I have been trying my best to join in with #ReadIndies this month – and some of last month’s reads that I have reviewed this month have counted towards that as did Saturday Lunch with the Brownings from Daunt books. I picked up All Among the Barley published by Bloomsbury after my sister recently passed her copy on to me.
Melissa Harrison is a writer I have wanted to try for a while, and I have certainly read some enticing reviews of her work previously. I read All Among the Barley during a stressful few days when my concentration wasn’t great. It is definitely a slow burn of a novel – though one I ended up really enjoying, well written; beautifully capturing a time and a place.
“When I was a child, I believed that what I want mattered so little that it wasn’t even worth me discovering what it might be.”
The narrator of All Among the Barley is Edie Mather, a fourteen year old girl living on a Suffolk farm in the 1930s. In this place and at this time she is considered to be on the brink of womanhood – she has already left school – despite her teacher’s entreaties that she continue her education. Edie lives at Wych Farm with her parents, grandfather, and older brother – her sister has married and left home, there are a couple of farm workers too who have been with the family for years. The shadow of the Great War still hangs over the farm and its inhabitants, and the Great Depression has affected them and the wider community in many ways. Running through the story is that age old juxtaposition of the preservation of tradition with the progress brought by new practices. The whole novel is something of a love letter to those long gone times, a reminder of a way of life, a slower, harder time, when people still carried the most unbearable losses with them. Harrison’s descriptions of landscape and the natural world are gorgeous, she clearly has a wonderful affinity with the world around her and the land that will have changed little in ninety years.
“On a cornland farm, such as ours, the pause between haysel and harvest is like a held breath. The summer lanes are edged with dog-roses and wild clematis, the hedges thronged with young birds. At last the cuckoos leave, and you are glad of it, having heard their note for weeks; but the landrails creak on interminably, invisible among the corn. The nights are brief and warm, the Dog Star dazzles overhead; the moon draws a shadow from every blade of wheat. All day, dust rises from unmade roads and hangs in the air long after a cart or a motor-car passes. Everything waits.”
Edie hasn’t always been comfortable around other children, she’s a bit of a loner, bookish and imaginative. She has a fascination for the ancient stories of witches and enjoys looking for the old witch marks that can still be found around the area. Towards the beginning of the novel Edie is reading Lolly Willowes – a book I suspect helps to fuel her imagination.
Into this world comes Constance FitzAllen a glamorous outsider from London. She is staying in the village, but quickly insinuates herself into the local community, becoming a regular visitor at Wych farm. Connie (as she quickly becomes known) is making a record of all the old country traditions and beliefs. Researching a fading way of life and discovering what modern practices are taking their place. For Edie, Connie is a breath of fresh air – bringing the glamour of London a little closer; taking much more of an interest in Edie than she is used to having. Edie’s mother isn’t sure of Connie at first, treating her with some suspicion, yet even she is soon won over, charmed by the interest Connie is taking in the farm and their lives.
However, Connie isn’t all that she appears. Along with her interest in traditional farming methods, folklore, and country traditions she brings new ideas and some dangerous politics. As the novel progresses Connie’s view of outsiders start to emerge, antisemitism and a passionate belief in the preservation of traditional ways.
As harvest approaches the pressure on everyone at Wych Farm mounts. Edie’s father isn’t himself – he gets horribly drunk at the summer fair – and Edie is mortified. Meanwhile Edie has her own worries and concerns, one of the boys she grew up with is paying her more attention than she feels comfortable with, she is confused about how she feels and how to deal with the situation.
“It isn’t easy to conceive when you are growing up, that the world could be any different than how you find it, for the things you first encounter are what normality comes to consist of, and only the passage of time teaches you that your childhood could have been otherwise.”
I won’t say any more about the plot, but there is a deep poignancy at the end of the novel – as we encounter Edie as an elderly woman, looking back on her life and all that happened to her.
Despite my odd mood and the slow burn nature of this novel, I soon came to appreciate the novel for its incredible sense of place, the lyricism of the writing and the character of Edie who I loved.
I’ve yet to read her either but am always enticed by the reviews. There’s something about rural novels that attracts and that equally I resist, due to the many years of living on a working farm and the relief of escaping it. Yet there are those elements of the natural environment that nurtured something that remains. And I remember too the “Constance” type figure arriving with news of the works afar and the longing to know all about it. Great review and choice Ali, a mood lifter perhaps.
It was less of a mood lifter but certainly a mood calmer, I so loved the setting. I will definitely read more by Melissa Harrison.
I love Melissa Harrison and would also recommend ‘Clay’ and ‘At Hawthorn Time’. And of course, she also edited the four ‘Seasons’ anthologies.
And if you’ve already read it, there was a programme on Radio 4 last Friday (19th Feb) at 11am, now available on Sounds, which featured a bit of background to one of the themes that emerges from this novel. I can’t mention the title as it would amount to a spoiler!
I want to read more by her so I shall be looking those other titles up. I will try to find the radio 4 programme over the weekend. Thanks for the recommendations.
Our moods do affect what we read, definitely – I have abandoned a book in the past when it’s not chimed with how I feel, and then loved it at a later date. I’m glad you ended up enjoying this – definitely sounds like a slow burner!
Yes my mood has definitely affected my reading on many occasions. In the end there was too much about this novel that is really good to leave me unmoved.
This is my favourite of the three Harrisons I’ve read. It was published in the wake of the EU referendum and its themes seemed to echo the mood in the country to me.
I do remember how much you enjoyed this one, I am sure your review helped to put it on my radar. You’re right about the country’s mood after the EU referendum being reflected in the characters and themes here.
This sounds a fascinating one and well done for overcoming the difficult mood to get it read and enjoy it!
Yes, it was too good to not get through to me in the end. It is a slow burn, but so worth it and beautifully written.
I’m so glad you enjoyed this in the end, Ali. It really is beautifully written and so evocative in its sense of place. Edie is a wonderful character, so believable and fully fleshed out on the page. I’m so pleased you found her engaging. X
Edie is such a wonderful character, fully believable. I ended up so glad that I read it, and relieved my stressy mood didn’t completely spoil it.
I’m glad it all worked out for you and thank you for a lovely review (and the warning!) it’s on my list.
Yes, I am glad I read it. Pleased to hear you like the sound of it.
This was my least favorite of Harrison’s novels. I saved it to read after her podcast of last year came to an end and was a bit disappointed.
Oh that is a shame, but I take that to mean that you have enjoyed her other books.
I think I’ve commented elsewhere that I think I’d really enjoy this one too. Also, isn’t it funny how, in an unfocussed reading mood, one often thinks that a more fast-paced but uncomplicated story is the ticket, but sometimes a slow-burn style really does the trick perfectly. That’s something I found to be true about Wang Anyi’s The Song of Everlasting Sorrow (Trans. Berry/Egan) which I started last year as part of my Shanghai project and still haven’t finished–it’s so soothing that I feel like it could last forever, and I’d not mind.
Yes in the end it was a nice calm read, mainly due to the setting. Fast paced narratives can sometimes feel a bit hectic to me, which is why I don’t read modern thrillers.
I had wanted to read this book from reading its publication reviews as it sounded so much the sort of book I enjoy. When I was given an audible subscription as a present it was the first read I chose – I thought it would be perfect for a long car journey, to Suffolk as it happens.
I really did not enjoy it at all. The way it was read really grated. Looking over the review above and comments here I am almost inclined to try reading the book to myself to see if it comes over better that way – that the manner of reading totally had totally distracted me from what the book had to offer.
I think reading the book might be better, but then I don’t get on well with audio books.