A Month in the Country

Oh, goodness. What is wrong with me that I didn't love this book?!?! I feel that I ought to go sit in a dark room with no books or music or wine or nice snacks. Just wretched rice cakes with no water.

There were lovely, meditative moments. Uncovering the painting. Taking an afternoon off and traipsing about the countryside. The flower on his secret love's hat. What more perfect way to recuperate from the horrors of World War I than to spend a summer in a small village full of friendly characters, another soldier searching for a grave, and a really hot reverend's wife?

I have been fascinated with the world between the World Wars and the mettle of the few returnees. Perhaps, the theme that most touched me in “A Month in the Country” was the ability of nature and time to heal, whether the damage is from the horrific battlefield or an unrelentingly unfaithful wife.

It's interesting that Moon chooses to live in something akin to a foxhole, this casting himself out of society, much like his target, Piers Hebron, who we eventually learn was an outcast because of his religion, perhaps picked up during his time conducting Crusades. Is it really a coincidence that his name is Moon and he finds a crescent moon on the uncovered skeleton? Meanwhile, Birkin chooses to perch above the entire town, also casting himself out, but in a more godlike way.

Also, some characters, like Kathy Ellerbeck (modeled after Carr's sister) really lived and breathed. In fact, that whole family was a treat. From the excellent introduction in the New York Review of Books edition by Michael Holyrod, you learn quite a bit about the polymath author. Knowing more about J. L. Carr certainly gave me more depth to the book.

At the end, it seems that Tom Birkin shies away from happiness (not succumbing to Alice Keach's beseeching talk of apple varietals!!) and what Oxgodby offered him that summer, choosing to return to Vinny's nonsense, which was quite sad. Perhaps, he was so damaged that the familiar was better than the real. He simply did not have enough time to heal before taking off the enfolding bandages of the country and spends the rest of his life chasing what he cannot have. And why can't he have happiness? Because he is cold, disconnected. We never hear from Vinny, but one wonders. Tom doesn't even say goodbye to Kathy, one of his medicines, providing both physical and mental sustenance. He doesn't even hug Alice.

A truly wonderful book I'd never heard of. Book 95 on James Mustich's list for me, trying to get over 100 before the end of the year.

This is a short novel but by no means a quick read about WW1 vet who is hired on to rehabilitate a frescoed wall in a medieval Yorkshire chapel.

This passage stopped me in my tracks:

“As far as I'm concerned me might have gone round the corner and died. But that goes for most of us, doesn't it? We look blankly at each other. Here I am, here you are. What are we doing here? What do you suppose it's all about? Let's dream on. Yes, that's my Dad and Mum over there on the piano top. My eldest boy is on the mantelpiece. That cushion cover was embroidered by my cousin Sarah only a month before she passed on. I go to work at eight and come home at five-thirty. When I retire they'll give me a clock - with my name engraved on the back. Now you know all about me. Go away: I've forgotten you already.”

This was really charming and simple. Not much happens but it doesn't matter. It's more about place and time and people. There is the slight excitement at the end with the grave site, but that's about it. Really beautiful.