John Cameron has returned to the school of his youth in his new role as headmaster. He is a man with a troubled past, increasingly disturbed by the frequency and darkness of his dreams, desperately needing the love of his wife Emma, both badly shocked by their own personal tragedy..."a new house would be good for her, help her to heel more quickly".....
His colleagues at school are somewhat adversarial to the new Principal and reluctant to adopt to change that Cameron is keen to introduce. His attention is drawn to the fragile Jacqueline McQuarrie and he is saddened that his predecessor Reynolds did little to promote or help the interests of a child with acute special needs. Cameron recalls a time in his youth when with his father's help he rescued a boy who faced abuse on a daily basis....."Completely naked the raised ridges of his ribs pushing through his skin. He was crouched in a nest of straw like a small bird and then he stood up, his skinny sticks of legs were brown and misshapen and covered in pussed scabs like scene on the surface of stagnant water".....His interest in the welfare of Jacqueline continues and when he discovers bruises on her arm he decides to visit the McQuarrie household to uncover the truth. Meanwhile his relationship with Emma deteriorates as darkness from the past drowns them further in sorrow.
This is beautifully written dark fiction that reminds me in part of the American author Greg f Gifune. The writing and descriptions are simply sublime and add greatly to the uneasy feeling of sadness and fear that pervades throughout the pages from first to last....."the way the dark rolled in across the fields to beach soundlessly against the lines of the house, the feeling it brought of being isolated from the rest of the world but secure and solid in the sanctuary of the shadows".....I am a great admirer of the writing of David Park. His novels are often based around the violent and bloody conflict that was an everyday event in the towns and rural settlements of Northern Ireland. He never allows "the troubles" to encroach or play centre stage in his writings but simply acknowledges their existence, preferring to concentrate on the story at hand yet deeply aware that the mindset and parochial attitude of "Ulstermen" forms a rocky platform as the events in his story unfold.
This is wonderful, heartfelt writing of the highest order from one outstanding author.
Childhood memory plays a huge role in David Park's 1994 novel, The Rye Man. In search of career renewal and a fresh start to their marriage after a devastating loss (a miscarriage), John and Emma Cameron have moved to Northern Ireland, into an old house situated close to where John grew up. John has taken the position of headmaster at the primary school that he attended when he was a child, assuming the role with a head full of notions for improvement and modernization. The house where the couple hope to rebuild their life together is a vintage structure, an old rectory house that is showing its age. Emma though, has plans of her own: to make the place welcoming, paint over tired surfaces, fill the empty spaces with light, and use one of the outbuildings on the property as a painting studio. In addition, a further structure bears significance to the story: a sprawling Victorian house that’s been converted into a hospital that, for reasons which remain obscure for much of the novel, we see John visiting in the novel's opening section. John himself is haunted by the past and suffers nightmares as the result of a traumatic incident. Years earlier, while still very young, he became something of a local hero. For amusement he used to spy on a widow named Maguire whose farm was close by his own, and one day, curious about what she was keeping in her barn, crept on to her property. Here he made a discovery that he will never forget, one that ultimately involved the police. John is smart and more of a pragmatist than an idealist. He knows that some of the teachers will resist the changes he wants to make at the school. However, attitudes are more entrenched than he'd anticipated and when he finds himself at odds with many of those he'd hoped to entice into his camp, it seems more and more like he's treading water instead of making progress. At home things are no better. Emma has been depressed over the loss of the baby, and they had both thought she was improving. But the house is filled with a powerful sewer stench, and even the professionals they hire are unable to find the source. Emma's work on the house has stalled and she seems to have abandoned her painting. What's more, John and Emma find themselves in conflict over the all-consuming nature of his job, the time he spends on school-related matters and his apparent willingness to concern himself with some children on a more personal level. Of great interest to him is a girl named Jacqueline McQuarrie, who lags far behind the other children but whose parents refuse to even consider enrolling her in a special school that would be better suited to her particular needs. It is here that John’s professional cool abandons him, and he makes a decision that lands him in hot water and, in the end, has dire consequences. David Park’s novel is multi-layered, but childhood innocence emerges as an over-arching theme—our efforts to preserve and protect it, and what can happen when this innocence is violated. The Rye Man (the title is a nod to JD Salinger) is a beautifully written, moving and haunting novel. And if the action sequence that builds toward the devastating denouement seems somewhat overwrought, it is only because Park’s likeable hero, John Cameron, is so desperate to do the right thing.
Only a chance reference to The Rye Man in The Irish Times made me aware of David Park, who had sailed past me for many decades. My loss. Anyone who has taught in a British school especially in a senior position will recognise the world Park conjures up of the new arrival determined to shake things up and meeting a wall of indifference. John Cameron ignores the truism to never go back, having lost a child and believing returning home will rebuild his life with his wife by becoming head of his old school. What plays out is reality bumping up against his dreams and the one moment in his life where he truly made a difference comes back to haunt him. Park conjures up rural Ulster with convincing descriptions and characters. In the same week that a major party elected a creationist as leader, this book, written in 1994, is a reminder that Ulster operates on different rules, as Cameron gradually discovers.
I read this because I had heard 'Travelling in a Strange Land' being read on Radio 4's 'Book at Bedtime' and thought it was great. I found this far less enjoyable. Whilst many of the details of school life were convincing, some of the teachers' behaviours were inappropriate. Perhaps the book was conceived or written before the days of safeguarding. There were some wonderful descriptions and beautiful use of language but they didn't make up for the most disappointing aspect which was that there was an event in the book that was a repeat of what happened in 'Travelling in a Strange Land'.
What a fabulous book & it's beautiful language. It's sad & distressing but has truth and kindness in abundance. I liked the tribute to Catcher in the Rye. Highly recommended.
“The Rye Man” by David Park is an obscure book published in 1994. Frankly it’s obscure for a reason. It tells the story of John Cameron, a primary school teacher who has just been given the position of headmaster in his old primary school. As he takes up this position he is haunted by memories of an event which made him the local hero, while his wife is battling a depression brought on by their collapsing marriage and lack of a child. The reader is drawn in with a promising synopsis, which includes lines such as “The Rye Man is a compelling and powerful novel about the links between past and present…” Having reviewed “When God was a Rabbit” last week I was immediately intrigued by a book which was written with a similar premise. However from the first line, Park let’s you down. He begins with a frankly clichéd opening line, “I still had time to change my mind.” Maybe I’ve turned cynical over the years but that had me rolling my eyes and wanting to point him in the direction of a creative writing class. But not one to give up on a book I persevered.
For unknown reasons Park spends the first 50 pages of the story describing in detail his first day as headmaster. This doesn’t add anything to the plot and there are so many characters introduced that I found myself going back to double-check who exactly people were. For a time I enjoyed the interactions of the characters, but after having sat through pages of him describing an interminable staff meeting, reading it changed from escapism to work. There were hints to the wider plot scattered throughout the book but it was as if they were stuck in as an afterthought. It made the text clunky and unnatural. At times it was reduced to a level of bad novice writing, where everything must be explained in precise detail. If the protagonist (and I use that term loosely) opens the door then I found myself reading about how he went through it, closed it, locked it and then continued on his journey. At other times in the novel Park’s writing was so obscure that I was left completely lost, not knowing if I was reading about the past, present or the future. At times like this only references to his ‘mammy’ killing him over ruining his shoes hinted that I was reading about his childhood or at least had me hoping I was.
Something which I found extremely strange is the fact that David Park is actually a teacher himself. This in and of itself was a normal piece of trivia only for the fact that I only looked it up because he was so bad at writing teacher interactions with both pupils and other staff members. The word to describe it would be downright inappropriate. In the case of the teachers he appeared to talk about their personal lives in full view of the class, while in the case of the students the following line had me fleeing to the ‘About Author’ section in horror, “He playfully and gently pulled at one of her locks.”
50 pages into a book (especially a 200 page book) I expect to be completely lost in the narrative but in this instance I found I was still no wiser as to what the actual plot was. It was still introducing the story, which is acceptable in a large book, but in a book the size of “The Rye Man” I expect some sort of complication to have presented itself past simple references to a ‘loss’. A loss which when revealed does not add anything to the overall plot. It actually serves to alienate the reader as this had appeared to be the big mystery of the novel but instead the answer is thrown at the reader. From that moment on Park makes a habit of throwing revelations in the fashion of a young student throwing an answer out to his teacher. Relief that he’s managed it is evident but the answer is left shapeless, leaving the hard work to the observer, in this instance the reader. While my experience of contemporary literature is limited (for the moment) I doubt I’ll come across a book which appeared to promised so much and delivered so little. Though I would have hated for it to be longer it feels as though Park spent the entirety of the book setting up the story and rushed the ending which made the whole book seem pointless. There are so many unanswered questions but unlike other books I feel they were left unanswered because Park either forgot about them or just simply could not explain what he had produced. How this was ever published is beyond me!
This book was ultimately depressing, with a streak of schizoprenia in nature and style. Not a bad book, but a little bit disconcerting and seemed to run away with itself, cover too many themes, and deal with too many emotions with varying levels of consistency.
Set in Ireland, story of a man who moves to his old school as headmaster and faces ghosts from the past as he tries to instil a new regime. The Rye Man title comes from "Catcher in the Rye" which also features teenage angst Rather long and melancholy tale.