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John Cromer #1
Pilcrow
Meet John Cromer, one of the most unusual heroes in modern fiction. If the minority is always right then John is practically infallible. Growing up disabled and gay in the 1950s, circumstances force John from an early age to develop an intense and vivid internal world. As his character develops, this ability to transcend external circumstance through his own strength of character proves invaluable. Extremely funny and incredibly poignant, this is a major new novel from a writer at the height of his powers.'I'm not sure I can claim to have taken my place in the human alphabet...I'm more like an optional accent or specialised piece of punctuation, hard to track down on the typewriter or computer keyboard...'
525 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2008
21 people are currently reading
637 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 33 reviews
March 17, 2022
What did Martin Amis say about “delighting the reader”? I cite the narrator John Cromer’s preoccupation here with his bodily functions. But then for much of the opening our disabled hero’s just 5 or 6; someone of that age might realistically be so preoccupied by his outputs. (He rhapsodizes about his dooty.) Oh, and he’s gay — something he’s gifted to know almost from the womb — and a geophagist when very young.
By the way, is “Mars” actually this fellow’s name? I was thinking it might be short for Marshall or Marston. I do agree with novelist-in-his-own-right James Wood that Mars-Jones could probably write about anything and make it interesting. He’s certainly more nimble — and infinitely funnier— than the death-saturated Karl Ove Knausgaard, whose My Stuggle I have found to be an excellent soporific. There’s no nodding off with Mars-Jones though. Mars-Jones will not induce a drowsy state. Even though this is a story about an ill boy in a bed. Now how can that possibly be interesting? I don’t know. But Mars-Jones makes it so, all the while delighting his reader.
Mars-Jones has a nimble wit. Very admirable.
When John discovers that bed rest, which has been prescribed for years by a incompetent doctor, is precisely the opposite treatment for someone like himself, who has Stills disease, he does not grieve.
“Despite all the damage, I can’t manage to regret the years I spent in a particularly intense state of isolation. That period of under-stimulation was very important for my development. I was thrown back on resources that I might not otherwise have discovered for many years. Health impells us toward the outside world, sickness brings us home to ourselves — that’s something Aldous Huxley says.” (p. 137)
So immobility costs him the use of his joints, but he isn’t bitter. That is John’s nature; he suffers abominably but that does not dim his spirits.
British writers, talented ones, can parse even a single word of dialect and by doing so tell us something about their culture.
“There were two versions racked with class nuance, both of them at odds with the spelling. Mum said only suburban people said 'Cleeve-den.' Upper people always said 'Clivv-den' (just as Mum always said 'upper people'). The only thing that both parties would have agreed on was that the name wasn’t pronounced 'Clive-den', the way it was written, and they would’ve joined in laughing at anyone who knew no better.” (p.186)
There’s much here too about the prejudices against the disabled.
“There was a caste system at work in the school, but one with a great deal of complexity. Seniority in the school was a factor, but much less so than difference of diagnosis. . . . Those without wheelchairs looked down on those who had them — even if, like Trevor Burbage the human suitcase, they needed so much support that their upright status was more or less fictional. . . . If you were in a wheelchair then it buoyed up your status if you had sensation below the waist, like me and unlike paraplegics. . . . On a boy-racer, what-car-does-your-dad-drive? level, electric wheelchairs were more desirable than ones without motors, but they went along with the more severe difficulties, so the social meaning wasn’t altogether clear-cut.” (p. 359)
Simon Baker of the Spectator said nice things about the book, but also said it was “not a masterpiece“ and possessed a coldness of tone. I disagree. I think it very well may be a masterwork, but I’d like to defer that determination until after a second reading. As for its coldness, I have to wonder what old Simon was reading. Though very British the book is a wonderful warm engaging piece of literary art. I can’t think of a novel from a child’s POV — much less one that critiques disability so brilliantly — that I’ve enjoyed so much. In fact I can’t think of any other novel that critiques disability. But they must be out there.
The sexual awakening coda is moving in its awkwardness and sense of danger. The law against homosex was not annulled in Britain until 1967. Oh, Pilcrow, I’m afraid, is very much on the glidepath for masterpiece. Read it.
By the way, is “Mars” actually this fellow’s name? I was thinking it might be short for Marshall or Marston. I do agree with novelist-in-his-own-right James Wood that Mars-Jones could probably write about anything and make it interesting. He’s certainly more nimble — and infinitely funnier— than the death-saturated Karl Ove Knausgaard, whose My Stuggle I have found to be an excellent soporific. There’s no nodding off with Mars-Jones though. Mars-Jones will not induce a drowsy state. Even though this is a story about an ill boy in a bed. Now how can that possibly be interesting? I don’t know. But Mars-Jones makes it so, all the while delighting his reader.
Mars-Jones has a nimble wit. Very admirable.
When John discovers that bed rest, which has been prescribed for years by a incompetent doctor, is precisely the opposite treatment for someone like himself, who has Stills disease, he does not grieve.
“Despite all the damage, I can’t manage to regret the years I spent in a particularly intense state of isolation. That period of under-stimulation was very important for my development. I was thrown back on resources that I might not otherwise have discovered for many years. Health impells us toward the outside world, sickness brings us home to ourselves — that’s something Aldous Huxley says.” (p. 137)
So immobility costs him the use of his joints, but he isn’t bitter. That is John’s nature; he suffers abominably but that does not dim his spirits.
British writers, talented ones, can parse even a single word of dialect and by doing so tell us something about their culture.
“There were two versions racked with class nuance, both of them at odds with the spelling. Mum said only suburban people said 'Cleeve-den.' Upper people always said 'Clivv-den' (just as Mum always said 'upper people'). The only thing that both parties would have agreed on was that the name wasn’t pronounced 'Clive-den', the way it was written, and they would’ve joined in laughing at anyone who knew no better.” (p.186)
There’s much here too about the prejudices against the disabled.
“There was a caste system at work in the school, but one with a great deal of complexity. Seniority in the school was a factor, but much less so than difference of diagnosis. . . . Those without wheelchairs looked down on those who had them — even if, like Trevor Burbage the human suitcase, they needed so much support that their upright status was more or less fictional. . . . If you were in a wheelchair then it buoyed up your status if you had sensation below the waist, like me and unlike paraplegics. . . . On a boy-racer, what-car-does-your-dad-drive? level, electric wheelchairs were more desirable than ones without motors, but they went along with the more severe difficulties, so the social meaning wasn’t altogether clear-cut.” (p. 359)
Simon Baker of the Spectator said nice things about the book, but also said it was “not a masterpiece“ and possessed a coldness of tone. I disagree. I think it very well may be a masterwork, but I’d like to defer that determination until after a second reading. As for its coldness, I have to wonder what old Simon was reading. Though very British the book is a wonderful warm engaging piece of literary art. I can’t think of a novel from a child’s POV — much less one that critiques disability so brilliantly — that I’ve enjoyed so much. In fact I can’t think of any other novel that critiques disability. But they must be out there.
The sexual awakening coda is moving in its awkwardness and sense of danger. The law against homosex was not annulled in Britain until 1967. Oh, Pilcrow, I’m afraid, is very much on the glidepath for masterpiece. Read it.
October 6, 2016
Yes, this is a novel about a severely disabled boy growing up, and growing up gay, in 1950s England. But not just. Pilcrow is a deeply meditative and entertaining novel about a boy gifted with an indefatigable, unbridled imagination.
The first of a projected trilogy – the second volume, Cedilla, is out, not yet the third - Pilcrow immersed me in the realities of young John Cromer's physical challenges and his oddball, loving family; it exposed me to the institutionalization of that era and the abuses such institutions wreaked; it portrayed with both sensitivity and sensuousness how a young man could explore his sexuality in such circumstances; most of all, it celebrates the life-changing power of play and wonder.
I read it over three months, in bite-sized chunks. It probably could've been a hundred pages shorter, but still: what an unparalleled delight!
The first of a projected trilogy – the second volume, Cedilla, is out, not yet the third - Pilcrow immersed me in the realities of young John Cromer's physical challenges and his oddball, loving family; it exposed me to the institutionalization of that era and the abuses such institutions wreaked; it portrayed with both sensitivity and sensuousness how a young man could explore his sexuality in such circumstances; most of all, it celebrates the life-changing power of play and wonder.
I read it over three months, in bite-sized chunks. It probably could've been a hundred pages shorter, but still: what an unparalleled delight!
November 12, 2025
A great, indeed an extraordinary reading experience - Adam Mars-Jones is the English author who should be known and praised as their equivalent of Edmund White, he is everything Adam Hollinghurst - real, genuine, brilliant.
I can't do justice to this remarkable novel except to say it is a must read but also supply you with two reviews (not behind paywalls) to consult:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/200...
https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-en...
I can't do justice to this remarkable novel except to say it is a must read but also supply you with two reviews (not behind paywalls) to consult:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/200...
https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-en...
October 7, 2018
A long and slow burning book with very little happening. If you like plot-driven books, this may not be your bag, although it's well written and might just prove of interest (as it did for someone I know). In any case, this is a book that demand some attention and some effort. It's not something you can dip in and out like that. If you want to enjoy it and get into it you need to commit time to it, long stretches of it and you might find your reward. I have to say, I didn't quite do so myself in the end. As I said it's well written and despite the unsexy premise, it's not a misery memoir, there's some situational humour and the morale (such as it is) is rather positive. However I didn't really grow to care that much about the characters and I'm still a little clueless as to why this tome was written and published. Approach with caution.
November 14, 2017
A surprising level of insight into disability and growing up.
I picked up the book on the recommendation of an acquaintance who mentioned that it included experiences of someone who went to the same school as we did. How the writer was able to write with such authority about the time and characters there yet was not him? I can only think that he must have ghost written someone else's experiences of that school. I enjoyed reading this book and recommend it to you as it's written so well and with such insight.
I picked up the book on the recommendation of an acquaintance who mentioned that it included experiences of someone who went to the same school as we did. How the writer was able to write with such authority about the time and characters there yet was not him? I can only think that he must have ghost written someone else's experiences of that school. I enjoyed reading this book and recommend it to you as it's written so well and with such insight.
August 21, 2023
I didn’t realise that Adam Mars-Jones had written novels until I read a review of his latest, the third in a series about the life of John Cromer, so I immediately got hold of the first in the series, Pilcrow. My initial thought was that this is not going to be my sort of book - nearly 600 pages of interior first person monologue by a child suffering from Still’s Disease. And yet, by and large, I found it entertaining and fascinating. John Cromer is either bed-ridden or has to be pushed around in a wheelchair, so his childhood experiences are very circumscribed. However, Adam Mars-Jones carries it off by creating a character who is full of sardonic humour about his disability at the same time as falling in love with the intricacies of language.
As a result, his mobility problems, his eating habits and toileting difficulties become quite fascinating. Also, since, like me, John Cromer is growing up in the 1950s and 60s, I very much enjoyed the trip down memory lane provided by the cultural references- eg Uncle Mac and Children’s Favourites on the BBC Light Programme.
As a result, his mobility problems, his eating habits and toileting difficulties become quite fascinating. Also, since, like me, John Cromer is growing up in the 1950s and 60s, I very much enjoyed the trip down memory lane provided by the cultural references- eg Uncle Mac and Children’s Favourites on the BBC Light Programme.
January 5, 2024
A remarkable tale of the childhood of a boy who becomes severely disabled following a mis-diagnosed illness.
Set against the backdrop of 1950s England the book captures the essence of this time and place and the very imperfect way in which his already dysfunctional family respond to his disability. Superficially it seems almost cliched of our understanding of this time (emotionally distant father in the RAF, fretting mother, a former-nurse almost more worried about keeping up appearances than her son's illness) and yet is a very human account of a boy, a family and a society.
The account includes extraordinary detail but the writer has the remarkable ability to make even a walk the shops an interesting tale.
Most revealingly the health service and special schools come in for very mixed review. The brutality and sadism of some of those charged with caring for vulnerable children is extraordinary. There are many good people in those institutions but no small number of brutes too.
Above all this is a tale of survival and in a way a triumph over the most difficult of circumstances. An unsparing account of a will to live. As part of a trilogy, my comments are limited to this book covering childhood.
My only reservation was that it was a little long. The writer's ability to make almost anything interesting is acknowledged but i think you could read half the chapters and still get most of the story and its message.
Set against the backdrop of 1950s England the book captures the essence of this time and place and the very imperfect way in which his already dysfunctional family respond to his disability. Superficially it seems almost cliched of our understanding of this time (emotionally distant father in the RAF, fretting mother, a former-nurse almost more worried about keeping up appearances than her son's illness) and yet is a very human account of a boy, a family and a society.
The account includes extraordinary detail but the writer has the remarkable ability to make even a walk the shops an interesting tale.
Most revealingly the health service and special schools come in for very mixed review. The brutality and sadism of some of those charged with caring for vulnerable children is extraordinary. There are many good people in those institutions but no small number of brutes too.
Above all this is a tale of survival and in a way a triumph over the most difficult of circumstances. An unsparing account of a will to live. As part of a trilogy, my comments are limited to this book covering childhood.
My only reservation was that it was a little long. The writer's ability to make almost anything interesting is acknowledged but i think you could read half the chapters and still get most of the story and its message.
March 3, 2018
This is a good one, though it might prove a little too chewy for an extended read. If you're contemplating trying it I propose the following experiment:
Lay your hands on a copy.
Open it at random, it really doesn't matter where.
Read a page or two.
If you find it charmingly frank, laden with gently barbed humor and well-observed characters, and closely concerned with the minutiae of a restricted life, then you will probably enjoy the remaining five-hundred odd pages; it continues in much the same vein.
If you find it alarmingly open, are irritated by the narrative voice, or spend those couple of pages waiting for something, anything, to happen, then it's probably not for you; it continues in much the same vein.
There.
Lay your hands on a copy.
Open it at random, it really doesn't matter where.
Read a page or two.
If you find it charmingly frank, laden with gently barbed humor and well-observed characters, and closely concerned with the minutiae of a restricted life, then you will probably enjoy the remaining five-hundred odd pages; it continues in much the same vein.
If you find it alarmingly open, are irritated by the narrative voice, or spend those couple of pages waiting for something, anything, to happen, then it's probably not for you; it continues in much the same vein.
There.
January 25, 2022
Framed as a memoir, Pilcrow flashbacks into an engrossing and immersive read of growing up between 1950-60's Britain, of a specially-abled sarcastic persona, being confined to bed to moving through series of chairs, homes, institutions - laced with anecdotes, humour, wisdom and subtle observations, thoroughly readable, being dosed in short-episodes.
For me, it juxtaposed vibes from Tagore's Post Office, a child confined to a room and dreaming of liberation from captivity - with netflix's "Special" created by the terrific Ryan O'Connell - an individual owning up to the repercussions of choices made, inspite of the traditional path laid out to him.
The writing is ebbed of caricaturist sympathy towards the paraplegic-bedridden upbringing, replaced with a tiding of fresh outlook as a mere human approach to daily hurdles of getting by. Deliciously canonized with snobbish domesticity of british society, elements from hindu pantheon (the starting astavakra excerpt was so on-point in foreshadowing the father-son relation), childhood lingo devised between parents and toddlers(a treasure-house), inhouse politics in homes and institutions - putting mere children as material of abuse, sibling love and camaraderie, evolution of medicines, music and drugs, the essence and affection of having a pet, coming to terms with "change", and so many other gratifying takes while pushing through life as a whole.
What'll hook you in though is the overflowing imagination, in which, as a child we captivate ourselves - a world building like no other with minute eye-for-detail. Little John's fascination with language(in oral, written, symbol or any other form), blooms as a bridge under his compromised limbs, and lets him understand dynamism around the characters in his life. As he grows, he uses and learns the skill of words, asserting his independence over hedonistic and abusing contracts binding him to other people. The honesty and remorse over his selfish actions also sets him as an unusual redeeming hero of sort. It reads like day-dreams, yet feels authentically life-driven.
In hindsight, it's alarmingly open narration might digress the reader searching for 'something to happen', as its just - pacing through an inspiring life of a child-in-restriction. The overall text could have been 100 pages shorter. So if you are into plot-driven stories, it might be not for you.
Rather if you relish something leisurely - you should cut all slack and go read this extended piece, drifting off in the excellent company of John Cromer. It made me guffaw, agog, get grossed-out, marvel and suspire over the multiple happenings, that I lost myself into.
For me, it juxtaposed vibes from Tagore's Post Office, a child confined to a room and dreaming of liberation from captivity - with netflix's "Special" created by the terrific Ryan O'Connell - an individual owning up to the repercussions of choices made, inspite of the traditional path laid out to him.
The writing is ebbed of caricaturist sympathy towards the paraplegic-bedridden upbringing, replaced with a tiding of fresh outlook as a mere human approach to daily hurdles of getting by. Deliciously canonized with snobbish domesticity of british society, elements from hindu pantheon (the starting astavakra excerpt was so on-point in foreshadowing the father-son relation), childhood lingo devised between parents and toddlers(a treasure-house), inhouse politics in homes and institutions - putting mere children as material of abuse, sibling love and camaraderie, evolution of medicines, music and drugs, the essence and affection of having a pet, coming to terms with "change", and so many other gratifying takes while pushing through life as a whole.
What'll hook you in though is the overflowing imagination, in which, as a child we captivate ourselves - a world building like no other with minute eye-for-detail. Little John's fascination with language(in oral, written, symbol or any other form), blooms as a bridge under his compromised limbs, and lets him understand dynamism around the characters in his life. As he grows, he uses and learns the skill of words, asserting his independence over hedonistic and abusing contracts binding him to other people. The honesty and remorse over his selfish actions also sets him as an unusual redeeming hero of sort. It reads like day-dreams, yet feels authentically life-driven.
In hindsight, it's alarmingly open narration might digress the reader searching for 'something to happen', as its just - pacing through an inspiring life of a child-in-restriction. The overall text could have been 100 pages shorter. So if you are into plot-driven stories, it might be not for you.
Rather if you relish something leisurely - you should cut all slack and go read this extended piece, drifting off in the excellent company of John Cromer. It made me guffaw, agog, get grossed-out, marvel and suspire over the multiple happenings, that I lost myself into.
October 1, 2021
This book tells the story of young John's fascination with language. He relates to the world through this passion for language and symbols. His language skills also help him cope with the debilitating pain of a condition which leaves his joints compromised.
My favorite aspect of this novel is the way John even sees people, animals, plants and insects as symbols he must study to understand and learn from. Due to his painful condition, John is highly dependent. He carefully observes constant struggles for domination between those around him - originally his mother against his father, his grandmother, her friends, even a shopkeeper:
"I argued and argued.'Why not? Why can't we? We can if we want to!' I was only silenced by Mum shouting, 'Well we just can't and that's all there is to it.' I went into the deepest possible sulk for some time after that. Again I discovered that the best way to undermine an idea was not to oppose it but to put your heart and soul into endorsing it."
Later there are more blatantly sadistic or seductive characters trying to force others into submission. Ultimately the forces of John's adolescence trigger his own rise to independence in a surprising way. The conclusion sees him recognize the strength of his will and the power his language skill gives him.
As many reviews have noted, this is framed as a memoir rather than as a plot-driven story. (Most of the time I had to keep reminding myself that it is not a real memoir.) We meet John learning to drive a new car with help from his family. We travel back to his time in the womb and then to his progress from being confined to bed and, later, a series of chairs as he goes between home and hospitals or other special facilities.
It doesn't sound like much, but I enjoyed my time with this book tremendously. I was a bit worried it would take a long time to read, but I found just the opposite. John's observations make the pages disappear. There are carnivorous plants, parasites, sadistic therapists, cinnabar moths that live on poison, therapeutic sadists, invasive species, Eastern religions and mystic philosophies, the haphazard development and evolution of various drugs, ankylosed joints, dental concrescence, and more. My only complaint, which was not much, was John's dawn of sexual interest. Even though it is crucial, it was still a bit of a letdown after so much brilliant roaming. As I find myself at the end of PILCROW I am glad I already have my copy of the follow-up CEDILLA, though I really can't imagine how it can begin to compare to this wonderful book.
My favorite aspect of this novel is the way John even sees people, animals, plants and insects as symbols he must study to understand and learn from. Due to his painful condition, John is highly dependent. He carefully observes constant struggles for domination between those around him - originally his mother against his father, his grandmother, her friends, even a shopkeeper:
"I argued and argued.'Why not? Why can't we? We can if we want to!' I was only silenced by Mum shouting, 'Well we just can't and that's all there is to it.' I went into the deepest possible sulk for some time after that. Again I discovered that the best way to undermine an idea was not to oppose it but to put your heart and soul into endorsing it."
Later there are more blatantly sadistic or seductive characters trying to force others into submission. Ultimately the forces of John's adolescence trigger his own rise to independence in a surprising way. The conclusion sees him recognize the strength of his will and the power his language skill gives him.
As many reviews have noted, this is framed as a memoir rather than as a plot-driven story. (Most of the time I had to keep reminding myself that it is not a real memoir.) We meet John learning to drive a new car with help from his family. We travel back to his time in the womb and then to his progress from being confined to bed and, later, a series of chairs as he goes between home and hospitals or other special facilities.
It doesn't sound like much, but I enjoyed my time with this book tremendously. I was a bit worried it would take a long time to read, but I found just the opposite. John's observations make the pages disappear. There are carnivorous plants, parasites, sadistic therapists, cinnabar moths that live on poison, therapeutic sadists, invasive species, Eastern religions and mystic philosophies, the haphazard development and evolution of various drugs, ankylosed joints, dental concrescence, and more. My only complaint, which was not much, was John's dawn of sexual interest. Even though it is crucial, it was still a bit of a letdown after so much brilliant roaming. As I find myself at the end of PILCROW I am glad I already have my copy of the follow-up CEDILLA, though I really can't imagine how it can begin to compare to this wonderful book.
November 17, 2020
There were a few bits in this which were a serious slog. But just reading a bit at a time was worth it. I really liked the overall story. I don't really want to say more though. Which makes this to me, "not that useful."
March 17, 2021
John Cromer suffers with Still's Disease which leaves him more than partially paralysed, this is his account of the onset of the disease and how he copes with the early years of his life. Written as a fictional autobiography it has the ring of truth about it, and not just because of the inclusion of real people and places (one has to be careful here, while some people appear as themselves, other sometimes well known people are re-invented or re-cast, and the same applies to places!). But it is the keen observation, attention to detail and wonderful characterisation the makes this convincing.
John relates his life in very short episodes which often follow on from one another, but he can also digress into other areas. He is an inquisitive, intelligent boy with ambitions often beyond his physical capabilities. He is honest in the telling of his story, and it is this honesty that enables one to forgive him his often selfish behaviour, along with the humour that accompanies his candour. For ultimately one cannot help but fall in love with John, he does have many redeeming features, and he frequently expresses remorse over his actions, also the concern he shows for and the comradeship he shares with his younger brother is a delight.
Compounding John's difficulties is the gradual onset of puberty and awareness of the effect of having so many lovely boys around him, he needs to explore but that is not so easy for someone in his situation.
In Pilcrow John takes us up to the age of around sixteen (Cedilla picks up where Pilcrow leaves off I believe, and on the strength of the former I have ordered the latter).
I initially found this slow and a little uninvolving and as a result somewhat daunting as I looked at the seemingly vast number of pages still to be read, but it is well worth sticky with for one will be amply rewarded. I found it soon to be a thoroughly engrossing read, one of those books that is hard to put down and ultimately rather than seeming too long I felt it ought to continue (hence my delight in finding there is a sequel, and a third in the pipeline?).
I must also mention, as it is far from insignificant, the quality of the writing here. Adam Mars-Johnson clearly has a love of English (as does his character John), and the writing here amply demonstrates that love not just in the beauty and correctness of the writing but in some of the little diversions that delve into language.
John relates his life in very short episodes which often follow on from one another, but he can also digress into other areas. He is an inquisitive, intelligent boy with ambitions often beyond his physical capabilities. He is honest in the telling of his story, and it is this honesty that enables one to forgive him his often selfish behaviour, along with the humour that accompanies his candour. For ultimately one cannot help but fall in love with John, he does have many redeeming features, and he frequently expresses remorse over his actions, also the concern he shows for and the comradeship he shares with his younger brother is a delight.
Compounding John's difficulties is the gradual onset of puberty and awareness of the effect of having so many lovely boys around him, he needs to explore but that is not so easy for someone in his situation.
In Pilcrow John takes us up to the age of around sixteen (Cedilla picks up where Pilcrow leaves off I believe, and on the strength of the former I have ordered the latter).
I initially found this slow and a little uninvolving and as a result somewhat daunting as I looked at the seemingly vast number of pages still to be read, but it is well worth sticky with for one will be amply rewarded. I found it soon to be a thoroughly engrossing read, one of those books that is hard to put down and ultimately rather than seeming too long I felt it ought to continue (hence my delight in finding there is a sequel, and a third in the pipeline?).
I must also mention, as it is far from insignificant, the quality of the writing here. Adam Mars-Johnson clearly has a love of English (as does his character John), and the writing here amply demonstrates that love not just in the beauty and correctness of the writing but in some of the little diversions that delve into language.
July 21, 2010
Liked this a lot, although I must say that nothing really happens for 640 pages and then it just stops. (Apparently it is part 1 of a trilogy.) But it is quite well-written and John is excellent company, so I was content to drift along. It reminded me a little bit of the first sections of David Copperfield, but I'm not sure whether that is because there are actual parallels or just because I compare everything I like to something by Dickens. So I recommend it, as long as you are not devoted to plot; if you want an actual plot, this book will most likely frustrate you.
November 11, 2013
John Cromer è solo un bambino (curioso e molto interessato a tutto ciò che lo circonda) quando comincia a soffrire di forti dolori e riceve una diagnosi di febbri reumatiche. La cura (siamo negli anni Cinquanta) e il riposo assoluto. Purtroppo la diagnosi è errata, in realtà John soffre della malattia di Still, e il riposo assoluto, negli anni che passano prima che ci si renda conto dell'errore, bloccano quasi totalmente le sue giunture, rendendolo un disabile grave.
http://robertabookshelf.blogspot.it/2...
http://robertabookshelf.blogspot.it/2...
September 10, 2022
John Cromer is born in 1949, and begins life as an ordinary young boy, until he develops Still's Disease as a 3-year-old. Misdiagnosed, John spends years in bed, barely able to move, in desperate pain. This period of being alone and in bed so early in his life helps John to becomes contemplative and stoic, qualities he needs as he begins his journey through the world as a disabled person. This is one of the few books I've encountered that takes disability seriously as a subject for literature, and puts real consideration into entering a disabled person's mind fully and with nuance. John is a fully realised character, and Mars-Jones takes great care to imagine his thoughts and ideas. This book only covers the first 16 years of John's life, and goes into great detail about the minutiae of his thoughts. While I understand that is the point of this novel -- to really delve into John's experiences of the world -- at times it can become tedious. I was also curious about Mars-Jones' treatment of John as a gay person: there is much, here, that feels very authentic, including John's early realisation of his attraction to men, even if he does not have the words for it. However, I questioned John's lack of fear about the societal implications of his sexuality, especially as he grew older, given how deeply his mind probes other parts of his life. That being said, I found this a very successful book, and I think Mars-Jones is a very skilful writer.
December 28, 2023
A 550-page novel (first of what is now a trilogy) about a severely disabled child growing up gay in 1950s England doesn't exactly sound like a chucklefest, which just goes to show how wrong we can sometimes be.
Our narrator John Cromer contracts Still's disease, a severe form of rheumatoid arthritis, while still a toddler and spends his early years confined to bed in a children's hospital, before transferring to a special boarding school. The novel follows his development, intellectual, emotional and sexual, from his earliest years until the age of sixteen.
There are some brilliant insights into the mindset of 50s Britain.
"In the culture of the time, the real danger to children wasn’t abuse but spoiling. The fear wasn’t that children might be cruelly treated but that they might not learn manners. They might cry themselves to sleep after torture by physio, but at least they would write proper thank-you letters, a minimum of three paragraphs long, to relatives they rarely saw, for presents they hadn’t liked."
There are dozens of cultural references for one of my age. Etch-A--Sketch! Velcro! Listen With Mother! and the characterisation is wonderfully done - John's parents in particular - his snobbish, socially insecure, smothering yet loving mother, his emotionally distant, ex-RAF father and their strange, compromised yet seemingly solid marriage.
If the lack of anything resembling a conventional plot doesn't bother you, this is an enthralling read.
Our narrator John Cromer contracts Still's disease, a severe form of rheumatoid arthritis, while still a toddler and spends his early years confined to bed in a children's hospital, before transferring to a special boarding school. The novel follows his development, intellectual, emotional and sexual, from his earliest years until the age of sixteen.
There are some brilliant insights into the mindset of 50s Britain.
"In the culture of the time, the real danger to children wasn’t abuse but spoiling. The fear wasn’t that children might be cruelly treated but that they might not learn manners. They might cry themselves to sleep after torture by physio, but at least they would write proper thank-you letters, a minimum of three paragraphs long, to relatives they rarely saw, for presents they hadn’t liked."
There are dozens of cultural references for one of my age. Etch-A--Sketch! Velcro! Listen With Mother! and the characterisation is wonderfully done - John's parents in particular - his snobbish, socially insecure, smothering yet loving mother, his emotionally distant, ex-RAF father and their strange, compromised yet seemingly solid marriage.
If the lack of anything resembling a conventional plot doesn't bother you, this is an enthralling read.
March 26, 2018
I've had this novel on my shelf for many years, bought based on a recommendation I've long forgotten. I don't know why I picked it up now, but I'm glad I did.
Reading this was both wonderful and the little unsettling. Even though I grew up two decades later than the central character much of his experiences resonated strongly with me. I had to remind myself many many times that this was a novel not a memoir, and it certainly wasn't my memoir.
I don't know what inspired Mars-Jones to write this, whether it was just meticulously researched, or based on experiences close to hand. But it was vivid and alive and utterly captivating and I'm glad there are further instalments of the life of John Cromer, as I don't think I'm quite ready to let him go just yet.
Reading this was both wonderful and the little unsettling. Even though I grew up two decades later than the central character much of his experiences resonated strongly with me. I had to remind myself many many times that this was a novel not a memoir, and it certainly wasn't my memoir.
I don't know what inspired Mars-Jones to write this, whether it was just meticulously researched, or based on experiences close to hand. But it was vivid and alive and utterly captivating and I'm glad there are further instalments of the life of John Cromer, as I don't think I'm quite ready to let him go just yet.
November 18, 2023
This book confounded me, and I really don't quite know what to say about it. So here goes! It's a 500-page novel about John Cromer, growing up in 1950's England. He has a condition called Stills disease that restricts the movement of his arms and legs, and he is sent to a hospital and then a private school where he discovers sex. The end. A lot of it felt like autofiction (this happened, then this happened), but I don't think it is autofiction. Cromer is a funny narrator, but a little of this went a long long way for me, and I confess I found myself skimming ahead. Clearly I don't know quite what to think about this, but it's doubtful I will continue with the series (yes, it's a series).
November 4, 2022
Pilcrow reminds me of all the best bits of John Irving's books - that sense of reading about a character in such depth that it fells almost autobiographical. It felt so well researched and painted such a clear picture that I felt John Cromer was real. It is so rare to read a novel with a disabled central character so this in itself felt like such a feat for the author to have achieved. I really liked the way it was written in small vignettes. I am keen to read more.
December 27, 2021
Vignettes about an immobile child (through to teenage years) trying to bring the world to himself, to parse the world and piece it together from bits and pieces told by the adults sitting next to his bed and via his limited worldview. I enjoyed it but not everyone will - it's pacing is lethargic and very little happens.
May 7, 2012
This is a very sweet engaging pseudo-memoir of a boy growing up disabled in 50s and 60s England and What John Cromer Did Next is something I am probably not going to want to resist. Mars-Jones has shored up that curiosity by not bothering overmuch over the ending of this fat volume. Novel sequences can and should stand alone as individual elements.
As a passionate devotee of the brilliant BBC Ouch! disability podcasts and Liz Carr in particular, this was perhaps not such startlingly original territory for me and conveyed much of the same nitty-gritty, with an emphasis on the gritty, detail of disabled life and the same curiously uplifting effect - although rather surprisingly, without as much humour as Ouch! For all that I cannot help smiling at every mention of 'taily' - his relationship with this part of the anatomy (his own and the mythic 'tailies' of other males) forms quite a substantial part of the narrative. John Cromer's take on adult relationships - his mother and her manipulative mother, his parents, his mother and The Rest of the World - is wonderful as is his analysis of all the various types of professional carer he encounters.
I particularly enjoyed the measured reflections on the impact of having been misdiagnosed for many years - his treatment causing irreparable damage but meaning that he avoids other, perhaps more fundamental, damage from the usual treatment for his actual condition.
I'd love to know more about his inspirations for the novel and how he researched it - although I have no idea why he says that Sidcot School is in 'North Somerset' in the 60s. As a signatory to the Save Avon campaign, I can assure him that whilst it was in North Somerset by the time he was writing his book, it had a couple of county names still to 'travel through' before that.
Other reviewers have described the book as Proustian and it is indeed something of a Proust for England in the mid-20th century. Unfortunately that can imply long and not actually read.
As a passionate devotee of the brilliant BBC Ouch! disability podcasts and Liz Carr in particular, this was perhaps not such startlingly original territory for me and conveyed much of the same nitty-gritty, with an emphasis on the gritty, detail of disabled life and the same curiously uplifting effect - although rather surprisingly, without as much humour as Ouch! For all that I cannot help smiling at every mention of 'taily' - his relationship with this part of the anatomy (his own and the mythic 'tailies' of other males) forms quite a substantial part of the narrative. John Cromer's take on adult relationships - his mother and her manipulative mother, his parents, his mother and The Rest of the World - is wonderful as is his analysis of all the various types of professional carer he encounters.
I particularly enjoyed the measured reflections on the impact of having been misdiagnosed for many years - his treatment causing irreparable damage but meaning that he avoids other, perhaps more fundamental, damage from the usual treatment for his actual condition.
I'd love to know more about his inspirations for the novel and how he researched it - although I have no idea why he says that Sidcot School is in 'North Somerset' in the 60s. As a signatory to the Save Avon campaign, I can assure him that whilst it was in North Somerset by the time he was writing his book, it had a couple of county names still to 'travel through' before that.
Other reviewers have described the book as Proustian and it is indeed something of a Proust for England in the mid-20th century. Unfortunately that can imply long and not actually read.
April 26, 2012
This book has not had a lot of attention paid to it in North America and was brought to my attention by a friend. It is a novel that reads like a memoir and I found I had to constantly remind myself that it was in fact fiction, especially when the narrative involved real people such as Derek McCulloch, the presenter of a BBC program of music for children that I listened to as a child.
The narrator of this fictional memoir is a boy who is wrongly diagnosed with rheumatic fever as a small child and confined to bed rest which causes his joints to become immobile. Condemned to a life of inactivity by the resulting disability, the boy lives in his imagination and has a burning desire to become educated. The book describes his family, particularly his relationship with his mother, and his life at the 2 residential schools that he attends.
The book is set in the 1950s and early 60s in England and evokes the time period very well. The snobbishness of his family is well described. Attitudes towards people with disabilities is also well documented and the teachers, caregivers and medical staff at the institutions the boy attends are brought into focus. Some of them are very caring and helpful but there are some sadists on the staff and these people get away with shocking treatment of the boys in their care.
This book is the first of a trilogy and I look forward to reading more about this unlikely hero.
The narrator of this fictional memoir is a boy who is wrongly diagnosed with rheumatic fever as a small child and confined to bed rest which causes his joints to become immobile. Condemned to a life of inactivity by the resulting disability, the boy lives in his imagination and has a burning desire to become educated. The book describes his family, particularly his relationship with his mother, and his life at the 2 residential schools that he attends.
The book is set in the 1950s and early 60s in England and evokes the time period very well. The snobbishness of his family is well described. Attitudes towards people with disabilities is also well documented and the teachers, caregivers and medical staff at the institutions the boy attends are brought into focus. Some of them are very caring and helpful but there are some sadists on the staff and these people get away with shocking treatment of the boys in their care.
This book is the first of a trilogy and I look forward to reading more about this unlikely hero.
Currently reading
March 4, 2016P. 15. … it was always on the cards that he went deaf as a husband might, for the peace it brought.
P. 44. 'Love' wasn't part of Dad's normal vocabulary, but he seemed to be able to write it down, though he did have to be abroad for the trick to work. As if the very word was in a foreign language, the custom of another country. A body of water had to intervene between us before the risk could be taken, the words 'love' and 'Dad' brought into startling proximity.
P. 45. 'I'd like to sit on Daddy's lap.' And very gently she picked me up and carried me over to my daddy and lowered me onto his lap. Gingerly he put his arms around me. I stayed there for a minute or two. I could feel a thing to bunching in the muscles of his thighs, first one then the other, as if he was suppressing an impulse to rock me. To dandle his first-born. it was absolute Heaven to rock on the big warm muscles I didn't yet know were called quadriceps.
P. 48. He was wearing a watch, though, so I asked him what time it was. In its way this was a trick question. Jim said, 'It's five twenty-five,' and then I knew he wasn't as important as my dad. My dad always said, 'I make it five twenty-five.' That was his power. He made the time, and Jim only told it.
P. 44. 'Love' wasn't part of Dad's normal vocabulary, but he seemed to be able to write it down, though he did have to be abroad for the trick to work. As if the very word was in a foreign language, the custom of another country. A body of water had to intervene between us before the risk could be taken, the words 'love' and 'Dad' brought into startling proximity.
P. 45. 'I'd like to sit on Daddy's lap.' And very gently she picked me up and carried me over to my daddy and lowered me onto his lap. Gingerly he put his arms around me. I stayed there for a minute or two. I could feel a thing to bunching in the muscles of his thighs, first one then the other, as if he was suppressing an impulse to rock me. To dandle his first-born. it was absolute Heaven to rock on the big warm muscles I didn't yet know were called quadriceps.
P. 48. He was wearing a watch, though, so I asked him what time it was. In its way this was a trick question. Jim said, 'It's five twenty-five,' and then I knew he wasn't as important as my dad. My dad always said, 'I make it five twenty-five.' That was his power. He made the time, and Jim only told it.
February 2, 2012
Pilcrow is about a bed-ridden/wheelchair-bound boy/adolescent growing up in England in the 1950s. Far from being depressing, however, Mars-Jones creates a character whose eye for detail and ability to make the most out of the world he lives in is truly inspiring (and often hilarious). Even better, the boy from the youngest age is cognizant of the fact that he's gay (not that he uses the word), which makes the book even more fun to read, since this kind of childhood awareness (at least as far as I know) is rarely-to-never explored, but reflects a reality for many people. I would give this book fifty stars if I could.
February 4, 2015
I absolutely loved this book. I love tales that let you experience a person's childhood, but I'm very picky, and this book won me over. John Cromer has a disease that makes it nearly impossible to move most of his body (Still's Disease). In this book, we follow him from the development of this disease up until he's around 13 I believe. He's an action hero in his own right, but not in an unbelievable level where he's really just day dreaming all the time. No, everything is very real.
It's such a NICE read. I'm not sure how else to put it without making it sound pretty lame, but this is truly a remarkable piece of work!
It's such a NICE read. I'm not sure how else to put it without making it sound pretty lame, but this is truly a remarkable piece of work!
Currently reading
June 17, 2008I have read under a 100 pages but so far find this book to be very tantalizing although a bit tough to get through at times because it is such a dense first person narrative (the ultimate in navel gazing fiction). The author can describe so much in so few words and touches on a number of subjects (such as reincarnation, buddhism, herbalism, etc.)that get my imagination going.
The characters surrounding John and the description of their interelationships are priceless and make me chuckle quite a bit - oh, the humanity is what I think most of the time!
The characters surrounding John and the description of their interelationships are priceless and make me chuckle quite a bit - oh, the humanity is what I think most of the time!
February 12, 2013
Odd but compelling read. John is a disabled boy doing an active part in participating in life. He's curious, intelligent and driven by sexual urges he doesn't yet completely understand. Not for the kids, and not for just anybody. I couldn't decide whether I hated this book or loved it, finally came down on the side of love. This decision is good for Mars-Jones, because I think there's a sequel that I'll be purchasing anon. John is a character so well-written he'll stick in your imagination.
November 26, 2012
Loved the humorous way that it was written. Totally engaging. The names of the characters was short of ...amazing. I was never lost with the many twists and turns. What can I say, John and all of them became a part of my life. I will not forget them. D.
August 8, 2011
Great sprawling epic of a very unique protagonist. The pace and plotting can throw you for a loop, but altogether a fun read.
November 2, 2015
It's obsessive, but that's not a weakness. At times I hated reading it, but it probably made me look at fiction in a completely new way.
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