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Now and then a first novel knocks your socks off. In ElMET, without fuss
or complexity, and told in humble descriptive prose, you are from the first in the
clutch of narrative tension and you know
you’re headed dark places.
The Guardian called it “an impressive slice of contemporary
noir steeped in Yorkshire legend…”
I’m not familiar with Yorkshire legend, but I was able to
picture the landscape – the loamy smells, the rustling of the wind – where
families live largely off the grid. What we used to call down-home living. A culture of hard work and stoicism. Also
an eye for an eye, and a take-what-you-can-get-when-you-can-get-it way of life.
And so it is for this family – an enigmatic father, a mighty
independent daughter, and a delicate son, the narrator, who speaks to us
now and then from a distance of time and place so we know he survived, but we’re
not sure who else might have. Their mother is long gone and although she occasionally
makes an appearance in flashback, we learn little of her, and their father, a
large looming figure, with nearly mythological strength, is their rock: a
surprisingly gentle man sometimes called upon to earn a living as a fighter,
also a sort of fixer [that’s where the noir comes in] and a lumberman. A
man who respects land and neighbors and tries to do what’s right, with a
priority to protect his own, whatever that takes.
Like many country settings where families are known to feud, he
is opposed by another powerful man and his sons. The story revolves around
their struggle for control and the inevitably destruction that will be left in
its wake. No good can come of this rivalry, not in this landscape.
I
wondered if she thought about it too. Or if the boys did. Or if any of the
other small people t the far reaches of my recollection spent the time that I
had thinking about the bits in which they played a part. It seems to me that so
much of everything came from this, and that if anyone thought about moments
like this enough, the future would be done before it had even started, and I
mean that in a good way.
Despite the Robin Hood setting and the dominance of
malevolence, this is Cathy’s story – a slip of a girl mothered only briefly by
a grandmother, determined to survive on her own terms. Cathy is no victim, and
not one to play by the rules. She is her father’s daughter. And although
[avoiding a spoiler here] there is a moment where the Christ figure enters, it
is Cathy who may rise from the ashes.
In this novel, the climactic conclusion, a startling
denouement, is secondary to the journey. The reader is voyeur. We make every
move with them, and the characters surrounding them, and with each page we hold
our breaths a little more until barely breathing. We don’t know what’s coming,
but we know enough to fear it.
ELMET is a unforgettable little novel and I suspect we will
read more from this lovely writer.
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