by J. L. Carr
‘By nature we are creatures of hope, always ready to be deceived again, caught by the marvel that might be wrapped in the grubbiest brown paper parcel.’
The parcel here is not grubby – grubby would never be a word I would use to describe a NYRB edition – but there is certainly a marvel wrapped in its paper. Tom Birkin, attempting to recover what the Great War and a broken marriage left of himself, goes to work in a remote Yorkshire village. He has been commissioned to restore a medieval mural in the local church. While uncovering this truly remarkable depiction of the apocalypse, he makes friends with the unique and entirely individual population of Oxgodby, enjoys a tantalizing bit of romance, and begins to find his life worth living again.
A straightforward storyline to all appearances, but this lovely little book is from page to page not what you’re expecting. The blatant outline of the story is deceiving – there are big, sweeping themes there, but Carr tells it with masterfully subtle strokes. You stand with Tom as he takes in the view from his bell tower accommodations in the early morning. You go to tea at the station master’s house, and get fondly harassed by his teenage daughter. You barely speak to the minister’s wife, but manage to communicate volumes. You admire a stove for its clever design. You are in Tom’s head, and so you can’t help but feel his pleasure when the sun shines, almost miraculously it seems, on his face. In spite of his twitch and stutter and nightmares, in spite of the weight of the lost and gone, even though Tom has only fleeting moments of happiness, the book is full of a sense of wonder and hopefulness. The small marvelous things are recognized, even if they are as simple as a hot biscuit or as astonishing as a piece of art hundreds of years old.
And yet, for all that the majority of the book seems to be about healing and resurrection, it is told by an older Tom who is looking back with a kind of wistful pain on the wondrous month he spent in Oxgodby, remembering the people he knew and loved for such a brief moment in his life, a moment that has passed and was long ago. So intimate with Tom for an equally brief 135 pages, I was left wondering what happened to him. What was the rest of his life like, and why did I set the book aside with the tightness in my throat of near tears?
An exquisite piece of writing.
what we have here is a failure to communicate 
Yes! Just lovely and so glad you enjoyed it too. So surprising. Kept thinking about how fragile the pre-war world was in some small ways. In class separations – a system buoyed up by a carefully guarded artifice. In sexual mores. In determining artistic worth. I could go on. Loved how the usual view is of the fragility of post-war society but this subtly suggests that the fragility already existed but the war shattered those illusions.
By: Frances on December 6, 2010
at 5:29 pm
Perhaps that is why Tom enjoyed his month in the country so much – because for awhile he could almost pretend that the world wasn’t so fragile there? And then when he left and got on with the rest of his life, looking back at Oxgodby seemed exactly like an illusion, like a dream…
By: tuulenhaiven on December 7, 2010
at 12:01 pm
What a lovely review! I’m fascinated by the post-WWI years and this sounds wonderful.
By: EL Fay on December 6, 2010
at 6:36 pm
Thanks! I think you would enjoy it, and compared to what you’ve been reading lately it is a slight book with a wallop that is certainly big, but delicate. 🙂
By: tuulenhaiven on December 7, 2010
at 11:57 am
Ooh, this has been on my radar since Frances posted about it and now you love it too. I definitely need to look it up. A few months ago I was craving something SO STRONGLY that sounds like it was exactly this book, but at the time I didn’t know it existed so sadly couldn’t read it. Next time that craving hits, I’LL BE READY.
By: Emily on December 7, 2010
at 1:35 pm
That’s awesome. It’s definitely an excellent book to have on the shelf, whether you’ve read it already or are waiting for the perfect moment. Can’t wait to see what you think.
By: tuulenhaiven on December 7, 2010
at 3:20 pm
your review is exquisite.
and i am going to read this book. it sounds wondermous.
thanks.
~L
By: L on December 7, 2010
at 3:40 pm
Too kind L. 🙂 But glad my scribbling did the trick – it’s a wondermous book indeed. I hope you enjoy it.
By: tuulenhaiven on December 7, 2010
at 3:45 pm
A very nice review indeed. The book sounds very good. Will have to put it on a wish list. I am fascinate by the period as well.
By: Caroline on December 8, 2010
at 1:15 pm
Now that I’m thinking about, I’ve read more books from that period than I thought. It’s definitely an interesting setting.
By: tuulenhaiven on December 8, 2010
at 1:56 pm
[…] life. I had quite a few NYRB’s there for awhile, before I left Maine. I remember seeing A Month in the Country at my parent’s house recently, but did I leave Witch Grass in Oregon?? Boo… And […]
By: The luxury of plants and books | what we have here is a failure to communicate on January 16, 2014
at 1:34 am