Barney Norris

As I read the somewhat elegiac first chapter of Norris' book, in which he introduces Salisbury to us, I prepared to settle down to a read by the likes of Melissa Harrison. Not so.

This is a book written in five voices, each one involved to a greater or lesser degree with a thoroughly nasty car crash in the town. There's the self-deluded and foul-mouthed flower seller; the soon to be bereaved schoolboy who's an odd mixture of articulate beyond his years and immature; the widower, mourning both the death of his wife, and the end a long and happy marriage; the lonely army wife, desperately seeking some purpose in this, the latest of her husband's postings (he's now been sent on to Afghanistan); and the highly over-qualified young security guard.

These unrelated lives come to to intermesh - some with one character, some with another. Though coincidental, these are believable encounters. The characters themselves are believable. They are flawed, but Norris treats them with compassion and humanity.

The only quibble I have is with the writing that's not come from the mouths of the five characters. This is sometimes so complex as to confuse meaning - I had sometimes to take another run at it.

Overall however, this is a satisfying, humane, perceptive read about ordinary people, ordinary lives, often poetic in the way it examines the reality of our everyday existence.… (altro)

The opening chapter of Norris’s fourth (and latest) novel Undercurrent introduces us to narrator Ed and his fiancée Juliet. They are at a wedding reception when they suddenly notice that the attractive photographer seems to have taken an uncommon interest in Ed. Later that night, Ed discovers that the photographer is Amy, a girl he had saved from drowning when he was still a ten-year old boy on a family holiday. This unexpected encounter, and the jolt brought by that half-forgotten childhood memory, is the trigger which Ed needs to walk out of his relationship with Juliet which, almost without their noticing, has long gone stale. Ed builds a bond with Amy and, through her, considers anew his connection with his parents, and his life plans. The segments narrated by Ed alternate with chapters in the third person, describing the chequered history of a farming family in Wales.

A central theme of this novel is history and memory: how the past shapes us and how we in turn shape our past through the stories we tell. It deals with different layers of “history” – the history of the individual characters, the history of their families, and at a higher level, the backdrop of world events (in this case, the history of Empire and the World Wars).

I was also struck by the unexpected mixture of the philosophical and the mundane. Some of the dialogue is so ‘everyday’ (small talk while washing the dishes, conversations during long car drives) that it verges perilously on the banal. But, particularly through Ed’s soul-searching narration, Norris also presents us with meditative passages of great beauty and insight, as in this dark description of London with its:

… ceaseless noise, the light, the fear, the anger. In this place we cling to each other and try the best we can to survive the huge indifference of the metropolis all around us… All cities are built like maps of a mind, and when you spend time in them they come to map your own, you can’t help but fall into the rhythms offered up to you…

Life is full of challenges, pain and shattered dreams. In Undercurrent, Norris faces these realities head-on, steering a steady course between facile nihilism on the one hand, and sentimental escapism on the other. The result is a gently hopeful novel, full of that human/e warmth which we all need.

Full review at: https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2022/04/undercurrent-by-barney-norris.html… (altro)

4.5*

The “Boston Tapes” were an oral history project about the Irish Troubles, commenced by Boston College in 2001. Researchers conducted interviews with both republicans and loyalists, on the understanding that the transcripts of the interviews would not be released to the authorities, at least until the interviewees’ deaths. Years later, investigators sought access to the tapes, giving rise to legal and diplomatic issues which, it is often argued, might have had an impact on the Irish peace process.

This novel is inspired by the Boston Tapes, and short (fictitious?) extracts from the transcripts are included at salient points of the narrative. However, “Turning for Home” is neither about the Boston Tapes nor about the Troubles. Barney Norris seems less concerned with the “grand canvas” of History than with the intimate histories of his characters.

Interwoven with the “tapes” are two first-person narrations. On the one hand, there is that of Robert Shawcross, a widower and retired civil servant, who was on placement in Belfast at the time of the Enniskellen bombing in 1987. In his understated way, Robert contributed to negotiations between the English Government and the Republicans following the bombing. On his 80th birthday, as family and friends converge on his country home for his yearly birthday party, he is briefly brought out of his retirement by two old contacts concerned about developments involving the Tapes.

In counterpoint with Robert's story, there is the narrative of his granddaughter Kate, still nursing emotional and physical scars following a horrific accident. Kate returns to her Granddad’s party after a three-year absence, and has to face meeting her estranged mother, Robert’s daughter Hannah. Against the “set-piece” of the open-air party, we learn Kate and Robert’s stories and, through them, that of the persons close to them.

There is much to enjoy in Norris’s novel. For a start, the unobtrusive yet well-crafted way he builds the structure of the novel – the alternation between the voices of Robert and Kate (as well as the ‘Boston Tape’ witnesses) is elegant and flowing, yet Norris also knows how to keep some surprises up his sleeve. What binds the different narrations together are a number of common themes running throughout the book. The theme of history and memory, for instance; how the past shapes us and how we in turn shape our past (or our reading of it, at least). There is also the theme of relationships and the sense of emptiness when these are lost or compromised – we are given to understand that both history and History are ultimately driven by personal relationships and personal needs. What struck me throughout the novel, in fact, was this constant interplay between the public and the intimate, between the extraordinary and the mundane. The novel certainly tackles major philosophical themes, but it also deals with the everyday – characters get out of bed, have breakfast, go for walks, go to the bathroom, have normal conversations over lunch, argue about whether to wash the dishes or chuck them in the dishwasher.

This is also reflected in the language of the novel. Often poetic and rich in eminently quotable “nuggets”, it nonetheless contains passages of unexpected simplicity. And this is, I think, what ultimately makes it so poignant and moving.

http://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2019/05/turning-for-home-barney-norris.html

… (altro)

4.5*

The “Boston Tapes” were an oral history project about the Irish Troubles, commenced by Boston College in 2001. Researchers conducted interviews with both republicans and loyalists, on the understanding that the transcripts of the interviews would not be released to the authorities, at least until the interviewees’ deaths. Years later, investigators sought access to the tapes, giving rise to legal and diplomatic issues which, it is often argued, might have had an impact on the Irish peace process.

This novel is inspired by the Boston Tapes, and short (fictitious?) extracts from the transcripts are included at salient points of the narrative. However, “Turning for Home” is neither about the Boston Tapes nor about the Troubles. Barney Norris seems less concerned with the “grand canvas” of History than with the intimate histories of his characters.

Interwoven with the “tapes” are two first-person narrations. On the one hand, there is that of Robert Shawcross, a widower and retired civil servant, who was on placement in Belfast at the time of the Enniskellen bombing in 1987. In his understated way, Robert contributed to negotiations between the English Government and the Republicans following the bombing. On his 80th birthday, as family and friends converge on his country home for his yearly birthday party, he is briefly brought out of his retirement by two old contacts concerned about developments involving the Tapes.

In counterpoint with Robert's story, there is the narrative of his granddaughter Kate, still nursing emotional and physical scars following a horrific accident. Kate returns to her Granddad’s party after a three-year absence, and has to face meeting her estranged mother, Robert’s daughter Hannah. Against the “set-piece” of the open-air party, we learn Kate and Robert’s stories and, through them, that of the persons close to them.

There is much to enjoy in Norris’s novel. For a start, the unobtrusive yet well-crafted way he builds the structure of the novel – the alternation between the voices of Robert and Kate (as well as the ‘Boston Tape’ witnesses) is elegant and flowing, yet Norris also knows how to keep some surprises up his sleeve. What binds the different narrations together are a number of common themes running throughout the book. The theme of history and memory, for instance; how the past shapes us and how we in turn shape our past (or our reading of it, at least). There is also the theme of relationships and the sense of emptiness when these are lost or compromised – we are given to understand that both history and History are ultimately driven by personal relationships and personal needs. What struck me throughout the novel, in fact, was this constant interplay between the public and the intimate, between the extraordinary and the mundane. The novel certainly tackles major philosophical themes, but it also deals with the everyday – characters get out of bed, have breakfast, go for walks, go to the bathroom, have normal conversations over lunch, argue about whether to wash the dishes or chuck them in the dishwasher.

This is also reflected in the language of the novel. Often poetic and rich in eminently quotable “nuggets”, it nonetheless contains passages of unexpected simplicity. And this is, I think, what ultimately makes it so poignant and moving.

http://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2019/05/turning-for-home-barney-norris.html

… (altro)