Skip to main content

"She closed the door behind her, and then it was quite silent, quite dark."


A fallen tree. Pilchers Hill, Geilston Bay. March 2021.

In the Springtime of the Year by Susan Hill

There is some wonderful writing here, and Hill has done an excellent job in fashioning the numbness and insularity of a world that has been overtaken by grief. This is a small life story, almost timeless in its setting (it could be 1920, it could be 1970) in isolated Yorkshire.

After a brief year of a rich and fulfilling marriage to well-regarded forrester Ben, Ruth - the character within which our central narrative swirls - is suddenly widowed at 21. From here, she is plunged into a deep and dark depression. She finds herself unable to leave home and increasingly self-isolates.

Her only visitor is Ben's 14-year-brother, the wonderful Jo. Jo is a beautifully-realised character, one of those fictional people that you just want the best for. In his own way, Jo cares for Ruth through her darkest moments, all the while he himself stumbling through his own grief.
Hill does such a fantastic job in bringing to life the feeling of deep, deep depression that it is at points profoundly difficult going. Yet in the piece's vividness, a wonderful exploration of loss, compassion, grief, mourning and the buds of recovery emerge.

There's no melodrama, no sentimentality, just a massive kick in the guts and then a slow, slow, slow process of recovery. There is a power to this book not commonly found in literature, with the cramped and taciturn community in which it is set affording the time and space to let events play out organically.


Hugely recommended.


⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Lost inside an adorable illusion and I cannot hide, I'm the one you're using, please don't push me aside, we could've made it cruising, yeah.

Yes it is Theme Thusday again, and today we are talking GLASS . I've three possible hooks to hang my [glass] hat on with this theme. First, the photo! Yes, it is the river again from an odd angle in an interesting light. You can just make out the bottom, which should tell you that I'm right on the shore. In some ways, the distortion of the stones below the surface reminds me of ye olde glass windows, what they call "cylinder blown sheet glass". You can still find some of this around Hobart these days. Thw second link comes from a trip I took to Venice a few years back. You're probably aware that Venice was (is?) a glass-making centre of excellence. If you have ever been there and taken the tour of the glass factories, you might be familiar with the sheer amount of coloured glass that sits at the bottom of the water there. These fragments of glass have been worn down and had their edges dulled by their time in the water, which makes them ample keepsakes for the ...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Happy anniversary baby, got you on my mind

No it is not a webcam, but this photograph was taken a mere forty-five ago on my way in to work. Here you can see a good old fashioned Hobart autumn morning, with the rain pelting down and me getting drenched. This one was taken on the corner of Macquarie and Elizabeth, while I was waiting for the lights to change. Come on Ampelmännchen ! Today is my wedding anniversary, an apparently I need to be showering Jen with leather -related goodies. Va-va-vaVOOM! To you Jennifer, here is a poem I wrote this very morning. Anniversary I love you i love you iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou I LOVE you I love YOU iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou I LOVE YOU iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou Happy anniversary