against us.” This is the common narrative, that we should accept repression and crappy Government because as a country we are at risk and ‘they’ are protecting us.

Several of us were less engaged by the book. Chris W (a ginger beer, please, I’m driving) found it stereotypical, lacking in depth or credibility. For example, Yonas and Nina fall in love too easily. But he still found it good at showing the system and overall was a good yarn. John (a couple of pints of your special brew if you are ordering) felt it needed more editing, finding it too dense. The sentiments were right but he felt it didn’t work as a novel, perhaps due to the inexperience of the writer. But again, he found it a good insight into the system. Steve (another top up? Yes please) recognised the story as treating an important issue but “it didn’t carry me through”. He didn’t like the writing (not pithy, too many words and dialogue) or the characters (caricatured, ciphers Yonas has to overcome rather than characters in a novel). Andrew thought perhaps the contrasts between good and bad were too stark, too simplistic and some of the characters too black and white – Molly and Nina seemed too good and saintly, and Gavin too much of a stereotype. And the plot seemed contrived at times, with too many coincidences and Molly and Nina seeming to be too trusting and uncritical.

Similarly, Willm felt there were just too many stereotypical side-characters and coffee shop meetings with different 'types' having different coffees whereas Andrew enjoyed the series of monologues and the way the story was layered with each new voice adding background, but also their own perspective and advancing the story.

Willm found some sections badly written with amateurish chapter links and endings. Mark W (just a small one, I am off early in the morning) liked the prologue the best! He felt there was nothing new in the book, the characters were caricatured and the writing irritating and obvious, naïve. Like Mark T (a large dry white, please), he found the coffee intros worked at first, but became annoying. He found the book amateurish in style and content.

Mark T did like the book: the characters, Yonas’ friendships, his love with his first girlfriend, terrible treatment meted out by the system (well researched). He liked the humour (like the exploding microwave chicken) and the description of post-natal depression was well done. It was interesting to hear the different views of Eritreans about their government. Some bits were less convincing: Gebre’s escape from the detention centre was unbelievable. Yonas seeing the suicide in paper so soon afterwards was unlikely. Nina’s arrival in Newcastle was too quick (or she was a super speedy driver). But it moved him, made him sad.

Chris B liked the development of the characters, especially Yonas. Ellen had perhaps made it easier for herself by making him a university educated, decent person, who we were more likely to sympathise with. But it made for a good story as Yonas can talk eloquently about his experience, his reflections on it and his relationships with family back home and the people he meets in the UK. Chris B found him a full character, convincing in his frailties and warmth and concern for others in the midst of his struggles. Richard and Andrew empathised with him. Even those who did not like the book liked the Yonas chapters.

There were good dramatic tensions in for example, Yonas’ attempts to escape the gang master, develop his relationship with Nina, escape with Gebre and run away to Newcastle. The relationship with Nina as both come to appreciate each other is well developed with the added tension of the Tory candidate, ex-husband. Andrew liked the Increasing drama and tension in the second half of the book – “a real page turner”.

Particularly vivid scenes for Andrew were

• the awful voucher experience in the supermarket which you could see coming but was still awful
• and the Yonas’ overcrowded accommodation, which some landlord was charging the government rent for
• and the pregnant client of Veata with morning sickness vomiting out of her shared bedroom window,
• And Gavin the disgruntled immigration worker who saw claimants as cases and not people
• And the kindness of Molly and Tesfay, and others in contrast

Chris B thought some of the minor characters were a little caricatured. But lots of nice touches: friendship and humour with his gay friend, Emil, the gradual unveiling of the tragic family history and its struggles in Eritrea, the development of the characters and lives of Nina, Jude and the one-time interviewees.

Richard liked lots of lovely touches in the writing:

·      She captured very well the difficulties that doing anything raises under these circumstances – simply using a public library for example: “But the screen instructed him to enter his library pass number.”.

·      There were some heartfelt thoughts about the sort of UK that (we at least) want to be living in: “The library came to seem to him like a beacon, like a symbol of all the different ways people could feel, live and think about the world, how everybody could be welcomed for free into a space, whoever they were, whatever they were interested in, however educated they were – just how the UK was supposed to be.”

·      And the extended ‘cows’ joke was really very funny! – 3 pages, ranging from UK to Eritrea to Somalia to China to Italy to India to Russia

There was also a lovely section where Nina talked about art and described the very essence of art therapy – “And more practically, in terms of my anxiety, that series turned out to be a brilliant way of reconciling myself with randomness and uncertainty. You know? It was comforting to contain these little objects, to contextualize them, and give them a home in a piece of art.”

Andrew liked the terrific start with the migrants on the small boat crossing the channel, and then the pressured barrister-mum. And a moving end with the letter from Melat, Yonas’ flight to Newcastle and Bamburgh, the hearing - and the rooster.

Those who really enjoyed the book agreed that this had the signs of a first novel. Some things were not believable enough. Richard again: maybe too many good things happened to Yonas! Being so welcomed by Molly and then Nina changing her views so strongly and falling for him. The writing wasn’t as beautiful as some of the authors we’ve read recently, said Andrew but improved throughout the book, for example:

"It was not like prison back in Eritrea. I mean, you did not get tortured, and the food was okay, and you could drink as much water as you wanted – but it was still a prison. And so grey. Living there was like slowly drowning in greyness. Grey walls, grey sky outside, grey faces.

"Proper sunlight, I mean, the kind that puts out heat as well as light, that warms your bones, that transforms the sky into a blanket of blue and palm trees into emerald butterflies, and makes skin glow like honey, makes women’s clothes dance like flocks of parrots and bee-eaters in the urban jungle."

And some humour, here from Emil:

"so today we go to bank where all guys working there sniff coke in toilets, then later we go to gym where guys pump truckloads of iron and grunt like pigs, then tomorrow we have solicitor’s company where they work all hours in clock, and PR company with brainstorming area like pre-school art room for kids who need to roll on beanbags and draw with crayons."

Like the best books, the group had very different experiences of reading The Invisible Crowd but all appreciated the value of highlighting the plight of so many immigrants coming to settle in the UK.

Apeirogon – A Novel, by Colum McCann

4 June 2020, via Zoom, in compliance with current lockdown guidance, and with thanks to Camilla and Chris Born

Book choice and report - AA

1
AA chose this book because it sounded interesting and because McCann has written an excellent introduction to creative writing, Letters To A Young Writer. It turned out to interest, irritate, perplex, entertain, and affect members of the club in a countably infinite number of ways.

2
AA really enjoyed this book about grief and rage, hate and cruelty and fear, humanity and inhumanity, security and insecurity, entrenchment and co-operation - in a land where most people don’t just think inside the box but spend their entire lives inside their respective boxes. Each people with its own Catastrophe. But it’s also about love. And extraordinary hope.

It helped, particularly at the beginning, that he’d seen a documentary on Bassam and Rami. He wasn’t sure initially with the jerkiness of the writing but it began to become beautiful if spare and he loved some of the descriptions – such as Bradford, the cave Bassam lived in as a child, its demolition by Israeli soldiers, the dialogue at the airport when Bassam was flying to Bradford, the Australian artist shooting 1000 white books, and the two men’s personal thoughts about what they would like to do to Y.A. who had killed Abir.

Forty-eight years old, he moves through the dark with a slight limp, a cigarette cupped in the well of his hand. He is thin, slim, fit. His limp imprints him into the world: otherwise he might slip through almost unnoticed. Still, an agility lurks underneath, a wiry surprise, as if he might burst away from the limp at any moment and leave it abandoned behind him.

And there were some visceral descriptions – Bassam’s imprisonment, and beatings, evicted Palestinians watching their possessions destroyed and their home sealed up so no-one could ever live there again, and soldiers shooting holes in water tanks, parents stripped and searched in front of their children, and Jesus’ crucifixion.

He turned nineteen years old with two missing teeth, several fractured bones and an empty drip bag in each arm

And some humour such as the Kafkaesque exchange between Bassam and the prison governor. He increasingly found a beauty to it, a clarity and honesty and humanity, the perspective of an observer far from dispassionate but instead passionate about the two men, about looking for peace. The detail was interesting because each story was so brief.

Both chapter 500s are moving accounts of Rami and then Bassam’s loss and grief and paths towards activism, separated by chapter 1001 - a triumph of a single sentence summarising the whole story. He liked the chapters counting backwards from 500 and how it was all woven round their trip to a monastery on a single day in 2016.

He found Bassam compelling and we never find out if the grenade he threw harmed anyone. Rami was fascinating too, and we get to know his family better – Nurit and Matti. The big gap for him was Salwa, Bassam’s wife, who he didn’t feel we were allowed to meet properly. He enjoyed going back in time to meet the grandparents and their connections with the rest of the family right at the end of the book - more and more layers of perspective and complexity. Some lovely pen portraits of Smadar and Abir, but we didn’t really hear the voices of women in the book.


Overall, a novel with a countably infinite number of stories, often compelling,

and once he’d accepted that the familiar plot and narrative arc of most novels was just not going to happen, the book grew in power and beauty. It constantly made him think. Its compassion made it uplifting and left him sad no longer to be travelling with Bassam and Rami. The book’s breadth and complexity seemed appropriate to the scale of its subject matter. It didn’t feel fragmented despite all the fragments. Life’s a mess of fragments and disjointedness and he enjoyed looking through McCann’s kaleidoscope. And the rhythms of the book and the links, and the sense of connection it gave him with the intrepid duo.

3
So he decided to give it an amicable score.

4
RV lived in Israel for a few years and his brother lives there. It was a book he ought to have liked as the conflict is of great importance both to him and to the world, but he liked almost nothing about it. It was biased and not even-handed, written very much from the Palestinian point of view. He felt the book was written so that the reader learns more about, and cares more for Bassam than Rami. Although he agreed with the author’s portrayal of the oppression of the Occupation.

It had very little plot – just two fathers who had lost daughters and the two main characters were too similar. He had no affinity for them and found no interesting characters. He had no idea what the book was about. He didn’t like the jumping around of the stream-of-consciousness style and although he appreciated the links and loops and threads he didn’t see the point of these other than being clever.

He noted small factual errors, but it was the major historical errors which he found unacceptable. And the events were not placed in context. There is nothing about other Arab countries, nor of those countries’ treatment of Palestinian refugees.

5
The style was silly.

6
Particularly the single sentence chapters.

7
And the title.

8
There were, however, a few good bits such as the Dead Sea Scrolls, the concentration camp, the discussions about art and music and culture, and who decides that art is art. And both chapters 500, which he felt would have been a good way to start the book. McCann did tension well. Overall, not a terrible book and he respected the hard work that went into it, but he didn’t like it.

9
MW thought the treatment of the two men by the author was even-handed, but the book was not. However, he enjoyed it because it painted a picture for him, provided one can get inside it, with its sort of stream of consciousness style. He found some of the many interwoven stories and facts distracting and a few which seemed just to be showing off. He was unclear about the symbolism of the birds and said the facts about deuterium oxide were incorrect. He liked the ending, particularly the last sentence. In summary, he enjoyed despite the unnecessary bits and feeling it was a bit long.

10
CB loved it. And has started to re-read it.

11
He’d visited the West Bank earlier this year, including a brief stay in Tel Aviv, and his sister has spent time in Israel. He didn’t feel the book was one-sided. He noted that Bassam and Rami were 20y apart in age, had very different life experiences, and that their daughters died 10y apart. McCann developed well the common feeling and purpose between the two men.

Although it took him a while to get into it, he grew to like the book more and more. Overall, he loved the book – a beautiful kaleidoscope. He found the issues well represented and liked the people. He thought all the side stories linked well. He liked the style and the neat descriptions, particularly this quote:

Rami often felt that there were nine or ten Israelis inside him, fighting. The conflicted one. The shamed one. The enamoured one. The bereaved one. The one who marvelled at the blimp’s invention. The one who knew the blimp was watching. The one watching back. The one who wanted to be watched. The anarchist. The protester. The one sick and tired of all the seeing.

He'd been struck by the calmness of the Palestinians he had met in the West Bank despite the effect of the occupation on their everyday lives.

1001
In general, it was the interwoven facts that people found unnecessary or pointless more than the interwoven stories which carried more interest, particularly if the link was not clear e.g. the volume of someone’s swimming pool in LA.

RV and JH questioned what the book was really about and what can we take away from it. CB saw it as a powerful study of bereavement, MW as a painting, and AA and CB as a kaleidoscope of life in all its messy fragmented complexity. SC noted that the book did not have a conclusion, though nor does the conflict, but appreciated that lots of good writers would not have taken on this topic. RV, MW and SC noted a stream-of-consciousness feel.

11
MT visited Israel in 1981. He remembers tension there, but Arabs and Jews living together and no stone-throwing. He didn’t finish the book, stopping at 40%, having read some lighter fiction first and coming to Apeirogon late. He liked the birds and suggested their symbolism may be related to doves and Noah. He enjoyed phrases like “hospital within a hospital”, liked the prison guard becoming Bassam’s maths teacher, Bradford, the structure of the eye, and the Talking Heads references. But he didn’t feel he got to know Bassam and Rami very well. The side stories and facts became tedious and reading the book became like homework, like a journalistic documentary.

10
And by 40% he started to hate it.

9
CW really enjoyed it. He was initially confused by the disjointed structure, but got used to it and found that all the side stories kept him alive to the main stories, with the deaths of the two girls repeatedly brought back in from different perspectives – an interesting way of keeping grief constantly at the heart of the story. He felt that the huge mutual respect between Rami and Bassam based on sharing their common grief had developed into love.

8
It was a novel, but full of facts. And that McCann was able to explain the situation without any blame so that it didn’t feel one-sided. He just presented the facts and let CW make his own judgements. He thought the birds symbolised freedom.

He loved the writing and the descriptions and wants to re-read it. Although it was quite hard to get into, he found the writing very powerful.

7
WM did not get on at all with this book.

6
This was because the style, the presentation, despite the gruesome, terrible history and events it presented, completely stultified him. He had an idea of what the author was trying to do with Apeirogon - the repetition of events, each individually countable, but seemingly going on infinitely.

However, when he’d read maybe ten accounts of the murder of the children, he really did not want any more. Also, the side issues lost him: President Mitterrand of France eating ortolan, talks with the Senator John Kerry which go on for far longer than scheduled, the tightrope walker, the countless times that the motorbike is revved - he just couldn’t get into it at all.

He noted some lovely descriptions and liked the two men, but for him this was a case of the style negating the substance. He struggled, stopping and starting, to make 50%, and then just could not face any more.

5
SC is currently on halfway – exactly, having just read chapter 1001. He is finding it a really, really interesting book. He finds the structure difficult, and the need to look for the links between the various stories hard work at times. He agreed with RV that having both chapter 500s at the start would have helped the reader get into the book, but appreciated the author’s aim of layering the different stories and viewpoints. He found this effective in some ways and very annoying in other ways. One of the Borges quotes was just stupid.

But overall, he thought McCann was really brave to write this book and it was interesting that he took it on. He noted McCann is from Dublin and that George Mitchell who was involved in the Northern Ireland peace process was later involved in the Middle East. He thought there were some interesting angles and that this was a useful engrossing addition to the narrative and literature on the topic. It is too detailed and has lots of flaws but is also honest and brave and interesting. He found quite a lot of Ulysses in this. He is enjoying it and will try and continue.

4
JH has worked in Jerusalem, Gaza and Sinai and the book brought back the complexities and depressing nature and difficulties of conflict resolution. He really struggled with it, both as a book and as a topic. It was not a novel, and bills itself as a hybrid novel, but it was problematic to call it a novel. The Twitter-like disjointed style prevented development of characters and building on the human dimension. When the author gives himself time to write, as in chapters 277 and 500, the writing is great, but the tragedy is that he doesn’t most of the time. Some great images such as the Palestinians walking over the Andes with their keys round their necks.

3
It was depressing book to read in lockdown, a gloomy book. A real struggle to read and he was glad to get to the end and see the back of it.

2
I know that it will not be over until we talk to each other

It’s a tragedy that we need to continually prove that we are human beings.

My child was not a fighter. She was not a member of Fatah or Hamas. She was sunshine. She was good weather. She told me once that she wanted to be an engineer. Can you imagine what sort of bridges she could have built?

1
Scores:
AA – 23
RV – 9/2
MW - 23
CB – 32
MT - 22
CW – 8.5
WM – 2
SC – 7 (prov)
JH – 22

Passage to Juneau by Jonathan Raban

Zoom discussion, Thursday May 7th, as the age of the coronavirus lockdown continues. All members present and plugged in.
Book selected by Steve, who also is also responsible for the following write-up. It contains spoilers if you haven't read the book.
 
‘I am afraid of the sea. I fear the brushfire crackle of the breaking wave as it topples into foam; the inward suck of the tidal whirlpool; the loom of a big ocean swell, sinister and dark, in windless calm; the rip, the eddy, the race; the sheer abyssal depth of the water as one floats like a trustful beetle on the surface tension. Rationalism deserts me at sea.’
Jonathan Raban

This is a true story. The author Jonathan Raban has always been as much a journalist as an author, and his books tend to contain a lot of reportage, social comment and personal exposition as part of the process of storytelling.

Steve had read the book before, soon after its publication in the late 1990s, and very much enjoyed it the first time. It covers some of the same ground (or sea) as the recent book ‘Snow Falling on Cedars’ – hence the interest in revisiting it, after a decent interval.

Raban uses as his basis a long-anticipated voyage in his 35-ish foot sailing boat, up the west coast of the US and Canada from Seattle to Juneau, capital of Alaska, exploring the ‘Inside Passage’ that allows craft to make the trip largely sheltered from the impact of the Pacific Ocean. He’s going to write his book, having done lots of background reading about the native Indian civilisation that inhabited the land before it was ‘discovered’ by, among others, Captain Vancouver and his ship Discovery.

Raban quickly introduces a strong element of himself into the story, as in the quote above. He’s sometimes a harsh judge of people, often preferring his own company. Yet he misses his family, particularly his young daughter Julia, terribly. They will join him at Juneau for a holiday when his own adventure is over, but the shock when that doesn’t go at all according to plan is perhaps one of the book’s most powerful moments.

There are extensive descriptions of his own navigation of the Inside Passage, the spectacular landscapes, the ravages of modern economics and most of all the incredible natural forces at work in the tides, rapids and eddies. These are all interwoven with extracts from Captain Van’s diaries as he describes covering more or less the same ground in the late 18thC, having already sailed half-way round the world in a ship that functioned partly as finishing school for privileged young men. At the same time, we learn about the original inhabitants of the land, the aboriginal Indians.

For Steve, at the second time of reading, it felt more academic than he recalled or expected, at times feeling a bit like reading a student dissertation. On occasions, there was repetition and over-long dwelling on some oddity of the white settlers’ interpretation of Indians and their lives.

Steve appreciated the honest and self-effacing descriptions of what it’s like to sail alone (eg. the orange jacket episode). Also some powerful and tender moments of observation particularly around the death of his father. And just beautiful writing about the sea. The revelation about his relationship with his wife hadn’t surprised Steve the first time round and didn’t this time – Raban seemed to sleepwalk into that when everyone else could see what was going to happen.

The book still makes Steve want to sail in that part of the world, although the appeal of the book was tempered this time round by a greater reluctance, twenty-odd years on, to take Raban at face value. Steve didn’t find him particularly likeable. Others agreed – in fact it was the strongest common theme of the discussion – he comes over as arrogant and judgemental of others.

There was a short discussion about whether our age affects the way we respond to books. Steve felt that in the 20 years between readings he had perhaps become less tolerant or forgiving a reader – hence relatively less patience with Raban this time round.

Richard felt the book was not equal to the sum of its parts. There was lots to like in the anthropological and historical comment and observations, in the geographical descriptions, the insights into sailing alone and navigation, and the pleasure of turning a dream into reality. But the negatives outweighed the positives. It was wordy and repetitive; much of the nautical detail simply worked to maroon a landlubber; Raban himself is smug and disrespectful of others. And he wears his knowledge heavily – determined that we should all know it. Little or no humour. Most irritatingly, when Raban draws his own conclusion about an aspect of the local anthropology based on his own readings and interpretation, he is utterly convinced he’s right.

Chris B, as a sailor, had hoped to enjoy the book more but found it took a long time to get into. However he did enjoy the description of Seattle’s port and the leaving of it. There was honesty about his lack of nautical abilities, and he wrote well about the sea and the boat. He hung his own story on the shoulders of the 18th Century discoverers quite effectively. Chris found himself looking at the map to follow the track. But it needed something extra to bring him back into the book and that came with the death of Raban’s father. The fractured relationship he had had, his father’s buttoned up nature and events surrounding the death was well done. Didn’t like the guy, but enjoyed his journey and was a bit shocked by the ending.

Willm was not gripped to begin with, not being a boat person. It was easy enough to read but he had no great enthusiasm for returning to it. Raban has a pompous way of delivering his insights into Indian culture, and some was rubbish in Willm’s view, such as the assertion that the Indians had a thousand words for water. This blatant mythologizing rather fractured his credibility. But it wasn’t all bad. Willm appreciated the insights into the Indian lozenge art motifs for example. In England Willm observed his ‘vulgar attempts’ to show his status by name-dropping Harrods, Fortnums, Jermyn Street. Was that just for the Americans?

But after his subsequent return, the book engaged Willm more, as Raban explored deserted villages and stories around them. Although sensing that all was not well between Raban and his wife, the split demonstrated the art of storytelling and marshalling his material. Again, the man didn’t impress but W found aspects of his material fascinating.

John was struck by the similarity with the previous book (Unnatural Causes) – which was also autobiographical. Both authors were people who perhaps hadn’t quite understood the picture they presented to others. But he warmed to the book as it revealed more of Raban. The sailing angle pointed up the tension between the great times to be had on a boat, and the thoroughly scary times that inevitably turn up as well, bringing out the worst in people. There were also interesting insights into the relationship between Americans and Canadians. He’d always wanted to visit this part of the world.

Two members failed to get anywhere with the book. Andrew was already finding it stultifyingly boring so he stopped reading and didn’t pick it up again.

Mark T made it to the 100-page mark but by that time felt he was reading a ‘rather tedious thesis’. The description of Indian efforts to navigate by feeling wave motion through their testicles was not sufficient temptation to continue.

For Mark W, this book was purely aimed at people who like the sea. While he recognised the quality of the writing about the sea, the boat, the journey, it didn’t resonate for Mark. He wanted to know more about Raban’s own journey – how he changed (if he did) as his narrative unfolded, and therefore underlining the point of the exercise. The Vancouver voyage was interesting but the comparison rather petered out towards the end of the book. In terms of the family crisis at the end of the book, he didn’t see it coming but didn’t have much sympathy for Raban either. And then as the book ended in a final chapter of more quotes and literary references, he got a bit bored with it. He appreciated the writing and some of the historical insights like the origin of the phrase ‘letting the cat out of the bag’. But there were too many instances of arrogance and subjective criticism, such as the ‘cormorant crew’ of undertakers carrying his father’s coffin – surely just doing their job?

Chris W missed a detailed map to follow the progress, and it was commented that while there was a map in the e-book version, it was swivelled through 90 degrees and was extremely difficult to use.

The sailing elements of the book appealed to Chris, as did the descriptions of the depressing dereliction of abandoned settlements. The difference between Captain Van and his young officers was interesting – the references to Vancouver being ‘Trade’, for example. The way Latin was often used in records of the time when the collected Indian stories became a little too fruity. He was however left fairly cold by the interludes referring to the father and the wife. These people were presented with little or no back story and therefore it was hard to take any other interest in them beyond what Raban was prepared to share. And when the revelation about his wife came, it was a shock but also impossible to explain because we didn’t know the full story. Were we supposed to feel sorry for him? For them? For anyone?

And now all these pristine inlets and anchorages are packed with cruise liners. The description of the ‘Swissification’ of Juneau was telling, as for many it may be the only route to economic survival. While Chris is a seasoned traveller, this is one trip he won’t feel the need to take.

The average score for Passage to Juneau (including two non-finishers – itself a record for this group) was 5.16.

Unnatural Causes by Richard Shepherd

Thursday, 2nd April 2020, via Zoom (and thanks to Camilla Born for access to the pro version)

Present – everyone!: Richard (his book choice), Andrew, ChrisB, ChrisW, John, MarkT, MarkW, Steve, Willm.

This is a book written (as we discover towards the end) as therapy by a pathologist suffering from PTSD. It is partly a quite straight autobiography, written largely according to the flow of time (although starting with 3 chapters situated largely in the present or in his early career; but then back to his childhood), from his early childhood, the death of his mother, his upbringing by a very loving but sometimes very angry father, his falling in love with the idea of forensic pathology; through is training, his various jobs and gradual career progression, and the incredible roll-call of major cases with which he was involved over that career; culminating in the major changes to his profession, and to his ‘standing’ in the medical and legal world, and his investigation and possible ‘striking-off’.

But it is also variously:

• a discussion of the role of a pathologist, some of the techniques involved, and the changing nature if the profession;
• a detective book – lots of him looking for clues and putting them together to try to find ‘the truth’ – although there are a number of discussions about the malleability of ‘truth’ especially within the Court systems;
• and a book that moves between the professional (and the intense interest in some of the cases), and the personal, both externally with his marriage and his children; and internally, with him distancing himself both from the emotional side of what his job entailed, and the emotional side of his marriage.

Overall, there was quite a wide range of opinion on this book, and a resulting quite wide range of scores, scores (a low of 4 and a high of 8.5). Some found the author ‘pompous and smug’; others felt they could empathise with him and understand his dilemmas. Nevertheless, almost everyone had a great deal to say about the book, and it generated quite a lot of discussion.

One thing that everyone was agreed upon – it was quite astonishing that this one man had been involved with so many important and memorable cases, from major disasters, to incredibly high-profile work (eg the re-evaluation of how Princess Di died, or the Stephen Lawrence Inquiry), to extremely well known child protection cases, through to prison and police racism and prison brutality.

Most of us had not realised or remembered the close proximity of the series of disasters that befell mainly the UK between 1987 and 1989:
“In March 1987 the car and passenger ferry Herald of Free Enterprise capsized outside the Belgian port of Zeebrugge because the bow door had been left open: 193 passengers and crew died. In August 1987 Michael Ryan went on a killing spree and shot thirty-one people in Hungerford before killing himself. In November 1987 a lighted match dropped down through an escalator on the Piccadilly line at King’s Cross, causing a fire that claimed the lives of thirty - one people and injured a hundred more. In July 1988 the Piper Alpha oil rig in the North Sea blew up, killing 167 men. On 12 December 1988 three trains collided due to signal failure just outside Clapham Junction. Thirty-five passengers died and more than four hundred were injured, sixty-nine of them very severely. Later that month a bomb planted on a Pan Am jumbo jet exploded over the Scottish town of Lockerbie, killing all 259 people on board and eleven on the ground. Less than three weeks later, on 8 January 1989, an engine fault developed in a British Midland Boeing 737 which, compounded with pilot error, brought down the plane on the embankment of the M1, just short of the runway at East Midlands Airport . Of 126 people on board, forty-seven died and seventy-four suffered serious injury. In April 1989 ninety-six Liverpool football fans were crushed to death and more than seven hundred were injured at Hillsborough stadium in Sheffield . … In August 1989 a collision between a pleasure boat and a dredger in the Thames claimed the lives of fifty-one people, most of them under the age of thirty.”

Some of us found this book quite gripping from the beginning, with the description of Hungerford, and throughout his account of the different disasters with which he had been involved. As ChrisW said – “I found it fascinating, readable honestly written especially over his personal life, and the intertwining of the personal and the professional”.

Willm made the point that the book was made much more immediate because we had already heard about almost all of the cases he described – that this provided a sense of familiarity, of identification, with him and the work that simply recounting a large number of post-mortems would not have. ChrisB found it “really interesting; quite fascinating – the historical context and how these events happened in quick succession.”

John found it a ‘slow burn, but that he warmed to the author and his story as the book progressed’ (specifically from about Chapter 25 onwards!) – he began to like him once he began less career-driven. John made the point that the book functioned on and described three levels – personal change, professional change and organizational change – ChrisB also liked this mix of personal, professional and organizational; and all of us in the group can reflect on how these three dimensions have affected us at this latter stages of our own lives.

So for this author, 

• at the personal level, he moved from a driven career-obsessive with a dead marriage, with PTSD, yet at the height of his profession to semi-retirement on the Isle of Man; 
• at the professional level he saw his work change out of all recognition with the advent of DNA testing, moving from brief 3-page Reports to extensive 10-page+ ones, from thundering bombastic QCs, through major changes in thinking such as the advent of SIDS through to the change to a much more child protection view;
• and at the organizational level, the depersonalization of the ‘industry’, the move from characterful experts to evidence-based ones, the unforeseen consequences of policy changes such as the RAE leading to the un-academic-isation and privatisation of forensic series.

Yet this interest was not universal – others found that, from the outset, they did not like the author, or his writing style, and that majorly detracted from any enjoyment in the book – as MarkW said – “had I warmed to him, I’d have continued reading, but he was so pompous and smug that I simply didn’t feel like continuing”, and Andrew thought “generally I found it clunky, pompous, and self-absorbed –it is clear that on a lot of ethical and personal and moral issues his heart is clearly in the right place, but his stilted delivery sounded to me egocentric, and at times egotistical. It was a defence of his career”; and MarkT said “I didn’t like him – too selfish: he was so full of himself. Too long, quite tedious. I didn’t like him and I didn’t like the book – hated it in fact!”

Similarly, while some found the detailed analyses of the causes of death really interesting, others did not, and found that there were so many that they simply blurred into one long catalogue of post-mortems – as MarkT said “he went on and on about cases” and Steve: “Some of it was fascinating, quite a lot of it was tedious detail that was more to do with defending his actions that keeping the reader interested”. And ChrisW, although liking lots about it, felt that it was “one third too long, bogged down in detail, not as good as it progressed”, and a book that he would only recommend to a select few – not including Sue, his wife.

Most found his description interesting of the ‘alpha male’ environment that he spent a major part of his career in, with the consequent refusal to allow anyone to recognise any weaknesses, but again, some found his lack of challenge of this environment another aspect that they did not like.

Again, there was agreement that both the fact that his career could have ended in disgrace, and his apparent honesty about parts of his marriage and family life, as well as his mental health problems in later life, were interesting aspects; but again, whereas some found this a major positive in the book, others found that, as an autobiography, there seemed far too much ‘special pleading’ (“it read like a defence of his career as much as an expose of how the trauma affected him and his family”) and presenting many situations solely from his own viewpoint (of course all autobiography is partial, and so we always get only one side of the personal and professional stories). As Steve said: “it suffered from the affliction of every autobiography, which is a tendency to think we’re all fascinated!”

Steve spoke for many when he said “I’m fascinated in the generalities - the dealing with the horrors, the difficulty of maintaining a normal family life, and the reflections upon the kind of individual you need to be to do a job like this. The revelation and description of PTSD was powerful. But I wasn’t interested in the detail of his little battles with barristers, colleagues, clearing his name etc etc. I felt he confused what was interesting to the wider public, with what might be interesting only to a more professional audience. Could have been cut by a third.”

On the other hand, others did not find this the case, and found these details, and the discussions of his battles with barristers, colleagues, etc, really interesting.

And it was not that the more ‘medical / health professional’ of us were more interested in this detail – some of the ‘health professional’ members did enjoy this detail (Richard, ChrisB), whereas others did not (Andrew, MarkT).

For a number of members, there were strong resonances between aspects of the book and our own histories. So Andrew had direct links with the Marchioness disaster (both being woken by the noise from a police helicopter the morning after the disaster, and knowing someone white well whose sister died in it); having a brother-in-law as a QC in the Joy Gardner case; and having his wife and children picnicking on Wimbledon Common just after the Rachel Nicholls murder; as well as taking him back to his own medical training and early dissections whilst at the start of that training. And Richard found both many elements of the author’s upbringing, and much of his descriptions of being an Expert Witness, resonated hugely.

One final reflection that a few people made was that a key difference between fiction and some of these non-fictional / autobiographical accounts that we have read is that good writers of fiction use their skills to set the scene in a dramatic fashion, to ramp up the tension, or explore peoples’ relationships, such that they can be much more emotionally involving than much ‘factual’ writing.

Our discussion focused on:
• ‘professional detachment’ and the extent to which that was a needed ’defence mechanism’;
• whether we thought that forensic pathology should have been privatised because the pathologists were too busy to do any research;
• the whole issue of striking off Expert Witnesses for one mistake (Prof Sir Roy Meadows) or for revealing Munchausen’s (Prof David Southall) or potentially the author, because a later pathologist disagreed with him;
• and the difficulties of trying to bring up children when both parents were busy running developing careers;

Richard Velleman
5th April 2020