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Fresh and distinctive writing from an exciting new voice in fiction, Elmet is an unforgettable novel about family, as well as a beautiful meditation on landscape.
Daniel is heading north. He is looking for someone. The simplicity of his early life with Daddy and Cathy has turned sour and fearful. They lived apart in the house that Daddy built for them with his bare hands. They foraged and hunted. When they were younger, Daniel and Cathy had gone to school. But they were not like the other children then, and they were even less like them now. Sometimes Daddy disappeared, and would return with a rage in his eyes. But when he was at home he was at peace. He told them that the little copse in Elmet was theirs alone. But that wasn't true. Local men, greedy and watchful, began to circle like vultures. All the while, the terrible violence in Daddy grew.
Atmospheric and unsettling, Elmet is a lyrical commentary on contemporary society and one family's precarious place in it, as well as an exploration of how deep the bond between father and child can go.
189 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 10, 2017
1161 people are currently reading
19505 people want to read
About the author
Fiona Mozley
9 books446 followersFiona Mozley grew up in York and went to King's College, Cambridge, after which she lived in Buenos Aires and London. She is studying for a PhD in medieval history. Elmet is her first novel and it has been shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2017.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,025 reviews
November 18, 2017
4.5 stars.
The writing is beautiful. I found myself rereading many passages because I wanted to see or feel what is described again. The writing is lyrical with amazingly visual descriptions of this rural area in the woods in the north of England. There's such a sense of place and I always hesitate to call a book atmospheric not wanting to overuse the term, but it is the best description I can come up. Yet, if I didn't know I was reading a novel taking place in northern England, I would have thought it was a novel of the south, of the American south. It's a slow burning narrative building up to the inevitable dark and violence of revengeful confrontation.
Fourteen year old Daniel and his fifteen year old sister Cathy have been taken by their father John to live in this remote wooded area after Cathy is bullied and after their grandmother who cared for them passes away. Their elusive, almost mysterious mother seems to come in and out of their lives until their grandmother tells them one day that she won't be back. I never felt quite satisfied with not really knowing the mother's story, although later in the novel we get hints. Their father is a brute of a man, using his body to make a living fighting or working for evil men helping them to "settle" things. But now he builds a house for his children and tries to protect them from the outside world. What is clear is that John loves Daniel who is a gentle soul who keeps house and cooks and Cathy, the tomboy who hunts and is more like her father. They lead this isolated life, except for studying with their neighbor Vivian until the reprehensible Mr. Price, the legitimate landowner ( not the children's mother) shows up. So the story moves on another level, not just this individual family but the unfairness, the greed and awful treatment of workers and tenants by Price and others and things get complicated.
I would have given this five stars if it weren't for the end scenes which felt a little over the top. However, I was so impressed with this debut novel which was nominated for the 2017 Booker Prize. Fiona Mozley covers a lot of ground - family love and loyalty, moral questions over fairness and greed and how justice is realized . I will be very interested in what she writes next.
I received an advanced copy of this book from Algonquin Books through NetGalley.
The writing is beautiful. I found myself rereading many passages because I wanted to see or feel what is described again. The writing is lyrical with amazingly visual descriptions of this rural area in the woods in the north of England. There's such a sense of place and I always hesitate to call a book atmospheric not wanting to overuse the term, but it is the best description I can come up. Yet, if I didn't know I was reading a novel taking place in northern England, I would have thought it was a novel of the south, of the American south. It's a slow burning narrative building up to the inevitable dark and violence of revengeful confrontation.
Fourteen year old Daniel and his fifteen year old sister Cathy have been taken by their father John to live in this remote wooded area after Cathy is bullied and after their grandmother who cared for them passes away. Their elusive, almost mysterious mother seems to come in and out of their lives until their grandmother tells them one day that she won't be back. I never felt quite satisfied with not really knowing the mother's story, although later in the novel we get hints. Their father is a brute of a man, using his body to make a living fighting or working for evil men helping them to "settle" things. But now he builds a house for his children and tries to protect them from the outside world. What is clear is that John loves Daniel who is a gentle soul who keeps house and cooks and Cathy, the tomboy who hunts and is more like her father. They lead this isolated life, except for studying with their neighbor Vivian until the reprehensible Mr. Price, the legitimate landowner ( not the children's mother) shows up. So the story moves on another level, not just this individual family but the unfairness, the greed and awful treatment of workers and tenants by Price and others and things get complicated.
I would have given this five stars if it weren't for the end scenes which felt a little over the top. However, I was so impressed with this debut novel which was nominated for the 2017 Booker Prize. Fiona Mozley covers a lot of ground - family love and loyalty, moral questions over fairness and greed and how justice is realized . I will be very interested in what she writes next.
I received an advanced copy of this book from Algonquin Books through NetGalley.
September 21, 2017
This is a beautiful and lyrically written piece of Gothic Noir, drawing on the ancient area of Celtic Elmet, comprising West Riding in Yorkshire, Ted Hughes's 'badlands' providing sanctuary to those on the run, and the folklore surrounding Robin Hood. The narrative is from the point of view of a 14 year old Daniel. Daniel, his sister, Cathy and their larger than life father, John, referred to as Daddy, relocate to a rustic area that their mother had come from. They had resided with their grandmother, but were bullied at school. After Cathy took on the bullies, the school blamed her, and Daddy relocates them to land that had once belonged to the mother, but poverty led to its sale. Their home in a copse is built from scratch, and a living is eked out through hunting and foraging. This is a story of poverty, class, land ownership, family dynamics and relationships, justice, gender roles, revenge and history.
Daddy is a huge man with a fearsome reputation as an unbeaten bareknuckle fighter, with a simmering rage boiling just under the surface and fiercely tenacious in his belief in being independent. He places his trust on self reliance and family. Cathy and Daniel are close, but radically different from each other. Daniel takes after his mysterious mother, preferring to avoid conflict, taking over the domain of the home, cooking and cleaning, and growing fruit and vegetables. Cathy reflects her father more, she prefers the outdoors and prepared to fight for what she believes is right. Daddy wants them to receive some form of education and ropes in Vivien for this purpose. Daniel is drawn to Vivien, and the two develop a growing relationship. Daddy lends his menace and fists to locals for favours. He orchestrates and organises the community in rent strikes and withdrawal of labour in a challenge to the economic exploitation of the powerless workers. Price is portrayed as an exploitative rich landowner who bought their mother's land with no history, links or connection with the land. Both Daddy and their mother have a personal history with Price. The battlelines are drawn for an all out brutal outcome.
Mozley paints a bleak and atmospheric picture of desperate poverty, family and conflict. Daniel and Cathy challenge the gender roles that society expects, with Cathy continuing the fight right up to the end. The story strikes primal chords in its focus on home, identity and the issue of belonging. I loved this novel but found the storyline uneven in a number of areas, such as the questionable authenticity in the character of Daniel. This is no way diminishes Mozley's achievement in this, her debut novel. I cannot wait to see what she writes next. A great read! Many thanks to John Murray Press for an ARC.
Daddy is a huge man with a fearsome reputation as an unbeaten bareknuckle fighter, with a simmering rage boiling just under the surface and fiercely tenacious in his belief in being independent. He places his trust on self reliance and family. Cathy and Daniel are close, but radically different from each other. Daniel takes after his mysterious mother, preferring to avoid conflict, taking over the domain of the home, cooking and cleaning, and growing fruit and vegetables. Cathy reflects her father more, she prefers the outdoors and prepared to fight for what she believes is right. Daddy wants them to receive some form of education and ropes in Vivien for this purpose. Daniel is drawn to Vivien, and the two develop a growing relationship. Daddy lends his menace and fists to locals for favours. He orchestrates and organises the community in rent strikes and withdrawal of labour in a challenge to the economic exploitation of the powerless workers. Price is portrayed as an exploitative rich landowner who bought their mother's land with no history, links or connection with the land. Both Daddy and their mother have a personal history with Price. The battlelines are drawn for an all out brutal outcome.
Mozley paints a bleak and atmospheric picture of desperate poverty, family and conflict. Daniel and Cathy challenge the gender roles that society expects, with Cathy continuing the fight right up to the end. The story strikes primal chords in its focus on home, identity and the issue of belonging. I loved this novel but found the storyline uneven in a number of areas, such as the questionable authenticity in the character of Daniel. This is no way diminishes Mozley's achievement in this, her debut novel. I cannot wait to see what she writes next. A great read! Many thanks to John Murray Press for an ARC.
March 11, 2018
Click here to watch a video review of this book on my channel, From Beginning to Bookend.
March 5, 2018
Elmet by Fiona Mozley is a 2017 Algonquin Books publication.
This debut novel, shortlisted for the coveted Booker Prize, is an absorbing, intense novel of suspense, which draws from the mini-trend of highlighting the lives of those living ‘off grid’, hand to mouth, shunning the traditional life embraced by most people.
Cathy and Daniel live with their father, a prize fighter, in the rural woods of Yorkshire. Cathy is practical, smart, and insightful, while Daniel is a sensitive child who enjoys domestic chores, and art over physical activities and has a more optimistic outlook on life, ignoring harsher realities, if he can. He loves his father, accepts his occasional moodiness, and depends on his sister emotionally.
But, as the story opens, the reader knows that something has happened to upset the family dynamic. As the story progresses, we know that whatever happened, it was catastrophic because this family is close, loyal, and definitely a firm unit, despite their unconventional lifestyle.
This story surprised me. I was mainly curious about it because of its award nominations, and because it was a debut novel on top of that, and because the description of it reminded me of several books I read last year that featured alpha male fathers keeping their children out of school, teaching them to survive in the wilderness, and how to hunt and live off the land, but in those books, the sinister quality comes from within the family unit. However, in this case, the alpha father is making the decision to live away from society to protect his children. So, knowing the threat is coming from outside forces, it won’t take long to figure out where the danger lies, which will give anyone a queasy feeling of unease. I was constantly preparing myself for that crescendo, but I never anticipated the hairpin curve the story would take.
The prose is stunning with strong gothic tones which had me constantly reminding myself I was not reading a historical novel and wondering how the author captured that atmosphere within a setting I wouldn’t have associated with it. There are many themes explored with such a stinging reality, stated harshly and emphatically and unapologetically. Gender roles, class distinctions, and the struggle against poverty is brutally forced onto the pages while the vividly drawn characters spiral towards their unstoppable destinies.
Award nominees and winners often leave me feeling bewildered. I don’t understand, sometimes, what caused a book to stand out within the staid world of literary critics. I end up scratching my head, wondering why the book left me feeling so underwhelmed after it received such high honors. But, in this case, the author and her style of writing made quite an impression on me, and for once, I understood why the book garnered such lavish praise.
Again, this is a book that may not appeal to a broad audience. It is not necessarily the most upbeat novel, but while there is a form of retribution, you don’t want to show up expecting everything all tied up in a nice neat little bow or expecting a warm and fuzzy happily ever after. Despite that, this journey is one I am glad I took. I’d go so far as to say it as powerful as it is unsettling and stayed with me long after I turned the final page. I will certainly keep an eye on this amazing writer!!
4 stars
This debut novel, shortlisted for the coveted Booker Prize, is an absorbing, intense novel of suspense, which draws from the mini-trend of highlighting the lives of those living ‘off grid’, hand to mouth, shunning the traditional life embraced by most people.
Cathy and Daniel live with their father, a prize fighter, in the rural woods of Yorkshire. Cathy is practical, smart, and insightful, while Daniel is a sensitive child who enjoys domestic chores, and art over physical activities and has a more optimistic outlook on life, ignoring harsher realities, if he can. He loves his father, accepts his occasional moodiness, and depends on his sister emotionally.
But, as the story opens, the reader knows that something has happened to upset the family dynamic. As the story progresses, we know that whatever happened, it was catastrophic because this family is close, loyal, and definitely a firm unit, despite their unconventional lifestyle.
This story surprised me. I was mainly curious about it because of its award nominations, and because it was a debut novel on top of that, and because the description of it reminded me of several books I read last year that featured alpha male fathers keeping their children out of school, teaching them to survive in the wilderness, and how to hunt and live off the land, but in those books, the sinister quality comes from within the family unit. However, in this case, the alpha father is making the decision to live away from society to protect his children. So, knowing the threat is coming from outside forces, it won’t take long to figure out where the danger lies, which will give anyone a queasy feeling of unease. I was constantly preparing myself for that crescendo, but I never anticipated the hairpin curve the story would take.
The prose is stunning with strong gothic tones which had me constantly reminding myself I was not reading a historical novel and wondering how the author captured that atmosphere within a setting I wouldn’t have associated with it. There are many themes explored with such a stinging reality, stated harshly and emphatically and unapologetically. Gender roles, class distinctions, and the struggle against poverty is brutally forced onto the pages while the vividly drawn characters spiral towards their unstoppable destinies.
Award nominees and winners often leave me feeling bewildered. I don’t understand, sometimes, what caused a book to stand out within the staid world of literary critics. I end up scratching my head, wondering why the book left me feeling so underwhelmed after it received such high honors. But, in this case, the author and her style of writing made quite an impression on me, and for once, I understood why the book garnered such lavish praise.
Again, this is a book that may not appeal to a broad audience. It is not necessarily the most upbeat novel, but while there is a form of retribution, you don’t want to show up expecting everything all tied up in a nice neat little bow or expecting a warm and fuzzy happily ever after. Despite that, this journey is one I am glad I took. I’d go so far as to say it as powerful as it is unsettling and stayed with me long after I turned the final page. I will certainly keep an eye on this amazing writer!!
4 stars
September 13, 2017
This book was the only genuine surprise on this year's Booker longlist, a first novel by a young British writer. I would be very happy to see this book make the shortlist - there may be at least six better books on the longlist but none of them would benefit as much from the exposure, and this is a promising debut by a talented writer.
This was the most unexpectedly welcome inclusion on the shortlist. Very disappointed to lose Reservoir 13, Home Fire and Solar Bones
Mozley is studying medieval history, and her starting point is the story of Elmet, the last Celtic kingdom in England and later, to quote the epigraph by Ted Hughes "a 'badlands', a sanctuary for refugees of the law". Robin Hood is clearly another inspiration, as is the Yorkshire landscape and its recent political history.
The story is narrated by Daniel, a rather effeminate teenage boy. The two other main characters are his "Daddy" John, a giant prize fighter who has a legendary reputation in the criminal netherworld of bareknuckle fighting, and his sister Cathy, a feisty tomboy who has inherited much more of her father's qualities. When their grandmother and guardian dies, and Cathy gets blamed for starting a fight with bullies at her school, John takes them to squat in a copse, builds a wooden house for them and survives by hunting and by lending his muscle to the locals in return for favours. John is fiercely independent, with integrity based more on natural justice than the law.
John takes the children to be "educated" by Vivien, who lives in a neighbouring house and has a large and eclectic collection of books. I think this was necessary to explain the language the book is written in, which is a mixture of lyrical well written prose and reported speech in Yorkshire dialect.
It soon becomes clear that they will not be left alone. The Robin Hood element of the story starts with the appearance of Price, who owns the land and many of the houses in the area. Price is something of a pantomime villain, but the issues he embodies are real enough - economic exploitation of poor tenants in an area that never fully recovered from losing its mining industry. John gets involved in fighting for the villagers, helping them to form a united front and leading a rent strike, and lending his muscle whenever bailiffs appear. This inevitably leads to a violent confrontation, which does become a little too melodramatic for my taste.
Not by any means a perfect book, but it is a memorable one and I would be interested in reading whatever Mozley writes next.
This was the most unexpectedly welcome inclusion on the shortlist. Very disappointed to lose Reservoir 13, Home Fire and Solar Bones
Mozley is studying medieval history, and her starting point is the story of Elmet, the last Celtic kingdom in England and later, to quote the epigraph by Ted Hughes "a 'badlands', a sanctuary for refugees of the law". Robin Hood is clearly another inspiration, as is the Yorkshire landscape and its recent political history.
The story is narrated by Daniel, a rather effeminate teenage boy. The two other main characters are his "Daddy" John, a giant prize fighter who has a legendary reputation in the criminal netherworld of bareknuckle fighting, and his sister Cathy, a feisty tomboy who has inherited much more of her father's qualities. When their grandmother and guardian dies, and Cathy gets blamed for starting a fight with bullies at her school, John takes them to squat in a copse, builds a wooden house for them and survives by hunting and by lending his muscle to the locals in return for favours. John is fiercely independent, with integrity based more on natural justice than the law.
John takes the children to be "educated" by Vivien, who lives in a neighbouring house and has a large and eclectic collection of books. I think this was necessary to explain the language the book is written in, which is a mixture of lyrical well written prose and reported speech in Yorkshire dialect.
It soon becomes clear that they will not be left alone. The Robin Hood element of the story starts with the appearance of Price, who owns the land and many of the houses in the area. Price is something of a pantomime villain, but the issues he embodies are real enough - economic exploitation of poor tenants in an area that never fully recovered from losing its mining industry. John gets involved in fighting for the villagers, helping them to form a united front and leading a rent strike, and lending his muscle whenever bailiffs appear. This inevitably leads to a violent confrontation, which does become a little too melodramatic for my taste.
Not by any means a perfect book, but it is a memorable one and I would be interested in reading whatever Mozley writes next.
December 24, 2017
Fiona Mozley's
Elmet
is one of the most lyrical, atmospheric books I've read in some time. The descriptions of this area of rural Yorkshire, and the environment that surrounds the main characters, are tremendously poetic and vivid, yet Mozley doesn't use more words than necessary to get the mood or her story across. It's almost as if she strove for a simple, no-nonsense tone befitting her salt-of-the-earth characters.
In the book's epigraph from Ted Hughes, we learn that Elmet was "the last independent Celtic kingdom in England...stretched out over the vale of York," as well as "a sanctuary for refugees from the law." This is where 14-year-old Daniel lives with his 15-year-old sister Cathy and their father, in a house their father built himself. They are self-sufficient, living off the land around them.
Their father, John, is known for his ferociousness as a bareknuckle fighter. He is a gentle giant yet a man not above using his fists to get what he needs or wants, or to punish those who have done wrong in his eyes. This behavior is inherited not by Daniel, who is happier tending to the family's dogs and serving as cook rather than protector, but by Cathy, who strikes back at her classmates who bully her.
Their life is a simple, happy one, until Price, the greedy tyrant who owns most of the land in the area, begins to cause trouble. The more he wants to bleed his tenants dry, the more it angers them, especially John, who finds himself assuming a leadership position among his fellow tenants, uniting them against Price. They decide on a rent strike, and John defends the group when the bailiffs come to enforce laws on Price's behalf.
As with any struggle between the haves and have-nots, the tension simmers until it hits a breaking point. And that's where Elmet loses its way somewhat, veering a bit into melodrama and slightly less plausible events. While the book's conclusion isn't surprising, it still seemed a bit far-fetched to me, and that was disappointing. I also found a few of the characters, including Price, seemed a little two-dimensional, where there was potential to make them complex, flawed people.
Amazingly, Elmet is Mozley's debut novel, and it was a finalist for this year's Man Booker Prize. A few glitches notwithstanding, Mozley's storytelling is so assured, so compelling, that I have little doubt she's going to have an amazing career ahead of her. Is the book perfect? No, but it is tremendously memorable and beautifully written. It's one that has haunted me since I read it a week or two ago.
NetGalley and Algonquin Books provided me an advance copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review. Thanks for making this available!
See all of my reviews at http://itseithersadnessoreuphoria.blo....
In the book's epigraph from Ted Hughes, we learn that Elmet was "the last independent Celtic kingdom in England...stretched out over the vale of York," as well as "a sanctuary for refugees from the law." This is where 14-year-old Daniel lives with his 15-year-old sister Cathy and their father, in a house their father built himself. They are self-sufficient, living off the land around them.
Their father, John, is known for his ferociousness as a bareknuckle fighter. He is a gentle giant yet a man not above using his fists to get what he needs or wants, or to punish those who have done wrong in his eyes. This behavior is inherited not by Daniel, who is happier tending to the family's dogs and serving as cook rather than protector, but by Cathy, who strikes back at her classmates who bully her.
Their life is a simple, happy one, until Price, the greedy tyrant who owns most of the land in the area, begins to cause trouble. The more he wants to bleed his tenants dry, the more it angers them, especially John, who finds himself assuming a leadership position among his fellow tenants, uniting them against Price. They decide on a rent strike, and John defends the group when the bailiffs come to enforce laws on Price's behalf.
As with any struggle between the haves and have-nots, the tension simmers until it hits a breaking point. And that's where Elmet loses its way somewhat, veering a bit into melodrama and slightly less plausible events. While the book's conclusion isn't surprising, it still seemed a bit far-fetched to me, and that was disappointing. I also found a few of the characters, including Price, seemed a little two-dimensional, where there was potential to make them complex, flawed people.
Amazingly, Elmet is Mozley's debut novel, and it was a finalist for this year's Man Booker Prize. A few glitches notwithstanding, Mozley's storytelling is so assured, so compelling, that I have little doubt she's going to have an amazing career ahead of her. Is the book perfect? No, but it is tremendously memorable and beautifully written. It's one that has haunted me since I read it a week or two ago.
NetGalley and Algonquin Books provided me an advance copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review. Thanks for making this available!
See all of my reviews at http://itseithersadnessoreuphoria.blo....
November 17, 2018
Five big, bold stars and the perfect book to buddy read. On my favorites shelf! 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟
With Elmet, Fiona Mozley has written a literary masterpiece. At first, the reader learns that Elmet is a sanctuary, a strip of land viewed as a safe haven and with Celtic history. This is where Daniel, his Daddy, and his sister, Cathy, land. The father, flanked by his two children, and living in a small copse, builds the home with his own hands. Living off the land, they are choosing life on their own terms.
Daddy is a fighter- past and present. He is brawny, and all the fighting is beginning to take its toll on him as he ages. Cathy is a fighter like Daddy. She is slight, but full of vigor and power that surprises anyone who is the target of her rage. Daniel is perhaps less strong physically, but I would offer his heart is the strongest of all.
There are issues with right and wrong in the community and how it pertains to workers’ rights. There is also a seedy, villainous landlord, Mr. Price, who raises issue with this family living on “his” land, and there is backstory to that relationship.
Elmet surprised me with its tension and suspense. This is a literary thriller in every sense, and the story ratcheted up and up with each chapter. I worried about this family’s future, and a feeling of foreboding is present. Mozley’s writing is lightly descriptive. She has a way of painting the most vivid imagery with precise words, and the entire story flows easily- so easily, in fact, that I devoured this book in just three sittings.
I found the themes of protection- protection of family and children, of children for their father, and of safety and safe haven from society’s ills, to be powerful and resonant. I was enthralled with the tender sides to Daddy, Daniel, and Cathy, and how close-knit their love for each other was. My favorite aspect of the book was the exploration of the father-child relationship and the role that protection plays in that. It was refreshing to have a father depicted in this way, and the spotlight shown on the special dynamic between a father and his children (even if the father was not perfect).
In short, I was completely charmed, mesmerized, and haunted by this book. I loved it so much I bought the UK copy to go on my shelf alongside a US copy.
I had the pleasure of buddy reading Elmet with my good friend Beth of Bibliobeth. This was the best kind of read to share. I learned and was enriched from Beth’s insights, and our discussion enabled me to dig much deeper into the story.
My reviews can also be found on my blog: www.jennifertarheelreader.com
With Elmet, Fiona Mozley has written a literary masterpiece. At first, the reader learns that Elmet is a sanctuary, a strip of land viewed as a safe haven and with Celtic history. This is where Daniel, his Daddy, and his sister, Cathy, land. The father, flanked by his two children, and living in a small copse, builds the home with his own hands. Living off the land, they are choosing life on their own terms.
Daddy is a fighter- past and present. He is brawny, and all the fighting is beginning to take its toll on him as he ages. Cathy is a fighter like Daddy. She is slight, but full of vigor and power that surprises anyone who is the target of her rage. Daniel is perhaps less strong physically, but I would offer his heart is the strongest of all.
There are issues with right and wrong in the community and how it pertains to workers’ rights. There is also a seedy, villainous landlord, Mr. Price, who raises issue with this family living on “his” land, and there is backstory to that relationship.
Elmet surprised me with its tension and suspense. This is a literary thriller in every sense, and the story ratcheted up and up with each chapter. I worried about this family’s future, and a feeling of foreboding is present. Mozley’s writing is lightly descriptive. She has a way of painting the most vivid imagery with precise words, and the entire story flows easily- so easily, in fact, that I devoured this book in just three sittings.
I found the themes of protection- protection of family and children, of children for their father, and of safety and safe haven from society’s ills, to be powerful and resonant. I was enthralled with the tender sides to Daddy, Daniel, and Cathy, and how close-knit their love for each other was. My favorite aspect of the book was the exploration of the father-child relationship and the role that protection plays in that. It was refreshing to have a father depicted in this way, and the spotlight shown on the special dynamic between a father and his children (even if the father was not perfect).
In short, I was completely charmed, mesmerized, and haunted by this book. I loved it so much I bought the UK copy to go on my shelf alongside a US copy.
I had the pleasure of buddy reading Elmet with my good friend Beth of Bibliobeth. This was the best kind of read to share. I learned and was enriched from Beth’s insights, and our discussion enabled me to dig much deeper into the story.
My reviews can also be found on my blog: www.jennifertarheelreader.com
January 12, 2018
Elmet, a place of sanctuary, and for Cathy, Danny and their father, for a short while it was. They built on land their mother had once owned, but did no longer, near a copse and woods. They hunted,fished and used whatever the land provided. They didn't have much but they were happy, basically content. The descriptions of this natural setting are glorious, beautifully done,the changing seasons,
"Spring that came with a rush of color, a blanket of light, u filling insects and absent, missed prodigal birds on this prevailing sou'westerly."
Their father was a large man, an unbeatable fighter, and when money was needed this is what he did, he used to use this skill to collect rents for Me. Price, but no longer. The land now belonged to Mr.Price and he only wanted to take and squeeze the most out of those who worked for him. The haves and the havenots, once again in battle, an unending cycle. He wanted, Danny's father to collect for him, and if he refused he would be thrown off his land.
"Coxswain was one of Prices friends. It was Price's landline all the land around here and Coxswain held it, ran the farm, worked the labourers hard for a tener a day and dobbed them in to the Dole office if they complained."
So a lovely place, an temporary idyll is turned into a place of violence, and the before and after is jarring. Beauty next to horror. Narrated by young Danny the story becomes even more poignant, a story of a particular time and place, a story that is told in beautiful language of a time that will not come again for this young family. From the calm beginning the tension is increased by increments ,by events, until it becomes clear that their will be a day off reckoning and a young boy will be left to wonder. Yet, how this comes about is surprising, and unexpected. What an amazing talent this author is,her first book and it makes the Booker's short list. I can definitely see why.
"Spring that came with a rush of color, a blanket of light, u filling insects and absent, missed prodigal birds on this prevailing sou'westerly."
Their father was a large man, an unbeatable fighter, and when money was needed this is what he did, he used to use this skill to collect rents for Me. Price, but no longer. The land now belonged to Mr.Price and he only wanted to take and squeeze the most out of those who worked for him. The haves and the havenots, once again in battle, an unending cycle. He wanted, Danny's father to collect for him, and if he refused he would be thrown off his land.
"Coxswain was one of Prices friends. It was Price's landline all the land around here and Coxswain held it, ran the farm, worked the labourers hard for a tener a day and dobbed them in to the Dole office if they complained."
So a lovely place, an temporary idyll is turned into a place of violence, and the before and after is jarring. Beauty next to horror. Narrated by young Danny the story becomes even more poignant, a story of a particular time and place, a story that is told in beautiful language of a time that will not come again for this young family. From the calm beginning the tension is increased by increments ,by events, until it becomes clear that their will be a day off reckoning and a young boy will be left to wonder. Yet, how this comes about is surprising, and unexpected. What an amazing talent this author is,her first book and it makes the Booker's short list. I can definitely see why.
July 12, 2018
Modern-day Robin Hood?
Before diving into this review, I must first remove my feathered cap and present a deep, old fashioned nose-to-toe bow out of respect for Fiona Mozley, who has written a truly gorgeous novel. If this is her first book, I'm genuinely excited to see what else she has in that magnificent mind.
Mozley's story takes place in Yorkshire country, in England's beautiful north. Fourteen year old Daniel and his older sister Cathy have moved to Elmet, a piece of land that used to belong to their mother, before she euphemistically fell upon "hard times". Their father John lays claim to this land and builds a house on it from scratch. The problem? This land doesn't belong to them at all, and when wealthy landowner Mr. Price takes exception, he and John/Daddy engage in a Robin Hood type war of Rich vs. Poor.
It takes a while to get there, though, as the story moves slowly. But because it's written so well, it doesn't much matter. Mozley's prose is elegant and fluid and loving of the land in which the story is set, painting beautiful pastoral passages. There's a lovely subtlety here too: no one ever says obvious words like "drug addict" or "rape" or "gay". Stories are not spelled out in a need to explain and label that so often shrinks a tale into something smaller than it is. Mozley also aptly creates three characters that I believed in, in this tightly bound trio. Because I cared about them, I felt like I needed to protect my heart a bit - shield myself from something really awful coming down the road. Something inevitable and brutal. Something that wouldn't be out of place in a gothic novel, or one of Flannery O'Connor's short stories.
Except, no one in Flannery O'Connor's stories drives a Land Rover.
I think I could believe in this story more if it was set in mid-last-century (or better: medieval times), when it would be slightly more acceptable to squat on someone's land because legal ownership "means nothing" to you. Or not schooling your kids. Or making a living from your fists. Or not having a telephone and expecting people to "get word" to you through friends in town. I mean, there's off-grid, and then there's time-warp! I kept forgetting when this book was set, and then a 50 pound note would change hands, or the aforementioned Land Rover would drive by, and I'd be jerked out of the fairy tale, and reminded that this was supposedly modern times.
While I enjoyed the subtlety in some instances, there are parts that are a bit too subtle. Some of the key characters are underdeveloped. Vivien, for one, had so much potential to illuminate but is left sketchy, at best. Also, Mr. Price as evil landowner is one-dimensional, and thus not the very powerful villain he could have been.
Even though this book has some problems, I was still compelled to read, to see these characters through to the end. The ending, by the way, brings all the awfulness that I imagined and then some in an over-the top violent scene. All that said though, I believe this novel is truly beautiful. It's an ode to family bonds so strong, nothing else really matters. A fine debut by Fiona Mozley.
3.75 stars
Before diving into this review, I must first remove my feathered cap and present a deep, old fashioned nose-to-toe bow out of respect for Fiona Mozley, who has written a truly gorgeous novel. If this is her first book, I'm genuinely excited to see what else she has in that magnificent mind.
Mozley's story takes place in Yorkshire country, in England's beautiful north. Fourteen year old Daniel and his older sister Cathy have moved to Elmet, a piece of land that used to belong to their mother, before she euphemistically fell upon "hard times". Their father John lays claim to this land and builds a house on it from scratch. The problem? This land doesn't belong to them at all, and when wealthy landowner Mr. Price takes exception, he and John/Daddy engage in a Robin Hood type war of Rich vs. Poor.
It takes a while to get there, though, as the story moves slowly. But because it's written so well, it doesn't much matter. Mozley's prose is elegant and fluid and loving of the land in which the story is set, painting beautiful pastoral passages. There's a lovely subtlety here too: no one ever says obvious words like "drug addict" or "rape" or "gay". Stories are not spelled out in a need to explain and label that so often shrinks a tale into something smaller than it is. Mozley also aptly creates three characters that I believed in, in this tightly bound trio. Because I cared about them, I felt like I needed to protect my heart a bit - shield myself from something really awful coming down the road. Something inevitable and brutal. Something that wouldn't be out of place in a gothic novel, or one of Flannery O'Connor's short stories.
Except, no one in Flannery O'Connor's stories drives a Land Rover.
I think I could believe in this story more if it was set in mid-last-century (or better: medieval times), when it would be slightly more acceptable to squat on someone's land because legal ownership "means nothing" to you. Or not schooling your kids. Or making a living from your fists. Or not having a telephone and expecting people to "get word" to you through friends in town. I mean, there's off-grid, and then there's time-warp! I kept forgetting when this book was set, and then a 50 pound note would change hands, or the aforementioned Land Rover would drive by, and I'd be jerked out of the fairy tale, and reminded that this was supposedly modern times.
While I enjoyed the subtlety in some instances, there are parts that are a bit too subtle. Some of the key characters are underdeveloped. Vivien, for one, had so much potential to illuminate but is left sketchy, at best. Also, Mr. Price as evil landowner is one-dimensional, and thus not the very powerful villain he could have been.
Even though this book has some problems, I was still compelled to read, to see these characters through to the end. The ending, by the way, brings all the awfulness that I imagined and then some in an over-the top violent scene. All that said though, I believe this novel is truly beautiful. It's an ode to family bonds so strong, nothing else really matters. A fine debut by Fiona Mozley.
3.75 stars
September 30, 2017
4.5 Stars
”We arrived in summer when the landscape was in full bloom and the days were long and hot and the light was soft. I roamed shirtless and sweated cleanly and enjoyed the hug of the thick air. In those months I picked up freckles on my bony shoulders and the sun set slowly and the evenings were pewter before they were black, before the mornings seeped through again. Rabbits gamboled in the fields and when we were lucky, when the wind was still and a veil settled on the hills, we saw a hare.
“Farmers shot vermin and we trapped rabbits for food. But not the hare. Not my hare. A dam, she lived with her drove in a nest in the shadow of the tracks. She was hardened to the passing of the trains and when I saw her I saw her alone as if she had crept out of the nest unseen and unheard. It was a rare thing for creatures of her kind to leave their young in summer and run through the fields. She was searching. Searching for food or for a mate. She searched as if she were a hunting animal, as if she were a hare who had through again and decided not to be prey but rather to run and to hunt, as if she were a hare who found herself chased one day by a fox and stopped suddenly and turned and chased back.”
Narrated by young fourteen year-old Daniel, a boy who is drawn to nice things, a boy whose hair is worn long and who prefers to cook rather than hunt; whereas his fifteen year-old sister Cathy might be seen to take after their father, preferring to hunt, and more than willing to defend herself physically.
”I came to prefer the inside to the outside, the armchair, the blankets and cushions, the tea and the teacakes, the curtains and the polished brass, and Vivien’s books, and the comfort of it all. And while I sat and read and drank tea, Cathy walked or ran through the fields and woods and, in her own way, she read the world too.”
Through Daniel’s eyes, there are occasional brief glimpses of his view of this time as memories, but the majority of this is seen in the present.
When Cathy is forced to defend herself physically at school against some bullies, the school takes the side of the boys who instigated it because, in their eyes, these are “nice” boys, from “nice” families.
And so they move away, to the property once owned by their mother, and their father begins to build a new house with help from his children. Their father is known throughout Ireland, Scotland and England for his physical strength, his massive physical presence. Vivien is their neighbor, and John takes the children to her for their continued education in her home, a home filled with books, a wide and varied collection of books.
Mr. Price is the landlord to most in this area, and not very happy about others trespassing on their land or taking anything he considers to be his. Their land, their wildlife. And so Mr. Price and his two sons Tom and Charlie pay a visit to their new home.
”These boys were just so handsome. They were so much more handsome than me and Daddy, we could not even be compared. We were almost distinct breeds, adapted to different environments, clinging to opposite sides of the cliff. It was as if Dad and I had sprouted from a clot of mud and splintered roots and they had oozed from pure minerals in crystalline sequence.
“They spoke and laughed with deep voices that were not like Daddy’s. They were smoother, though muted with vocal fry. The sound resonated against the cool air like a ball bouncing on wet grass.”
This is a story of the haves vs. the have-nots, the wealthy vs. the poor. Those who hold the power against those who have no power other than their own physical strength. There is an element of this that is reminiscent of Robin Hood, and as others in their village are brought in to this story, there is also a story of how quickly things can take a turn the tension rises.
Home. Identity. A place to belong, to live a simple, peaceful life is all they are seeking.
There’s an essence of Gothic Noir to this story, and her writing in this has been compared to Cormac McCarthy, but I have only read The Road, and don’t really see that comparison with only that book. I would say that this would appeal to those who enjoy Ron Rash / Wiley Cash / David Joy / Taylor Brown’s stories with a dash of Travis Mulhauser. The softly drawn dark natures found in Ron Rash’s work, the simply lovely way Wiley Cash immerses the reader in the souls of his characters, the beautiful way David Joy manipulates the darkness in his stories into light with his lovely prose, Taylor Brown’s ability to have you take each step with his characters, to inhabit these beautiful places, and Travis Mulhauser for his gentle wit, his ability to make you smile through all the darkness.
”We arrived in summer when the landscape was in full bloom and the days were long and hot and the light was soft. I roamed shirtless and sweated cleanly and enjoyed the hug of the thick air. In those months I picked up freckles on my bony shoulders and the sun set slowly and the evenings were pewter before they were black, before the mornings seeped through again. Rabbits gamboled in the fields and when we were lucky, when the wind was still and a veil settled on the hills, we saw a hare.
“Farmers shot vermin and we trapped rabbits for food. But not the hare. Not my hare. A dam, she lived with her drove in a nest in the shadow of the tracks. She was hardened to the passing of the trains and when I saw her I saw her alone as if she had crept out of the nest unseen and unheard. It was a rare thing for creatures of her kind to leave their young in summer and run through the fields. She was searching. Searching for food or for a mate. She searched as if she were a hunting animal, as if she were a hare who had through again and decided not to be prey but rather to run and to hunt, as if she were a hare who found herself chased one day by a fox and stopped suddenly and turned and chased back.”
Narrated by young fourteen year-old Daniel, a boy who is drawn to nice things, a boy whose hair is worn long and who prefers to cook rather than hunt; whereas his fifteen year-old sister Cathy might be seen to take after their father, preferring to hunt, and more than willing to defend herself physically.
”I came to prefer the inside to the outside, the armchair, the blankets and cushions, the tea and the teacakes, the curtains and the polished brass, and Vivien’s books, and the comfort of it all. And while I sat and read and drank tea, Cathy walked or ran through the fields and woods and, in her own way, she read the world too.”
Through Daniel’s eyes, there are occasional brief glimpses of his view of this time as memories, but the majority of this is seen in the present.
When Cathy is forced to defend herself physically at school against some bullies, the school takes the side of the boys who instigated it because, in their eyes, these are “nice” boys, from “nice” families.
And so they move away, to the property once owned by their mother, and their father begins to build a new house with help from his children. Their father is known throughout Ireland, Scotland and England for his physical strength, his massive physical presence. Vivien is their neighbor, and John takes the children to her for their continued education in her home, a home filled with books, a wide and varied collection of books.
Mr. Price is the landlord to most in this area, and not very happy about others trespassing on their land or taking anything he considers to be his. Their land, their wildlife. And so Mr. Price and his two sons Tom and Charlie pay a visit to their new home.
”These boys were just so handsome. They were so much more handsome than me and Daddy, we could not even be compared. We were almost distinct breeds, adapted to different environments, clinging to opposite sides of the cliff. It was as if Dad and I had sprouted from a clot of mud and splintered roots and they had oozed from pure minerals in crystalline sequence.
“They spoke and laughed with deep voices that were not like Daddy’s. They were smoother, though muted with vocal fry. The sound resonated against the cool air like a ball bouncing on wet grass.”
This is a story of the haves vs. the have-nots, the wealthy vs. the poor. Those who hold the power against those who have no power other than their own physical strength. There is an element of this that is reminiscent of Robin Hood, and as others in their village are brought in to this story, there is also a story of how quickly things can take a turn the tension rises.
Home. Identity. A place to belong, to live a simple, peaceful life is all they are seeking.
There’s an essence of Gothic Noir to this story, and her writing in this has been compared to Cormac McCarthy, but I have only read The Road, and don’t really see that comparison with only that book. I would say that this would appeal to those who enjoy Ron Rash / Wiley Cash / David Joy / Taylor Brown’s stories with a dash of Travis Mulhauser. The softly drawn dark natures found in Ron Rash’s work, the simply lovely way Wiley Cash immerses the reader in the souls of his characters, the beautiful way David Joy manipulates the darkness in his stories into light with his lovely prose, Taylor Brown’s ability to have you take each step with his characters, to inhabit these beautiful places, and Travis Mulhauser for his gentle wit, his ability to make you smile through all the darkness.
March 26, 2018
ALL THE STARS! I LOVED this. It took me two days to finish the last 35 pages because I dreaded, absolutely DREADED what was coming. I knew this probably wasn't going to end well for the family at the heart of this story - father John ("Daddy"), son Daniel and daughter Cathy - and I just didn't want to let go of them or their story. (P.S. No spoilers here; you will learn as much reading the synopsis of the novel on its dust cover.)
This is the most Ron Rash-y book ever NOT written by Ron Rash."Elmet" is a debut novel by British author Fiona Mozley and takes place in Yorkshire, England.....but it reads like pure US southern gothic noir. It very much reminded me of Rash’s "The Cove" or "The Risen." I had to keep reminding myself of the setting, even though the dialect of the characters is clearly more Northern English than Appalachian.
In the story, this tight-knit little family loves each other fiercely. They seek nothing more than to be left alone to live their lives on a small patch of land but the landlord and his band of henchmen will not let them be. Inevitably, tensions escalate into a jaw-dropping, wrath-of-God finale – good vs. evil, innocence vs. corruption, might vs. right. You’ll have to read it to find out what happens, but the journey is just as moving and memorable as the outcome.
Mozley’s writing is stellar, lyrical, poetic – just so beautifully crafted, especially for a debut novel. The storytelling is her main concern here – the characters are not very deeply developed but I didn’t feel that was a flaw. They were brought to life by their dialogue with each other and the nascent observations of the teen narrator, Daniel. His narration, simple but profound, gave the book its sincere and earnest vitality
This debut novel was a Man Booker shortlist finalist for 2017. Mozley wrote this in her 20’s – a remarkable accomplishment. This is one of my favorites of the 2017 Booker nominees. I highly recommend this to anyone who loves Ron Rash, southern gothic noir or straight up amazing story-telling and writing.
Thanks to NetGalley and Algonquin Books for an ARC of this wonderful novel. My review, however, is based on the paperback version.
This is the most Ron Rash-y book ever NOT written by Ron Rash."Elmet" is a debut novel by British author Fiona Mozley and takes place in Yorkshire, England.....but it reads like pure US southern gothic noir. It very much reminded me of Rash’s "The Cove" or "The Risen." I had to keep reminding myself of the setting, even though the dialect of the characters is clearly more Northern English than Appalachian.
In the story, this tight-knit little family loves each other fiercely. They seek nothing more than to be left alone to live their lives on a small patch of land but the landlord and his band of henchmen will not let them be. Inevitably, tensions escalate into a jaw-dropping, wrath-of-God finale – good vs. evil, innocence vs. corruption, might vs. right. You’ll have to read it to find out what happens, but the journey is just as moving and memorable as the outcome.
Mozley’s writing is stellar, lyrical, poetic – just so beautifully crafted, especially for a debut novel. The storytelling is her main concern here – the characters are not very deeply developed but I didn’t feel that was a flaw. They were brought to life by their dialogue with each other and the nascent observations of the teen narrator, Daniel. His narration, simple but profound, gave the book its sincere and earnest vitality
This debut novel was a Man Booker shortlist finalist for 2017. Mozley wrote this in her 20’s – a remarkable accomplishment. This is one of my favorites of the 2017 Booker nominees. I highly recommend this to anyone who loves Ron Rash, southern gothic noir or straight up amazing story-telling and writing.
Thanks to NetGalley and Algonquin Books for an ARC of this wonderful novel. My review, however, is based on the paperback version.
January 15, 2018
Elmet is a promising debut novel, which was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize.
Mozley can write some beautiful prose, some of the descriptions were resplendent.
The other parts of the novel though, such as the characterisations and the plot, weren't so well done.
The novel is narrated by the teenager Daniel, who lives with his older sister, Cathy, and their giant father, John Smythe. They are outsiders, mostly hunters and gatherers, building their own home on a plot somewhere in Yorkshire.
I never really got a strong grip on the characters, why they were the way they were. Too many gaps were left open. I kept reading wanting to fill in the details. Unfortunately, the drawing was never completed.
I struggled for a while to grasp the kids' ages and when the story took place.
Broadly, this could be penned as the fight between the haves and have-nots. Who doesn't like an underdog story, right? It just didn't feel real, I can't quite describe it ... I didn't have any feelings for any of the characters. They were drawn either too sketchy or they were two-dimensional.
I never quite understood who Vivien was, a neighbour, who occasionally tutored the adolescents. I kept expecting her to play a more important role, I expected some revelations. She was another wishy-washy character who slipped through my fingers.
The ending was over-the-top, unbelievable. It didn't even horrify me and I am easily scared and distressed.
Anyway, don't let my quickly penned review deter you. Plenty of people loved this novel. I'm just not one of them.
Mozley can write some beautiful prose, some of the descriptions were resplendent.
The other parts of the novel though, such as the characterisations and the plot, weren't so well done.
The novel is narrated by the teenager Daniel, who lives with his older sister, Cathy, and their giant father, John Smythe. They are outsiders, mostly hunters and gatherers, building their own home on a plot somewhere in Yorkshire.
I never really got a strong grip on the characters, why they were the way they were. Too many gaps were left open. I kept reading wanting to fill in the details. Unfortunately, the drawing was never completed.
I struggled for a while to grasp the kids' ages and when the story took place.
Broadly, this could be penned as the fight between the haves and have-nots. Who doesn't like an underdog story, right? It just didn't feel real, I can't quite describe it ... I didn't have any feelings for any of the characters. They were drawn either too sketchy or they were two-dimensional.
I never quite understood who Vivien was, a neighbour, who occasionally tutored the adolescents. I kept expecting her to play a more important role, I expected some revelations. She was another wishy-washy character who slipped through my fingers.
The ending was over-the-top, unbelievable. It didn't even horrify me and I am easily scared and distressed.
Anyway, don't let my quickly penned review deter you. Plenty of people loved this novel. I'm just not one of them.
September 13, 2017
(4.5) Shortlisted for the Booker Prize!
The dark horse in this year’s Man Booker Prize race is a brilliant, twisted fable about the clash of the land-owning and serf classes in contemporary England. I’d love to see it win, though George Saunders seems like a shoo-in. You’d hardly believe it’s a debut novel, or that it’s by a 29-year-old PhD candidate in medieval history. The epigraph from Ted Hughes defines “Elmet” as an ancient Celtic kingdom encompassing what is now West Yorkshire. The word still appears in a few Yorkshire place names today. Metaphorically, Hughes notes, the region was a “‘badlands’, a sanctuary for refugees from the law.” That’s an apt setting for Mozley’s central characters: a family living on the edge of poverty and respectability – off-grid and not quite legal.
Daniel and Cathy Oliver – 14 and 15, respectively – live with their father, John Smythe, in a simple house he built with his own hands in a copse. They mostly eat whatever they can hunt. Daddy is a renowned pugilist not above beating people up when they owe his friends money. Feisty Cathy is bullied by boys at school; when teachers don’t believe her, she has no choice but to hit back. There’s a strong us-against-the-world ethos to the novel, but underneath that defensiveness there’s a sense of unease: Daniel, the narrator, isn’t a fighter like his father and sister. He’s a sensitive soul who’s happiest cooking and playing with his dogs.
Like the reader, Daniel watches in grim fascination as Mr. Price, a powerful local landlord, starts issuing threats. Price warns Daddy that his family is trespassing. If they don’t leave he’ll make life difficult for them. A group of tenants, many of them just out of prison and barely getting by, bands together to take revenge on Price, planning to withhold rent and farm labor until conditions improve. No longer will they accept £20 payments for 10-hour work days. At first it seems their fight for rights might be successful, but Price and his goons retrench. Things come to a head when Price promises to sign their plot of land over to Daniel – if Daddy agrees to call off the strike and fight one last climactic match in the woods.
The final 70 pages of Elmet blew me away: a crescendo of fateful violence that reaches Shakespearean proportions. This knocks all those Hogarth remakes (which generally, with the exception of Hag-Seed, adhere too slavishly to the plots and so fail to channel the spirit) into a cocked hat. Though oddly similar to two other novels on the Booker longlist that unearth disturbing doings in a superficially pastoral England – Reservoir 13 by Jon McGregor and Autumn by Ali Smith – Elmet achieves the better balance between lush nature writing and Hardyesque pessimism. Mozley’s countryside is no idyll but a fallen edgeland:
The characters usually speak in Yorkshire dialect, but where many authors would render the definite article as “t’,” Mozley simply elides it. For instance, here’s John shaking his head over the injustice of land ownership:
The author is not entirely consistent with the transcription of dialect, though, and sometimes her use of spoken language is off: too ornate to be believable in certain characters’ mouths, like Cathy or a man who comes to the door to deliver bad news late on. These are such minor lapses of authorial control that I barely think them worth mentioning, but take it as proof that Mozley will only get better in the years to come. This is a gorgeous, timeless tale of the determination to overcome helplessness by facing down those who might harm the body but cannot destroy the spirit.
Originally published in August 2017 on my blog, Bookish Beck.
The dark horse in this year’s Man Booker Prize race is a brilliant, twisted fable about the clash of the land-owning and serf classes in contemporary England. I’d love to see it win, though George Saunders seems like a shoo-in. You’d hardly believe it’s a debut novel, or that it’s by a 29-year-old PhD candidate in medieval history. The epigraph from Ted Hughes defines “Elmet” as an ancient Celtic kingdom encompassing what is now West Yorkshire. The word still appears in a few Yorkshire place names today. Metaphorically, Hughes notes, the region was a “‘badlands’, a sanctuary for refugees from the law.” That’s an apt setting for Mozley’s central characters: a family living on the edge of poverty and respectability – off-grid and not quite legal.
Daniel and Cathy Oliver – 14 and 15, respectively – live with their father, John Smythe, in a simple house he built with his own hands in a copse. They mostly eat whatever they can hunt. Daddy is a renowned pugilist not above beating people up when they owe his friends money. Feisty Cathy is bullied by boys at school; when teachers don’t believe her, she has no choice but to hit back. There’s a strong us-against-the-world ethos to the novel, but underneath that defensiveness there’s a sense of unease: Daniel, the narrator, isn’t a fighter like his father and sister. He’s a sensitive soul who’s happiest cooking and playing with his dogs.
Like the reader, Daniel watches in grim fascination as Mr. Price, a powerful local landlord, starts issuing threats. Price warns Daddy that his family is trespassing. If they don’t leave he’ll make life difficult for them. A group of tenants, many of them just out of prison and barely getting by, bands together to take revenge on Price, planning to withhold rent and farm labor until conditions improve. No longer will they accept £20 payments for 10-hour work days. At first it seems their fight for rights might be successful, but Price and his goons retrench. Things come to a head when Price promises to sign their plot of land over to Daniel – if Daddy agrees to call off the strike and fight one last climactic match in the woods.
The final 70 pages of Elmet blew me away: a crescendo of fateful violence that reaches Shakespearean proportions. This knocks all those Hogarth remakes (which generally, with the exception of Hag-Seed, adhere too slavishly to the plots and so fail to channel the spirit) into a cocked hat. Though oddly similar to two other novels on the Booker longlist that unearth disturbing doings in a superficially pastoral England – Reservoir 13 by Jon McGregor and Autumn by Ali Smith – Elmet achieves the better balance between lush nature writing and Hardyesque pessimism. Mozley’s countryside is no idyll but a fallen edgeland:
And if the hare was made of myths then so too was the land at which she scratched. Now pocked with clutches of trees, once the whole county had been woodland and the ghosts of the ancient forest could be marked when the wind blew. The soil was alive with ruptured stories that cascaded and rotted then found form once more and pushed up through the undergrowth and back into our lives.
The characters usually speak in Yorkshire dialect, but where many authors would render the definite article as “t’,” Mozley simply elides it. For instance, here’s John shaking his head over the injustice of land ownership:
It’s idea a person can write summat on a bit of paper about a piece of land that lives and breathes, and changes and quakes and floods and dries, and that that person can use it as he will, or not at all, and that he can keep others off it, all because of a piece of paper. That’s part which means nowt to me.
The author is not entirely consistent with the transcription of dialect, though, and sometimes her use of spoken language is off: too ornate to be believable in certain characters’ mouths, like Cathy or a man who comes to the door to deliver bad news late on. These are such minor lapses of authorial control that I barely think them worth mentioning, but take it as proof that Mozley will only get better in the years to come. This is a gorgeous, timeless tale of the determination to overcome helplessness by facing down those who might harm the body but cannot destroy the spirit.
Originally published in August 2017 on my blog, Bookish Beck.
February 10, 2020
I'm afraid it's a no from me. I might be a little less severe in my criticism if this hadn't been nominated for the Booker. But that fact heightened my expectation. I couldn't help feeling that if this can make the Booker shortlist you can make a case for almost any novel to be there. I felt she got the idea for writing this book after seeing that Guy Ritchie film with Brad Pitt. I guess it's a kind of Robin Hood fable but any deeper meaning it had escaped me. A notorious prize fighter builds his son and daughter a home in the woods where they receive no education and have no friends. The obvious catatonic unhappiness of the daughter was completely ignored; likewise the catastrophic failings of the father as a father. The son, who narrates the story, deploys prose that is half way between Cormac McCarthy and Virginia Woolf. Simple acts, like entering one room from another, are way overwritten. Most of the narrative tension is focused on a one-dimensional baddie as if had it not been for him the family would be living in some kind of rustic nirvana.
This was her first novel and I'm sure she'll write much better ones when she has something to say and finds her voice. But I found this a typical first novel, full of window dressing but lacking in depth.
This was her first novel and I'm sure she'll write much better ones when she has something to say and finds her voice. But I found this a typical first novel, full of window dressing but lacking in depth.
November 15, 2023
This novel caught my attention at the beginning, and then meandered in a way I couldn’t fully appreciate. Next it made me sit up and take notice, but ultimately crashed and burned by the end. It caused a kind of unnecessary pain and horror that I really didn’t need at the moment and for which I could not clearly see the point. I’m all for the knife being jabbed where it hurts most, but not if it doesn’t bring me clarity. It’s not a bad book; the prose was lovely in many places. Characterization was a little weak, however, and that’s kind of a selling point for me. I’m kind of deflated after reading this. Why is there so much pain and evil in the world?
“… in any given moment there was just one person and another person, one about to kill and one about to be killed. The other men and women who were with you or against you faded away. It was just you and another standing in a muddy field with your skin naked beneath your clothes… you can only look directly into one person’s pair of eyes at any given time.”
“… in any given moment there was just one person and another person, one about to kill and one about to be killed. The other men and women who were with you or against you faded away. It was just you and another standing in a muddy field with your skin naked beneath your clothes… you can only look directly into one person’s pair of eyes at any given time.”
September 7, 2017
4.5 stars
May 11, 2018
A first novel from not too far from where I live and closer still to where I was born and I recognise the landscape. Elmet was shortlisted for last year’s Man Booker prize. The title itself is redolent of the area which used to be the old Celtic kingdom of Elmet, which covered much of what is now Yorkshire. The last remnants are now place names such as Sherburn-in-Elmet. There is also a nod to Ted Hughes’s work The Remains of Elmet. For a first novel this is very good and Mozley was also brought up in the area. She wrote the book on her daily commute and admits that it pulls in many ideas that interest her and are important to her, especially in relation to gender and oppression and she dedicates the novel to her partner Megan.
The novel itself has been described by the reviewer in the Guardian as elemental and contemporary rural noir, both excellent summations of the whole. The novel is about a father and his two children. The father is referred to as Daddy throughout and the children are Cathy and Daniel, both early to mid-teens. They live on a patch of land where Daddy has built a house. There is a copse which they work and Daddy catches (possibly poaches) local game, Daddy is a prizefighter, one of the very best and he periodically disappears for a day or two, leaving the children to fend for themselves, which they are well able to do. There are some neighbours at a distance, one of whom, Vivien, occasionally looks after the children. Daddy also helps vulnerable members of the local community when the have problems with debt collectors and the like. The principal antagonist is a local landowner, Price and his two sons. At one time Daddy used to work for Price, but no longer. The whole of the novel takes place under the radar of the police and the established authorities and builds towards a violent climax.
Some of the speech is vernacular, but still easy to understand. Mozley builds the personalities of the two children well. Cathy is very much like her father in approach to life and toughness whilst Daniel simply doesn’t aspire to traditional male roles. Cathy feels as though she is almost out of a Bronte novel and is a force of nature, “I’m angry all time, Danny. Aren’t you?” Her name, perhaps deliberately evoking Wuthering Heights and she becomes the major figure in the book and her role at the end is fascinating and disturbing at the same time. Mozley plays with gender identification throughout the book. Daniel says at one point, “You have to appreciate that I never thought of myself as a man,” and Cathy’s appropriation of some traditional male attributes makes the ending stark and shocking.
The writing about the landscape and nature captures a sense of place and can be quite vivid:
“The dawn erupted from a bud of mauve half-light and bloomed bloody as I woke.”
The narrative is compelling and the prose alive and immediate and Mozley does capture the plight of the downtrodden and disenfranchised in the bleaker areas of northern England. As the Spectator review rather archly points out, it isn’t often a novel combines a spot of Leveller radicalism with a portrayal of gender privilege. As Daniel points out when his sister disrupts a boys football game:
‘Even if she played, and even if she played well, it would always be their game.’
There are plenty of nods to other writers and films here, but the violence at the end is gruesome and truly shocking. I think, despite some flaws this is one of my favourite novels of the year and I will certainly be looking out for more of Mozley’s work.
The novel itself has been described by the reviewer in the Guardian as elemental and contemporary rural noir, both excellent summations of the whole. The novel is about a father and his two children. The father is referred to as Daddy throughout and the children are Cathy and Daniel, both early to mid-teens. They live on a patch of land where Daddy has built a house. There is a copse which they work and Daddy catches (possibly poaches) local game, Daddy is a prizefighter, one of the very best and he periodically disappears for a day or two, leaving the children to fend for themselves, which they are well able to do. There are some neighbours at a distance, one of whom, Vivien, occasionally looks after the children. Daddy also helps vulnerable members of the local community when the have problems with debt collectors and the like. The principal antagonist is a local landowner, Price and his two sons. At one time Daddy used to work for Price, but no longer. The whole of the novel takes place under the radar of the police and the established authorities and builds towards a violent climax.
Some of the speech is vernacular, but still easy to understand. Mozley builds the personalities of the two children well. Cathy is very much like her father in approach to life and toughness whilst Daniel simply doesn’t aspire to traditional male roles. Cathy feels as though she is almost out of a Bronte novel and is a force of nature, “I’m angry all time, Danny. Aren’t you?” Her name, perhaps deliberately evoking Wuthering Heights and she becomes the major figure in the book and her role at the end is fascinating and disturbing at the same time. Mozley plays with gender identification throughout the book. Daniel says at one point, “You have to appreciate that I never thought of myself as a man,” and Cathy’s appropriation of some traditional male attributes makes the ending stark and shocking.
The writing about the landscape and nature captures a sense of place and can be quite vivid:
“The dawn erupted from a bud of mauve half-light and bloomed bloody as I woke.”
The narrative is compelling and the prose alive and immediate and Mozley does capture the plight of the downtrodden and disenfranchised in the bleaker areas of northern England. As the Spectator review rather archly points out, it isn’t often a novel combines a spot of Leveller radicalism with a portrayal of gender privilege. As Daniel points out when his sister disrupts a boys football game:
‘Even if she played, and even if she played well, it would always be their game.’
There are plenty of nods to other writers and films here, but the violence at the end is gruesome and truly shocking. I think, despite some flaws this is one of my favourite novels of the year and I will certainly be looking out for more of Mozley’s work.
September 8, 2019
Exceptional. Best of 2018!
October 2, 2017
One of the things I like most about the Booker Prize is the way it can shine a light on unknown writers. Elmet was a surprise entry on this year's longlist, and it caused further upset by making the final six at the expense of much acclaimed novels such as The Underground Railroad and Solar Bones. So is this brooding debut deserving of its shortlist status, and can it go on and win the whole thing?
The story is set in rural Yorkshire. Daniel Oliver is our narrator, a teenager who lives in a field beside a forest with his father and elder sister Cathy. "Daddy" has a fearsome reputation as a savage prize fighter, but he is also a gentle giant who loves his children dearly. The trio live off the land, hunting game and growing their own vegetables. Daddy built the house himself on a copse that was once the property of the children's mother, but now belongs to a Mr Price. Price is an unpopular multimillionaire who owns much of the local area, and the native resentment towards him is beginning to grow.
As we learn from the book's Ted Hughes epigraph, Elmet was "the last independent Celtic kingdom in England... stretched out over the vale of York." Dating back to the 5th century, it was "a sanctuary for refugees from the law." It puts in mind a medieval setting, a community of lowly serfs ruled by an untouchable elite. Fighting, gambling and drinking are the pastimes of this turbulent world. With Daddy as the retired outlaw and Price the unforgiving landlord, it feels certain that their simmering dispute will end in bloodshed.
Mozley writes exquisitely about the landscape of this rural kingdom. Daniel is very much at one with nature and appreciates the feral beauty that surrounds him: "The dawn erupted from a bud of mauve half-light and bloomed bloody as I awoke." But there is a sense of danger in this wild environment which adds to the story's ominous tone: "the ghosts of the ancient forest could be marked when the wind blew. The soil was alive with ruptured stories that cascaded and rotted then found form once more and pushed up through the undergrowth and back into our lives." Even the Yorkshire breeze is a violent character that must be tamed:
While I did enjoy this richly imagined tale, I'm not sure it has anything particularly new to say. Though the final scenes are exciting, there is an inevitability to the outcome. Too many of the supporting characters are two-dimensional, including the villainous Price. And though Danny's observations are often gorgeously expressed, they feel a shade too profound for a boy with such little education. The story's strengths lie in its atmospheric evocation of a lawless rural domain, and for this Fiona Mozley deserves to be commended. So I'm happy that I read Elmet, but at the same time, I'm a bit bemused as to why the Booker jury have singled it out for such praise.
The story is set in rural Yorkshire. Daniel Oliver is our narrator, a teenager who lives in a field beside a forest with his father and elder sister Cathy. "Daddy" has a fearsome reputation as a savage prize fighter, but he is also a gentle giant who loves his children dearly. The trio live off the land, hunting game and growing their own vegetables. Daddy built the house himself on a copse that was once the property of the children's mother, but now belongs to a Mr Price. Price is an unpopular multimillionaire who owns much of the local area, and the native resentment towards him is beginning to grow.
As we learn from the book's Ted Hughes epigraph, Elmet was "the last independent Celtic kingdom in England... stretched out over the vale of York." Dating back to the 5th century, it was "a sanctuary for refugees from the law." It puts in mind a medieval setting, a community of lowly serfs ruled by an untouchable elite. Fighting, gambling and drinking are the pastimes of this turbulent world. With Daddy as the retired outlaw and Price the unforgiving landlord, it feels certain that their simmering dispute will end in bloodshed.
Mozley writes exquisitely about the landscape of this rural kingdom. Daniel is very much at one with nature and appreciates the feral beauty that surrounds him: "The dawn erupted from a bud of mauve half-light and bloomed bloody as I awoke." But there is a sense of danger in this wild environment which adds to the story's ominous tone: "the ghosts of the ancient forest could be marked when the wind blew. The soil was alive with ruptured stories that cascaded and rotted then found form once more and pushed up through the undergrowth and back into our lives." Even the Yorkshire breeze is a violent character that must be tamed:
"The swifts were too light to charge at the gusts like gulls or crows, and through them I saw wind as sea. Thick, pillowy waves that rolled at earthen, wooded shores and threw tiny creatures at jutting rocks. The swifts surfed and dived and cut through the invisible mass, which to them must have roared and wailed as loudly as any ocean on earth, only to catch the air again on the updraft and rise to the crest."
While I did enjoy this richly imagined tale, I'm not sure it has anything particularly new to say. Though the final scenes are exciting, there is an inevitability to the outcome. Too many of the supporting characters are two-dimensional, including the villainous Price. And though Danny's observations are often gorgeously expressed, they feel a shade too profound for a boy with such little education. The story's strengths lie in its atmospheric evocation of a lawless rural domain, and for this Fiona Mozley deserves to be commended. So I'm happy that I read Elmet, but at the same time, I'm a bit bemused as to why the Booker jury have singled it out for such praise.
March 22, 2018
4+⚙️⚙️⚙️⚙️
What did I just read?
A Man-Booker short-listed nominee that did not live up to the teeth gritting that often ensues when I take one on.
At times I was sure this was set in the American South even though from the outset it is made clear the setting is Yorkshire with its history of legend and medieval history. It morphed into different territories— fairy tale, coming of age, good vs evil. One reviewer described it as “shape-shifting” and I like that.
There’s vernacular— “doendt” for doesn’t and “wandt” for wasn’t interwoven with gorgeous lyrical prose “The soil was alive with ruptured stories that cascaded and rotted then found form once more and pushed up through the undergrowth and back into our lives.”
At times lovely and pastoral, then fierce with a little gear dropping in each chapter. I could hear the teeth grating as the ratchet keeps turning tighter for this family living an uncommon life off the grid ultimately forced to deal with that grid in violent and tragic consequences.
There are questions that will not be answered, for some this might be a bother.
The end was a bit much for some readers but I was reading for pleasure, could not put it down, and enjoyed every mesmerizing minute with it. I’m also an easy mark for a badass female in a leading roll. A new author to watch closely!
What did I just read?
A Man-Booker short-listed nominee that did not live up to the teeth gritting that often ensues when I take one on.
At times I was sure this was set in the American South even though from the outset it is made clear the setting is Yorkshire with its history of legend and medieval history. It morphed into different territories— fairy tale, coming of age, good vs evil. One reviewer described it as “shape-shifting” and I like that.
There’s vernacular— “doendt” for doesn’t and “wandt” for wasn’t interwoven with gorgeous lyrical prose “The soil was alive with ruptured stories that cascaded and rotted then found form once more and pushed up through the undergrowth and back into our lives.”
At times lovely and pastoral, then fierce with a little gear dropping in each chapter. I could hear the teeth grating as the ratchet keeps turning tighter for this family living an uncommon life off the grid ultimately forced to deal with that grid in violent and tragic consequences.
There are questions that will not be answered, for some this might be a bother.
The end was a bit much for some readers but I was reading for pleasure, could not put it down, and enjoyed every mesmerizing minute with it. I’m also an easy mark for a badass female in a leading roll. A new author to watch closely!
May 23, 2018
A young woman pursuing a PhD in medieval history writes a tale dominated by Southern Gothic elements, but situated in rural Britian, circling around themes like possession, belonging, gender, and revenge - wow, what a set-up!
"Elmet" is narrated by a teenage boy named Daniel, who lives with his father John and his sister Cathy in a house they built with their own hands. Although the narrated time is not specified, the story does obviously take place in our modern days, in the realm of what used to be the medieval Brittonic kingdom of Elmet. John supports his family as a bare-knuckle prize fighter and day laborer, his wits and his physical strength being his most precious possessions. John is described as an almost mythical figure, with a body of nearly superhuman strength and endurance, and with an acute moral awareness. His ideas and ideals are informed by ancient concepts of justice, morality and self-reliance, and his character is reminscient of British folk hero Robin Hood and other mythological figures such as Grettir, infamous outlaw and hero of The Saga of Grettir the Strong.
While John is an archaic male, his kids are presented as queer characters: Daniel grows his hair and nails, his sexuality remains somewhat ambiguous, and Cathy is a tomboy who takes after her father. The prospect of becoming an adult woman and everything connected to that is very painful to her and seems to contribute to the anger she constantly feels.
The land on which John and his children built their house does not belong to them, Daniel's and Cathy's mother (whose absence remains mysterious) sold it to the capitalist Mr. Price when she fell on hard times. When Price wants to evict the family from their illegal building, John organizes a resistance to fight the tactics of greedy landlords and exploitative taskmasters in the area.
I really enjoyed how Mozley transports classic elements of Southern Gothic into the British countryside: Eccentric characters, grotesque details, ambivalent gender roles, derelict settings, and the particular presentation of poverty and violence render this sinister tale special. Nevertheless, Mozley's prose has its limitations: "The Guardian" claimed that the language is modeled on Cormac McCarthy, but frankly, this is quite a stretch. McCarthy displays immensive narrative discipline and textual consistency with his direct, forceful prose. Mozley, however, lacks control and, as a consequence, does the copposite: Daniel's direct speech differs substantially from his narrative voice, and the text as a whole fails to present its narrator as a consistent character as his voice tumbles from overly lyrical descriptions and acute observations to the thoughts of a particularly simple-minded teenager.
The moral theme, which, in itself, is highly interesting and current, could also have been developed a lot better. Of course housing should be affordable and wages have to be fair, but no one would like it if a family just came along and built a house on his property. This problematic tension, the forces that prompt John and Mr. Price to act as they do, could have been explored in a more thorough and, by that, interesting manner.
Many reviewers criticised the book's climax that follows after the novel turns into a revenge tale as unrealistic and over-the-top - and I agree, it takes the element of the grotesque to another level, and there are good reasons to criticize it. Without giving away too much, my main issue with it was not the level of brutality, but that it tries to cover up ambiguities that clearly do exist. From another perspective, one could also say that Mozley elevates her text from a realistic story to one that seeks truth by employing biblical amd mythological narrative features and metaphors.
A little flawed, but overall an exciting and worthwhile read. I am looking forward to reading Mozley's next effort.
"Elmet" is narrated by a teenage boy named Daniel, who lives with his father John and his sister Cathy in a house they built with their own hands. Although the narrated time is not specified, the story does obviously take place in our modern days, in the realm of what used to be the medieval Brittonic kingdom of Elmet. John supports his family as a bare-knuckle prize fighter and day laborer, his wits and his physical strength being his most precious possessions. John is described as an almost mythical figure, with a body of nearly superhuman strength and endurance, and with an acute moral awareness. His ideas and ideals are informed by ancient concepts of justice, morality and self-reliance, and his character is reminscient of British folk hero Robin Hood and other mythological figures such as Grettir, infamous outlaw and hero of The Saga of Grettir the Strong.
While John is an archaic male, his kids are presented as queer characters: Daniel grows his hair and nails, his sexuality remains somewhat ambiguous, and Cathy is a tomboy who takes after her father. The prospect of becoming an adult woman and everything connected to that is very painful to her and seems to contribute to the anger she constantly feels.
The land on which John and his children built their house does not belong to them, Daniel's and Cathy's mother (whose absence remains mysterious) sold it to the capitalist Mr. Price when she fell on hard times. When Price wants to evict the family from their illegal building, John organizes a resistance to fight the tactics of greedy landlords and exploitative taskmasters in the area.
I really enjoyed how Mozley transports classic elements of Southern Gothic into the British countryside: Eccentric characters, grotesque details, ambivalent gender roles, derelict settings, and the particular presentation of poverty and violence render this sinister tale special. Nevertheless, Mozley's prose has its limitations: "The Guardian" claimed that the language is modeled on Cormac McCarthy, but frankly, this is quite a stretch. McCarthy displays immensive narrative discipline and textual consistency with his direct, forceful prose. Mozley, however, lacks control and, as a consequence, does the copposite: Daniel's direct speech differs substantially from his narrative voice, and the text as a whole fails to present its narrator as a consistent character as his voice tumbles from overly lyrical descriptions and acute observations to the thoughts of a particularly simple-minded teenager.
The moral theme, which, in itself, is highly interesting and current, could also have been developed a lot better. Of course housing should be affordable and wages have to be fair, but no one would like it if a family just came along and built a house on his property. This problematic tension, the forces that prompt John and Mr. Price to act as they do, could have been explored in a more thorough and, by that, interesting manner.
Many reviewers criticised the book's climax that follows after the novel turns into a revenge tale as unrealistic and over-the-top - and I agree, it takes the element of the grotesque to another level, and there are good reasons to criticize it. Without giving away too much, my main issue with it was not the level of brutality, but that it tries to cover up ambiguities that clearly do exist. From another perspective, one could also say that Mozley elevates her text from a realistic story to one that seeks truth by employing biblical amd mythological narrative features and metaphors.
A little flawed, but overall an exciting and worthwhile read. I am looking forward to reading Mozley's next effort.
April 13, 2018
Find all of my reviews at: http://52bookminimum.blogspot.com/
It’s only mid-April and I’m already terrifyingly behind on reviews so I’m gonna keep this one short and sweet:
1. I read this because Vivian told me to and I don’t believe she has ever told me to read something before in the history of our friendship.
2. It was a Man Booker Prize shortlister, so it’s a teensie bit smarty farty and the author knows how to words good.
3. You really have to like reading about a place because a bigly chunk of Elmet is spent describing . . . . you guessed it: ELMET.
4. It is NOT set in a trailer park or Appalachia unlike just about every other book I read. Buuuuuuuuuut, on the bright side some of the characters earn their money by means that aren’t quite on the up-and-up and it definitely doesn't fart rainbows and sunshine.
5. The author might be allergic to the word “the” because the lack of it in the dialogue is pretty much the only way you are reminded that these folks are not ‘Muricans.
6. There ain’t a happy ending happenin’ here, kids.
Mitchell thought this one was . . . .
It’s only mid-April and I’m already terrifyingly behind on reviews so I’m gonna keep this one short and sweet:
1. I read this because Vivian told me to and I don’t believe she has ever told me to read something before in the history of our friendship.
2. It was a Man Booker Prize shortlister, so it’s a teensie bit smarty farty and the author knows how to words good.
3. You really have to like reading about a place because a bigly chunk of Elmet is spent describing . . . . you guessed it: ELMET.
4. It is NOT set in a trailer park or Appalachia unlike just about every other book I read. Buuuuuuuuuut, on the bright side some of the characters earn their money by means that aren’t quite on the up-and-up and it definitely doesn't fart rainbows and sunshine.
5. The author might be allergic to the word “the” because the lack of it in the dialogue is pretty much the only way you are reminded that these folks are not ‘Muricans.
6. There ain’t a happy ending happenin’ here, kids.
Mitchell thought this one was . . . .
Read
June 8, 2021I liked this as a novel far more than the essex serpent, I think because Mozley is here very focused on the story that she wants to tell and everything works towards that while I felt that Sarah Perry was really relaxing in the essex serpent and allowing in all kinds of elements and stories which was very generous of her but diluted her novel for me to the point that I don't know which story she actual wanted to tell and while Elmet is set in contemporary Britain, it's story is near timeless and with minimal changes could have been set at any point from the eighth century through to today.
In short it is the brutal tale of a family of three, a father and his two children, who form the nucleus of opposition to a rich man who owns much of the land and with it job opportunities and housing in the region. As you may have observed, in the clash between the rich and the poor, there is no surprise about who wins, even if the rich may get hurt along the way. And Mozley does not even allow us to think that the victory of the near cash-less family could be a possibility because the regular narration is broken up by chapters in italics which plainly come after the main business of the story and after some cataclysmic event.
Reading Njal's Saga was a formative event for me, it taught me that conflicts are only ever resolved through talking and compromise violence might seem to be an alternative way of resolving things but only if you die before the talking starts again. So from early on I was expecting a certain type of ending, which Mozley eventually provided, but not quite in the way I expected.
What I found particularly striking about the book were it's mythic resonances. The family consists of Daddy John Smythe, a huge, hairy, bare knuckled fighter, who seems to be functionally illiterate, who earns money through illegal fights and gets gifts by doing favours for others such as menacing people who don't pay their debts. He is building a house for himself and his children in a spot of woodland that belonged to his wife ,spoiler> or partner, precise legal statuses are unclear, this is story of life at the margins that is more about naked power than about justice or legality. His manner, life and fate suggest something of Hercules, or Sampson, maybe even Robin Hood, then again the bland name suggests an everyman as well. He has a daughter Cathy Oliver who is fierce, wild, and something of an Artemis or Diana, and indeed men who seek to see her naked end up extremely dead, she can often be found hunting something, occassionally with a bow. And then there is the narrator, Daniel Oliver, he is not much of a prophet, though you could say that he spends the novel in the lion's den. He's a liminal figure in this liminal landscape - lawless region in obscure ancient kingdom- in the midst of a dispute over liminality - the house that daddy is building is on land that he says belongs to the children's mother, but which local Boss Mr Price - who may well have a problem with knowing the value of things, says he bought fairly forr a generous amount of money, and Mr Price used to employ Daddy as an enforcer, perhaps he can persuade (cough, cough) him to work for him again? Daniel is further liminal in that he doesn't perceive himself as a man, nor do other people he's misgendered as a miss several times, perhaps he is a Dionysius ? In the end he heads north, which is an interesting twist in British fiction, generally London to the south is the place of escape and reinvention, the choice of north then feels significant and a meaningful part of the symbolic universe of this novel.
There are elements of folklore and the epic, most notably a fight between champions, though due to the limitations of modern clothing there is no stripping of the armour off the body of the defeated. In another moment the brother and sister trim their father's beard and hair, which in hindsight seems like a preparation for death but at the time reminded me of the tale of Culhwch and Olwen from The Mabinogion .
Alternatively you can read this as an everyday story of rural hardship at the margins of modern Britain - just with less slavery than you might expect.
In short it is the brutal tale of a family of three, a father and his two children, who form the nucleus of opposition to a rich man who owns much of the land and with it job opportunities and housing in the region. As you may have observed, in the clash between the rich and the poor, there is no surprise about who wins, even if the rich may get hurt along the way. And Mozley does not even allow us to think that the victory of the near cash-less family could be a possibility because the regular narration is broken up by chapters in italics which plainly come after the main business of the story and after some cataclysmic event.
Reading Njal's Saga was a formative event for me, it taught me that conflicts are only ever resolved through talking and compromise violence might seem to be an alternative way of resolving things but only if you die before the talking starts again. So from early on I was expecting a certain type of ending, which Mozley eventually provided, but not quite in the way I expected.
What I found particularly striking about the book were it's mythic resonances. The family consists of Daddy John Smythe, a huge, hairy, bare knuckled fighter, who seems to be functionally illiterate, who earns money through illegal fights and gets gifts by doing favours for others such as menacing people who don't pay their debts. He is building a house for himself and his children in a spot of woodland that belonged to his wife ,spoiler> or partner, precise legal statuses are unclear, this is story of life at the margins that is more about naked power than about justice or legality. His manner, life and fate suggest something of Hercules, or Sampson, maybe even Robin Hood, then again the bland name suggests an everyman as well. He has a daughter Cathy Oliver who is fierce, wild, and something of an Artemis or Diana, and indeed men who seek to see her naked end up extremely dead, she can often be found hunting something, occassionally with a bow. And then there is the narrator, Daniel Oliver, he is not much of a prophet, though you could say that he spends the novel in the lion's den. He's a liminal figure in this liminal landscape - lawless region in obscure ancient kingdom- in the midst of a dispute over liminality - the house that daddy is building is on land that he says belongs to the children's mother, but which local Boss Mr Price - who may well have a problem with knowing the value of things, says he bought fairly forr a generous amount of money, and Mr Price used to employ Daddy as an enforcer, perhaps he can persuade (cough, cough) him to work for him again? Daniel is further liminal in that he doesn't perceive himself as a man, nor do other people he's misgendered as a miss several times, perhaps he is a Dionysius ? In the end he heads north, which is an interesting twist in British fiction, generally London to the south is the place of escape and reinvention, the choice of north then feels significant and a meaningful part of the symbolic universe of this novel.
There are elements of folklore and the epic, most notably a fight between champions, though due to the limitations of modern clothing there is no stripping of the armour off the body of the defeated. In another moment the brother and sister trim their father's beard and hair, which in hindsight seems like a preparation for death but at the time reminded me of the tale of Culhwch and Olwen from The Mabinogion .
Alternatively you can read this as an everyday story of rural hardship at the margins of modern Britain - just with less slavery than you might expect.
September 5, 2018
In hindsight, the resonance of this dark and fierce debut on the stage of world literature should have been the warning bell that the #MeToo movement was about to extract its penalty. Shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize in 2017, this novel’s strengths are in describing a natural world that seems almost untouched in its primitiveness, a world that one would swear were long gone.
A family of father, daughter, and son builds their own dwelling on land passed on by a long-dead wife and mother. A wealthy landowner nearby likewise claims the land but recognizes the family from when the mother lived there. A convoluted agreement is worked out whereby the wealthy man deeds the land to the family in return for fealty.
The story is old as Moses but were for modern day appliances and tools, we’d not know the exploitation continues so blatantly today. Mozley brilliantly describes the bump and thrum of life on a working woodlot which yields most of the family’s needs for game and heat. The father, a very large man, earned a living early on by bare-knuckle fighting for cash. He was cool-minded and strong; he always won.
The daughter and son were seen as strange among the townspeople who knew of them. They were self-sufficient and proud, and did not attend any local school, though they were of an age to do so. The boy was slight in frame and lovely in countenance; the girl became a tall and strapping and arresting-looking woman. It is said the son took after the mother. We learn that the daughter takes after the father.
This was a very good choice for the international fiction prize, evoking as it does the history of the Celtic Britons, the earliest known settlers of the region in 4th Century B.C. The epigraph itself, a quote by Ted Hughes, speaks of Elmet as "the last independent Celtic kingdom in England...a sanctuary for refugees from the law." The story itself is rich and complete, the bullying nature of wealthy landowners charted throughout the ages. Insular and suspicious townsfolk make their appearance, as does a singular woman who lives alone in the hills.
A fight scene near the end of the book registers viscerally. The momentum and brutality derived from that moment electrifies our experience through the end of the novel, the final scenes almost changing the nature of the novel despite the foreshadowing given earlier. This may be why Mozley added the italicized chapters earlier on--to warn us of great changes to come. Perhaps ideally these wouldn't be necessary, but then the sense of time and distance and distress of the narration wouldn't be as clear.
There are so many intriguing aspects of this novel one is tempted to cut Mozley some slack if some fulsome descriptions might be considered extraneous to the thrust of the action. The character of Vivien, for instance, may have been developed somewhat beyond her remit. Considering the vast talent arrayed for the award last year, it is difficult to expect a debut would have prevailed against such talented entries as Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders, which did end up taking home the prize. But this was, without a doubt, a very strong debut indeed.
A family of father, daughter, and son builds their own dwelling on land passed on by a long-dead wife and mother. A wealthy landowner nearby likewise claims the land but recognizes the family from when the mother lived there. A convoluted agreement is worked out whereby the wealthy man deeds the land to the family in return for fealty.
The story is old as Moses but were for modern day appliances and tools, we’d not know the exploitation continues so blatantly today. Mozley brilliantly describes the bump and thrum of life on a working woodlot which yields most of the family’s needs for game and heat. The father, a very large man, earned a living early on by bare-knuckle fighting for cash. He was cool-minded and strong; he always won.
The daughter and son were seen as strange among the townspeople who knew of them. They were self-sufficient and proud, and did not attend any local school, though they were of an age to do so. The boy was slight in frame and lovely in countenance; the girl became a tall and strapping and arresting-looking woman. It is said the son took after the mother. We learn that the daughter takes after the father.
This was a very good choice for the international fiction prize, evoking as it does the history of the Celtic Britons, the earliest known settlers of the region in 4th Century B.C. The epigraph itself, a quote by Ted Hughes, speaks of Elmet as "the last independent Celtic kingdom in England...a sanctuary for refugees from the law." The story itself is rich and complete, the bullying nature of wealthy landowners charted throughout the ages. Insular and suspicious townsfolk make their appearance, as does a singular woman who lives alone in the hills.
A fight scene near the end of the book registers viscerally. The momentum and brutality derived from that moment electrifies our experience through the end of the novel, the final scenes almost changing the nature of the novel despite the foreshadowing given earlier. This may be why Mozley added the italicized chapters earlier on--to warn us of great changes to come. Perhaps ideally these wouldn't be necessary, but then the sense of time and distance and distress of the narration wouldn't be as clear.
There are so many intriguing aspects of this novel one is tempted to cut Mozley some slack if some fulsome descriptions might be considered extraneous to the thrust of the action. The character of Vivien, for instance, may have been developed somewhat beyond her remit. Considering the vast talent arrayed for the award last year, it is difficult to expect a debut would have prevailed against such talented entries as Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders, which did end up taking home the prize. But this was, without a doubt, a very strong debut indeed.
January 14, 2019
3.5 stars rounded up to 4
Audiobook narrated by Gareth Bennett Ryan 7h 37min
Although it took me a little while to acclimatize to the first person narrative, Elmet is definitely one of those literary entries that sneaks up on a person. The novel when placed on the ManBooker shortlist in 2017 was viewed by some to be the "wild card" entry. Eventually, George Saunders Lincoln in the Bardo would walk away with the title, but this little debut novel certainly deserves attention for its dark prose set in the woods of Yorkshire.
Fiona Mozley's Daniel, our narrator, reminded me in some ways of Harper Lee's Scout. Although Daniel is a teenager, his admiration for his father conveys a similar devotion to what we see Scout have for her father, Atticus Finch. Like Jem and Scout, Daniel and his sister, Cathy, love their father, a man who is known to fight with his fists(a trait which he and Atticus do not share) and they trust him deeply. In both stories, the fathers play a large role in shaping who these children are and the adults that they promise to become. While there are references in the novel that Daniel and Cathy were not with their parents for much of their younger years, their father doesn't flinch from reclaiming his children after the death of their grandmother and setting about with their childcare.
As I mentioned in my first paragraph, this story was a slow burn and all of the action takes place in the last quarter of the novel. My advice to future readers: stick with it, but there will be blood....and plenty of sorrow.
Audiobook narrated by Gareth Bennett Ryan 7h 37min
Although it took me a little while to acclimatize to the first person narrative, Elmet is definitely one of those literary entries that sneaks up on a person. The novel when placed on the ManBooker shortlist in 2017 was viewed by some to be the "wild card" entry. Eventually, George Saunders Lincoln in the Bardo would walk away with the title, but this little debut novel certainly deserves attention for its dark prose set in the woods of Yorkshire.
Fiona Mozley's Daniel, our narrator, reminded me in some ways of Harper Lee's Scout. Although Daniel is a teenager, his admiration for his father conveys a similar devotion to what we see Scout have for her father, Atticus Finch. Like Jem and Scout, Daniel and his sister, Cathy, love their father, a man who is known to fight with his fists(a trait which he and Atticus do not share) and they trust him deeply. In both stories, the fathers play a large role in shaping who these children are and the adults that they promise to become. While there are references in the novel that Daniel and Cathy were not with their parents for much of their younger years, their father doesn't flinch from reclaiming his children after the death of their grandmother and setting about with their childcare.
As I mentioned in my first paragraph, this story was a slow burn and all of the action takes place in the last quarter of the novel. My advice to future readers: stick with it, but there will be blood....and plenty of sorrow.
August 28, 2017
This book had elements that reminded me of His Bloody Project and Eileen. It tells the story of Daniel, the narrator, and his sister, Cathy, who live in a house they build on land that isn't theirs with their 'Daddy.' He is affectionately referred to as 'Daddy' throughout the story which is juxtaposed by his burliness and willingness to fight for his family when necessary. The characters are well drawn, especially the main 3, and the story finds meaning in their conflict over land ownership, identity politics and the status of being an 'outsider.' It's a good debut with very evocative writing, but some elements fell flat, particularly the tension that I felt she was building towards in the end. Pacing was definitely back-loaded, though it had some good scenes sprinkled throughout. I could see this making the Man Booker shortlist this year for its freshness of voice and original storytelling. Not my favorite but not half-bad. 3.5 stars
March 9, 2018
Wow. Holy Crackerdoodles!
Bold and filled with images that are burnt into my psyche. Fierce, outside the box and filled with people who won't live in them. Others, not part of the system and no desire to be part of it. Only wanting to live honestly, in peace. But, there's always people who are waiting to take advantage, to play the game, manipulate it for gain.
This is no happy story. There is nothing but grit and determination and the price.
*Watch out and don't read too many reviews because spoilers would be a shame. I am definitely recommending this one to some people.
Bold and filled with images that are burnt into my psyche. Fierce, outside the box and filled with people who won't live in them. Others, not part of the system and no desire to be part of it. Only wanting to live honestly, in peace. But, there's always people who are waiting to take advantage, to play the game, manipulate it for gain.
This is no happy story. There is nothing but grit and determination and the price.
"We all grow into our coffins, Danny. And I saw myself growing into mine."
*Watch out and don't read too many reviews because spoilers would be a shame. I am definitely recommending this one to some people.
October 10, 2017
When I saw this book on the Man Booker Prize long list, I ordered it from the UK. It sounded like just my thing and had a beautiful cover! My expectations weren't met, exactly, but I still think I would read whatever the author did next. Some of the observations she had other characters make, like when Vivien compares their father to a whale, were rather thought-provoking and unique.
The only other page I marked is a few chapters later, when the narrator is reflecting on the whale analogy after his father hugged him upon his return home (and this is a good example of the writing):
I like how she describes places. I was less interested in the people, unfortunately. I kept getting confused as to the gender of the narrator, although later on in the novel that seemed more intentional maybe. I read the character as female until he started being addressed with a male name and then felt confused! Ha.
This kept reminding me of Our Endless Numbered Days by Claire Fuller, although the tone of it isn't as ominous, but in a similar way where a father shapes a world for his children to live in, isolated from the rest of the world, their only reality. He builds a home for them on property he doesn't own, although that too is revealed later in the book to be quite a bit more complicated than this guy just being a hermit. And it isn't as if they are entirely isolated, so there is a tension between the life he would like them to have and the reality surrounding them.. he has to work, and is a fighter for money.
Ultimately I would be disappointed to see this one win the prize, because I never connected with it.
The only other page I marked is a few chapters later, when the narrator is reflecting on the whale analogy after his father hugged him upon his return home (and this is a good example of the writing):
"As soon as he had shaken off his boots, his Goliath arms pulled me into an embrace and I wondered what it would be like to touch a real whale, and knew that despite what Vivien had said, Daddy was both more vicious and more kind than any leviathan of the ocean. He was a human, and the gamut upon which his inner life trilled ranged from the translucent surface to beyond the deepest crevice of any sea. His music pitched above the hearing of hounds and below the trembling of trees."So that's beautiful writing, to be sure, but it also serves to slow down the pace substantially, and as such I found myself frequently setting the book aside to read something else.
I like how she describes places. I was less interested in the people, unfortunately. I kept getting confused as to the gender of the narrator, although later on in the novel that seemed more intentional maybe. I read the character as female until he started being addressed with a male name and then felt confused! Ha.
This kept reminding me of Our Endless Numbered Days by Claire Fuller, although the tone of it isn't as ominous, but in a similar way where a father shapes a world for his children to live in, isolated from the rest of the world, their only reality. He builds a home for them on property he doesn't own, although that too is revealed later in the book to be quite a bit more complicated than this guy just being a hermit. And it isn't as if they are entirely isolated, so there is a tension between the life he would like them to have and the reality surrounding them.. he has to work, and is a fighter for money.
Ultimately I would be disappointed to see this one win the prize, because I never connected with it.
December 5, 2017
Raw and powerful, but uneven throughout, this short, explosive tale is best read in a single sitting to get the most from the build-up of atmosphere, and to avoid the breaking of the spell which allows disbelief to enter.
Mozley has a heightened style of prose, a bit Wuthering Heights with its insertions of dialect and mythic landscape, a bit Ted Hughes (witness the title) as his most epic and self-conscious. The whole thing builds to an orgy of violence that we've been waiting for from the start.
Not the most subtle piece of writing, but forceful and compelling all the same.
Mozley has a heightened style of prose, a bit Wuthering Heights with its insertions of dialect and mythic landscape, a bit Ted Hughes (witness the title) as his most epic and self-conscious. The whole thing builds to an orgy of violence that we've been waiting for from the start.
Not the most subtle piece of writing, but forceful and compelling all the same.
July 31, 2017
An amazing debut. 4.5*
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