This book is a wonderful example of storytelling, and despite it's often dark content, is a playful piece of narrative. The reader has to navigate between two timelines, the first being that of Charles Northcote and his lover Anselm. The year is 1939; Charles is an officer in the RAF, Anselm, a German Art student and their love is forbidden by the laws and social values of the time. As we are thrown into the midst of their relationship in a Piccadilly hotel room, I thought it seemed more like a casual fling, but once they have been separated and Anselm deported to a brutal Nazi re-education camp, Charles dedicates every thought and action to finding and rescuing Anselm.
The second begins in April 2012, when a British diplomat, Edward Northcote, is unexpectedly released after having been held hostage in an Afghan cave for the previous eleven years. He returns to London to find his young daughter is now an adult woman, and his beloved Danish wife has died after falling from a cliff, unsure if it was accidental or not. Straight away, I was intrigued to discover the connection between this dual narrative of the Northcote family.
I really enjoyed Farndale's style of writing, and his attention to detail really helped me to realise his characters. One turn of phrase I particularly liked, to describe Edward's late wife, Frejya, was, "There are traces of Norway in her intonation and lack of pauses". Looking back on the book, I think this quote becomes even more significant than when I first highlighted it whilst reading through, as Geography becomes increasingly important throughout the novel. Farndale and his characters attach a lot of meaning and memories to different places in the novel, and these can be evoked by a photograph, a smell, a particular meal etc...
In contrast to the sentimentality of these memories are the horrific depictions of war: injured civilian children, brutal and violent deaths, torture, soldiers "more boy than man". Part Three held two of the most graphic scenes in the book, and I found that I could only read small sections at a time as they were so harrowing. I wouldn't say however, that the violence in this book is gratuitous; it is merely there as a part of the conflict. One part that I found particularly powerful, was when the new Commandant selects Anselm to torture, and effectively kill another prisoner:
Anselm will later try to convince himself that he hesitates at this moment, yet he knows in his heart that this is not true. There is nothing with which his conscience has to wrestle. The skin and bone on the cross is a corpse already... a cruelty that should not be prolonged. He cannot be saved... This will be a mechanical act from which he is distanced, about which he has been spared the agony of choice.
I just couldn't even begin to imagine surviving in a situation so desperate and brutal.
There is less conflict in Edward's storyline - his captors have very little to do with him during his eleven years internment. This however, is no less damaging. Spending over a decade in a pitch black cave with nothing but his own thoughts for company has left Edward very damaged both physically and mentally. Due to the sensory deprivation of the cave, Edward has very little awareness of smells and his vision has been reduced to black and white. I found Farndale's treatment of Edward's returning senses to be quite emotive and beautiful, for example, this moment when Edward is looking at some of Frejya's belongings on her dressing table:
It must have been Frejya's brush. These must be Frejya's hairs. He tugs them out, holds them to his nose and, for the first time in years, this he can smell something. It is sweet and musty, the smell of flour. As he detects it, a faint blur of colour swims before his eyes like a shoal of tropical fish, and then is gone. He picks up a bottle of scent. Frejya's scent. Again the brief suffusion before he returns to his world of black and white.
Edward finds it hard adjusting back into 'normal' life after his release, and at first he effectively becomes a prisoner again, trapped inside his own house, hounded by the press, desperate for an exclusive photo or sound bite. It's interesting to note that Farndale himself is a journalist, when he presents the tabloid press so negatively, with one of the reporters doorstepping Edward with the brutally insensitive question, "how did you feel when you heard your wife was dead?"
In Part Four of the novel, Edward begins to write his memoir. I found this to be another really interesting layer of the storytelling, as up until this point, we knew very little about his time as a hostage. Farndale presents Edward's writing, complete with the character's own cuts and edits, which allows an even greater insight into his state of mind. The writing of the memoir also leads into a neat little twist at the end of the novel, that in found hugely satisfying.
Is it any good?
Absolutely! This book was completely absorbing, and in often found myself thinking about it, and trying to work out some of the connections before they were revealed, even when I wasn't actually reading it. I also found myself compelled to tell other people about it - always I good sign! If I had one criticism, it would be that I felt Farndale sometimes used one or two more similes than were entirely necessary, but otherwise, it was a beautifully written and poignant saga that I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.
***SPOILERS***
I was very surprised by the ending - due to the atrocities that had been described throughout the WWII story, I found it a little far-fetched that Anselm did survive to be reunited with Charles. This isn't really a criticism however, as I'm not sure that I would be able to say I enjoyed the book if he hadn't. I'd be interested to know how other readers felt about this ending. I thought the conclusion of Edward's story was more in-keeping with the rest of the novel: yes there was a resolution, but it wasn't a straightforward happy ending.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Over to you:
1. his book came to me with a 'if you liked Birdsong, you'll love this' recommendation. How do you think it compares to other literary war fiction?
2. In what ways is Edward's inner conflict with his feelings towards Hannah similar to the conflict expressed in the other narrative?
3. Did you enjoy the way the two stories were wrapped up at the end? Was it too neat? Could there have been an alternative?
4. What do you think the future holds for Hannah? Will she be able to start a new life now she's let go of her mother?
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