 | An Englishman and a Frenchman spend a summer on a remote island at the height of The Troubles in Northern Ireland. Mr Lloyd is a painter, but this breathtaking novel isn’t about an artist’s colony. It’s about colonialism in all its forms, including poverty tourism. |
Coming to this shortly after International Mother Language Day, which I’ve written about several times on this blog, as well as on the Inspired Quill blog), I was more interested in Mr Masson initially. He has grown up despising his Algerian mother’s Arabic, preferring his bullying father’s French, yet is now an advocate for Irish. He has come to the island to study the evolution of the language over four generations: three widows (their husbands lost at sea) and a teenager, James, who hates both Irish and fishing. Masson rages against the way a minority language is systematically killed off by the imposition of the coloniser’s language for all administration, so it becomes the language of poverty and disempowerment. Masson wants to preserve the language by keeping the islanders in a bubble, like objects in a living museum.
Although an equally flawed character, Lloyd seems less dictatorial at first glance. He hasn’t come to control, but to paint. But, by taking young James under his wing, he also exploits the islanders tries to prevent them changing. Where this will lead is source of rising tension worthy of any thriller. I kept turning the pages, desperate to know how it would end.
Yet on the surface, not a lot happens. The outsiders arrive, do their stuff, and leave. But do they leave the place as they found it? The narrative is peppered with short pieces of reportage on the murders of Irish men, women and children on the mainland that summer, which remind us of the bloody legacy of colonialism after the colonisers have moved on. Yet the novel is too sophisticated to present us with a neat split between good and bad. While Masson might sentimentalise island life, for James and his mother, Mairead, it’s a long way from what they want.
The writing style is unconventional, but not gimmicky and an easy read. The novel was longlisted for the Booker Prize 2022 and the best by far of the five I’ve read, including the winner. I really enjoyed Audrey Magee’s debut, The Undertaking, but her second novel is sheer brilliance.
Although an equally flawed character, Lloyd seems less dictatorial at first glance. He hasn’t come to control, but to paint. But, by taking young James under his wing, he also exploits the islanders tries to prevent them changing. Where this will lead is source of rising tension worthy of any thriller. I kept turning the pages, desperate to know how it would end.
Yet on the surface, not a lot happens. The outsiders arrive, do their stuff, and leave. But do they leave the place as they found it? The narrative is peppered with short pieces of reportage on the murders of Irish men, women and children on the mainland that summer, which remind us of the bloody legacy of colonialism after the colonisers have moved on. Yet the novel is too sophisticated to present us with a neat split between good and bad. While Masson might sentimentalise island life, for James and his mother, Mairead, it’s a long way from what they want.
The writing style is unconventional, but not gimmicky and an easy read. The novel was longlisted for the Booker Prize 2022 and the best by far of the five I’ve read, including the winner. I really enjoyed Audrey Magee’s debut, The Undertaking, but her second novel is sheer brilliance.
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