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Digital Trilogy #1
Burley Cross Postbox Theft
Other people's letters are always a guilty pleasure. But for PC Roger Topping - contemplating a cache of 27 undelivered missives, dumped in an alley in Skipton - they're also a job of work.
From complaints about dog shit to passive-aggressive fanmail, via Biblical amateur dramatics and a disastrous Auction of Promises, Topping's investigation leads him into the curtain-twitching lives of Jeremy Baverstock, the Jonty Weiss-Quinns, Mrs Tirza Parry (widow), and a host of other eccentrics who inhabit the moorside village of Burley Cross.
Irresistibly readable and brilliantly unconventional, Burley Cross Postbox Theft is a Cranford for today, albeit with a decent dose of Tamiflu, some dodgy sex-therapy and a whiff of cheap-smelling vodka.
From complaints about dog shit to passive-aggressive fanmail, via Biblical amateur dramatics and a disastrous Auction of Promises, Topping's investigation leads him into the curtain-twitching lives of Jeremy Baverstock, the Jonty Weiss-Quinns, Mrs Tirza Parry (widow), and a host of other eccentrics who inhabit the moorside village of Burley Cross.
Irresistibly readable and brilliantly unconventional, Burley Cross Postbox Theft is a Cranford for today, albeit with a decent dose of Tamiflu, some dodgy sex-therapy and a whiff of cheap-smelling vodka.
361 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2010
About the author
Nicola Barker
35 books311 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
Nicola Barker is an English writer.
Nicola Barker’s eight previous novels include Darkmans (short-listed for the 2007 Man Booker and Ondaatje prizes, and winner of the Hawthornden Prize), Wide Open (winner of the 2000 International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award), and Clear (long-listed for the Man Booker Prize in 2004). She has also written two prize-winning collections of short stories, and her work has been translated into more than twenty languages. She lives in East London.
Nicola Barker is an English writer.
Nicola Barker’s eight previous novels include Darkmans (short-listed for the 2007 Man Booker and Ondaatje prizes, and winner of the Hawthornden Prize), Wide Open (winner of the 2000 International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award), and Clear (long-listed for the Man Booker Prize in 2004). She has also written two prize-winning collections of short stories, and her work has been translated into more than twenty languages. She lives in East London.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 54 reviews
April 10, 2021
2.5 stars
This is an epistolary novel of sorts. It is set in Yorkshire in a village near Ilkley, up in the moors. The local post box has been broken into and some letters stolen. The book starts with a local police sergeant writing to a local police constable, enclosing the letters, 26 of them and asking him to investigate. The book then consists of the letters themselves, some of them quite long. It ends with a couple of other letters which give alternate explanations of the whole thing. It is set around 2007/8. In this day of e-mails I’m not sure you could write this again.
The whole throws light on an array of typical village characters, many of whom are obsessive, eccentric and really rather disturbing. If you remember the recent headlining Handforth Parish Council you will get a flavour. This is where the book stands or falls. Over the course of the novel you build up a picture of the community and some characters recur. There is a strong comic element to it and a great deal of caricature which doesn’t always work and becomes rather tedious. There is a very long letter about the problems of dogshit in the village by a very pernickety writer. Way too long.
There are some amusing asides, like the member of the Burley Cross Toilet Watch (devoted to ensuring the local gay community can’t misuse toilets) managing to get himself arrested for what he is guarding against. There is a promises auction that goes horribly wrong. Sometimes it moves into Archers territory (A British rural radio soap), sometimes it is more League of Gentlemen, but mostly it didn’t work for me. A couple of them I was rather uncomfortable with, a few were mildly amusing. I seem to be having a poor run of books at the moment!
This is an epistolary novel of sorts. It is set in Yorkshire in a village near Ilkley, up in the moors. The local post box has been broken into and some letters stolen. The book starts with a local police sergeant writing to a local police constable, enclosing the letters, 26 of them and asking him to investigate. The book then consists of the letters themselves, some of them quite long. It ends with a couple of other letters which give alternate explanations of the whole thing. It is set around 2007/8. In this day of e-mails I’m not sure you could write this again.
The whole throws light on an array of typical village characters, many of whom are obsessive, eccentric and really rather disturbing. If you remember the recent headlining Handforth Parish Council you will get a flavour. This is where the book stands or falls. Over the course of the novel you build up a picture of the community and some characters recur. There is a strong comic element to it and a great deal of caricature which doesn’t always work and becomes rather tedious. There is a very long letter about the problems of dogshit in the village by a very pernickety writer. Way too long.
There are some amusing asides, like the member of the Burley Cross Toilet Watch (devoted to ensuring the local gay community can’t misuse toilets) managing to get himself arrested for what he is guarding against. There is a promises auction that goes horribly wrong. Sometimes it moves into Archers territory (A British rural radio soap), sometimes it is more League of Gentlemen, but mostly it didn’t work for me. A couple of them I was rather uncomfortable with, a few were mildly amusing. I seem to be having a poor run of books at the moment!
July 6, 2010
OLD REVIEW ON STUDENT BLOG I FORGOT ABOUT SPARKED BY PAUL BRYANT’S LIKE OF MY ORIGINAL SKIMPY REVIEW:
Nicola Barker is a warped cookie. Her early works are stylish burps of weirdness about the burned children of Canvey Island. From the masterpiece Wide Open to the perverse Reversed Forecast, these short novels gave voice to a band of coastal misfits, charming in their antisocial lunacy. Lately, her novels have been concerned with formal innovation and taking huge experimental risks, as witnessed in Behindlings and Darkmans.
Burley Cross Postbox Theft lunges in an unexpected direction: the realm of straight comedy. Shunning character-driven, interpersonal dramas, here Barker performs an act of tantric soliloquy, putting a whole range of complainers and oddballs in the spotlight.The contents of a postbox in the fictional town of Burley (Burnley’s malaprop twin?) are stolen. It falls upon one PC Roger Topping to solve the crime. In a hilarious rambling monologue, Barker begins to channel the spirit of Monty Python and doesn’t relent for the remaining 300 pages. To hear John Cleese read the opening chapter would be bliss.
We are invited to read from the stolen letters, which range from the believably absurd, (a tirade about dog poo), the surreal (forbidden seduction techniques), the self-referential (correspondence to a local novelist), to the touching (declarations between two lovers).
Despite this tongue-in-cheek Variety Show performance, it is clear these letters are a new loom on which Barker can weave her intricate patchwork of small-town life. Although the range of voices on display is impressive, and the content more playful and comedic than her other works, there are scenarios in BCPT that wouldn’t look out of place in Behindlings or her more emotion-driven works. The letters are laced with hidden darkness, hidden intrigue, hidden sadness, while the comedy dances upfront and amuses the Queen.
As a comedy, though, it begins on a Cleesian high note and keeps the laughs flowing at an impressive rate. Even in the lesser moments, the novel coasts by on its charm, linguistic sparkle and imaginative wowness. Although the resolution is something of a letdown, it is a pleasure to read this formidable novelist kicking back and writing a novel that showcases her talents for voice, comedy, and good old-fashioned entertainment.
Take a bow, Nicola.
::curtain closes::
::Nicola runs screaming from Prince Charles::
Nicola Barker is a warped cookie. Her early works are stylish burps of weirdness about the burned children of Canvey Island. From the masterpiece Wide Open to the perverse Reversed Forecast, these short novels gave voice to a band of coastal misfits, charming in their antisocial lunacy. Lately, her novels have been concerned with formal innovation and taking huge experimental risks, as witnessed in Behindlings and Darkmans.
Burley Cross Postbox Theft lunges in an unexpected direction: the realm of straight comedy. Shunning character-driven, interpersonal dramas, here Barker performs an act of tantric soliloquy, putting a whole range of complainers and oddballs in the spotlight.The contents of a postbox in the fictional town of Burley (Burnley’s malaprop twin?) are stolen. It falls upon one PC Roger Topping to solve the crime. In a hilarious rambling monologue, Barker begins to channel the spirit of Monty Python and doesn’t relent for the remaining 300 pages. To hear John Cleese read the opening chapter would be bliss.
We are invited to read from the stolen letters, which range from the believably absurd, (a tirade about dog poo), the surreal (forbidden seduction techniques), the self-referential (correspondence to a local novelist), to the touching (declarations between two lovers).
Despite this tongue-in-cheek Variety Show performance, it is clear these letters are a new loom on which Barker can weave her intricate patchwork of small-town life. Although the range of voices on display is impressive, and the content more playful and comedic than her other works, there are scenarios in BCPT that wouldn’t look out of place in Behindlings or her more emotion-driven works. The letters are laced with hidden darkness, hidden intrigue, hidden sadness, while the comedy dances upfront and amuses the Queen.
As a comedy, though, it begins on a Cleesian high note and keeps the laughs flowing at an impressive rate. Even in the lesser moments, the novel coasts by on its charm, linguistic sparkle and imaginative wowness. Although the resolution is something of a letdown, it is a pleasure to read this formidable novelist kicking back and writing a novel that showcases her talents for voice, comedy, and good old-fashioned entertainment.
Take a bow, Nicola.
::curtain closes::
::Nicola runs screaming from Prince Charles::
July 25, 2011
At first glance, it seems Nicola Barker has left behind the dark, menacing, labyrinthine world of Darkmans for sunnier, simpler climes - a quaint, pleasant village, the setting of Burley Cross Postbox Theft. Then again, whether you know this author by reputation or by past experience with her singular collection of works, do you really think she would pen a straightforward, conventionally charming epistolary novel along the lines of, say, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society?
Any such misapprehensions are quickly set aside as the first letter detailing the village's recent postbox (mailbox) theft case is teed up ... and devastatingly tees off on its recipient. That first letter is ostensibly a directive from a police sergeant to a police constable, instructing the constable to take over the investigation of the theft and recovery of a box of mail shortly before Christmas. That missive rapidly takes on strange intensity and personal viciousness, seemingly for nothing more than perverse reasons, as Sergeant Everill taunts Constable Topping on besting him in everything from job promotions to romance. Everill's odd, manic outbursts carry with them more than a shade of the troubled Dory from Darkmans, a character who was possibly clinically schizoprenic. Before the reader can figure out what to make of it, the book rolls on into the seemingly random collection of letters that make up the recovered postbox plunder.
There are three types of epistolary novels (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epistola... monologic (giving the letters of only one character), dialogic (giving the letters of two characters), and polylogic (with three or more letter-writing characters). In addition, a crucial element in polylogic epistolary novels (such as Dangerous Liaisons) is the dramatic device of 'discrepant awareness', wherein the simultaneous but separate correspondences of the heroines and the villains create dramatic tension. Burley Cross Postbox Theft is an arresting amalgam of all three, capturing connections made and missed.
Many of the diverted letters are comic monologues about life's petty annoyances, ballooned into hyperbolic diatribes. Other monologues capture loneliness, longing and yearning. The inventory of the ill-fated Auction of Promises is a unique monologue of good intentions going horribly awry.
The book as a whole is a cacophonous polylogue, seemingly random at first but falling together in interesting, startling and often heartrending fashion as each letter is opened. The interjections of an opinionated translator form a kind of dialogue with her interpretation of one letter for which the need for translation is not entirely clear. Finally, the collection of letters is framed by a dialogue of sorts between assigning sergeant and investigating constable, where PC Topping renders both the final word as well as a singularly soul-redeeming monologue.
Throughout, Barker populates this written - sometimes scribbled, sometimes meticulously typed and tapped out - chorus with characters who run the sympathetic gamut, from quirky, forlorn and wistful to bewildering, manic and kinda scary, to the edge of irredeemable. And this is just as Barker would have it for the readers willing to hang in with her often dense, often thorny, always rewarding stories:
'There are writers who exist to confirm people's feelings about themselves and to make them feel comforted or not alone. That's the opposite to what I do. I'm presenting people with unacceptable or hostile characters, and my desire is to make them understood.' (http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2007/...)
Not only does she make her disparate tangle of souls understood by the end, but Barker sews it up elegantly, organically and in a way that is both uplifting and just a touch satisfyingly vindictive. It's delicious.
In this day and age - and Burley Cross Postbox Theft is firmly set in the present - why should anyone care of some random bits of paper get lost in the increasingly dismissed and antiquated post? Barker addresses that in fine fashion, too, as part of PC Topping's summing up of the postbox theft mystery:
"Let's see ... I know that pubs are on their way out (hundreds are closing every week), that they're merely a sad reminder of things past (the way we once were, The Good Old Days), just like 'community spirit' is, and communities themselves, and churches, and local bobbies, and pickled walnuts, and brass bands at fetes, and tall hedgerows, and handwritten letters, and home-cooked meals, and sparrows, and boredom, and books, and gob-stoppers, and ladybirds, and innocence ... Yes. All for the high jump. All for the chop. All nearly eclipsed, now (may they rest in peace), by a much bigger, brighter future, in twenty-four-hour digital HD."
But just as PC Topping didn't buckle under Sergeant Everill's verbal assault when passed the postbox theft assignment, so his seeming rueful lament for a world quickly passing by is actually no lament at all, but a gentle yet pointed reprimand. Just as he plausibly disentangles the postbox theft and sorts out who needs to see which of the misdirected missives, his self-effacing tidying up at the end seems to more profoundly echo E.M. Forster's beloved call to "only connect."
Any such misapprehensions are quickly set aside as the first letter detailing the village's recent postbox (mailbox) theft case is teed up ... and devastatingly tees off on its recipient. That first letter is ostensibly a directive from a police sergeant to a police constable, instructing the constable to take over the investigation of the theft and recovery of a box of mail shortly before Christmas. That missive rapidly takes on strange intensity and personal viciousness, seemingly for nothing more than perverse reasons, as Sergeant Everill taunts Constable Topping on besting him in everything from job promotions to romance. Everill's odd, manic outbursts carry with them more than a shade of the troubled Dory from Darkmans, a character who was possibly clinically schizoprenic. Before the reader can figure out what to make of it, the book rolls on into the seemingly random collection of letters that make up the recovered postbox plunder.
There are three types of epistolary novels (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epistola... monologic (giving the letters of only one character), dialogic (giving the letters of two characters), and polylogic (with three or more letter-writing characters). In addition, a crucial element in polylogic epistolary novels (such as Dangerous Liaisons) is the dramatic device of 'discrepant awareness', wherein the simultaneous but separate correspondences of the heroines and the villains create dramatic tension. Burley Cross Postbox Theft is an arresting amalgam of all three, capturing connections made and missed.
Many of the diverted letters are comic monologues about life's petty annoyances, ballooned into hyperbolic diatribes. Other monologues capture loneliness, longing and yearning. The inventory of the ill-fated Auction of Promises is a unique monologue of good intentions going horribly awry.
The book as a whole is a cacophonous polylogue, seemingly random at first but falling together in interesting, startling and often heartrending fashion as each letter is opened. The interjections of an opinionated translator form a kind of dialogue with her interpretation of one letter for which the need for translation is not entirely clear. Finally, the collection of letters is framed by a dialogue of sorts between assigning sergeant and investigating constable, where PC Topping renders both the final word as well as a singularly soul-redeeming monologue.
Throughout, Barker populates this written - sometimes scribbled, sometimes meticulously typed and tapped out - chorus with characters who run the sympathetic gamut, from quirky, forlorn and wistful to bewildering, manic and kinda scary, to the edge of irredeemable. And this is just as Barker would have it for the readers willing to hang in with her often dense, often thorny, always rewarding stories:
'There are writers who exist to confirm people's feelings about themselves and to make them feel comforted or not alone. That's the opposite to what I do. I'm presenting people with unacceptable or hostile characters, and my desire is to make them understood.' (http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2007/...)
Not only does she make her disparate tangle of souls understood by the end, but Barker sews it up elegantly, organically and in a way that is both uplifting and just a touch satisfyingly vindictive. It's delicious.
In this day and age - and Burley Cross Postbox Theft is firmly set in the present - why should anyone care of some random bits of paper get lost in the increasingly dismissed and antiquated post? Barker addresses that in fine fashion, too, as part of PC Topping's summing up of the postbox theft mystery:
"Let's see ... I know that pubs are on their way out (hundreds are closing every week), that they're merely a sad reminder of things past (the way we once were, The Good Old Days), just like 'community spirit' is, and communities themselves, and churches, and local bobbies, and pickled walnuts, and brass bands at fetes, and tall hedgerows, and handwritten letters, and home-cooked meals, and sparrows, and boredom, and books, and gob-stoppers, and ladybirds, and innocence ... Yes. All for the high jump. All for the chop. All nearly eclipsed, now (may they rest in peace), by a much bigger, brighter future, in twenty-four-hour digital HD."
But just as PC Topping didn't buckle under Sergeant Everill's verbal assault when passed the postbox theft assignment, so his seeming rueful lament for a world quickly passing by is actually no lament at all, but a gentle yet pointed reprimand. Just as he plausibly disentangles the postbox theft and sorts out who needs to see which of the misdirected missives, his self-effacing tidying up at the end seems to more profoundly echo E.M. Forster's beloved call to "only connect."
February 5, 2024
Wonderfully crafted humorous portrait of village life done through the plot-device of 26 letters stolen from a post-box, plus the police investigation documents (Poirot would struggle to better PC Topping's conclusions!), with highlights including the Promise Auction report and (my fave) Paula Coombes's heart-breakingly hilarious xmas round-robin of her family's year. Nicola Barker can do no wrong in my eyes.
May 25, 2011
After the massive, incomprehensible, hilarious and bruising Darkmans, Nicola Barker decided to write an almost linear, almost straightforward novel. Then she found herself disappearing down 27 separate fantastic and obtuse tangents within that relatively straightforward, arced novel. Then she went nuts, got rid of the original novel, and just kept the tangents.
I have no evidence for any of that, of course, but that's the story I back-engineered from Burley Cross Postbox Theft. It is, if anything, more marvellously scattered than Darkmans; Barker plays on the esoteric, and makes the lack of connections as much a braggable feature of the novel as the rare/barely there connections.
The conceit of BCPT is that a bag of letters, stolen from the rusting postbox, is found abandoned by the criminal in a back alley. It's these letters, along with bookending missives from the two police officers trying to solve the crime, that make up the book. It's the perfect plan for Barker, who gets to flex her fearsome muscles in constructing wild and vibrant voices. Within the 27 letters, there is enough room to roam far, far away; and enough constriction to keep the book from ballooning into a four-inch spine.
The lack of exceptional length is really important. Because not only does Barker roam/tangent/scatter/explode more than ever before, but she also ties the whole thing together. That she even tried for an 'ending' completely surprised me -- I was fully expecting a non-ending to match the non-narrative before it. But end it she did, surpassing anything I originally expected from this book.
I demanded the impossible after reading Darkmans in January. I wanted Barker -- or anyone, really -- to make virtuoso explosivity of prose the heart of a novel, to completely disprove the need for an actual ending by being so spectacular -- and then to give me the ending to match the spectacular body. And here it is, the impossible, Burley Cross Postbox Theft.
Now I want the sort of rare steak that makes me irresistable to women, and leaves next weeks lottery numbers written in blood on the plate.
I have no evidence for any of that, of course, but that's the story I back-engineered from Burley Cross Postbox Theft. It is, if anything, more marvellously scattered than Darkmans; Barker plays on the esoteric, and makes the lack of connections as much a braggable feature of the novel as the rare/barely there connections.
The conceit of BCPT is that a bag of letters, stolen from the rusting postbox, is found abandoned by the criminal in a back alley. It's these letters, along with bookending missives from the two police officers trying to solve the crime, that make up the book. It's the perfect plan for Barker, who gets to flex her fearsome muscles in constructing wild and vibrant voices. Within the 27 letters, there is enough room to roam far, far away; and enough constriction to keep the book from ballooning into a four-inch spine.
The lack of exceptional length is really important. Because not only does Barker roam/tangent/scatter/explode more than ever before, but she also ties the whole thing together. That she even tried for an 'ending' completely surprised me -- I was fully expecting a non-ending to match the non-narrative before it. But end it she did, surpassing anything I originally expected from this book.
I demanded the impossible after reading Darkmans in January. I wanted Barker -- or anyone, really -- to make virtuoso explosivity of prose the heart of a novel, to completely disprove the need for an actual ending by being so spectacular -- and then to give me the ending to match the spectacular body. And here it is, the impossible, Burley Cross Postbox Theft.
Now I want the sort of rare steak that makes me irresistable to women, and leaves next weeks lottery numbers written in blood on the plate.
October 16, 2018
I couldn't get past the first chapter of this one. In fact, the book almost lost me in the first couple of pages because the characters and the writing were so unrealistic.
If it had been a spoken monologue, I could've handled it, though the style was way over the top. But even in the golden days of letter writing, it was a rare person who would write a 22-page letter full of needless repetition and supposedly humorous banter. Especially when said letter is an official letter, from one policeman to another.
I can't picture any Sergeant in a local police force who would write in such a camp style anyway, but especially not when he's writing officially, to hand over a case:
"Here it is, Rog. It was meant for you, Rog (and I say that with all sincerity). It was preordained, Rog. It was written in the stars, Rog. It was fated.
It's your destiny, Rog. It was always your destiny.
Because there have been other cases, Rog, and other officers, but there has never been this case, Rog, and this officer. There has never been PC Roger Topping and (my teeth tingle as I prepare to write these words) the case of THE BURLEY CROSS POSTBOX THEFT."
See what I mean about repetition? And dipping into the book at other places, it strikes me that many of the other characters seem to have the same voluble, repetitious, italic- and capital-ridden prose style. I know all the letters are written by the same author, but isn't the point of using different characters that you try to give them their own voice?
From what I can gather, the plot is preposterous too. A postbox gets vandalised and for some weird reason, the police think the way to solve the crime is to read all the letters that were dumped by the culprit. Why, pray? Surely if the thief was trying to get a letter, he'd have kept the one he wanted...duh.
I suspect that's supposed to be the point. I think I'm supposed to think of the whole thing as a cartoon, not a novel about real people at all, and that's supposed to excuse everything. Doesn't work for me.
If it had been a spoken monologue, I could've handled it, though the style was way over the top. But even in the golden days of letter writing, it was a rare person who would write a 22-page letter full of needless repetition and supposedly humorous banter. Especially when said letter is an official letter, from one policeman to another.
I can't picture any Sergeant in a local police force who would write in such a camp style anyway, but especially not when he's writing officially, to hand over a case:
"Here it is, Rog. It was meant for you, Rog (and I say that with all sincerity). It was preordained, Rog. It was written in the stars, Rog. It was fated.
It's your destiny, Rog. It was always your destiny.
Because there have been other cases, Rog, and other officers, but there has never been this case, Rog, and this officer. There has never been PC Roger Topping and (my teeth tingle as I prepare to write these words) the case of THE BURLEY CROSS POSTBOX THEFT."
See what I mean about repetition? And dipping into the book at other places, it strikes me that many of the other characters seem to have the same voluble, repetitious, italic- and capital-ridden prose style. I know all the letters are written by the same author, but isn't the point of using different characters that you try to give them their own voice?
From what I can gather, the plot is preposterous too. A postbox gets vandalised and for some weird reason, the police think the way to solve the crime is to read all the letters that were dumped by the culprit. Why, pray? Surely if the thief was trying to get a letter, he'd have kept the one he wanted...duh.
I suspect that's supposed to be the point. I think I'm supposed to think of the whole thing as a cartoon, not a novel about real people at all, and that's supposed to excuse everything. Doesn't work for me.
December 16, 2016
I wish Nicola Barker was my aunt, the aunt you're sure leads a cult somewhere in the hills. She's a phenomenal writer who doesn't seem to get her due here in the States. I can't recommend her enough. She is difficult, hilarious, surprising, and probably one of our greatest living novelists.
BCPT revives awesomely the epistolary novel, the novel in letters, seemingly doomed in the digital age of ether-fucklets and imaginary no-nothing correspondence. A postbox gets ripped off and a cop sifts through the evidence which is the text of the novel, the bunch of letters inside, to try and see who did it.
It's one of those novels that makes you snort out loud with laughter, has tons of shit jokes, and which, right at the very end, makes you feel like Satan is picking you up, turning you around, and when it sets you down it is God instead doing the deed.
BCPT revives awesomely the epistolary novel, the novel in letters, seemingly doomed in the digital age of ether-fucklets and imaginary no-nothing correspondence. A postbox gets ripped off and a cop sifts through the evidence which is the text of the novel, the bunch of letters inside, to try and see who did it.
It's one of those novels that makes you snort out loud with laughter, has tons of shit jokes, and which, right at the very end, makes you feel like Satan is picking you up, turning you around, and when it sets you down it is God instead doing the deed.
March 30, 2012
This is a high 3/5 stars but that's really all I can say. Barker is witty and exceptional at writing and all of her novels have something special about them but I really expected more from this one. It's about a Postbox Theft where all that is left are a series of letters from the small English town of Burley Cross but really it's about the inner workings of a town between the destitute and the desperately romantic, the homeoerotic secret lover spots and the miserly old spinsters...what is interesting is the vastly different takes on the characters of the town from different perspectives. It really makes you wonder what the truth really is about each human being that supposedly exists and resides there and makes you realize how different your point of view on someone may be from someone else and how differently people may think of you.
This could very easily de-evolve soap opera style if it weren't for Barker's wit and talented prose. Still, it doesn't seem profound or life changing in any way. I still think Darkmans is her best that I've read thus far clearly.
This could very easily de-evolve soap opera style if it weren't for Barker's wit and talented prose. Still, it doesn't seem profound or life changing in any way. I still think Darkmans is her best that I've read thus far clearly.
April 29, 2011
I slogged my way through this thing, but in the end I wasn't very happy that I'd squandered valuable reading time on it. Nothing is more dire than failed humor, and particularly failed wit: BURLEY CROSS POSTBOX THEFT is a prime example thereof. I have a fairly high tolerance for the OUR TOWN-ish, AKENFIELD-y village group portrait, but the writing in practically every section here is heavy-handed, with each underwhelming set-piece drawn out to a ludicrous degree. Reading it is like having to sit in an uncomfortable chair through an elderly uncle's endlessly unfunny, half-forgotten joke.
At least here, though, you needn't force yourself to smile at the end.
At least here, though, you needn't force yourself to smile at the end.
May 15, 2010
What a wonderfully unexpected joy of a book! I nearly gave up after the first couple of letters - weirdly out of place (very annoying footnotes) - but oh am I glad I carried on. A book that has taken the epistolary form to new heights - very rarely have I seen it done better, a real delight. Recommended to anyone with a delight in quirky, well-written books!
November 9, 2018
Another Barker re-read, and highly recommended! The life a British village told through the letters (stolen)from one day in 2007. Would such a small community contain so much eccentricity? Probably!
Read
July 29, 2011A very funny, voyeur's look into the life and lives of small town Britain via their personal mail. Also has quite touching and quite nasty bits.
September 4, 2022
A strange quirk of mine is that I pretty much never give up on a book or a film, in case there's something redeeming or revelatory at the end. It's taken me months to force myself through this book, like a weird homework assignment I insisted on completing after even the teacher said not to bother. I guess the ending was actually less unsatisfying than the rest of the book, but that's not saying much. I think it was overreaching to pen an epistolary novel with the sheer number of characters involved, and think you can give them convincingly distinct identities/ writing styles. Moreover, most of the letters therein were written in a stream-of-consciousness, conversational patter that would only make sense if they had been dictated in haste (whereas only one, very rude letter is said to be transcribed from a dictaphone, complete with superfluous annotation of bodily functions, presumably played for laughs instead of eye-rolls). I honestly can't imagine recommending this book to anyone - even without being intellectually demanding, it drove me to distraction. Looking forward to moving on with my life as a reader.
July 8, 2017
This is a fun book for fans of British (and probably all other) small villages. Someone breaks into a mailbox and steals a pile of letters, which are later discovered in back of one of the shops in town. The Big Police Force can't get a handle on it, so the case is turned over to a more local officer in hopes of him getting to the bottom of it. The only evidence, as such, is the stack of letters that was stolen--that is the book.
Read carefully. As in small towns everywhere, everyone knows everyone else's business and talks about it endlessly, even in the mail. Each letter-writer has a specific voice and style as well as a specific ax to grind. Some of them are wonderful, kind-hearted (if delusional) people. Some are despicable in every way. I loved the "translation" letter (one of the letters was written in patois), and the one from the frazzled mom of several whose life is a total and complete disaster. And the one from the Little Old Lady to the biker in prison.
It almost becomes beside the point to know who pilfered. The ending will surprise you.
Read carefully. As in small towns everywhere, everyone knows everyone else's business and talks about it endlessly, even in the mail. Each letter-writer has a specific voice and style as well as a specific ax to grind. Some of them are wonderful, kind-hearted (if delusional) people. Some are despicable in every way. I loved the "translation" letter (one of the letters was written in patois), and the one from the frazzled mom of several whose life is a total and complete disaster. And the one from the Little Old Lady to the biker in prison.
It almost becomes beside the point to know who pilfered. The ending will surprise you.
December 8, 2020
Going postal: Nicola Barker’s epistolary crosses Henry Root with Craig Brown, and there’s a dash of Private Eye’s From The Messageboards in the genetic makeup too. It’s a concept - and she certainly has an ear for the subliterate style and bigoted, mean-spirited, ignorant, self-satisfied, petty, naff, suburban mores of the English. But the episodic nature is unsatisfying and the half-hearted bit of detective work towards the end comes when the reader has lost interest in whodunnit and is about as compelling as the 84th season of Midsomer Murders. Fitfully amusing - the tale of the charity auction, with the donor having second thoughts when she is required to give a half-naked yoga lesson to a woman with terrible eczema (“all over my shagpile!”) - but somehow not quite the sum of its parts, rather like the yoga lady.
September 6, 2018
I have mixed feelings about this book. I wanted to like it a lot more than I did as I have Nicola Barker books I've yet to read. But I don't really like books that use a device - like letters - rather than a narrative. Some of this felt like sub-Monty Python humour, and it took me 2 years to finish. The biggest issue I have is that all the letters feel like they're written by the same person - which, of course, they are. Still, it did make me laugh, and the unrequited love story and the conclusion to the police investigation were sweet.
July 21, 2019
Couldn't even get past the first chapter. It's supposed to be a letter from one policeman to another but it's just a horrible, repetitive over the top mess that goes on forever. I'd like to think the great of the book might be better but I'm not going to get there,
June 17, 2021
Shop Your Neighbour Little England which I should reread now that fucking CronyVirus has broken the few remaining good things about England. Except I doubt it will seem as funny as it did the first time.
March 14, 2017
It took an eight hour flight to get through this one. Hallelujah when I finally finished. So much prevarication and rambling. It took a lot of energy to get through, a real trudge.
Read
October 9, 2023shelved
June 27, 2025
Couldn't get past the first chapter. What was all that about???
September 16, 2025
I love Nicola Barker but finding this too freewheeling. Need some plot from my reads at the moment!
October 17, 2025
Sheer brilliance- books like this make you glad to be alive and sentient.
July 26, 2019
This is the audible version, and so far am laughing. A lot.
This was good. This is an epistolary novel, and I am not very good at saying the word epistolary. The central premise is that the contents of the postbox of a small, well-heeled Yorkshire village are stolen, and as the police investigation unfolds, we meet the characters of the village. This was very funny in places, some truly demented people, some great set pieces, and some heart break thrown in too for good measure. Nicola Barker is new to me, and this makes me want to read more of this...
This was good. This is an epistolary novel, and I am not very good at saying the word epistolary. The central premise is that the contents of the postbox of a small, well-heeled Yorkshire village are stolen, and as the police investigation unfolds, we meet the characters of the village. This was very funny in places, some truly demented people, some great set pieces, and some heart break thrown in too for good measure. Nicola Barker is new to me, and this makes me want to read more of this...
January 22, 2012
I’ve thought about this book for some time after I finished it but haven’t really come to any definite conclusion – do I like this book or do I not? Let me list the pros and cons of this book.
PROS
- It’s written all in letters. I like that. Brings me back to some of the books I read in high school.
- You can get a good perspective of the village of Burley Cross through all those letters.
- There are some truly funny moments, such as the ‘sex hex’.
- It’s original.
- The ending is truly innovative.
CONS
- All written in letters means sometimes not a lot of background detail is there.
- Sometimes some characters don’t really seem to fit in all that well into the overall narrative (such as the church play, who was the person writing the letter and what was their role?)
- People don’t really write letters that much nowadays due to email etc. and they don’t always go into extreme detail. (A fairly trivial point though).
- The neighbourly arguments can sometimes be a little too close to reality. (Not applicable if you live in Summer Bay or Neighbours).
- It gets a little boring in places, trying to work out where all these people fit!
There you go. After writing the list, I’ve tempted to lean towards the ‘I like’ list, but you probably won’t feel comfortable reading a book about village life (disputes, love, friendship, planning disputes etc.) if you’re having a neighbour war of your own. On the other hand, it is a witty look at petty politics and worth a laugh, particularly if you’ve ever had any voyeuristic thought about a post box. The characters are over the top (I still shudder thinking of Baxter and his appearance post-sex hex) and cleverly illustrated to display their flaws. There are loving moments and some just plain ridiculous moments (such as the phantom dog dropping bags tied to fences). Like real life, there are some moments that just seem not to do anything or be part of the bigger picture. In retrospect, I found that nice – too often now TV programmes and some books lack any deviation from the Major Plot Line.
This book is an eccentric departure from the linear plot and should be enjoyed as such. You’ll either like it (as I ended up doing after I penned my thoughts) or think it’s a load of junk mail.
PROS
- It’s written all in letters. I like that. Brings me back to some of the books I read in high school.
- You can get a good perspective of the village of Burley Cross through all those letters.
- There are some truly funny moments, such as the ‘sex hex’.
- It’s original.
- The ending is truly innovative.
CONS
- All written in letters means sometimes not a lot of background detail is there.
- Sometimes some characters don’t really seem to fit in all that well into the overall narrative (such as the church play, who was the person writing the letter and what was their role?)
- People don’t really write letters that much nowadays due to email etc. and they don’t always go into extreme detail. (A fairly trivial point though).
- The neighbourly arguments can sometimes be a little too close to reality. (Not applicable if you live in Summer Bay or Neighbours).
- It gets a little boring in places, trying to work out where all these people fit!
There you go. After writing the list, I’ve tempted to lean towards the ‘I like’ list, but you probably won’t feel comfortable reading a book about village life (disputes, love, friendship, planning disputes etc.) if you’re having a neighbour war of your own. On the other hand, it is a witty look at petty politics and worth a laugh, particularly if you’ve ever had any voyeuristic thought about a post box. The characters are over the top (I still shudder thinking of Baxter and his appearance post-sex hex) and cleverly illustrated to display their flaws. There are loving moments and some just plain ridiculous moments (such as the phantom dog dropping bags tied to fences). Like real life, there are some moments that just seem not to do anything or be part of the bigger picture. In retrospect, I found that nice – too often now TV programmes and some books lack any deviation from the Major Plot Line.
This book is an eccentric departure from the linear plot and should be enjoyed as such. You’ll either like it (as I ended up doing after I penned my thoughts) or think it’s a load of junk mail.
March 27, 2014
When I first read about the Burley Cross Postbox Theft, it sounded like a book for me. A postbox is vandalized and the letters found discarded in a yard in a sleepy English village. The police must investigate to figure out what happened and who is responsible. Because quite a large number of letters have been left behind, the police must attempt to determine what is missing and why. For some reason, the police investigators decide that they must read all of the recovered letters.
Unfortunately, the entire book consists of letters, both from the police and the residents. This wouldn't be a problem, except that there are SO MANY of them, and most of the writers have an annoying tendency to ramble, put in lots of unnecessary asides (one even has footnotes) and otherwise lead the reader far, far from the story. There are so many letters that it's basically impossible to keep all the people in the story straight, without some sort of diagram or chart of the village and who lives where.
Once the mystery of the burgled postbox is finally revealed, of course it transpires that the vast majority of letters had nothing to do with the theft, but rather, I suppose, were an effort to demonstrate the intense rivalries, jealousies and gossip that takes place in a small town. I would have liked more story and fewer characters to keep track of. Some of the letters were amusing, but still, there were simply too many of them! The events in the story take place around Christmas time in 2006, but even so, I would think that people had somewhat slowed down in the posting of letters by that time.
Unfortunately, the entire book consists of letters, both from the police and the residents. This wouldn't be a problem, except that there are SO MANY of them, and most of the writers have an annoying tendency to ramble, put in lots of unnecessary asides (one even has footnotes) and otherwise lead the reader far, far from the story. There are so many letters that it's basically impossible to keep all the people in the story straight, without some sort of diagram or chart of the village and who lives where.
Once the mystery of the burgled postbox is finally revealed, of course it transpires that the vast majority of letters had nothing to do with the theft, but rather, I suppose, were an effort to demonstrate the intense rivalries, jealousies and gossip that takes place in a small town. I would have liked more story and fewer characters to keep track of. Some of the letters were amusing, but still, there were simply too many of them! The events in the story take place around Christmas time in 2006, but even so, I would think that people had somewhat slowed down in the posting of letters by that time.
February 16, 2017
Letters stolen from a village postbox are found and read.
Poignant and funny, I particular liked the letter regarding the Auction benefit, very amusing .
Poignant and funny, I particular liked the letter regarding the Auction benefit, very amusing .
Read
January 25, 2023If you’ve ever read a Nicola Barker novel you more or less know what to expect, which is to mostly not know what to expect. Her books have a kind of wildness to them, and especially in voice. They’re also usually very funny. This book is all of those things.
The book begins with a long rant from a police inspector handing off a mystery to another detective. In the rant, among other things, we learn that in the small town of Burley Cross (BC) a post box has been broken into and dozens of letters were stolen. Presumably the answer lies in those missing letters as to the nature of the crime. The rest of the novel is each one of those letters (which were found behind a shop) which give a view into the inter-personal turmoil of the town, which includes a several wannabe novelists, a disaffected former novelty musician, a church production of a Jesus play, and a lot of other things. Each letter’s narrator (some of whom double or triple up over the course of the novel) has their own distinct voice that we are privy too, along with their unique petit dramas in the town. The book ends up being a lot like a few other authors (and this is only by way of trying to provide some comparison) to David Mitchell, Agatha Christie, Thomas Pynchon, and Kathy Acker. Like I said, it’s ultimately a wild ride, and like other Barker novels this one starts off a trilogy of what I think is thematic connections.
The book begins with a long rant from a police inspector handing off a mystery to another detective. In the rant, among other things, we learn that in the small town of Burley Cross (BC) a post box has been broken into and dozens of letters were stolen. Presumably the answer lies in those missing letters as to the nature of the crime. The rest of the novel is each one of those letters (which were found behind a shop) which give a view into the inter-personal turmoil of the town, which includes a several wannabe novelists, a disaffected former novelty musician, a church production of a Jesus play, and a lot of other things. Each letter’s narrator (some of whom double or triple up over the course of the novel) has their own distinct voice that we are privy too, along with their unique petit dramas in the town. The book ends up being a lot like a few other authors (and this is only by way of trying to provide some comparison) to David Mitchell, Agatha Christie, Thomas Pynchon, and Kathy Acker. Like I said, it’s ultimately a wild ride, and like other Barker novels this one starts off a trilogy of what I think is thematic connections.
July 7, 2013
[ This review was originally posted on my blog: http://turnherintoliterature.tumblr.com/ ]
After wanting to read this for ages, I finally caved in and bought it from Book Depository (there is no way I would have been able to find this in an Australian bookstore).
And, sadly, I then wished I hadn’t bothered to listen to the hype. While it’s a clever concept, the novel got bogged down in a score of unlikeable characters. Before you say, “But Jess, you loved ‘The Casual Vacancy’ and those people were TERRIBLE,” I know that Rowling’s foray into adult novels was mainly about the terrible nature of people (like so many other novels are - ‘War & Peace’, ‘Madame Bovary’, ‘Emma’, to name but a few), but at least in that I could connect with or feel sorry for someone. In this particular book, the people were SO unlikeable, petty and narrowminded through their (frankly too longwinded, though that was the point with some characters) letters. I think the best letters were the ones written between the police officers because they were succinct and tended to poke fun at all the other characters who carried on and kicked up a fuss.
In all honesty, I can’t recommend this book to anyone, and I will probably end up guiltily swapping it in at the local secondhand bookstore so that I can get something much more to my taste!
After wanting to read this for ages, I finally caved in and bought it from Book Depository (there is no way I would have been able to find this in an Australian bookstore).
And, sadly, I then wished I hadn’t bothered to listen to the hype. While it’s a clever concept, the novel got bogged down in a score of unlikeable characters. Before you say, “But Jess, you loved ‘The Casual Vacancy’ and those people were TERRIBLE,” I know that Rowling’s foray into adult novels was mainly about the terrible nature of people (like so many other novels are - ‘War & Peace’, ‘Madame Bovary’, ‘Emma’, to name but a few), but at least in that I could connect with or feel sorry for someone. In this particular book, the people were SO unlikeable, petty and narrowminded through their (frankly too longwinded, though that was the point with some characters) letters. I think the best letters were the ones written between the police officers because they were succinct and tended to poke fun at all the other characters who carried on and kicked up a fuss.
In all honesty, I can’t recommend this book to anyone, and I will probably end up guiltily swapping it in at the local secondhand bookstore so that I can get something much more to my taste!
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