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The Lie
Set during and just after the First World War, The Lie is an enthralling, heart-wrenching novel of love, memory and devastating loss by one of the UK’s most acclaimed storytellers.
Cornwall, 1920, early spring.
A young man stands on a headland, looking out to sea. He is back from the war, homeless and without family. Behind him lie the mud, barbed-wire entanglements and terror of the trenches. Behind him is also the most intense relationship of his life.
Daniel has survived, but the horror and passion of the past seem more real than the quiet fields around him. He is about to step into the unknown. But will he ever be able to escape the terrible, unforeseen consequences of a lie?
Cornwall, 1920, early spring.
A young man stands on a headland, looking out to sea. He is back from the war, homeless and without family. Behind him lie the mud, barbed-wire entanglements and terror of the trenches. Behind him is also the most intense relationship of his life.
Daniel has survived, but the horror and passion of the past seem more real than the quiet fields around him. He is about to step into the unknown. But will he ever be able to escape the terrible, unforeseen consequences of a lie?
304 pages, Paperback
First published January 16, 2014
215 people are currently reading
2943 people want to read
About the author
Helen Dunmore
117 books966 followersI was born in December 1952, in Yorkshire, the second of four children. My father was the eldest of twelve, and this extended family has no doubt had a strong influence on my life, as have my own children. In a large family you hear a great many stories. You also come to understand very early that stories hold quite different meanings for different listeners, and can be recast from many viewpoints.
Poetry was very important to me from childhood. I began by listening to and learning by heart all kinds of rhymes and hymns and ballads, and then went on to make up my own poems, using the forms I’d heard. Writing these down came a little later.
I studied English at the University of York, and after graduation taught English as a foreign language in Finland.
At around this time I began to write the poems which formed my first poetry collection, The Apple Fall, and to publish these in magazines. I also completed two novels; fortunately neither survives, and it was more than ten years before I wrote another novel.
During this time I published several collections of poems, and wrote some of the short stories which were later collected in Love of Fat Men. I began to travel a great deal within the UK and around the world, for poetry tours and writing residences. This experience of working in many different countries and cultures has been very important to my work. I reviewed poetry for Stand and Poetry Review and later for The Observer, and subsequently reviewed fiction for The Observer, The Times and The Guardian. My critical work includes introductions to the poems of Emily Brontë, the short stories of D H Lawrence and F Scott Fitzgerald, a study of Virginia Woolf’s relationships with women and Introductions to the Folio Society's edition of Anna Karenina and to the new Penguin Classics edition of Tolstoy's My Confession.
During the 1980s and early 1990s I taught poetry and creative writing, tutored residential writing courses for the Arvon Foundation and took part in the Poetry Society's Writer in Schools scheme, as well as giving readings and workshops in schools, hospitals, prisons and every other kind of place where a poem could conceivably be welcome. I also taught at the University of Glamorgan, the University of Bristol's Continuing Education Department and for the Open College of the Arts.
In the late 1980s I began to publish short stories, and these were the beginning of a breakthrough into fiction. What I had learned of prose technique through the short story gave me the impetus to start writing novels. My first novel for children was Going to Egypt, published in 1992, and my first novel for adults was Zennor in Darkness, published in 1993, which won the McKitterick Prize. This was also my first researched novel, set in the First World War and dealing with the period when D H Lawrence and his wife Frieda lived in Zennor in Cornwall, and came under suspicion as German spies.
My third novel, A Spell of Winter, won the inaugural Orange Prize for Fiction in 1996, and since then I have published a number of novels, short story collections and books for children. Full details of all these books are available on this website. The last of The Ingo Quartet, The Crossing of Ingo, was published in paperback in Spring 2009.
My seventh novel, The Siege (2001) was shortlisted both for the Whitbread Novel Award and the Orange Prize for Fiction. This was another researched novel, which grew from a lifelong love of Russian history, culture and literature. It is is set in Leningrad during the first year of the siege of the city by German forces, which lasted for 880 days from the fall of Mga on 30th August 1941. The Siege has been translated into Russian by Tatyana Averchina, and extracts have been broadcast on radio in St Petersburg. House of Orphans was published in 2006, and in 2008 Counting the Stars. Its central characters are the Roman poet Catullus, who lived during the last years of the Republic,
Poetry was very important to me from childhood. I began by listening to and learning by heart all kinds of rhymes and hymns and ballads, and then went on to make up my own poems, using the forms I’d heard. Writing these down came a little later.
I studied English at the University of York, and after graduation taught English as a foreign language in Finland.
At around this time I began to write the poems which formed my first poetry collection, The Apple Fall, and to publish these in magazines. I also completed two novels; fortunately neither survives, and it was more than ten years before I wrote another novel.
During this time I published several collections of poems, and wrote some of the short stories which were later collected in Love of Fat Men. I began to travel a great deal within the UK and around the world, for poetry tours and writing residences. This experience of working in many different countries and cultures has been very important to my work. I reviewed poetry for Stand and Poetry Review and later for The Observer, and subsequently reviewed fiction for The Observer, The Times and The Guardian. My critical work includes introductions to the poems of Emily Brontë, the short stories of D H Lawrence and F Scott Fitzgerald, a study of Virginia Woolf’s relationships with women and Introductions to the Folio Society's edition of Anna Karenina and to the new Penguin Classics edition of Tolstoy's My Confession.
During the 1980s and early 1990s I taught poetry and creative writing, tutored residential writing courses for the Arvon Foundation and took part in the Poetry Society's Writer in Schools scheme, as well as giving readings and workshops in schools, hospitals, prisons and every other kind of place where a poem could conceivably be welcome. I also taught at the University of Glamorgan, the University of Bristol's Continuing Education Department and for the Open College of the Arts.
In the late 1980s I began to publish short stories, and these were the beginning of a breakthrough into fiction. What I had learned of prose technique through the short story gave me the impetus to start writing novels. My first novel for children was Going to Egypt, published in 1992, and my first novel for adults was Zennor in Darkness, published in 1993, which won the McKitterick Prize. This was also my first researched novel, set in the First World War and dealing with the period when D H Lawrence and his wife Frieda lived in Zennor in Cornwall, and came under suspicion as German spies.
My third novel, A Spell of Winter, won the inaugural Orange Prize for Fiction in 1996, and since then I have published a number of novels, short story collections and books for children. Full details of all these books are available on this website. The last of The Ingo Quartet, The Crossing of Ingo, was published in paperback in Spring 2009.
My seventh novel, The Siege (2001) was shortlisted both for the Whitbread Novel Award and the Orange Prize for Fiction. This was another researched novel, which grew from a lifelong love of Russian history, culture and literature. It is is set in Leningrad during the first year of the siege of the city by German forces, which lasted for 880 days from the fall of Mga on 30th August 1941. The Siege has been translated into Russian by Tatyana Averchina, and extracts have been broadcast on radio in St Petersburg. House of Orphans was published in 2006, and in 2008 Counting the Stars. Its central characters are the Roman poet Catullus, who lived during the last years of the Republic,
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 566 reviews
March 5, 2016
DNF @ 23%
I'm just not feeling this one. The story seems pretty flat and although the topic of the devastating effects of the WW1 experience is described well, neither the story nor the characters or the storytelling is engaging me enough to want to spend more time with this book.
I'm just not feeling this one. The story seems pretty flat and although the topic of the devastating effects of the WW1 experience is described well, neither the story nor the characters or the storytelling is engaging me enough to want to spend more time with this book.
May 27, 2014
This is a beautifully written tale about the sacrifices of the WW1 generation. It's been marketed by the line "Can love survive the war?" but this is no simple love story. It's far more complex and layered than that involving a triangle of people who all love each other in such different ways. And the love theme is but one strand and it mostly just simmers under the surface of the story and remains ambiguous to the very end.
The three main characters have known each other since childhood and have grown up in an isolated Cornish coastal village. Frederick and Felicia are middle class siblings with Daniel being the son of their family cleaner. The boys have been best friends from an early age despite their differing social standing. The novel begins with Daniel having returned from the war tortured by what happened to Frederick who appears in the opening passages as a mud encrusted inhabitant of his friends sub-conscious mind. The narrative moves seamlessly backwards and forwards from the wild, unfettered Cornish coast - a metaphor for their lost youth perhaps - to the fewer passages in the sinking mud and stench of the trenches in Daniel's fevered mind. The author plays throughout with the themes of friendship, fear, guilt, loss and love & at times it reads like a stream of fevered unconscious thought. I'm always a bit suspicious of much hyped novels but this one far exceeded my expectation. It is on a par with Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks and that's about the highest praise I can dish out.
The three main characters have known each other since childhood and have grown up in an isolated Cornish coastal village. Frederick and Felicia are middle class siblings with Daniel being the son of their family cleaner. The boys have been best friends from an early age despite their differing social standing. The novel begins with Daniel having returned from the war tortured by what happened to Frederick who appears in the opening passages as a mud encrusted inhabitant of his friends sub-conscious mind. The narrative moves seamlessly backwards and forwards from the wild, unfettered Cornish coast - a metaphor for their lost youth perhaps - to the fewer passages in the sinking mud and stench of the trenches in Daniel's fevered mind. The author plays throughout with the themes of friendship, fear, guilt, loss and love & at times it reads like a stream of fevered unconscious thought. I'm always a bit suspicious of much hyped novels but this one far exceeded my expectation. It is on a par with Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks and that's about the highest praise I can dish out.
July 6, 2022
Another find in the local library. I have been meaning to read more Dunmore for a while - my only previous one was her Women's Prize winner A Spell of Winter.
I rather liked this historical novel, whose main protagonist Dan is the orphaned child of a poor Cornish widow. The story is set shortly after the Great War. Dan has been living on the smallholding of an old woman Mary Pascoe, and helping her tend the land. Mary is dying but has no heirs, and asks Dan to bury her on her own land rather than in the church. This sets up the plot, as Dan finds himself unable to admit that Mary is dead without admitting his part in her illegal burial.
He is also haunted by his war experiences, and in particular the death of his best childhood friend Frederick, the child of one of the richer neighbours Dan's mother used to work for. Frederick was Dan's commanding officer in the trenches, and Dan was unable to get him to safety after he was badly wounded on a raid. Another subplot is his developing relationship with Frederick's younger sister Felicia, who is also a war widow with a young child, and has inherited the big house.
This may all seem rather fanciful, but Dunmore's writing is very enjoyable to read and she manages to balance the conflicting elements very well, and the resolution is moving and poignant.
I rather liked this historical novel, whose main protagonist Dan is the orphaned child of a poor Cornish widow. The story is set shortly after the Great War. Dan has been living on the smallholding of an old woman Mary Pascoe, and helping her tend the land. Mary is dying but has no heirs, and asks Dan to bury her on her own land rather than in the church. This sets up the plot, as Dan finds himself unable to admit that Mary is dead without admitting his part in her illegal burial.
He is also haunted by his war experiences, and in particular the death of his best childhood friend Frederick, the child of one of the richer neighbours Dan's mother used to work for. Frederick was Dan's commanding officer in the trenches, and Dan was unable to get him to safety after he was badly wounded on a raid. Another subplot is his developing relationship with Frederick's younger sister Felicia, who is also a war widow with a young child, and has inherited the big house.
This may all seem rather fanciful, but Dunmore's writing is very enjoyable to read and she manages to balance the conflicting elements very well, and the resolution is moving and poignant.
January 25, 2014
This was an idea spread too thin with not enough plot and or originality. The writing was certainly good, and where the passages handled strong emotion it was very affecting. But not enough seemed to be done with the idea.
There are two halves to the narrative: the passages set in the trenches and a later time when the character is trying to readjust to normal life, with little success. The wartime scenes are well realised, although a little meandering. But the sections back in this country are agonisingly slow. The character buries an old hermit who lives near his makeshift home, drifts around and visits the brother of his friend who was killed in France, repairs her boiler and goes for a picnic. Now some writers can invest such non-events with much meaning and resonance; the minutiae of a slow day are the journey the characters go on, or the illumination of a difficult and unimaginable life. But these didn't grab me this way. They simply seemed slow, as if they were padding so that there could be as many scenes in the post-war strand as there were in the trenches. The flashbacks to the war carry some very arresting details, but the War Poets did it better.
And there lies the problem. The Lie contains nothing new in terms of themes, treatment or ideas - although there could have been. It seems to have been written only to tick a few boxes for the 1914 anniversary.
There are two halves to the narrative: the passages set in the trenches and a later time when the character is trying to readjust to normal life, with little success. The wartime scenes are well realised, although a little meandering. But the sections back in this country are agonisingly slow. The character buries an old hermit who lives near his makeshift home, drifts around and visits the brother of his friend who was killed in France, repairs her boiler and goes for a picnic. Now some writers can invest such non-events with much meaning and resonance; the minutiae of a slow day are the journey the characters go on, or the illumination of a difficult and unimaginable life. But these didn't grab me this way. They simply seemed slow, as if they were padding so that there could be as many scenes in the post-war strand as there were in the trenches. The flashbacks to the war carry some very arresting details, but the War Poets did it better.
And there lies the problem. The Lie contains nothing new in terms of themes, treatment or ideas - although there could have been. It seems to have been written only to tick a few boxes for the 1914 anniversary.
January 8, 2020
Amazing. Helen Dunmore's writing is rich, powerful and compelling. She is the master of the crescendo ending, fantastic at pacing and overall just so outstanding.
January 21, 2014
Helen Dunmore is on top form with her latest novel. It’s a beautifully written and accomplished novel set in Cornwall in 1920. Daniel Branwell arrives home from the trenches, physically unscathed but emotionally and psychologically damaged. His mother died while he was away and he finds refuge with old and solitary Mary Pascoe, who lets him build a shelter on her small-holding in exchange for some practical help. But although the war is over, he can find no real peace here, for he remains haunted by the loss of his childhood friend Frederick. He reconnects with Frederick’s sister Felicia, but she too is grieving and the losses of war are not easily forgotten.
The story develops slowly and quietly, perfectly paced, alternating between Daniels’ day-to-day life and his wartime memories. It’s a short book, but powerful and brilliantly imagined. The descriptions are vivid and atmospheric and the characters real and sympathetic. The first person narrative allows the reader to fully engage with Daniel and his attempts to rebuild his life and keep his sanity, but the individual tragedies of war transform lives in ways that are sometime impossible to deal with. There will be many books about WWI and its aftermath during 2014 no doubt, but this will surely be rated one of the best.
The story develops slowly and quietly, perfectly paced, alternating between Daniels’ day-to-day life and his wartime memories. It’s a short book, but powerful and brilliantly imagined. The descriptions are vivid and atmospheric and the characters real and sympathetic. The first person narrative allows the reader to fully engage with Daniel and his attempts to rebuild his life and keep his sanity, but the individual tragedies of war transform lives in ways that are sometime impossible to deal with. There will be many books about WWI and its aftermath during 2014 no doubt, but this will surely be rated one of the best.
March 12, 2014
I've read a lot of both fiction and non-fiction around the First World War as it loomed large in my family.
I'd not come across Helen Dunmore before, but her skill at vividly evoking the horror of the trenches and the tortured soul that is the tragic and shell-shocked survivor Daniel is remarkable.
Her prose is poetic and deserves lingering over, but I found myself unable to put it down as I raced towards the end of the book. I've visited some of those muddy fields only recently and her words continually brought them to mind as I read.
She's clearly a fantastic writer and I can't wait to get my hands on more of her work.
Highly recommended.
I'd not come across Helen Dunmore before, but her skill at vividly evoking the horror of the trenches and the tortured soul that is the tragic and shell-shocked survivor Daniel is remarkable.
Her prose is poetic and deserves lingering over, but I found myself unable to put it down as I raced towards the end of the book. I've visited some of those muddy fields only recently and her words continually brought them to mind as I read.
She's clearly a fantastic writer and I can't wait to get my hands on more of her work.
Highly recommended.
October 19, 2024
Simon and I are in the process of joining a book group in our new hometown. We are very excited that they will be discussing this book next week! I picked up our copies from the library this evening and we have started reading it.
Update, one week later - We finished the book on the afternoon of our meeting and were ready for our discussion. It's a great group and we all had input.
Where to begin.. there was so much to unpack. Initially, I was excited that this is the current book the group decided to read as it is set in the aftermath of World War I and this is my first outing with this author. As Simon and I read the book out loud together I realized what a gifted writer Helen Dunmore was and I plan to read more of her work. She especially excelled in writing intricate relationships and in unusual descriptions that caught my imagination.
One of the most interesting things our group explored was the question of what is 'the lie' Dunmore is referring to? There is one obvious answer, however there were several lies that we caught throughout the book. The quote at the beginning of the book is:
"If any question why we died
Tell them, because our fathers lied" - Rudyard Kipling
The politicians lead us into war, but they do not actually physically fight in wars. The following passage relates directly to trying to relay to people just what the cost of war is and who pays the ultimate price:
“They ought to have put the graveyards of all the dead over here [England]. They ought to have covered the farms and dug up the furze and foxgloves and had nothing but crosses as far as you could see. Miles and miles of them, going from town to town. Hasty wooden crosses like the ones we made, all leaning different ways from shell-blast. Bodies blown out of their graves.”
A passage that touched me was the description of the children preparing for and having their school photograph taken. It was very apparent to the children which families could afford to pay for a copy and who could not. It was a source of shame.
The children “were to sit very still while the photograph was taken. If we moved, there would be a blur in the photograph instead of a face. ‘It will look as if you were never in the class at all,’ said our teacher. ‘As if you were rubbed out with an India rubber.’ She bared her teeth, smiling.” I'm so glad she was never my teacher.
Dan discovers his old school photo in his mother’s bible. He comes to the realization that his mother never put the photo on display because the “photograph said too much. It said that this was how I was, a child who had no jacket or Sunday collar, and would never have one, as far as the photograph was concerned. It fixed what we believed was temporary and made it the fact of our existence.”
Another passage that stood out to me was when Felicia talks to Dan about the weekly Ouija board sessions some people attend. She explains that people do it “because they haven’t a grave to go to. Because there wasn’t a body to wash and bury. All they have is a telegram, like we had about Frederick.” So many soldiers were blown to bits leaving nothing to bury. This is truly haunting.
Another passage that stood out is when Dan comes across his mother while she is in a reverie. “If [he’d] made a sound she would have turned and become [his] mother again.” He maintained a silent vigilance. “She was away, and [he] couldn’t come to her. [He] saw something then: loneliness, like a frost that burns your hand when you touch it.”
I am guilty of this: “’She expands, as women do when they want to put you off, with their tender way of explaining how the world works. ‘Surely you know it’s Sunday.’”
We had some good discussion about the ending, which surprised some and saddened others - especially those that wanted a better or more hopeful outcome. I felt that Dan was overcome by his hallucinations from his war experiences and that affected the outcome.
Descriptions I loved:
“The sea was a dark, dirty grey, slopping about like water that clothes have been washed in.” I could imagine it at once! I've seen this sea many times but never thought to describe it this way.
“Sure enough, the sky shakes a few drops out of itself, warning of downpours to come.” I walk my mum's dogs every day and sure enough, this is a very apt description of my own experience of inclement weather written in a lovely way.
Update, one week later - We finished the book on the afternoon of our meeting and were ready for our discussion. It's a great group and we all had input.
Where to begin.. there was so much to unpack. Initially, I was excited that this is the current book the group decided to read as it is set in the aftermath of World War I and this is my first outing with this author. As Simon and I read the book out loud together I realized what a gifted writer Helen Dunmore was and I plan to read more of her work. She especially excelled in writing intricate relationships and in unusual descriptions that caught my imagination.
One of the most interesting things our group explored was the question of what is 'the lie' Dunmore is referring to? There is one obvious answer, however there were several lies that we caught throughout the book. The quote at the beginning of the book is:
"If any question why we died
Tell them, because our fathers lied" - Rudyard Kipling
The politicians lead us into war, but they do not actually physically fight in wars. The following passage relates directly to trying to relay to people just what the cost of war is and who pays the ultimate price:
“They ought to have put the graveyards of all the dead over here [England]. They ought to have covered the farms and dug up the furze and foxgloves and had nothing but crosses as far as you could see. Miles and miles of them, going from town to town. Hasty wooden crosses like the ones we made, all leaning different ways from shell-blast. Bodies blown out of their graves.”
A passage that touched me was the description of the children preparing for and having their school photograph taken. It was very apparent to the children which families could afford to pay for a copy and who could not. It was a source of shame.
The children “were to sit very still while the photograph was taken. If we moved, there would be a blur in the photograph instead of a face. ‘It will look as if you were never in the class at all,’ said our teacher. ‘As if you were rubbed out with an India rubber.’ She bared her teeth, smiling.” I'm so glad she was never my teacher.
Dan discovers his old school photo in his mother’s bible. He comes to the realization that his mother never put the photo on display because the “photograph said too much. It said that this was how I was, a child who had no jacket or Sunday collar, and would never have one, as far as the photograph was concerned. It fixed what we believed was temporary and made it the fact of our existence.”
Another passage that stood out to me was when Felicia talks to Dan about the weekly Ouija board sessions some people attend. She explains that people do it “because they haven’t a grave to go to. Because there wasn’t a body to wash and bury. All they have is a telegram, like we had about Frederick.” So many soldiers were blown to bits leaving nothing to bury. This is truly haunting.
Another passage that stood out is when Dan comes across his mother while she is in a reverie. “If [he’d] made a sound she would have turned and become [his] mother again.” He maintained a silent vigilance. “She was away, and [he] couldn’t come to her. [He] saw something then: loneliness, like a frost that burns your hand when you touch it.”
I am guilty of this: “’She expands, as women do when they want to put you off, with their tender way of explaining how the world works. ‘Surely you know it’s Sunday.’”
We had some good discussion about the ending, which surprised some and saddened others - especially those that wanted a better or more hopeful outcome. I felt that Dan was overcome by his hallucinations from his war experiences and that affected the outcome.
Descriptions I loved:
“The sea was a dark, dirty grey, slopping about like water that clothes have been washed in.” I could imagine it at once! I've seen this sea many times but never thought to describe it this way.
“Sure enough, the sky shakes a few drops out of itself, warning of downpours to come.” I walk my mum's dogs every day and sure enough, this is a very apt description of my own experience of inclement weather written in a lovely way.
October 28, 2016
"They say the war's over, but they're wrong. It went too deep for that"
Dunmore has become one of our great contemporary writers: this short, sharp story revisits WW1, both the trenches and the dreadful aftermath as Daniel Branwell tries to rebuild some kind of life for himself after the war.
This is a very literary novel which deliberately uses literature itself to frame both this text, and the story contained within it. From the opening scene the ghosts of Homeric warriors invade this book as Dan wakes to find himself haunted by the restless shade of Frederick Dennis, his boyhood friend, companion and, later, officer. And books, especially poetry (not least Homer), play a role in delineating both their relationship as well as the social and cultural world which shapes them. Dan is working class, leaves school at 11, but devours the unread books contained in the library of the Dennis family's house, while Frederick himself struggles to learn his declamation tasks. Some very moving moments are articulated through poetry, especially Matthew Arnold's `Dover Beach' ("Ah, love, let us be true | to one another!") which is used to great and poignant effect.
Told through Dan's first-person narration, this is a novel of great sensitivity and delicacy, deliberately slow in parts, but moving inexorably towards an almost inevitable climax. This isn't the first time that Dunmore has visited war and post-war periods, and this has elements of the elegiac atmosphere of The Greatcoat about it. This doesn't, perhaps, have the richness and emotional grab of The Betrayal, but it is a superbly controlled and, ultimately, very quiet and moving evocation of the impact of war.
(This review is from an ARC courtesy of the publisher)
Dunmore has become one of our great contemporary writers: this short, sharp story revisits WW1, both the trenches and the dreadful aftermath as Daniel Branwell tries to rebuild some kind of life for himself after the war.
This is a very literary novel which deliberately uses literature itself to frame both this text, and the story contained within it. From the opening scene the ghosts of Homeric warriors invade this book as Dan wakes to find himself haunted by the restless shade of Frederick Dennis, his boyhood friend, companion and, later, officer. And books, especially poetry (not least Homer), play a role in delineating both their relationship as well as the social and cultural world which shapes them. Dan is working class, leaves school at 11, but devours the unread books contained in the library of the Dennis family's house, while Frederick himself struggles to learn his declamation tasks. Some very moving moments are articulated through poetry, especially Matthew Arnold's `Dover Beach' ("Ah, love, let us be true | to one another!") which is used to great and poignant effect.
Told through Dan's first-person narration, this is a novel of great sensitivity and delicacy, deliberately slow in parts, but moving inexorably towards an almost inevitable climax. This isn't the first time that Dunmore has visited war and post-war periods, and this has elements of the elegiac atmosphere of The Greatcoat about it. This doesn't, perhaps, have the richness and emotional grab of The Betrayal, but it is a superbly controlled and, ultimately, very quiet and moving evocation of the impact of war.
(This review is from an ARC courtesy of the publisher)
January 28, 2014
I have long been an admirer of Helen Dunmore and am pleased to say that I greatly enjoyed her latest work. Obviously it is the Centenary of the First World War and so there are bound to be many books about such a cataclysmic historical event which changed Europe, and the people involved, forever. This is a moving read, but events and memories are unravelled slowly – almost poetically – and it is not a book to rush, but to savour and think about.
Daniel Branwell returns to his home in Cornwall after the war. His mother has died and Daniel is, although not physically damaged, suffering from vivid flashbacks of his time in the trenches. He finds himself taken in by his mother’s friend, Mary Pascoe, an elderly woman who has a small cottage where she keeps a goat and chickens and grows vegetables. Before the war, Daniel had been forced by circumstances to leave school and work as a gardener and he now takes over the small holding, retreating to the comfort of physical work.
During this novel we learn, gradually, about Daniel’s childhood. His resentment at having to leave school when he was obviously extremely intelligent; plundering the library of his friend Frederick’s father, the volatile Mr Dennis, and his relationship with Frederick’s sister, Felicia. Almost everyone we meet in this novel has lost someone in the war, or knows someone who has been damaged. Indeed, Felicia herself has lost both her brother and her husband in the conflict. Daniel has to try to come to terms with what happened to him, and to Frederick, as well as try to rebuild his shattered life. Yet, how can he do so when Frederick keeps appearing to him and the dead will not seem to lie in their graves?
This is a book which discusses the trauma of war; guilt, suffering and the world that war left behind – shattering families and devastating communities – and yet it is also a novel about hope and re-growth. For a work with such huge themes, the story unfolds slowly and almost gently. An excellent choice for book groups, with much to discuss and, like all Helen Dunmore’s novels, one I am sure I will be re-reading before long.
Daniel Branwell returns to his home in Cornwall after the war. His mother has died and Daniel is, although not physically damaged, suffering from vivid flashbacks of his time in the trenches. He finds himself taken in by his mother’s friend, Mary Pascoe, an elderly woman who has a small cottage where she keeps a goat and chickens and grows vegetables. Before the war, Daniel had been forced by circumstances to leave school and work as a gardener and he now takes over the small holding, retreating to the comfort of physical work.
During this novel we learn, gradually, about Daniel’s childhood. His resentment at having to leave school when he was obviously extremely intelligent; plundering the library of his friend Frederick’s father, the volatile Mr Dennis, and his relationship with Frederick’s sister, Felicia. Almost everyone we meet in this novel has lost someone in the war, or knows someone who has been damaged. Indeed, Felicia herself has lost both her brother and her husband in the conflict. Daniel has to try to come to terms with what happened to him, and to Frederick, as well as try to rebuild his shattered life. Yet, how can he do so when Frederick keeps appearing to him and the dead will not seem to lie in their graves?
This is a book which discusses the trauma of war; guilt, suffering and the world that war left behind – shattering families and devastating communities – and yet it is also a novel about hope and re-growth. For a work with such huge themes, the story unfolds slowly and almost gently. An excellent choice for book groups, with much to discuss and, like all Helen Dunmore’s novels, one I am sure I will be re-reading before long.
July 22, 2014
This was pretty close to 5 stars for me, something I rarely award fiction. My first Helen Dunmore, but I already have another on my wish list. Beautifully written, told in the first person, it is a poignant and moving story which flows seamlessly between events during the Great War and the aftermath. Usually when a story flicks backwards and forwards in time, the changes are delineated by chapters or scene markers. In this story, because we hear it through the main protagonist's thoughts, the changes are not marked, and they are done so incredibly well that I was about half-way through the book before I realised what was happening.
I'm writing this as if what I admired was Ms Dunmore's technical skill, and I really did, but what I loved was this story. I'm not going to say anything about it, because I don't want to give anything away, save that it is great. Sad, very darkly-comic in some places, and heart-wrenching in others, it's got that mix of hope and despair about the world after the Great War that for me seems just perfectly pitched. The guilt and the antipathy of those left behind. The guilt and the disgust of those who fought. The ones who want to forget and can't. The ones who want to pretend it never happened. The ones who recognise the world has, in Yeat's words, changed utterly, and the ones who want it all to go back to how it was before. All of this is encapsulated in the little Cornish village where the story takes place, and all of it is both right and wrong. We want to hope but we, who know the future, know that it was pointless. We feel pity and we feel horror and we feel immense gratitude that we have not had to endure such things, and we're pretty sure that if we had, we'd not have coped so well.
All of this, but above all, a beautifully written story that I couldn't put down. Highly recommended.
I'm writing this as if what I admired was Ms Dunmore's technical skill, and I really did, but what I loved was this story. I'm not going to say anything about it, because I don't want to give anything away, save that it is great. Sad, very darkly-comic in some places, and heart-wrenching in others, it's got that mix of hope and despair about the world after the Great War that for me seems just perfectly pitched. The guilt and the antipathy of those left behind. The guilt and the disgust of those who fought. The ones who want to forget and can't. The ones who want to pretend it never happened. The ones who recognise the world has, in Yeat's words, changed utterly, and the ones who want it all to go back to how it was before. All of this is encapsulated in the little Cornish village where the story takes place, and all of it is both right and wrong. We want to hope but we, who know the future, know that it was pointless. We feel pity and we feel horror and we feel immense gratitude that we have not had to endure such things, and we're pretty sure that if we had, we'd not have coped so well.
All of this, but above all, a beautifully written story that I couldn't put down. Highly recommended.
November 4, 2022
Twelve hours after finishing, my thoughts are still somewhat scattered. I'll try to be coherent, and I apologize if I fall short.
Each chapter opens with a sentence or paragraph from what appears to be some sort of military manual, mostly pertaining to how the men should behave under war conditions. I expected these would relate in some way to the rest of the chapter, but I usually forgot all about them as I immersed myself in the actual story.
This is told in the first person by Daniel Branwell. Many novels have multiple time lines as does this one. We are never told exactly when the present is, but I think it isn't too long post war, so probably about 1919 or 1920. The two other timelines are Daniel's war experiences and his life as a child when about 10 to 12 years old.
My experience with multiple timelines is that it is clear when they change and to when. Such is not the case in this novel. Daniel's thinking could change in the middle of a paragraph, and I think there was a time or two when it changed in the middle of a sentence. Daniel clearly has some lingering issues with his war experiences. It shouldn't be a surprise, therefore, that I sometimes wondered whether or not Daniel was an unreliable narrator. Especially so, given the title of the novel.
There isn't much plot. I like the way Dunmore writes and I'm glad I have another of hers on hand, though I don't have any immediate plans to read it. I think only Daniel's characterization is fully-fleshed, but it is he that is telling the story so that is to be expected. I am counting this as one that contributes to my overall understanding of WWI. For that and the writing this is a low 4-stars for me, but I don't think this is a must read for most.
Each chapter opens with a sentence or paragraph from what appears to be some sort of military manual, mostly pertaining to how the men should behave under war conditions. I expected these would relate in some way to the rest of the chapter, but I usually forgot all about them as I immersed myself in the actual story.
This is told in the first person by Daniel Branwell. Many novels have multiple time lines as does this one. We are never told exactly when the present is, but I think it isn't too long post war, so probably about 1919 or 1920. The two other timelines are Daniel's war experiences and his life as a child when about 10 to 12 years old.
My experience with multiple timelines is that it is clear when they change and to when. Such is not the case in this novel. Daniel's thinking could change in the middle of a paragraph, and I think there was a time or two when it changed in the middle of a sentence. Daniel clearly has some lingering issues with his war experiences. It shouldn't be a surprise, therefore, that I sometimes wondered whether or not Daniel was an unreliable narrator. Especially so, given the title of the novel.
There isn't much plot. I like the way Dunmore writes and I'm glad I have another of hers on hand, though I don't have any immediate plans to read it. I think only Daniel's characterization is fully-fleshed, but it is he that is telling the story so that is to be expected. I am counting this as one that contributes to my overall understanding of WWI. For that and the writing this is a low 4-stars for me, but I don't think this is a must read for most.
June 9, 2014
A brilliant book. It was a page-turner, but not in the typical sense. I found myself having to stop reading at times, in order to digest the mood and fully appreciate the prose. Helen Dunmore captures the post-WW1 trauma quite magnificently. The protagonist's experience of the war and his relationship with Frederick is delivered in droplets through memories and flashbacks.
It's 1920 now, but is the war really over? He still lives it every day; it's just a different kind of battle. He still sees, feels, smells, breathes the war and all the horrors. Is it ever possible to move on, to really live again when surrounded by the ghosts and vivid memories of the recent past? WW1 came alive in this book. In relatively few descriptive passages, Helen Dunmore says it all. Set in the beautiful scenic backdrop of the Cornish coast, The Lie is a harrowing read about a young man trying to survive in adverse circumstances. Post-war survival being just as real and immediate as surviving the war itself. Like every good book should, this book tutors in the mystery of human nature. It taught me something about the essence of life and survival. It taught me something about subtle, imaginative and colourful writing. It taught me something about myself.
Wonderful.
It's 1920 now, but is the war really over? He still lives it every day; it's just a different kind of battle. He still sees, feels, smells, breathes the war and all the horrors. Is it ever possible to move on, to really live again when surrounded by the ghosts and vivid memories of the recent past? WW1 came alive in this book. In relatively few descriptive passages, Helen Dunmore says it all. Set in the beautiful scenic backdrop of the Cornish coast, The Lie is a harrowing read about a young man trying to survive in adverse circumstances. Post-war survival being just as real and immediate as surviving the war itself. Like every good book should, this book tutors in the mystery of human nature. It taught me something about the essence of life and survival. It taught me something about subtle, imaginative and colourful writing. It taught me something about myself.
Wonderful.
December 1, 2013
So far there seems to only be one other review of this book, and to be honest the only point at which I can concur with the other reviewer is in the comparison with The Absolutist; the two books really are rather similar in tone. Apart from that point I disagree with every other aspect of my rival reviewer's opinion. This is a rather lovely, heartbreaking book, which focuses mainly on the aftermath of years spent in the trenches. Daniel has returned 'home' to the far west of Cornwall, and has found that not only is he now alone, but that he is quite literally haunted by what he has experienced. Through a series of scenes set during the war we discover the traumas that Daniel went through during his time in the trenches. The story revolves around several 'lies' told both during and after the war, and ultimately it is the consequences of one of these coming to light which result in the tragic end of the story. The characters are beautifully drawn, and the relationships seem genuine. Everyone has been shattered by the events of the four dreadful years of war, however there are still moments of tenderness to be found.
May 24, 2014
I heard The author speak at a literary lunch otherwise I certainly wouldn't have read the book. I'm glad I did. It is a slow moving book reminiscent of how it must have felt in the trenches where progress was agonisingly slow. The theme of lies permeates the book, big and little lies that lies are lived around and affected by. The silence of those who fought in the First World War, my grandfather survived the trenches and never spoke a word of it, but the reverberations of those times stay with us as the grandchildren of those men and the impact the silences had on the families they came back too. Daniel the main character in the book has an isolation that is shrouded in silence that I felt captured the sense of never being able to fit back into civilian life for the survivors of that war. My grandfather was like that, separate, other, he had secrets that were never told. How do you pick up a life in a world that is forever changed where the ghosts who too are present but silent are more real than the living? Dunmore's writing conveys all this in beautiful prose and does succeed I think in providing words to fill some of those silences. I really enjoyed it,
February 23, 2014
I found Helen Dunmore’s The Lie a puzzling book. Certainly it is well written. The main character, Daniel a shell shocked soldier from WWI, is drawn with finesse and art. Puzzling however is the homo-erotic sub theme of the almost “the love that has no name.” Did Daniel really have the hots for his friend? Is the chaste kiss between two soldiers a telling enough point to make a valid raison d’etre for a whole book? I don’t think so.
The scenes from Cornwall run true and deep. The other characters are carefully etched. The ending is a complete collapse of the art. Total trash to an otherwise engaging work, if confused work. One has only to compare The Lie to any work of Pat Barker’s to see the problems.
The scenes from Cornwall run true and deep. The other characters are carefully etched. The ending is a complete collapse of the art. Total trash to an otherwise engaging work, if confused work. One has only to compare The Lie to any work of Pat Barker’s to see the problems.
July 2, 2019
I didn't finish this one simply because it skipped around so much I couldn't get into it enough. The story was interesting to a point but just not enough. I made it 32% through within a week and a half. I normally don't take that long to read/listen to a book. (Listened via Libby/Overdrive)
February 14, 2015
Daniel returns from the trenches of World War I to his hometown in Cornwall. He struggles to cope and finds some measure of comfort in tending the gardens of Mary Pascoe, an elderly recluse. Haunted by the ghost of his beloved friend, Frederick, he also finds himself drawn to Frederick's sister, Felicia, a war widow with a young child.
From the moment I read the sample for The Lie on my Kindle, I was convinced I would love it. The writing was utterly fantastic, the visuals arresting. When I finally got my hands on the book, I devoured it, loving every moment of it – the astonishing writing, the fantastic visuals. And then I got to the final chapter and I just sat there for a long moment, contemplating throwing the book across the room.
I mean, seriously, everything in the book was meant to lead up to that?
I can't talk about this without delving into spoilers so please beware that the resolution and most of the mysteries in the book will be spoiled if you continue to read on.
Frederick is Daniel's commanding officer in the war and leads them on a raid of a German trench that goes horribly wrong and Frederick is badly wounded. Daniel tries to get him back to the British trenches and, at the final stage, makes the decision to leave Frederick in No Man's Land while Daniel goes back to the trenches and gets help to recover Frederick. Daniel does, but just as he identifies Frederick's location, a shell hits and Frederick is killed.
Daniel comes home believing himself to blame for Frederick's death, that he should have left Frederick closer to the trenches or continued to struggle on with him. Daniel stays with Mary Pascoe for a time and nurses her as she too dies from pneumonia and then buries her on her land at her request.
For some reason – a wish for solitude? – Daniel doesn't tell anyone what happened to Mary and when asked, he lies and says she's still alive. These lies grow more and more elaborate as her absence goes noted and Daniel grows closer to Felicia, Frederick's sister.
Eventually, Daniel tells Felicia everything, about Frederick's death – she assuages his guilt – and about Mary's death and his cover-up of it. As they grow closer, Daniel decides to listen to her and go to London and build himself a new life. The penultimate chapter has him planning for this new life in London, with the promise that Felicia and her daughter will come and visit him once he's settled.
Ah, I think, he's finally healing and ready to get on with life.
No.
The final chapter has the townspeople coming to the house en-masse, a scene of mob violence, apparently to bring Daniel to justice for his lies about Mary Pascoe, and the book ends with Daniel committing suicide.
And I sit there and think: what. Seriously? What is the point of Daniel going through everything in this book and looking forward to the new stage of his life if the next chapter of Helen Dunmore's novel features him chased by a mob and jumping off a cliff to his death?
Is the point is that World War I veterans can't and shouldn't heal in any small way, and if they do, they should be hounded to their death? That's a disgusting message. I suppose I could buy that it shows how society treated WWI survivors as something not to be talked about. But if that is the case, then Dunmore failed to actually illustrate it.
It just seemed to me like it was bad storytelling, as though Dunmore had written a more optimistic story and had to find some way to make it all come crashing down. The plotline about Mary Pascoe's death and Daniel's lie seemed unnecessary to me – sure, there's drama in it, but the compelling parts of the narrative were Daniel's experiences in the war, his friendship with Frederick and his relationship with Felicia. But, judging from the title and the final chapter, the important part of the novel was the lie about Mary's death?
I just don't understand and I want to, so I can stop feeling so angry and short changed. The sheer beauty of everything beforehand can't make up for the ending.
From the moment I read the sample for The Lie on my Kindle, I was convinced I would love it. The writing was utterly fantastic, the visuals arresting. When I finally got my hands on the book, I devoured it, loving every moment of it – the astonishing writing, the fantastic visuals. And then I got to the final chapter and I just sat there for a long moment, contemplating throwing the book across the room.
I mean, seriously, everything in the book was meant to lead up to that?
I can't talk about this without delving into spoilers so please beware that the resolution and most of the mysteries in the book will be spoiled if you continue to read on.
Frederick is Daniel's commanding officer in the war and leads them on a raid of a German trench that goes horribly wrong and Frederick is badly wounded. Daniel tries to get him back to the British trenches and, at the final stage, makes the decision to leave Frederick in No Man's Land while Daniel goes back to the trenches and gets help to recover Frederick. Daniel does, but just as he identifies Frederick's location, a shell hits and Frederick is killed.
Daniel comes home believing himself to blame for Frederick's death, that he should have left Frederick closer to the trenches or continued to struggle on with him. Daniel stays with Mary Pascoe for a time and nurses her as she too dies from pneumonia and then buries her on her land at her request.
For some reason – a wish for solitude? – Daniel doesn't tell anyone what happened to Mary and when asked, he lies and says she's still alive. These lies grow more and more elaborate as her absence goes noted and Daniel grows closer to Felicia, Frederick's sister.
Eventually, Daniel tells Felicia everything, about Frederick's death – she assuages his guilt – and about Mary's death and his cover-up of it. As they grow closer, Daniel decides to listen to her and go to London and build himself a new life. The penultimate chapter has him planning for this new life in London, with the promise that Felicia and her daughter will come and visit him once he's settled.
Ah, I think, he's finally healing and ready to get on with life.
No.
The final chapter has the townspeople coming to the house en-masse, a scene of mob violence, apparently to bring Daniel to justice for his lies about Mary Pascoe, and the book ends with Daniel committing suicide.
And I sit there and think: what. Seriously? What is the point of Daniel going through everything in this book and looking forward to the new stage of his life if the next chapter of Helen Dunmore's novel features him chased by a mob and jumping off a cliff to his death?
Is the point is that World War I veterans can't and shouldn't heal in any small way, and if they do, they should be hounded to their death? That's a disgusting message. I suppose I could buy that it shows how society treated WWI survivors as something not to be talked about. But if that is the case, then Dunmore failed to actually illustrate it.
It just seemed to me like it was bad storytelling, as though Dunmore had written a more optimistic story and had to find some way to make it all come crashing down. The plotline about Mary Pascoe's death and Daniel's lie seemed unnecessary to me – sure, there's drama in it, but the compelling parts of the narrative were Daniel's experiences in the war, his friendship with Frederick and his relationship with Felicia. But, judging from the title and the final chapter, the important part of the novel was the lie about Mary's death?
I just don't understand and I want to, so I can stop feeling so angry and short changed. The sheer beauty of everything beforehand can't make up for the ending.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 26, 2018
I will also do a video review here at my channel: http://www.youtube.com/magicofbooks
"The Lie" by Helen Dunmore takes place in 1920s Cornwall, following Daniel Branwell who has survived the trenches of war. He lives his days in solitude, working on the land, but he cannot forget the horrors that he survived and the best friend that he lost.
First, I won this through Goodreads Giveaways.
I was really hoping this would be a 5-star book. Let me say this: this is not a bad book. If anything, the writing is beautifully done. Helen Dunmore handles the trauma (or PTSD) of Daniel Branwell incredibly well and makes it believable. Even the location of Cornwall is atmospheric and haunting. And for the most part I enjoyed reading from Daniel's point of view and getting introduced to the characters of his past. I think where this book failed was with how short it is and the fact that there's nothing really going on. It's less than 300 pages long and I kept waiting for the narrative to go somewhere, but it never did. The novel simply explores Daniel as a character, his trauma from the war, and his relationship with his friend Frederick and Frederick's sister, Felicia. And that would be fine and all, but I needed something more to flesh out the story. This is a novel with character, but no plot. The novel also hinges on it's title: "The Lie." Maybe I missed something, but what exactly was the lie? For the whole book I thought the lie had to do with Daniel lying about the death of Mary Pascoe, an old woman who he was living with until she died of sickness. For some reason, Daniel lies to everybody that she's sick and lying in bed healing. I didn't entirely understand why he lied about that. Couldn't he tell the authorities she died, he buried her, end of story? Instead he felt like everybody was out to get him and that he would be hanged for her death which made no logical sense to me. The title of the book could also have further meaning too, I suppose. Daniel not only lying about Mary Pascoe's untimely death, but also lying about his trauma. Lying about his secret love towards his friend Frederick. I'm a bit confused about what I'm supposed to be feeling about this novel and I feel like I've misunderstood something.
But just to remain positive, like I said, I liked how Helen Dunmore handled Daniel's PTSD. It was believable, it was terrifying, it was done tastefully. I also liked the use of Frederick's spirit form haunting Daniel. I think my favorite parts of this novel were the flashbacks to the war, and quite honestly, I would have liked the book to have been just the war. Helen Dunmore did a fantastic job displaying the grittiness of trench warfare and the relationships between the men who needed to watch each other's backs. I think that's where the plot needed to rest rather than the aftermath of the war. I haven't spoken of Felicia much yet, Frederick's sister, but I did like her as a character. She's a character with her own demons and issues, a woman trying to make her way in the world now that her husband is dead. Her and Daniel definitely have a complicated relationship.
Overall, this novel was a bit of a disappointment, which I hate saying because I think there was some great stuff going on but it just lacked a moving plot. Also, it was called "The Lie." I think I went into this novel expecting something crazy about a lie that Daniel was covering up. I'm still glad I read this though and won it through Goodreads. World War II doesn't have the same amount of coverage compared to World War II so it was nice to read something different. I wouldn't recommend not reading this book. I think I would still recommend it, but don't head into it with grand expectations like I did. Read it for the character of Daniel and for Helen Dunmore's beautiful writing, but don't expect more than that.
"The Lie" by Helen Dunmore takes place in 1920s Cornwall, following Daniel Branwell who has survived the trenches of war. He lives his days in solitude, working on the land, but he cannot forget the horrors that he survived and the best friend that he lost.
First, I won this through Goodreads Giveaways.
I was really hoping this would be a 5-star book. Let me say this: this is not a bad book. If anything, the writing is beautifully done. Helen Dunmore handles the trauma (or PTSD) of Daniel Branwell incredibly well and makes it believable. Even the location of Cornwall is atmospheric and haunting. And for the most part I enjoyed reading from Daniel's point of view and getting introduced to the characters of his past. I think where this book failed was with how short it is and the fact that there's nothing really going on. It's less than 300 pages long and I kept waiting for the narrative to go somewhere, but it never did. The novel simply explores Daniel as a character, his trauma from the war, and his relationship with his friend Frederick and Frederick's sister, Felicia. And that would be fine and all, but I needed something more to flesh out the story. This is a novel with character, but no plot. The novel also hinges on it's title: "The Lie." Maybe I missed something, but what exactly was the lie? For the whole book I thought the lie had to do with Daniel lying about the death of Mary Pascoe, an old woman who he was living with until she died of sickness. For some reason, Daniel lies to everybody that she's sick and lying in bed healing. I didn't entirely understand why he lied about that. Couldn't he tell the authorities she died, he buried her, end of story? Instead he felt like everybody was out to get him and that he would be hanged for her death which made no logical sense to me. The title of the book could also have further meaning too, I suppose. Daniel not only lying about Mary Pascoe's untimely death, but also lying about his trauma. Lying about his secret love towards his friend Frederick. I'm a bit confused about what I'm supposed to be feeling about this novel and I feel like I've misunderstood something.
But just to remain positive, like I said, I liked how Helen Dunmore handled Daniel's PTSD. It was believable, it was terrifying, it was done tastefully. I also liked the use of Frederick's spirit form haunting Daniel. I think my favorite parts of this novel were the flashbacks to the war, and quite honestly, I would have liked the book to have been just the war. Helen Dunmore did a fantastic job displaying the grittiness of trench warfare and the relationships between the men who needed to watch each other's backs. I think that's where the plot needed to rest rather than the aftermath of the war. I haven't spoken of Felicia much yet, Frederick's sister, but I did like her as a character. She's a character with her own demons and issues, a woman trying to make her way in the world now that her husband is dead. Her and Daniel definitely have a complicated relationship.
Overall, this novel was a bit of a disappointment, which I hate saying because I think there was some great stuff going on but it just lacked a moving plot. Also, it was called "The Lie." I think I went into this novel expecting something crazy about a lie that Daniel was covering up. I'm still glad I read this though and won it through Goodreads. World War II doesn't have the same amount of coverage compared to World War II so it was nice to read something different. I wouldn't recommend not reading this book. I think I would still recommend it, but don't head into it with grand expectations like I did. Read it for the character of Daniel and for Helen Dunmore's beautiful writing, but don't expect more than that.
December 21, 2015
The title of this book can be interpreted in many ways, as revealed by the poignant quotation at the beginning;
'If any question why we died
Tell them, because our fathers lied'.
This beautiful novel is about the aftermath of war particularly for the main protagonists, Dan and Felicia, both doubly bereaved. Dan, the narrator, a 'survivor' of WW1, although physically unharmed was mentally traumatised. Despite this he was clearly a very able and gifted person in many ways and the sense of his missed opportunities was one of the tragic elements of this book. Felicia, although equally vulnerable was much less competent, incapable of running the fine house left to her and doubting her capacity as a mother. They provide perfect foils for each other. As a voracious reader and retainer of poetry, Dan's descriptions of the wild west Cornish coast were full of lyrical beauty, sharply contrasting with the sparse harsh details of the failed trench raid in which his friend and Felicia's brother ultimately died. But even in the peace and isolation of Cornwall, as in the trenches, there are dangers, in the shape of busybodies, gossips and villagers holding on to old resentments who cause the ultimate tragedy- or release. It has been stated 'there is not much of a plot'. The plot is not the issue. The beauty and strength of this book for me was how quickly I became involved in the struggle of two young people trying to maintain normality and even reforge relationships when their world has turned upside down in a most horrific fashion.
'If any question why we died
Tell them, because our fathers lied'.
This beautiful novel is about the aftermath of war particularly for the main protagonists, Dan and Felicia, both doubly bereaved. Dan, the narrator, a 'survivor' of WW1, although physically unharmed was mentally traumatised. Despite this he was clearly a very able and gifted person in many ways and the sense of his missed opportunities was one of the tragic elements of this book. Felicia, although equally vulnerable was much less competent, incapable of running the fine house left to her and doubting her capacity as a mother. They provide perfect foils for each other. As a voracious reader and retainer of poetry, Dan's descriptions of the wild west Cornish coast were full of lyrical beauty, sharply contrasting with the sparse harsh details of the failed trench raid in which his friend and Felicia's brother ultimately died. But even in the peace and isolation of Cornwall, as in the trenches, there are dangers, in the shape of busybodies, gossips and villagers holding on to old resentments who cause the ultimate tragedy- or release. It has been stated 'there is not much of a plot'. The plot is not the issue. The beauty and strength of this book for me was how quickly I became involved in the struggle of two young people trying to maintain normality and even reforge relationships when their world has turned upside down in a most horrific fashion.
January 27, 2015
It seems it’s not possible to read The Lie without comparing it to Pat Barker’s Regeneration Trilogy, which I think is one of the finest attempts to render the horror of World War I in fiction. Malcolm Forbes, who reviewed it for The Australian, thought that:
Pat Barker matches her for historical accuracy and the ability to delve deep into the human psyche, but Dunmore’s haunting, lyrical and mesmeric prose to describe carnage and loss elevates her into a different league. (The Weekend Australian, March 1-2, 2014)
But while I thought The Lie was well written and quite interesting, I didn’t find it as compelling as Barker’s Regeneration (the first of the trilogy) which I read more than a decade ago. With its avoid-the-issue ending, the plot of The Lie is a bit simplistic, and the novel wears its architecture too noticeably, flickering back and forth between the returned soldier’s flashbacks to the trenches and his musings in the present. It’s been done before, and despite the prolific quotations from other people’s poetry, it needs to be done better than this to ‘elevate her into a different league’.
Pat Barker matches her for historical accuracy and the ability to delve deep into the human psyche, but Dunmore’s haunting, lyrical and mesmeric prose to describe carnage and loss elevates her into a different league. (The Weekend Australian, March 1-2, 2014)
But while I thought The Lie was well written and quite interesting, I didn’t find it as compelling as Barker’s Regeneration (the first of the trilogy) which I read more than a decade ago. With its avoid-the-issue ending, the plot of The Lie is a bit simplistic, and the novel wears its architecture too noticeably, flickering back and forth between the returned soldier’s flashbacks to the trenches and his musings in the present. It’s been done before, and despite the prolific quotations from other people’s poetry, it needs to be done better than this to ‘elevate her into a different league’.
June 24, 2014
I've read most of Helen Dunmore's novels, but her recent ones haven't bowled me over, this one included. I found it a depressing read. I didn't feel much empathy for Dan and regarded his actions as rather foolish. His relationship with Felicia left me frustrated, urging him to 'just get on with it'! I didn't find his feelings for Frederick particularly convincing either. There is very little plot here and the ending left me feeling 'so what'? It's very well written, as you'd expect from Dunmore and it's most certainly a 'literary' novel, but I've read better novels about the First World War and its aftermath (most notably, My Dear I Wanted to Tell You, The Boy I Loved, Regeneration and of course, Birdsong). I'm not sure I dare try Helen Dunmore's next novel for fear of being disappointed once again.
December 22, 2018
Daniel is a survivor of WWI living with his nightmares and his memories of his seemingly single love of Frederick a childhood friend from a much wealthier family. Daniel has returned to Cornwall and lives on a rundown farm that is near Frederick's old home now owned by his sister Felicity who was briefly married and has a child.
Daniel has haunting flashbacks to the trenches and of the day Frederick dies. This is when the writing is at its best. The sights, sounds and smells of this horrible time were distinctively described. But was the story of a returned soldier original, probably not.
Daniel has haunting flashbacks to the trenches and of the day Frederick dies. This is when the writing is at its best. The sights, sounds and smells of this horrible time were distinctively described. But was the story of a returned soldier original, probably not.
November 18, 2018
Hypnotic and haunted. There's a thin narrative, but it's broken up by memory, hallucination and ghosts. A poem of a novel.
January 17, 2014
I so wanted to love ‘The Lie.’ I have loved her writing for years, ever since curiosity led me to pick up a copy of ‘Burning Bright.’ I was captivated by a story that was a little out of the ordinary, and by words that were used so well, to create such vivid images. I knew then, and the books that followed confirmed, that she was a special author, and author to seek out …..
And I did love ‘The Lie’, but not quite as much as I hoped that I might.
It tells the story of Daniel, who fought in the Great War, who survived, and who came home to his native Cornwall. He is shell-shocked and he is alone. His mother died while he was away and he saw Frederick, the childhood friend who became his commanding officer, die. He has no home, but Mary Pascoe, an elderly recluse, allows him to build a shelter and scratch a living from her land. They understand and help each other.
As he works on the land Daniel’s mind wanders. It takes him back to his childhood, when he was friends with the children from the big house, Frederick and his sister Felicia. His mother was the cleaning lady, but the children didn’t see the class barrier. And it takes him back to the horror of the trenches, where there are ghosts that will not let him go.
Helen Dunmore manages all of this beautifully. The shifts in time are subtle, with each painted differently and yet so clearly by the same hand. And Daniel’s character holds everything together; it is easy to understand why his mind wanders, why he sees Frederick at the foot of his bed, why he is what he is, why he does what he does …..
And the writing, enriched by the poetry that Daniel read in the library of the big house, that he loved, that he learned, is every bit as special as I hoped.
Frederick meets Felicia again; she was a little girl the last time he saw her, but now she is a war widow with a child. They are drawn together, because they are both alone, because they have shared memories, because they both desperately miss Frederick. But they have changed, and life will take them in different direction.
The portrayal of Felicia, shifting from the girl she was to a woman who has learned how she must live is sublime. Details handled so very, very well. This book is full of such wonderful details, but there were moments when my attention was pulled away.
If you set a story in Cornwall, if you change the names of places, you really shouldn’t use real place names for your characters. If you set out to write a novel set in the aftermath of the Great War, elements often found in gothic novels will seem out of place. Such small things, but they took me away from the heart of the story.
I suspect that if I didn’t live in West Cornwall I wouldn’t have been distracted at all; but I do, and I was. And I suspect that if so much of this book hadn’t been so very good then I wouldn’t have minded so much.
The seeds for the ending were planted early. A misjudgement led to a lie, and that led to tragedy. It was so sad, knowing for so long that an unhappy ending was inevitable, and it was heart-breaking when it happened.
That pulled me right back into the story, and it is still in my head, with none of the things that bothered me seeming to matter any more.
And I did love ‘The Lie’, but not quite as much as I hoped that I might.
It tells the story of Daniel, who fought in the Great War, who survived, and who came home to his native Cornwall. He is shell-shocked and he is alone. His mother died while he was away and he saw Frederick, the childhood friend who became his commanding officer, die. He has no home, but Mary Pascoe, an elderly recluse, allows him to build a shelter and scratch a living from her land. They understand and help each other.
As he works on the land Daniel’s mind wanders. It takes him back to his childhood, when he was friends with the children from the big house, Frederick and his sister Felicia. His mother was the cleaning lady, but the children didn’t see the class barrier. And it takes him back to the horror of the trenches, where there are ghosts that will not let him go.
Helen Dunmore manages all of this beautifully. The shifts in time are subtle, with each painted differently and yet so clearly by the same hand. And Daniel’s character holds everything together; it is easy to understand why his mind wanders, why he sees Frederick at the foot of his bed, why he is what he is, why he does what he does …..
And the writing, enriched by the poetry that Daniel read in the library of the big house, that he loved, that he learned, is every bit as special as I hoped.
Frederick meets Felicia again; she was a little girl the last time he saw her, but now she is a war widow with a child. They are drawn together, because they are both alone, because they have shared memories, because they both desperately miss Frederick. But they have changed, and life will take them in different direction.
The portrayal of Felicia, shifting from the girl she was to a woman who has learned how she must live is sublime. Details handled so very, very well. This book is full of such wonderful details, but there were moments when my attention was pulled away.
If you set a story in Cornwall, if you change the names of places, you really shouldn’t use real place names for your characters. If you set out to write a novel set in the aftermath of the Great War, elements often found in gothic novels will seem out of place. Such small things, but they took me away from the heart of the story.
I suspect that if I didn’t live in West Cornwall I wouldn’t have been distracted at all; but I do, and I was. And I suspect that if so much of this book hadn’t been so very good then I wouldn’t have minded so much.
The seeds for the ending were planted early. A misjudgement led to a lie, and that led to tragedy. It was so sad, knowing for so long that an unhappy ending was inevitable, and it was heart-breaking when it happened.
That pulled me right back into the story, and it is still in my head, with none of the things that bothered me seeming to matter any more.
September 23, 2020
For the centenary marking the outbreak of the Great War, Helen Dunmore has developed one of the few remaining neglected themes: the aftermath of the return from the trenches. Bright working class Cornishman Daniel is already an outsider in that he has spent his childhood playing with the children of a local landowner. Too poor to attend grammar school, he is self taught from secretly borrowing books from the wealthy man's library. Outwardly uninjured but destitute, he is allowed to squat on the neglected land of the elderly Mary Paxton. In his rural solitude, Daniel is continually haunted by the presence of his childhood friend Frederick, killed at the Front, and he is prey to the panic attacks and irrational urges to commit acts of violence that inevitably arouse fear and rejection in those ignorant of either traumatic stress disorder or the sheer hell of trench warfare, that is, virtually everyone. What could be an unbearably sad story is transformed by the writer's skill in enabling the reader to feel a strong empathy with Daniel and to understand his attitude to life and the behaviour that deviates from the norms of his society, because of what he has experienced.
For me, this is a near perfect novel in style, structure, pace and meaning. My only slight reservation is that I think Dunmore goes on a bit about the central heating system - I suppose meant to be analogous to underground military tunnels.
Deceptively simple with a strong narrative drive and tight structure, the tale is interwoven skilfully with frequent flashbacks to Daniel's childhood and life as a soldier. I was also very taken by the tragically ludicrous bits of advice for soldiers culled from old army training manuals (I believe) for insertion at the start of each chapter. For instance, measures to prevent the disease of "trench foot" caused by standing in cold water and mud include: "taking every opportunity to have.. the feet dried, well rubbed and dry socks (of which each man should carry a pair) put on".
Despite knowing that I should be taking my time over the author's telling insights and striking descriptions, sparely poetic, of the Cornish landscape, I felt an exorable drive on to the ending, knowing that "the lie" Daniel has told to satisfy the narrow conventions of his society must be exposed: "The man has penance done, and penance more will do". There is of course another lie in the false or confused basis on which so many young men went to die in the first place.
For me, this is a near perfect novel in style, structure, pace and meaning. My only slight reservation is that I think Dunmore goes on a bit about the central heating system - I suppose meant to be analogous to underground military tunnels.
Deceptively simple with a strong narrative drive and tight structure, the tale is interwoven skilfully with frequent flashbacks to Daniel's childhood and life as a soldier. I was also very taken by the tragically ludicrous bits of advice for soldiers culled from old army training manuals (I believe) for insertion at the start of each chapter. For instance, measures to prevent the disease of "trench foot" caused by standing in cold water and mud include: "taking every opportunity to have.. the feet dried, well rubbed and dry socks (of which each man should carry a pair) put on".
Despite knowing that I should be taking my time over the author's telling insights and striking descriptions, sparely poetic, of the Cornish landscape, I felt an exorable drive on to the ending, knowing that "the lie" Daniel has told to satisfy the narrow conventions of his society must be exposed: "The man has penance done, and penance more will do". There is of course another lie in the false or confused basis on which so many young men went to die in the first place.
February 1, 2018
Inevitably when we are writing reviews we are in danger of reducing complex stories, rich characterisation and psychological dramas to simple sentences. It would be a gross over simplification to say ‘The Lie’ is a novel about PTSD or ‘survivor guilt’ or to try and provide a 'catch-all' phrase - a novel showing that Love outlasts Death- so any analysis of the effectiveness of this absorbing and distressing story must run the risk of belittling the author’s amazing acheievement in recreating the profound horrors of trench warfare that was to inflict so much irreparable damage - physical, emotional and psychological- and transform millions of lives irrevocably in the post-war world.
Helen Dunmore’s evocative narrative focuses on the lives of three great friends from a small Cornish community, who must leave behind the tranquility and insularity of the their rural village to test the bonds of love and friendship under challenging circumstances. Traumatised by the horrific experience of combat that love is to be put to the test.
The sudden wrench that enlistment brought for volunteers and conscripts is vividly recreated - civilian lives disrupted, careers fractured, families dislocated, and friendships torn apart as loved ones went to war. Then the deluge and the further wrench, and agonising pain, of irretrievable loss and unrelieved grieving that must be endured by families confronting death and disfigurement.
Helen Dunmore creates a living hell that is now indelibly stamped on another reader’s imagination. A tour de force from a superb novelist.
And how appropriate to pen this review on the day the author was awarded posthumously the Costa Book Prize for 2017 for her final poetry collection, Inside The Wave.
Helen Dunmore’s evocative narrative focuses on the lives of three great friends from a small Cornish community, who must leave behind the tranquility and insularity of the their rural village to test the bonds of love and friendship under challenging circumstances. Traumatised by the horrific experience of combat that love is to be put to the test.
The sudden wrench that enlistment brought for volunteers and conscripts is vividly recreated - civilian lives disrupted, careers fractured, families dislocated, and friendships torn apart as loved ones went to war. Then the deluge and the further wrench, and agonising pain, of irretrievable loss and unrelieved grieving that must be endured by families confronting death and disfigurement.
Helen Dunmore creates a living hell that is now indelibly stamped on another reader’s imagination. A tour de force from a superb novelist.
And how appropriate to pen this review on the day the author was awarded posthumously the Costa Book Prize for 2017 for her final poetry collection, Inside The Wave.
October 6, 2017
The Siege is the only one of Dunmore’s novels which I have really enjoyed, despite reading an awful lot of her tales. Her prose style and storylines seem rather inconsistent from one book to the next, and that is certainly true when one reads The Lie.
The novel is told from the first person perspective of Daniel Branwell, a young man who has returned from France after a stint in the Army. His narrative voice from the start is not a realistic male one, and it certainly sounds far too feminine to be anything close to plausible at times. Both of Daniel’s parents are dead, and his only company is an elderly woman named Mary Pascoe who lives nearby -‘Even with her milky eyes she still seemed more like a bird than a woman… I was glad that the humanness in her seemed to have been parched away, so that she was light enough to fly’ – and his memories.
Whilst Dunmore’s descriptions are nice enough for the mostpart, the characters are not built up enough to seem realistic, and the story is not original enough to stand out. The relationships formed also seem rather awkward and stilted at times. On the whole, it has much in common with John Boyne’s The Absolutist, another First World War novel which I was sorely disappointed with.
The novel is told from the first person perspective of Daniel Branwell, a young man who has returned from France after a stint in the Army. His narrative voice from the start is not a realistic male one, and it certainly sounds far too feminine to be anything close to plausible at times. Both of Daniel’s parents are dead, and his only company is an elderly woman named Mary Pascoe who lives nearby -‘Even with her milky eyes she still seemed more like a bird than a woman… I was glad that the humanness in her seemed to have been parched away, so that she was light enough to fly’ – and his memories.
Whilst Dunmore’s descriptions are nice enough for the mostpart, the characters are not built up enough to seem realistic, and the story is not original enough to stand out. The relationships formed also seem rather awkward and stilted at times. On the whole, it has much in common with John Boyne’s The Absolutist, another First World War novel which I was sorely disappointed with.
February 9, 2014
"The Lie" is a beautifully crafted novel, set in 1920 amidst the aftermath of the Great War. I normally avoid books from this period as they can be too harrowing and I primarily read fiction to be entertained. However, in view of this year being the centenary of the outbreak of war, I decided to mark the occasion with this book.
This is a short book, easily readable in a weekend, but it actually took me a lot longer to finish it because the story just didn't grip me. As I've already commented, the writing was excellent and the characters well drawn, it's just that, for me, the pace was too slow and the plot lacking in substance. And I'd figured out the ending exactly very early into the story! Also, as I suspected, the tone was quite maudlin.
This is a short book, easily readable in a weekend, but it actually took me a lot longer to finish it because the story just didn't grip me. As I've already commented, the writing was excellent and the characters well drawn, it's just that, for me, the pace was too slow and the plot lacking in substance. And I'd figured out the ending exactly very early into the story! Also, as I suspected, the tone was quite maudlin.
November 3, 2014
Cornwall, England, 1920. Daniel has returned from the war to his poor hometown. His mother has died, he lost his best friend in the war and he has no where to live. He helps out an elderly woman with her farm and camps out there. When the old woman dies, he takes over the cottage. He is reunited with an old childhood friend and things start to turnaround, a little. Very sad, very profound. Writing was excellent. Very heartfelt.
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