The metamorphosis of a grieving son informed by butterflies and literature (Dorset, southwest coast of England; 2019 to present-day): The Flitting is a great memoir. A son’s “mass of love” tribute to his dad that shows how “life and art are inseparable” in multiple ways.
Great because of a son’s bear-his-soul awakening to his devoted father’s obsession with Britain’s butterfly species (fifty-nine) during his last year of life, emotionally intense in his final months. Written three years after his death, Ben Masters looks back at his memories, regrets of lost quality time “butterflying” together, and reaches deep into his feelings of being unable to measure up to a great man of “integrity,” “strength and courage.”
Great because Masters is a British English Professor at the University of Nottingham who uses great literature as a way of understanding themes of manhood, masculinity, fatherhood, and feminist thinking, coming at a particularly vulnerable time as a new father to two boys, questioning what kind of father he wants to be. Examined personally and through the lens of writers and poets, many British. A noteworthy exception is Russian-born Vladimir Nabokov whose literary work Speak, Memory may have inspired this greatly hybrid memoir, tweaking the title to “speak of memory,” describing memories that speak to what it means when a greatly protective father is no longer there for you. Nabokov was, like Masters’ father, a lepidopterist – passionate about butterflies.
Look for how Nabokov’s son Dmitri is woven into the storytelling, catching your attention since it’s not the author speaking but one of the writers he draws from. Masters also switches the audience he’s speaking to, periodically writing directly to his father. It’s not lost on him that Nabokov and his father as well as Nabokov and his son shared an infectious enthusiasm for butterflies whereas Masters is remorseful he didn’t, explaining, “If the countryside and nature belong to dad, literature belongs to me.” Despite his saying, “You can’t reverse a lifetime of indifferences,” they did enjoy common interests together like music and sports, but they don’t rise to the emotional and healing heights of experiencing the beauty and science of butterflies in the wild together.
Great in introducing the central theme: a “shift in my own sensibility, from butterfly-ignorer to butterfly-obsessive.” The transformation symbolic of the stages of a butterfly’s life. Borrowing Zadie Smith’s thinking in “Some Notes on Attunement” he writes about his “change in sensibilities,” which he defines as an “emotional and aesthetic experience, our perception of things, our receptiveness to that which is other.”
Great in how Masters also looks to the music of Joni Mitchell, “an artist whose music means so much to me,” and is the subject of Smith’s above-cited essay. Mitchell’s Blue Period echoes Masters’ melancholy tone, and seems to suggest that, like the legendary American singer-songwriter’s blue era some consider almost too intimate, his innermost outpouring of love, grief, longing may be too revealing. Or, perhaps, that this book will be his most deeply openhearted?
Without trying to be facetious, it’s important to note this isn’t a book to read flitting to and fro, considering all the unfamiliar or read-a-while-ago literary references. To guide us, there’s a dozen detailed pages of Endnotes. At first you may not notice the tiny numbered footnotes corresponding to these notes; I didn’t so returned to the beginning to see what I missed: the scholarship that went into this endeavor, questioning and appreciating what a life well-lived means.
Masters wrote this book while struggling with writing a novel; he writes of other novelistic failings. There’s no failure here, rather triumph seen as a “gift” from his father. Yet “the gifts that have been an offer for thirty years, the gifts I have consistently rejected are no longer available.” The Gift another Nabokov novel discussed (also Ali Smith’s Artful). It “vibrates with sentiment.” Sentimentality a quality also seen in Masters’ exceptional prose, such as recognizing the “true gift” his father has left him: the “yet-unseen butterflies, the butterflies of my future.”
There’s also a second son, Matt, but he lives in Japan and can’t get out of the country, depicting the cruel timing of a father’s terminal illness during the early days of COVID in 2020 when countries were on lockdown. For the most part, the author steers away from how his mother is holding up, sensitive, we assume, to protecting her privacy as well as emphasizing the father-son bond.
You may also want to slow down your reading to google the butterfly stars. Found mostly in this out-of-this-world UK southern coastal rocky landscape, a wet and chalky cliffs and sand from limestone habitat that has enabled the survival of species. Some only exist here, some more common, others rare and endangered.
A prolific British children’s author and naturalist had a great influence on Masters’ father’s love for butterflies: Denys Watkins-Pitchford, or BB, his pseudonym. Described with great affection, you can’t help but wonder what most Americans have missed out on.
Virginia Woolf makes her presence here. “A keen entomologist who enjoyed collecting butterflies throughout her childhood, and butterflies and moths flutter in and out of her writing doing graceful symbolic work.” For instance, in To the Lighthouse, she writes of “the light of a butterfly’s wing lying upon the arches of a cathedral.”
Butterflies are exalted. When a son spots and photographs them for his dad and himself he tells us, “We behold something far more than a butterfly. It is the tangle of personal associations it weaves around each of us.” For Masters, butterflies will always personalize a tangle of emotions around his father.
The gift Masters has given us are new ways of seeing how art informs life.