When I saw that Salley Vickers’ eleventh novel, The Gardener, had been released, I looked out for it on my next library trip. Vickers is an author whose work I tend to enjoy, and whom I feel is rather underrated in the sea of contemporary British authors. The novel which she released before The Gardener, entitled Grandmothers, was really quite beautiful, and I couldn’t put The Librarian down.
In The Gardener, protagonist Halcyon Days, known as Hassie to all around her, buys a run-down Jacobean house named Knight’s Fee with her sister, located in a fictional village named Hope Wenlock on the Welsh Marches. Her sister, Margot, who works in finance, is present in the narrative only sporadically; she spends much of her life still in London. Of Margot, Hassie reveals: ‘I was never quite sure what it was that Margot did do but it appeared to pay.’ Hassie herself works as an illustrator on something of a freelance basis; she makes enough to scrape by on ‘a rather dismal series of children’s books’, but has only been able to invest in the house due to an inheritance.
In the ‘sprawling’ house, Hassie is left alone to tend the ‘large, long-neglected garden’. Finding it rather a large task, she asks for the help of Murat, an Albanian refugee, who has largely been ‘made to feel out of place amongst the locals’.
Alongside Hassie’s present day existence, we learn very early on that she is still locked into her childhood, and the pains which have filled her past. The house offers her healing, in a way, allowing her to pour some of her energy into discovering the history of Much Wenlock, and the nature which now surrounds her.
In the few books of Vickers’ which I have read to date, I have always felt that the author has an unwavering sense of empathy toward her characters. The Gardener is no different in this respect. Hassie feels realistic and fully-formed, and part of this is due to the sense of humour which Vickers sculpts for her. Scenes which Hassie relays, and comments which she makes are infused with an often dark humour. Of Knight’s Fee, for instance: ‘What I found, when Margot having eroded my resistance I agreed to view it, was a redbrick half-timbered building covered in creeper with what the agent assured us were Elizabethan antecedents. He was wrong about that, but I suppose it’s foolish to expect accuracy from an estate agent.’ She goes on: ‘But this very different house was certainly appealing. In its decayed grandeur it stood for a way of life I could never before have entertained.’
Another realism here is the prickly relationship between the sisters. Hassie recounts that she is expected to do the majority of the work around the house and garden: ‘… I was now ruminating, already prickling at the prospect, was that I would be the bloody toiler in the vineyard while Margot would sit in the garden, drinking and sunning herself, enjoying the results of my labours.’
One of my favourite elements of Vickers’ writing is the way in which her descriptions give a gently haunting feel to the whole. She is also excellent at capturing feelings of nostalgia. Here, she writes: ‘The stairway was vast, with an anachronistic curving mahogany banister, the kind a child would slide down. In my mind’s eye, my infant self went whizzing past the sober middle-aged person padding down the dusty stairs to the hall. The latter person followed the ghost of my young self through to the beamed kitchen and into a cold scullery.’ Her prose is gentle and graceful: ‘A kind of ritual established itself: early each morning, I would go outside in my nightdress and stand barefoot in the dew-drenched grass and the tremulous dawn light, letting the silvery birdsong rinse my ears and the clean morning air fill my lungs and the sun or wind or rain bless my skin. It was at this time of day when I felt as if I were in touch with some larger, stronger reality, which lay behind the appearance of things, the hidden faces at work beneath nature’s surface…’.
Vickers is an interesting writer; the tone of her books is rather gentle on the whole, but there are some serious topics explored; here, we are exposed to chronic loneliness, sibling rivalry, and trying to fit in within a new community, but not being accepted. Vickers flits between time periods, sometimes without clear delineation. It does take a little while to become oriented in The Gardener, but I found the process was worth it. The Gardener is a very thoughtful novel, and whilst it isn’t my favourite of Vickers’ books, it does give one rather a lot to consider. Taken as a character study, it is perhaps most successful. Those who enjoy a faster pace in their reading, and do not care for many descriptions of place, would do well not to pick this one up. However, for me, it offered a diverting and rather absorbing story, which took my attention away from current world events. I was sure at around the halfway point that my rating for The Gardener would be higher, but I personally found the ending extremely unsatisfactory; in my opinion, it did not tally with the characters’ behaviour up to that point, and it felt rather rushed.