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The Everlasting Sunday
England, 1962. Seventeen-year-old Radford arrives at Goodwin Manor, a home for boys who have ‘been found by trouble'. Watched over by the enigmatic Teddy, life at the Manor offers a fragile peace at best, as the coldest winter in three centuries sets in. Radford learns that the boys are to care for each other, since their families and the law have been unable to do so. But will this be enough when tragedy strikes? At once both beautiful and brutal, The Everlasting Sunday is an unforgettable debut novel about growing up, growing wild and the shifting nature of friendship.
222 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 1, 2018
29 people are currently reading
490 people want to read
About the author
Robert Lukins
4 books84 followersRobert Lukins lives is a writer living in Melbourne.
His debut novel, The Everlasting Sunday, was published in 2018 and was nominated for several major literary awards.
His writing has appeared in Meanjin, Rolling Stone, Overland, The Big Issue, and other odd places.
His debut novel, The Everlasting Sunday, was published in 2018 and was nominated for several major literary awards.
His writing has appeared in Meanjin, Rolling Stone, Overland, The Big Issue, and other odd places.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 74 reviews
July 13, 2018
4.5 Stars
Goodwin Manor is a place of last resorts, a place for the outcasts of society, young males that have erred that once too many. Situated far from anything, the boys are mostly left to their own devices. Tutors come and go. Edward Wilson (Teddy to the boys) is the overseer; he is tired and withdrawn most of the time only intervening when the situation gets out of hand. Teddy has underlying problems of his own. Lilly, the cook, is a motherly figure demanding respect but also full of kindness.
The story is set in the winter of 1962. England’s bleakest winter for 82 years.
Radford arrives unceremoniously dropped off by his uncle and is quickly taken under the wing of the charismatic West. There is much introspection and confidences shared between the two in their late-night smoking sessions. All the characters seem to be at a place in time they would rather not be.
Much like a boarding school the boys sneak out at night to smoke and drink alcohol. There were no rules and the boys had their own methods of punishment when warranted and found things to keep them occupied. Radford at first tries to make sense of the hierarchy and happenings in the Manor.
”Each day had brought not a sense of understanding but an understanding not to search for sense.”
Winter has its own role in this novel, becoming a character as it watches and waits placing scorn on humans trying to live in its mightiest moments.
”These boys imagining themselves conquering miles, they pushed only deeper into the trap. Winter wondered who would miss them.......Yes, it could bury them now........ Winter would watch on for now. There was no risk of missing its chance, for Winter always returned.”
Lukin’s prose are lyrical and haunting with an underlying empathy, they give a mystical quality to the story.
Occasionally you come across a book that your words cannot describe the way it is written and how it makes you feel. The Everlasting Sunday is such a book.
The Everlasting Sunday is an atmospheric tale of rejection, friendship, boding and survival.
Goodwin Manor is a place of last resorts, a place for the outcasts of society, young males that have erred that once too many. Situated far from anything, the boys are mostly left to their own devices. Tutors come and go. Edward Wilson (Teddy to the boys) is the overseer; he is tired and withdrawn most of the time only intervening when the situation gets out of hand. Teddy has underlying problems of his own. Lilly, the cook, is a motherly figure demanding respect but also full of kindness.
The story is set in the winter of 1962. England’s bleakest winter for 82 years.
Radford arrives unceremoniously dropped off by his uncle and is quickly taken under the wing of the charismatic West. There is much introspection and confidences shared between the two in their late-night smoking sessions. All the characters seem to be at a place in time they would rather not be.
Much like a boarding school the boys sneak out at night to smoke and drink alcohol. There were no rules and the boys had their own methods of punishment when warranted and found things to keep them occupied. Radford at first tries to make sense of the hierarchy and happenings in the Manor.
”Each day had brought not a sense of understanding but an understanding not to search for sense.”
Winter has its own role in this novel, becoming a character as it watches and waits placing scorn on humans trying to live in its mightiest moments.
”These boys imagining themselves conquering miles, they pushed only deeper into the trap. Winter wondered who would miss them.......Yes, it could bury them now........ Winter would watch on for now. There was no risk of missing its chance, for Winter always returned.”
Lukin’s prose are lyrical and haunting with an underlying empathy, they give a mystical quality to the story.
Occasionally you come across a book that your words cannot describe the way it is written and how it makes you feel. The Everlasting Sunday is such a book.
The Everlasting Sunday is an atmospheric tale of rejection, friendship, boding and survival.
May 12, 2018
At first I thought Robert Lukins’ The Everlasting Sunday was going to be a homage to Golding’s Lord of the Flies – a home for delinquent boys cut off from the world by the worst snowstorm on record. Cue all hell breaking loose. But instead I found myself reading a book more akin to Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day.
The Manor is a home for boys ‘found by trouble’. We enter with seventeen year old Radford who has been unceremoniously dropped off by his uncle as the snowstorm worsens. We don’t know what he has done to deserve being sent away, we just know he is apprehensive and determined not to bend to the will of others.
Books about young men, especially those whom society rejects, tend toward an unrelenting brutality that never quite rings true to me. In The Everlasting Sunday, the boys are more rounded. They are vulnerable. They wear their hearts on their sleeves. They crave affection. Saying that, Lukins doesn’t shy away from their faults. The adolescent boys can also be extremely violent and cruel. Lukins depicts these outbursts, and their aftermaths, unflinchingly but they are always part of a larger whole. The boys are not savages. The bonds they form can and often do lead to affection and even to empathy.
Outside the Manor weeks of heavy snow isolate the boys from society, but it also provides a dangerous playground. Lukins even gives Winter a role to play, a dark reminder of our inherent fragility. And Radford and the boys flirt with oblivion, intentionally and unintentionally.
The Everlasting Sunday is a beautifully written, subtle novel, dealing with loss, forgiveness, love, redemption and the complexity of our natures. It will reward readers who loved, as I did, The Other Side of the World by Stephanie Bishop and The Good People by Hannah Kent…
The Manor is a home for boys ‘found by trouble’. We enter with seventeen year old Radford who has been unceremoniously dropped off by his uncle as the snowstorm worsens. We don’t know what he has done to deserve being sent away, we just know he is apprehensive and determined not to bend to the will of others.
Books about young men, especially those whom society rejects, tend toward an unrelenting brutality that never quite rings true to me. In The Everlasting Sunday, the boys are more rounded. They are vulnerable. They wear their hearts on their sleeves. They crave affection. Saying that, Lukins doesn’t shy away from their faults. The adolescent boys can also be extremely violent and cruel. Lukins depicts these outbursts, and their aftermaths, unflinchingly but they are always part of a larger whole. The boys are not savages. The bonds they form can and often do lead to affection and even to empathy.
Outside the Manor weeks of heavy snow isolate the boys from society, but it also provides a dangerous playground. Lukins even gives Winter a role to play, a dark reminder of our inherent fragility. And Radford and the boys flirt with oblivion, intentionally and unintentionally.
The Everlasting Sunday is a beautifully written, subtle novel, dealing with loss, forgiveness, love, redemption and the complexity of our natures. It will reward readers who loved, as I did, The Other Side of the World by Stephanie Bishop and The Good People by Hannah Kent…
February 23, 2018
Robert Lukins’ debut novel The Everlasting Sunday (UQP 2018) is a literary delight, a story comprised of poetry, a celebration of the rhythm of language. Set in the coldest winter on record in England in 1962, the novel takes place in Goodwin Manor, a home for boys who have been ‘found by trouble’. In the opening pages, 17-year-old Radford finds himself negotiating the intricacies of the home – the hardened loyalties, the twisted friendships, the turmoil of adolescent hormones, the secrets kept and confidences shared. As the freezing winter takes control of that place, the busy microcosm of the home shelters Radford from his past, but continually throws up challenges that confront his notion of himself and what he wants from life. His friends each have a past too terrible to talk about; through pilfered alcohol and shared cigarettes, they form connections both fragile and deep. The staff of Goodwin Manor are shrouded in their own mysteries.
This book tells a simple story of survival, of boys forced together through circumstance, and of the shocking events of one winter that tear everything apart. And while the story itself is compelling and compassionate and strange, it is the telling that is captivating. Lukins’ voice is powerful and unusual; his words dance lightly across the pages before falling heavily with some new revelation. The tension and sense of menace that accompanies his storytelling ratchets up with each chapter … we can feel the suspense, the teenage angst, the creeping anxiety, the fear.
Lukins’ characters are finely drawn and memorable. West and Teddy, Lillian and Manny – the cast is disparate and quirky and authentic. The setting – both the place of Goodwin Manor, and the season of Winter – is a character all its own, an immersive and captivating place and time so real that we can feel the icy snow, see the frozen birds, hear the crackling of the fire.
Lukins knows how to use white space, how to say less rather than more. The story is not a neatly-tied package, but a shifting fist of snowflakes, melting and reforming into something new. Like all the best stories, it asks more questions than it answers, and leaves us wanting more. Radford and his friends – bad boys though they might be – imprint on our hearts with their childish longings. Their immature hopes and desires are compressed into burgeoning bodies and shoehorned into societal norms; their sweet innocence belies their troubled histories. We see children, not monsters.
This is a compassionate and empathetic story that will linger; a compact and tightly-woven spell that will move you as you fear the worst and hope for the best.
This book tells a simple story of survival, of boys forced together through circumstance, and of the shocking events of one winter that tear everything apart. And while the story itself is compelling and compassionate and strange, it is the telling that is captivating. Lukins’ voice is powerful and unusual; his words dance lightly across the pages before falling heavily with some new revelation. The tension and sense of menace that accompanies his storytelling ratchets up with each chapter … we can feel the suspense, the teenage angst, the creeping anxiety, the fear.
Lukins’ characters are finely drawn and memorable. West and Teddy, Lillian and Manny – the cast is disparate and quirky and authentic. The setting – both the place of Goodwin Manor, and the season of Winter – is a character all its own, an immersive and captivating place and time so real that we can feel the icy snow, see the frozen birds, hear the crackling of the fire.
Lukins knows how to use white space, how to say less rather than more. The story is not a neatly-tied package, but a shifting fist of snowflakes, melting and reforming into something new. Like all the best stories, it asks more questions than it answers, and leaves us wanting more. Radford and his friends – bad boys though they might be – imprint on our hearts with their childish longings. Their immature hopes and desires are compressed into burgeoning bodies and shoehorned into societal norms; their sweet innocence belies their troubled histories. We see children, not monsters.
This is a compassionate and empathetic story that will linger; a compact and tightly-woven spell that will move you as you fear the worst and hope for the best.
March 3, 2018
A deceptively quiet, brooding meditation on fledgling masculinity, The Everlasting Sunday simmers with menace and tension, making the occasional explosions all the more cataclysmic. And what a pleasure to read such beautiful - I'll even go so far as to say "classical" - prose. How the hell is this a debut?
January 12, 2018
A heart-stopping and atmospheric read. Highly recommended.
February 25, 2018
Highly atmospheric, yet deeply unsettling, The Everlasting Sunday is a meticulous account of toxic masculinity within a setting of inverted institutionalisation. During a winter freeze, a teenager arrives at a reform home for boys located deep in the English countryside. We don’t know what he’s done to arrive at this fate, and indeed, as we quickly learn, it is the policy of this home that the boys do not have to disclose their reasons for being there unless they personally choose to. There are no locks on the doors inside of this home and the boys roam freely, even down to the local village, challenging the traditional notions of a reform home as a place of retribution.
The home is run by Teddy, a man who sees his only purpose as keeping the boys safe and alive, and who takes a quite liberal view on what the boys should or shouldn’t be doing with their time while living at the Manor. Yet I found his philosophy somewhat contradictory in terms of its grounding in reality. The boys within this home have all been sent there, put away in a sense, to a far corner of England where they essentially can become someone else’s problem. They have all done something to earn this fate, and they are all, by inclination, volatile to a certain degree. Teddy aims to keep them safe from a worse fate, yet he is powerless to protect them from each other. Institutionalisation without structure sees the Manor flex under the stress of anarchy, on more than one occasion. While I could appreciate where Teddy was coming from, I honestly felt his method was flawed and doomed to failure. In trying to eliminate toxic masculinity, he instead inadvertently fostered it. There can be no doubt though, of the positive effect that Teddy tried to have on each of the boys. He offered them truth and bore them no judgement. For those who were willing, what he offered was a safe passage through adolescence. A chance at a fresh start.
“‘Each generation feels it stands on the precipice of eternal decline,’ Teddy said. ‘And every generation has thought that it alone is correct in this judgement. We believe the best is behind us, that there’s a time that would suit us better and it’s always just gone, just out of reach.’”
This novel veers from quiet contemplation with moments of wonderful introspection and observation into a brutality that is confronting and at times disturbing. I balanced between being repelled by some of the actions by the boys, yet compelled to keep reading, gripped by a narrative strongly underpinned with a sense of doom. As a unique touch, Robert Lukins has fashioned Winter into a character, a presence unlike any other I have encountered within a novel before. Robert is quite a master with words, lyrically weaving them all together with visual clarity, blunt force, and impeccable timing.
“Trees bore witness to so much. The passing of kings and centuries of wordless battles. They saw whole lives, their beginnings and vicious ends. And yet they did nothing. Said nothing.”
While there were parts of this novel that I found difficult to read, I do like how the narrative challenged me. There is a lot to contemplate within this novel, and a lot to appreciate. The Everlasting Sunday is a fine debut and I feel certain this is only the beginning of great literary endeavours for Robert Lukins.
Thanks is extended to UQP for providing me with a copy of The Everlasting Sunday for Review.
The home is run by Teddy, a man who sees his only purpose as keeping the boys safe and alive, and who takes a quite liberal view on what the boys should or shouldn’t be doing with their time while living at the Manor. Yet I found his philosophy somewhat contradictory in terms of its grounding in reality. The boys within this home have all been sent there, put away in a sense, to a far corner of England where they essentially can become someone else’s problem. They have all done something to earn this fate, and they are all, by inclination, volatile to a certain degree. Teddy aims to keep them safe from a worse fate, yet he is powerless to protect them from each other. Institutionalisation without structure sees the Manor flex under the stress of anarchy, on more than one occasion. While I could appreciate where Teddy was coming from, I honestly felt his method was flawed and doomed to failure. In trying to eliminate toxic masculinity, he instead inadvertently fostered it. There can be no doubt though, of the positive effect that Teddy tried to have on each of the boys. He offered them truth and bore them no judgement. For those who were willing, what he offered was a safe passage through adolescence. A chance at a fresh start.
“‘Each generation feels it stands on the precipice of eternal decline,’ Teddy said. ‘And every generation has thought that it alone is correct in this judgement. We believe the best is behind us, that there’s a time that would suit us better and it’s always just gone, just out of reach.’”
This novel veers from quiet contemplation with moments of wonderful introspection and observation into a brutality that is confronting and at times disturbing. I balanced between being repelled by some of the actions by the boys, yet compelled to keep reading, gripped by a narrative strongly underpinned with a sense of doom. As a unique touch, Robert Lukins has fashioned Winter into a character, a presence unlike any other I have encountered within a novel before. Robert is quite a master with words, lyrically weaving them all together with visual clarity, blunt force, and impeccable timing.
“Trees bore witness to so much. The passing of kings and centuries of wordless battles. They saw whole lives, their beginnings and vicious ends. And yet they did nothing. Said nothing.”
While there were parts of this novel that I found difficult to read, I do like how the narrative challenged me. There is a lot to contemplate within this novel, and a lot to appreciate. The Everlasting Sunday is a fine debut and I feel certain this is only the beginning of great literary endeavours for Robert Lukins.
Thanks is extended to UQP for providing me with a copy of The Everlasting Sunday for Review.
March 4, 2018
Incredibly moody book, that plonks you in a home for troubled boys in the middle of a cold spell in 1962 England. Lukins creates a fully realised world inside the house, with rich and uneasy relationships unfolding as the ice and snow set in. Things build towards a conclusion with almost unbearable tension. This is a wonderful debut.
March 4, 2018
Magical. Remarkable. Beautiful.
May 23, 2018
What a debut! It’s all mood and atmosphere and I loved it.
March 9, 2018
My rating is so different from that of the average Goodreads rating that I guess I missed something. The story had such potential, but left so much on the fringe that often I had to remind myself that something (what?) was happening. The characters were left unexplored, sketches rather than well-drawn portraits of troubled boys. But, then again, what troubles had gotten them sent to the Manor? And, what was the Manor meant to do with them, prepare them for, help them with? it was frustrating to be left with so much unexplained. So disappointing that I kept reading in the hope that this writer would do more than present "snippets". He didn't!
April 20, 2018
‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ meets Linda Grant’s ‘The Dark Circle’ in this quietly violent tale.
A simmering tension throughout and a certain melodrama reminded me of the reading experience of ‘Elmet’.
An atmospheric Bildungsroman observing the fragility of masculinity, the obligations of friendship, and the question of salvation.
Thanks so much for sending me a copy, Robert! A wonderful debut.
A simmering tension throughout and a certain melodrama reminded me of the reading experience of ‘Elmet’.
An atmospheric Bildungsroman observing the fragility of masculinity, the obligations of friendship, and the question of salvation.
Thanks so much for sending me a copy, Robert! A wonderful debut.
June 28, 2018
One of the first things that struck me about Robert Lukins's novel The Everlasting Sunday was the wonderful prose. Dazzling and lyrical prose is very much fussed over these days but one of my pet hates is seeing that sort of prose with characters who are neither lyrical nor dazzling in their character or thinking and is misplaced. Not so with The Everlasting Sunday.
In The Everlasting Sunday the prose is poetic in the interesting juxtaposition of words, ie “The uncle began to whistle a tune that was without melody or mercy...”
“Radford was taken by the hand. It was an act that seemed irregular, but having taken place, and showing no sign of being withdrawn, was accepted as some malicious convention.”
With this unusual prose engendering a myth-like quality to the narrative, we know we are in for something special. I loved the way both the winter and the boys en masse are depicted as characters in the book.
The winter of 1962/1963 (the coldest winter in nearly three hundred years) is mythic in the depths the temperatures plummeted to. It was known as the big freeze and just before it closed over the landscape seventeen year old Radford arrives at Goodwin Manor - a home for boys who have been “found by trouble”.
Here is winter:
“Winter explored its creation, in every direction white, flying on its arrows through the spaces in trees and animals. The molecules of the air grew slow, longing to dance no more. Blood and sap tightened. Now would be the time for charity, for the granting of hope, but these were the same prideful mortals that took pleasure from defeating Winter so mercilessly.”
Here are the boys:
“As they travelled others joined, some starting on tussles that ended in only messed hair and threats. An approximately handsome figure came upon Radford, inspecting him and all the while sharpening the point of his quiff. He asked questions and West answered Radford’s name and presented him as a pet might be introduced to a household of children.”
Some alliances are already in place when Radford arrives and others are formed, West in particular looking out for Radford. Teddy who runs the home is an exceptionally drawn character - cheerful, worn down but doing everything he can for the boys. Gradually menace creeps in along with the freezing weather and I raced to the end. A marvellous, original read. Highly recommended.
In The Everlasting Sunday the prose is poetic in the interesting juxtaposition of words, ie “The uncle began to whistle a tune that was without melody or mercy...”
“Radford was taken by the hand. It was an act that seemed irregular, but having taken place, and showing no sign of being withdrawn, was accepted as some malicious convention.”
With this unusual prose engendering a myth-like quality to the narrative, we know we are in for something special. I loved the way both the winter and the boys en masse are depicted as characters in the book.
The winter of 1962/1963 (the coldest winter in nearly three hundred years) is mythic in the depths the temperatures plummeted to. It was known as the big freeze and just before it closed over the landscape seventeen year old Radford arrives at Goodwin Manor - a home for boys who have been “found by trouble”.
Here is winter:
“Winter explored its creation, in every direction white, flying on its arrows through the spaces in trees and animals. The molecules of the air grew slow, longing to dance no more. Blood and sap tightened. Now would be the time for charity, for the granting of hope, but these were the same prideful mortals that took pleasure from defeating Winter so mercilessly.”
Here are the boys:
“As they travelled others joined, some starting on tussles that ended in only messed hair and threats. An approximately handsome figure came upon Radford, inspecting him and all the while sharpening the point of his quiff. He asked questions and West answered Radford’s name and presented him as a pet might be introduced to a household of children.”
Some alliances are already in place when Radford arrives and others are formed, West in particular looking out for Radford. Teddy who runs the home is an exceptionally drawn character - cheerful, worn down but doing everything he can for the boys. Gradually menace creeps in along with the freezing weather and I raced to the end. A marvellous, original read. Highly recommended.
December 28, 2017
Beautiful writing, subtle, and a powerful atmosphere.
August 22, 2018
Impossible to sum up in a few lines, but this is a powerful coming-of-age novel depicting daily life in a home for boys 'found by trouble' in the early 1960s. The carers are empathetic, and their kindness and warmth contrast with the harsh weather and landscape. I particularly liked that winter had a voice.
February 15, 2018
So will written. Really captures the isolation and the longing the boys have. My only criticism is that not a lot happens. Beautiful descriptions and portraits of the characters, but they don't do whole lot.
June 18, 2018
A truly gripping debut novel. I loved that for most of the book I had no idea where it was going. The characters drew me in, and by the end I wished I could hug each and every one of them. They felt so real, so broken.
February 28, 2018
What is it, to be a boy?
An even greater challenge: what is it to be a boy who is troubled?
That can mean so much. One can be troubled within, or troubled without. In Robert Lukins’ novel The Everlasting Sunday, all the boys who are sequestered at the Manor are troubled. And yet through both the machinations of the plot – their de facto carer never reads the files on each boy sent to the Manor – and Lukins’ writing, each boy is able to be shorn of his trouble until all that remains is the boy. For us, and for them.
They go by their last names (Radford, West, Lewis), perhaps in vain attempt at becoming the adults they don’t quite feel they deserve to be. The adults at the Manor do the opposite (Teddy, Lillian, Manny), as if each group is suggesting to the other that they want to be seen different to how the outside world wants them to be.
Radford is the new arrival, there on Boxing Day, and his story at the Manor is encompassed by the cold, frozen winter of 1962. His stay is not a rite-of-passage as such, but still marked with the uncertainty that surrounds teenage boys and forced companionship. He barely speaks on arrival. For a boy, suffering against the weight of expectation as to who he has been, and who he should be, silence can be the best choice. And, briefly, it works.
‘He had been ignored, the truest acceptance.’
But gradually Radford becomes one of them, one of the boys who live there seemingly without past or future or without goal during their stay under Teddy’s care, other than to stay alive, and away from their families.
His emerging bong with West is the heartbeat through the novel, coloured by fumbled attempts at earnestness, at humour, at the pleasure of true friendship. Lukins gives their dialogue the sensation of boys discovering how to communicate.
‘Don’t take offence. It’s a game.’
‘I’m not offended. I just want plain speaking.’
And then later:
‘Who of the house had been given this attention of West’s before his arrival? It seemed real to Radford, but what if it was nothing special and he had simply been the next?’
Away from everything, the boys find sincerity, even if Radford mistrusts this at first. Gradually, the Manor emerges as a place sheltering these boys under their own self-rule. Needless aggression or unpleasantness is the exception, and the boys gravitate toward moments of belonging, experiences where they can accept one another and their own selves.
And yet: the darkness of the novel comes not from within, but from the trouble without. The expectation that they are troubled, they are damaged, they are diseased, is what causes this frozen idyll to be disturbed. Lukins doesn’t aim to instruct how such boys should be raised – there is no hidden cure in these pages – but it is clear that the burden of prophecy on boys to be trouble is at the heart of their tragedy. His writing is full of compassion for the young charges, glimmering with hope that boyhood need not be taken alone, or filled with loneliness.
Teddy only wants all the boys to survive – the winter, the Manor, or life, it’s all the same – and yet Radford realises that in finding the path to survival, the boys can do it alone, or with each other. Like the starlings that Radford and some others witness, the boys at the Manor
‘breathed with a lone purpose, and it was this unity that struck him. That all these beaks and breakable wings could come so close to disaster yet make a song so sweet.’
For Lukins’ characters, boyhood can be a long, dark cold, seemingly without end. For us, we can only wonder: how can any boy stay alive through the winter of adolescence?
An even greater challenge: what is it to be a boy who is troubled?
That can mean so much. One can be troubled within, or troubled without. In Robert Lukins’ novel The Everlasting Sunday, all the boys who are sequestered at the Manor are troubled. And yet through both the machinations of the plot – their de facto carer never reads the files on each boy sent to the Manor – and Lukins’ writing, each boy is able to be shorn of his trouble until all that remains is the boy. For us, and for them.
They go by their last names (Radford, West, Lewis), perhaps in vain attempt at becoming the adults they don’t quite feel they deserve to be. The adults at the Manor do the opposite (Teddy, Lillian, Manny), as if each group is suggesting to the other that they want to be seen different to how the outside world wants them to be.
Radford is the new arrival, there on Boxing Day, and his story at the Manor is encompassed by the cold, frozen winter of 1962. His stay is not a rite-of-passage as such, but still marked with the uncertainty that surrounds teenage boys and forced companionship. He barely speaks on arrival. For a boy, suffering against the weight of expectation as to who he has been, and who he should be, silence can be the best choice. And, briefly, it works.
‘He had been ignored, the truest acceptance.’
But gradually Radford becomes one of them, one of the boys who live there seemingly without past or future or without goal during their stay under Teddy’s care, other than to stay alive, and away from their families.
His emerging bong with West is the heartbeat through the novel, coloured by fumbled attempts at earnestness, at humour, at the pleasure of true friendship. Lukins gives their dialogue the sensation of boys discovering how to communicate.
‘Don’t take offence. It’s a game.’
‘I’m not offended. I just want plain speaking.’
And then later:
‘Who of the house had been given this attention of West’s before his arrival? It seemed real to Radford, but what if it was nothing special and he had simply been the next?’
Away from everything, the boys find sincerity, even if Radford mistrusts this at first. Gradually, the Manor emerges as a place sheltering these boys under their own self-rule. Needless aggression or unpleasantness is the exception, and the boys gravitate toward moments of belonging, experiences where they can accept one another and their own selves.
And yet: the darkness of the novel comes not from within, but from the trouble without. The expectation that they are troubled, they are damaged, they are diseased, is what causes this frozen idyll to be disturbed. Lukins doesn’t aim to instruct how such boys should be raised – there is no hidden cure in these pages – but it is clear that the burden of prophecy on boys to be trouble is at the heart of their tragedy. His writing is full of compassion for the young charges, glimmering with hope that boyhood need not be taken alone, or filled with loneliness.
Teddy only wants all the boys to survive – the winter, the Manor, or life, it’s all the same – and yet Radford realises that in finding the path to survival, the boys can do it alone, or with each other. Like the starlings that Radford and some others witness, the boys at the Manor
‘breathed with a lone purpose, and it was this unity that struck him. That all these beaks and breakable wings could come so close to disaster yet make a song so sweet.’
For Lukins’ characters, boyhood can be a long, dark cold, seemingly without end. For us, we can only wonder: how can any boy stay alive through the winter of adolescence?
April 17, 2019
Finished: 17.04.2019
Genre: novel
Rating: A
#NSW Premier's Awards 2019
Conclusion:
This book surprised me as a debut novel.
That is why I gave it a 5 score instead of a solid 3.
Here is why...
My Thoughts
Genre: novel
Rating: A
#NSW Premier's Awards 2019
Conclusion:
This book surprised me as a debut novel.
That is why I gave it a 5 score instead of a solid 3.
Here is why...
My Thoughts
April 4, 2018
Beautifully written, brutal story.
"The air, beyond chill, made short work of cutting through Radford’s trousers and long johns. His socks became wet and winter made house in his bones."
"The air, beyond chill, made short work of cutting through Radford’s trousers and long johns. His socks became wet and winter made house in his bones."
August 23, 2019
We join Radford in England in 1962 when he is sent to Goodwin Manor, a home for troubled boys. The boys aren't required to disclose the events leading up to their arrival at Goodwin Manor, but I hoped their backstories would be slowly revealed throughout the novel. Alas, this isn't the case. In fact, we don't even get the backstory of the main character, Radford.
I was ready for a bootcamp style campus novel for delinquents and troublemakers, but Goodwin Manor is not a structured boarding school environment with a schedule designed to turn bad boys good again. Instead it offers the boys an opportunity to work through their issues via the process of friendship.
I adjusted my expectations and began to hope for an inspiring novel about wayward boys desperate for learning and mentorship reminiscent of Dead Poet’s Society, however didn't find that either.
As we observe the boys interacting with eachother and Radford becoming friends with West, I desperately wanted to give the school some structure. Teddy's oversight felt painfully inadequate and I wanted to crack out a timetable of lessons and chores for the boys. The seemingly complete lack of any regime irked me, but was that the point?
I wished there had been more inspiring adult figures in the lives of the boys at Goodwin Manor and I also wanted to see what happened when one of the boys returned home. Furthermore, I desired evidence of an improvement in the behaviour and wellbeing of the boys who'd spent the most time at Goodwin Manor.
Unfortunately, the reader is deprived of character backstories and thereby any evidence of individual growth, development or recovery. There was also much that was never explained. How did the boys get the money for cigarettes and booze and what was with the chicken coop?
The Everlasting Sunday is a literary novel by an Australian author that has won a swag of awards. It's a coming-of-age novel about friendship, self, rejection, love, grief and hope but ultimately I found it too wanting for my tastes.
I was ready for a bootcamp style campus novel for delinquents and troublemakers, but Goodwin Manor is not a structured boarding school environment with a schedule designed to turn bad boys good again. Instead it offers the boys an opportunity to work through their issues via the process of friendship.
I adjusted my expectations and began to hope for an inspiring novel about wayward boys desperate for learning and mentorship reminiscent of Dead Poet’s Society, however didn't find that either.
As we observe the boys interacting with eachother and Radford becoming friends with West, I desperately wanted to give the school some structure. Teddy's oversight felt painfully inadequate and I wanted to crack out a timetable of lessons and chores for the boys. The seemingly complete lack of any regime irked me, but was that the point?
I wished there had been more inspiring adult figures in the lives of the boys at Goodwin Manor and I also wanted to see what happened when one of the boys returned home. Furthermore, I desired evidence of an improvement in the behaviour and wellbeing of the boys who'd spent the most time at Goodwin Manor.
Unfortunately, the reader is deprived of character backstories and thereby any evidence of individual growth, development or recovery. There was also much that was never explained. How did the boys get the money for cigarettes and booze and what was with the chicken coop?
The Everlasting Sunday is a literary novel by an Australian author that has won a swag of awards. It's a coming-of-age novel about friendship, self, rejection, love, grief and hope but ultimately I found it too wanting for my tastes.
March 4, 2018
The assuredness of this debut suggests there are half a dozen manuscripts sitting in Robert Lukins’ desk drawer waiting for the readers they deserve. He has crafted a tense survival story in The Everlasting Sunday; here we have a manor filled with troubled boys thrown together by circumstance with minimal supervision or structure. But what results is not a Lord of the Flies experience. We are not surprised by the savagery of the boys, but by unexpected kindnesses, vulnerability and the fragility of friendships that are at once too deep to express and shallow enough to shatter at the thought of what remains unsaid. Atmosphere is forefront in this novel, which read to me like I imagine a snow-globe might: it conserves a feeling or moment in time, one that looks peaceful at first but is shaken into turmoil by a cast of characters with unsettling and unspoken histories. The sense of place is strong, but never settled enough for one (be it a character or a reader) to feel at home there, as there is a continuing sense that Goodwin Manor may simply slide into the deep winter beyond.
Full review at: http://dogeared.reviews/reviews/The-E...
Full review at: http://dogeared.reviews/reviews/The-E...
May 22, 2018
I think I've missed something in this story - every other review gives 4 or 5 stars and comments like breathtaking, and beautiful. It didn't draw me in at all and I wasn't invested in any of the characters. Maybe it's just not my thing
June 15, 2019
This thing is so much better in Italian, I imagine.
April 16, 2018
Stunning. Read it in one sitting. Beautifully written and so bittersweet. Shades of Eveyln Waugh with something all Lukins' own. Read it.
March 12, 2019
The language in this book is sublime. Robert has such an inventive and beautiful way of showing us the most simple things, things we take for granted, things we didn’t know had a better explanation. I was profoundly moved by this novel, and it will sit with me for some time.
December 14, 2018
This is a little off the beaten track compared to the paths I usually tread for my reading pleasure but it's a diversion that I am glad that I took. Goodwin Manor is a last refuge for boys who are found by trouble as the author puts it and The Everlasting Sunday follows Radford, one such unfortunate who spends the great winter of 1962 there. It's a tale of no little warmth, considerable cold and harsh cruelty which put me in mind of a dysfunctional Dead Poet's Society.
The friendships and enmities that Radford and the other boys form are the crux of this claustrophobic story which is beautifully illustrated by the almost poetic yet direct prose that Lukins employs. More than most authors he conjures vivid imagery with a real economy of words. Kevin Spink, making his Audible UK debut is given the task of narration and does a credible job of bringing characters like the enigmatic Teddy, the authority figure in the house to life. Some odd pronunciations of words such as belfry and hearth may grate a little on Anglo ears but overall he has the voices to do the story justice.
The Everlasting Sunday was a fairly short but highly evocative listen, an intriguing episode in a coming of age tale that left me feeling very satisfied and as if I had gained a depth of understanding of place and people that usually only comes with much longer books.
The friendships and enmities that Radford and the other boys form are the crux of this claustrophobic story which is beautifully illustrated by the almost poetic yet direct prose that Lukins employs. More than most authors he conjures vivid imagery with a real economy of words. Kevin Spink, making his Audible UK debut is given the task of narration and does a credible job of bringing characters like the enigmatic Teddy, the authority figure in the house to life. Some odd pronunciations of words such as belfry and hearth may grate a little on Anglo ears but overall he has the voices to do the story justice.
The Everlasting Sunday was a fairly short but highly evocative listen, an intriguing episode in a coming of age tale that left me feeling very satisfied and as if I had gained a depth of understanding of place and people that usually only comes with much longer books.
June 21, 2018
The Everlasting Sunday is set in a boys home in England in 1962. The cold of the setting mimicks the isolation of the boys situation and their own minds. It is not always a comfortable read as there is tension and trauma but there is also joy and tenderness.
If you like a strong authorial voice then you will thoroughly enjoy Robert Lukins' work, if you are after something more generic then this book may not appeal to you as much. His opening sentence is simple enough - There are things more miraculous than love. But from the second sentence the unmistakable stamp of Lukins can be felt - Given the right motivation common water, for instance, turn itself to solid ice. Powerful and distinct.
If you like a strong authorial voice then you will thoroughly enjoy Robert Lukins' work, if you are after something more generic then this book may not appeal to you as much. His opening sentence is simple enough - There are things more miraculous than love. But from the second sentence the unmistakable stamp of Lukins can be felt - Given the right motivation common water, for instance, turn itself to solid ice. Powerful and distinct.
December 21, 2019
Bit hard to rate this story set in Britain during the freezing winter of 1962. The coldest winter in 300 years was brutal but paled in comparison to the story that these characters find themselves in. Beautiful writing delivered with a sort of British stiff upper lip.
The writing is so good, I'd like to rate it higher than a 3 but it didn't wow me more like a 4 star read would.
It's been part of a huge number of prize lists. I think I had heard it recommended on booktube but I was inspired to read it due to the Voss prize.
Well worth a read to find out what you think about it yourself.
The writing is so good, I'd like to rate it higher than a 3 but it didn't wow me more like a 4 star read would.
It's been part of a huge number of prize lists. I think I had heard it recommended on booktube but I was inspired to read it due to the Voss prize.
Well worth a read to find out what you think about it yourself.
January 6, 2020
Romanzo di formazione che ha come protagonisti il Grande Gelo del ‘63 ed una manciata di ragazzi disadattati costretti a vivere ‘forzatamente’ nella Casa, un vecchio maniero isolato tra le campagne innevate dell’Inghilterra meridionale. I giovani, lungo l’impietoso inverno, affronteranno i propri demoni, impareranno cos’è la rabbia, la noia e il dolore, scopriranno cos’è la vita e la morte. In attesa che arrivi la primavera e che finalmente metta fine al freddo dell’inverno.
February 13, 2020
Sarebbe un 2.5, ma ho arrotondato a 3 stelle per le frasi che ho sottolineato.
Avevo alt(r)e aspettative.
Il libro inizia con Radford, diciassette anni, che viene portato in macchina dallo zio a Goodwin Manor - un posto che tutti chiamano la "Casa" - proprio mentre sta per scatenarsi una bruttissima tempesta di neve.
Non sappiamo perché Radford venga condotto lì - West, il primo ragazzo che incontra e anche il suo primo amico in quel posto, gli spiega che Goodwin Manor è un posto per i ragazzi che sono incappati nei guai. Un posto in cui finisci per un motivo oppure se ciò che a fartici finire è stata la cosiddetta "ultima goccia".
Mentre il gelo avvolge la Gran Bretagna e sembra particolarmente infierire nella regione in cui si trova Goodwin Manor, Radford scopre che la Casa ospita parecchi ragazzi e che gli adulti sono in netta minoranza: c'è Teddy, l'incaricato ufficiale di sorvegliare i ragazzi che svolge il proprio compito con indulgenza e mano ferma allo stesso tempo; Lillian, la cuoca che spesso assume anche il ruolo di chioccia; Manny, che vuole insegnare il mestiere di elettricista ma incontra solo sguardi assenti da parte di studenti svogliati.
Goodwin Manor non è un istituto, non è una scuola, non si sa che cos'è: non ci sono orari fissi se non quelli dei pasti, non ci sono attività particolarmente coinvolgenti quando sei costretto a restare chiuso dentro quattro mura a causa dell'inverno spietato.
E come è normale che tra ragazzi si formino gruppetti, così è normale che scoppino bisticci e litigate quando provocate non solo dalla normalità di essere adolescenti, ma anche dal tedio e dalla noia.
E Radford, che inizialmente teme di essere un bersaglio in quanto nuovo arrivato, pur non perdendo l'istinto di non sottostare alle decisioni di altri e mantenendo una sorta di diffidenza e distanza, entra a far parte del gruppetto di West formato anche da Brass, Lewis e Rich.
È un inverno lungo, rigido che i ragazzi tentano di far passare anche grazie alle distrazioni fornite da alcol e sigarette e che resta a guardare la vita claustrofobica tra quelle mura con la stessa freddezza del suo gelo.
Su Goodreads questo libro ha valutazioni altissime, tantissime a quattro e cinque stelle - io sono una delle poche voci fuori dal coro.
Non so se il fatto di averlo letto mentre ero ammalata e quindi costantemente distratta dalla febbre, dal raffreddore e dal sonno improvviso mi abbia impedito di cogliere ciò che avrei dovuto carpire, ma c'è proprio qualcosa che per me stona.
Tanto, troppo viene lasciato all'oscuro: non scopriamo mai perché i ragazzi sono a Goodwin Manor, non scopriamo mai nemmeno il background del nostro protagonista - possiamo solo fare qualche ipotesi su cosa sia accaduto nella sua vecchia casa che l'ha spedito in quella nuova, possiamo solo immaginare quale fosse la sua natura e quali fossero i suoi sentimenti perché resta sempre tutto molto ermetico.
Nessun personaggio è approfondito, nessuno ha una storia: di Brass sappiamo solo che ama pettinarsi continuamente i capelli e che ha il fascino del leader, ma ignoriamo completamente il motivo del suo odio per Foster, che appare assolutamente immotivato anche se poi io ho cercato di darmi una risposta; di Lewis e Rich sappiamo solo che sono i due più propensi a combinare guai e ad essere beccati; di West sappiamo solo che è gentile e in qualche modo anche fragile, è vivace ma sa anche condividere il silenzio con Radford quando vanno a fumare solo loro due nella torre del campanile.
Non sappiamo la Casa da chi sia stata voluta, quale sia lo scopo di accogliere i ragazzi - perché sono finiti lì, quali obiettivi dovrebbero raggiungere, quale insegnamento dovrebbero trarne, verso cosa dovrebbe indirizzare le loro vite. Non hanno un volto, non hanno una storia, non hanno un carattere e le loro azioni appaiono spesso immotivate così come le cause scatenanti: l'odio di Brass per Foster per me resterà senza spiegazione.
L'autore dà una voce anche ad Inverno - i cui interventi nella storia per commentare le azioni dei ragazzi, se devo essere sincera, li ho trovati irritanti oltre ogni limite e assolutamente privi di senso.
Questa vuole essere una storia di amicizia, lealtà, sopravvivenza, nostalgia, perdita, ma io l'ho trovata tediosa e a tratti priva di quella logica che mi avrebbe aiutata a capire meglio alcuni passaggi di scena o interazioni tra i personaggi - e, mi dispiace dirlo, tranne che un po' a West soprattutto nel finale, non mi sono affezionata a nessuno di loro - nemmeno al protagonista Radford. E questo perché non sentiamo mai parlare di loro, ma sempre e solo della quantità e del colore della neve e di come ha reso il paesaggio e di quanto alcol e sigarette restano fino alla prossima occasione di fare scorta.
Per me mancano dei pezzi fondamentali di supporto a questa storia, ci sono così tante lacune e buchi neri che, a mio parere, lasciano il lettore insoddisfatto - o forse sono io la pecora nera viste le altre valutazioni. La storia vuole essere filosofica, ma lo è senza nessuna connessione logica - e io e questo tipo di filosofia abbiamo sempre fatto a pugni.
Qual è la morale? Qual è il senso?
E allora mi vengono in mente le parole di West in risposta ad una domanda di Radford: chi ti ha promesso un senso?
Questo romanzo ha di sicuro un'atmosfera che affascina, ma anche tanto potenziale non sviluppato e quindi sprecato - e mi dispiace, ci sono proprio rimasta male.
Avevo alt(r)e aspettative.
Il libro inizia con Radford, diciassette anni, che viene portato in macchina dallo zio a Goodwin Manor - un posto che tutti chiamano la "Casa" - proprio mentre sta per scatenarsi una bruttissima tempesta di neve.
Non sappiamo perché Radford venga condotto lì - West, il primo ragazzo che incontra e anche il suo primo amico in quel posto, gli spiega che Goodwin Manor è un posto per i ragazzi che sono incappati nei guai. Un posto in cui finisci per un motivo oppure se ciò che a fartici finire è stata la cosiddetta "ultima goccia".
Mentre il gelo avvolge la Gran Bretagna e sembra particolarmente infierire nella regione in cui si trova Goodwin Manor, Radford scopre che la Casa ospita parecchi ragazzi e che gli adulti sono in netta minoranza: c'è Teddy, l'incaricato ufficiale di sorvegliare i ragazzi che svolge il proprio compito con indulgenza e mano ferma allo stesso tempo; Lillian, la cuoca che spesso assume anche il ruolo di chioccia; Manny, che vuole insegnare il mestiere di elettricista ma incontra solo sguardi assenti da parte di studenti svogliati.
Goodwin Manor non è un istituto, non è una scuola, non si sa che cos'è: non ci sono orari fissi se non quelli dei pasti, non ci sono attività particolarmente coinvolgenti quando sei costretto a restare chiuso dentro quattro mura a causa dell'inverno spietato.
E come è normale che tra ragazzi si formino gruppetti, così è normale che scoppino bisticci e litigate quando provocate non solo dalla normalità di essere adolescenti, ma anche dal tedio e dalla noia.
E Radford, che inizialmente teme di essere un bersaglio in quanto nuovo arrivato, pur non perdendo l'istinto di non sottostare alle decisioni di altri e mantenendo una sorta di diffidenza e distanza, entra a far parte del gruppetto di West formato anche da Brass, Lewis e Rich.
È un inverno lungo, rigido che i ragazzi tentano di far passare anche grazie alle distrazioni fornite da alcol e sigarette e che resta a guardare la vita claustrofobica tra quelle mura con la stessa freddezza del suo gelo.
Su Goodreads questo libro ha valutazioni altissime, tantissime a quattro e cinque stelle - io sono una delle poche voci fuori dal coro.
Non so se il fatto di averlo letto mentre ero ammalata e quindi costantemente distratta dalla febbre, dal raffreddore e dal sonno improvviso mi abbia impedito di cogliere ciò che avrei dovuto carpire, ma c'è proprio qualcosa che per me stona.
Tanto, troppo viene lasciato all'oscuro: non scopriamo mai perché i ragazzi sono a Goodwin Manor, non scopriamo mai nemmeno il background del nostro protagonista - possiamo solo fare qualche ipotesi su cosa sia accaduto nella sua vecchia casa che l'ha spedito in quella nuova, possiamo solo immaginare quale fosse la sua natura e quali fossero i suoi sentimenti perché resta sempre tutto molto ermetico.
Nessun personaggio è approfondito, nessuno ha una storia: di Brass sappiamo solo che ama pettinarsi continuamente i capelli e che ha il fascino del leader, ma ignoriamo completamente il motivo del suo odio per Foster, che appare assolutamente immotivato anche se poi io ho cercato di darmi una risposta; di Lewis e Rich sappiamo solo che sono i due più propensi a combinare guai e ad essere beccati; di West sappiamo solo che è gentile e in qualche modo anche fragile, è vivace ma sa anche condividere il silenzio con Radford quando vanno a fumare solo loro due nella torre del campanile.
Non sappiamo la Casa da chi sia stata voluta, quale sia lo scopo di accogliere i ragazzi - perché sono finiti lì, quali obiettivi dovrebbero raggiungere, quale insegnamento dovrebbero trarne, verso cosa dovrebbe indirizzare le loro vite. Non hanno un volto, non hanno una storia, non hanno un carattere e le loro azioni appaiono spesso immotivate così come le cause scatenanti: l'odio di Brass per Foster per me resterà senza spiegazione.
L'autore dà una voce anche ad Inverno - i cui interventi nella storia per commentare le azioni dei ragazzi, se devo essere sincera, li ho trovati irritanti oltre ogni limite e assolutamente privi di senso.
Questa vuole essere una storia di amicizia, lealtà, sopravvivenza, nostalgia, perdita, ma io l'ho trovata tediosa e a tratti priva di quella logica che mi avrebbe aiutata a capire meglio alcuni passaggi di scena o interazioni tra i personaggi - e, mi dispiace dirlo, tranne che un po' a West soprattutto nel finale, non mi sono affezionata a nessuno di loro - nemmeno al protagonista Radford. E questo perché non sentiamo mai parlare di loro, ma sempre e solo della quantità e del colore della neve e di come ha reso il paesaggio e di quanto alcol e sigarette restano fino alla prossima occasione di fare scorta.
Per me mancano dei pezzi fondamentali di supporto a questa storia, ci sono così tante lacune e buchi neri che, a mio parere, lasciano il lettore insoddisfatto - o forse sono io la pecora nera viste le altre valutazioni. La storia vuole essere filosofica, ma lo è senza nessuna connessione logica - e io e questo tipo di filosofia abbiamo sempre fatto a pugni.
Qual è la morale? Qual è il senso?
E allora mi vengono in mente le parole di West in risposta ad una domanda di Radford: chi ti ha promesso un senso?
Questo romanzo ha di sicuro un'atmosfera che affascina, ma anche tanto potenziale non sviluppato e quindi sprecato - e mi dispiace, ci sono proprio rimasta male.
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