A remarkable achievement this novel is, where the eponymous Storm is a character, as is an isobar and old polar air. A big boar - Blue Boy - plugs a hole in a cameo role. There are people, too, some named, some merely titled, some introduced only, it seemed, so they could be disposed of. It is the story of a massive storm, mid-20th Century, told from multiple points of view. There are twelve days (chapters) to the storm, and they build to a crescendo in the eleventh day.
As reading a Cormac McCarthy novel will not teach you Spanish, this novel will not make you a weatherman. So I won't try and explain cold fronts and high pressure to you. But I have to share some beautiful writing:
-- As a crab moves on the ocean-bottom, but is of the water, so man rests his feet upon the earth--but lives in the air. Man thinks of the crab as a water-animal; illogically and curiously, he calls himself a creature of the land.
-- Weather-wise after their kind, men say, frogs from the puddles croak before rain, and the mountain goats move to the sheltered face of the peak before the blizzard strikes. Such also may have been the wisdom of man's ancestors before man was. In nerve-endings now decadent, they felt the moisture in the air; in the liquids of their joints they sensed the falling pressure.
The ages passed; brow and chin moved forward; man walked two-legged upon the earth. Hunter lying in wait, seed-gatherer wandering afield--they came to know vaguely the warnings of wind and cloud. . . .
But language, which always said too much or too little, was also a great corrupter of knowledge. He who handled words most cunningly was seldom the wisest, but the catchiest proverbs, not the truest, survived. (So even yet those who speak English say:
Rain before seven,
Clear before eleven.
But those who speak other languages do not say this particular foolishness, not because they are wiser, but because in their speech the two numerals fail to rhyme.)
Yes there is humor within, as:
Sister Mary Rose was plump and youngish; she taught the class and was obviously trying to be progressive. Sister Mary Dolores was thin and oldish; she apparently came along to chaperone Sister Mary Rose, and her attitude seemed to be that if God had wanted us to know about the weather he would have informed St. Thomas Aquinas.
I'm sure the science in this book, first written in 1941, may be dated now, as are some of the sentiments. He could write: It was funny; sometimes a woman had a better sense about such things than a man did. Imagine that. Too, a porter spoke his single line in dialect. And there was a hard cynicism here, where the author could imagine the headline - "Sixteen dead by storm" - and then think, well, Perhaps the world was better off because of those deaths.
This book was written before climate change became an issue. I suppose all sides to that debate could find support here for their views. I could say, stop that, it's just about the weather. But then:
"I've seen a lot of them--storms and men. Each one is different. There are the big bluffers, and the sneaks, and the honest dependable ones. Some of them will sulk for days, and some will stab you in the back, and some walk out on you between night and morning, and some do exactly what you expect of them."