Beyond Consolation by John Waters

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I found myself struggling to decide what I thought about this book, I went through moments when I found it profound and insightful, but also others when I can only say I found it trite.

The book begins powerfully with its engagement with Nuala O'Faolain radio interview where she admits that she is terrified of death (a death that was fast approaching her due to inoperable terminal illness). But not only did she admit to fear but also despair which was a blight on that life that remained to her. Rather than living every last day “to the full” she was in an abyss.

It is in the face of this darkness that Waters proposes that the only rational response is hope, and perhaps there is too big a jump from the darkness to the hope. But this is really only a spring board for him to then go on to explore what he understands by “rational”.

This way of looking at the “rational” is summed up in the following quote:

“Reason belongs not just to the head, to logic and proof, but to the heart also, to the fruits of experience, to feeling, intuition, instinct. When we recognise this, faith becomes not merely reasonable, but an acknowledgement of what is – expecting nothing, postponing nothing, ascribing nothing to chance. Our culture's prevailing reduction of reason leads us to deconstruct not just out beliefs but also our capacity to trust and hope.” (page 212)

I think the trouble was there was something about his rhetorical style that grated with me, because these conclusions are very much my own thinking.

For example, I couldn't agree more with this next quote:

“Many religious people annoy me tremendously with their pat assumptions about what the idea of my believing implies. I resit with every fibre of my being the clubbability of what is called faith, and the sense believers often give off that all this is obvious. To me it is not obvious. To me, in the culture I must live in, the idea that there is no God is more 'obvious' that the idea that there is. But this is my problem: this answer does not satisfy me, at any level of my humanity.” (page 214)

Certainly despite being an active Church member I am aware that actually there is a significant part of me that is deeply distrustful of “religious people” - I think this is because we tend to wear are piety on our sheaves while we hide our doubts. I expect that most other people would read me as much in that way when I think that is rarely how I feel inside – “barely believing” is usually about as certain as I get.

Finally I will share another quote, it is I think an image of life:

“Imagine yourself in an old, disused building, perhaps the ruin of a church. You are looking around when you hear a noise overhead. You look up and see, flying among the rafters, a bird. He has blundered in from outside, perhaps through a broken window, and now cannot get out. You watch him for a while. Sometimes, he flies about, seemingly without a pattern, swooping low into the belly of the building. Sometimes he rests, looking about him curiously. Sometimes he tries to get back outside, making lunges at the light he sees blinking through the cracks in the roof. Then he reverts to flying. In the end he gets away, perhaps through an open door, and is gone.” (Page 224)

However, while I like this image, our existence here is but a shadow, there is a world beyond where we will soar – but it is not a particularly hopeful image, is life only so much aimless flapping about?

Remember Me To All by Loe, Barker, Brady, Cox, and Webb

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This is the Archaeological Monograph of the recovery and identification of a group of soldiers who fought in the Battle of Fromelles in 1916. As such it is a formal and academic publication rather than a “popular” account.

The application of Archaeological methods to what is in Archaeological term a recent set of remains is interesting, as it the ways that techniques used in the recovery of mass graves as part of investigations of war crimes are applied to what is from that sphere a more historic setting.

But perhaps the most interesting aspect is that the project was undertaken at all – it is made very clear that the primary aim is to provide identification before reburial (in a newly created war cemetery) of as many of the soldiers as possible. And other historical or archaeological research goals are only addressed to the extent that relevant information is provided by this primary aim.

But why 90 years after the battle did the Australian Army feel the need to expend such resources on the identification – all those involved would have been presumed dead, (for most the Germans had collected identifying articles from the fallen soldiers at the time, therefore their death had been confirmed even if their bodies had not been located at again at the end of the war) - what was the benefit this late in the day of providing a new burial?

It is clear that although in many ways distant the First World War remains present – the Centenary has brought it to the forefront of many minds, but it was never really that far from our thoughts. There must now be few sons and daughters of the Fallen, but there are still relations who are conscious of a loss – and perhaps the feeling of loss endures all the more for those who mourned one whose body was not found. For the Australian families even of those who had an identified grave the idea of visiting it must until the last couple of decades have been remote – yet was there a comfort in knowing it was there, a comfort denied those for whom there was no grave.

And so fresh graves and restored identifies were provided.

One of the oddities, given the project was all about identification, was that this monograph treats all the findings with anonymity – in part because the process of formal confirmation of the identities was ongoing at the time of writing, but also because there seemed to be the application of the same standards of confidentiality to the medical histories of the soldiers as would be afforded to a living individual.

Judas by Damian Walford Davies

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Judas is a powerful point for reflection. This collection of poems plays with the many emotions that are found within his life. Some recall clearly identifiable moments in the Gospels, other more oblique.

Here is an example:

Anointing

It would have fetched

a ransom, but he let her

smash the alabaster jar

and daub him

till his hair was seek.

and the whole house rash

with musk. All I smelt

was ready cash dispersing

from his oil-slick flesh.

When she bent

to smear his feet, I lost it -

slapped the potsherd

from her hand.

He shot up, shimmering.

Foreheads locked, we synched

our breath. It was kissing,

almost. I think

I was the first to break.

Flannery O'Connor's Complete Stories

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There was a small reference to one of Flannery O'Connor's stories, “A Good Man Is Hard to Find”, and in particular the line “She would have been a good woman, if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life.” - although I can't remember the context of the reference now...

O'Connor writes about the American South, writing, mainly, during the 1950s & 1960s, what were at the time broadly contemporary tales. As such many of her characters have attitudes about race that are totally unacceptable to modern ears, but O'Connor gives them voice only for them to pour ridicule onto themselves.

I found that while the these stories are short I was not able to read more than a couple at a time, in part because the writing is dense and rich, but also because the central characters are often far from likeable. She observes human nature so well, but it is the bitterness and small mindedness that comes to the fore.

This is mostly the context for their racism, they seek any small “advantage” on which to claim superiority – they will equal take the tiny distinctions of class, what makes them “respectable” or a cut above the masses.

While these are stories of a different era, and many of the distinctions that are important to the characters have faded into irrelevance (although perhaps that it is less than certain in the case of race), the mindset endures, the distinctions may have changed but people still find plenty of ways to reassure themselves that they are better than the rest.

There is a powerful authenticity about the characters, and I think that is what makes them a challenging read – if they were more outlandish caricatures then you could stand back and laugh. But instead O'Connor draws you in, holds up a mirror to society, and it is perhaps a little too close for comfort.

There is often a moral to the tale, but while there is lesson set before them the characters seem only occasionally to learn from it. Redemption is a pretty rare commodity in O'Connor's world – and maybe it is the painful truth that it is rare in our world too...

Until Our Blood is Dry by Kit Habianic

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The Miners Strike is a moment filled with such passion that it needs, deserves, fiction of the highest quality in order to stand by its own inherent power.

It also remains a divisive moment – the way its shadow falls across the current contest for leadership of the Labour party is but one expression of that. And to be able to address it without taking sides is not easy. Habianic is not writing a political account, and yet this is one of those subjects where any comment is political.

It is a story of a mining community – it is a “grass roots” vision of the time of the strike. Both the Government and the Union Leaders are remote from this narrative – their battle and the battle for, and within, this community while they co-exist seem to essentially to be separate.

It tries to bear honest witness to those within that community who find themselves on both sides – the strikers and the “scabs”. It gives an insight into why some of those within that community did not strike, their motivation is not selfish, they believed it was the only way to save the pit, and to save the community (this is given as the genuine the motivation of the local management – any cynical manipulation of the strike is ascribed significantly higher up the chain of command). While others are subjected to blackmail, one to avoid disclosure of his sexuality – in a mid-80s mining community better a scab than a poof?

All of this provides a rich and vivid backdrop for what is at heart a Romeo and Juliet tale – which might sound like a criticism but it is not intended that way. It is a tale of love, there is the central couple, “Red” and “Scrapper”, but they are surrounded by others, relationships under pressure, relationships crumbing under pressure and relationships at best almost surviving. None of these are fairy tales, they are authentic, messy, hard tales of love – love that endures and love that just is not enough.

It is a novel that managed to get under my skin – it is a couple of months since I finished it and yet it is still very fresh in my mind.

To End All Wars – The Graphic anthology of The First World War

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This collection, sold in aid of Medecins Sans Frontieres, tells a wide range of stories from the First World War.

There is something about the use of the “Graphic Novel”, or comic strip, format that creates a different kind of engagement with what is in many respects familiar material. Also the fact that there are many different contributors, and so the visual styles of the stories varies also helps to heighten the immediacy of the encounter.

These are short stories, but in most there is still a significant depth of characterisation. The is an energy to the stories that draws you into the centre of the action.

The majority of the stories focus on participants from the “Allied” side of the conflict, however this is a non-partisan collection, and when the focus is on a “German” story it is included on equal terms.

There is a strong anti-war (or at least anti-this-war) message throughout the collection. The First World War is seen as wasteful, and the leaders on both sides are shown as fools – it is very much in the “lions lead by donkeys” school of thought. Published in 2014, the introduction makes it clear that it is a deliberate counter narrative to the mythologising of the First World War that is currently surrounding much of the commemoration of its centenary. As such it would whole heartedly reject the views Gordon Corrigan advanced in “Mud, Blood and Poppycock” (which I read in Dec 2014).

But as with so much in life I tend to the view that the “truth” is somewhere in the middle – I certainly found so of Corrigan's attempts to rehabilitate the reputation of the Military Establishment were over stating the evidence, but there was much that he argued that seemed valid. In the same way I would I subscribe to the majority of the narrative here in “To End All Wars” - but again there were times when you got the feeling that facts were being shoehorned into an agenda.

While in terms of content there was no great revelation here, I think the mode and medium of the presentation make this deserving of a part on the ever more crowded shelf of First World War narratives.