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The present-day Hereford village of Ledwardine appears virtually untouched by time. Its lovely black and white houses are intact, fast-food outlets do not desecrate its cobbled streets, and the high street is dotted with charming shops. The inhabitants, on the other hand, by no means all represent the old families of the area -- they can hardly afford to stay. Instead, we have artists, playwrights, and city folk, all determined to maintain their generalized vision of local customs. Picturesque as Ledwardine is, it has a dubious past, as quaint villages tend to do. In the 17th century, the vicar, one Wil Williams, a friend of the poet Thomas Traherne, was hounded to his death by a congregation that believed him guilty of witchcraft, having spotted him cavorting in the orchard that surrounded the church stark naked in the company of 'sprites.' Rather than waiting to be tried and burnt, Williams opted for a quick suicide, hanging himself from an apple tree. Now an in-comer, Richard Coffey, a well-known playwright, wants to rake this all up again with a play he plans to produce in the Ledwardine church, starring his lover, Stefan Alder, a play that will reveal Wil as an early victim of homophobia. The project is meeting stiff opposition from James Bull-Davies, the local squire, who threatens retaliation if the play comes off. It is left to the present vicar, Merrily Watkins, to decide what to do. Actually, she's not a vicar but 'priest-in-charge,' awaiting confirmation in the post. Merrily is a newcomer to the parish and a relatively newly-minted priest who worked previously in the grittier surroundings of Glasgow. A widow and the mother of a smart-mouthed teenage daughter, she is a contradictory and yet engaging character, whose introduction to the parish is made unforgettable by the suicide or accidental death of an elderly parishioner during a pagan-ish cider festival. She is in some ways a sensible and level-headed person, in others, a twitchy mess, given to nightmares and rather dramatic responses to stress. To the local keeper of tradition, Miss Devenish, Merrily has been 'sent' (by whom it is unclear) to lance the boil of parish secrets; to her daughter, she is a 'pious cow,' to the old families, she is an embarrassment and perhaps a threat. As you might well imagine, all becomes royally unstuck as a young girl disappears, bodies appear, and things go bump in the might. And that's only the first hundred pages of this immensely long novel. Rickman, who prior to this book had made his name as a horror writer, does well when dealing with the ordinary relationships among the characters; he seems to have more trouble handling the Gothic plot elements inside the frame of a crime novel. But by the time the novel lumbers to its conclusion, it is unclear precisely what is going on here. Are we dealing with a universe in which the supernatural threatens to break through the boundaries of ordinary reality, or is this merely a New Age exhortation to let it all hang out? I myself was made uncomfortable by the apparently unexamined notion that the sins of one's forebears are passed on from generation to generation, so that individual behaviour is constrained by the past, a chain that can only be broken by some sort of public confessional process. I gather that Merrily goes on to become a professional exorcist in subsequent books, a job description I am not sure she is sufficiently stable to carry out. Incidentally, the book makes frequent reference to Nick Drake, a musician and Hereford lad, who died accidentally or on purpose some 30 years ago of an overdose. For me, the expropriation of his real life and work has the same kind of failure to respect legitimate boundaries that is at the heart of the chaotic climax to this novel, though perhaps Drake fans would see it differently.
Reviewed by Yvonne Klein, October 2004
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Contact: Yvonne Klein (ymk@reviewingtheevidence.com)
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