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The Children of Dynmouth
A small, pretty seaside town is harshly exposed by a young boy's curiosity. His prurient interest, oddly motivated, leaves few people unaffected - and the consequences cannot be ignored. Timothy, an "aimless, sadistic" 15-year-old boy, wanders about the seaside town of Dynmouth "trying to connect himself with other people."
189 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1976
36 people are currently reading
1827 people want to read
About the author
William Trevor
177 books761 followersWilliam Trevor, KBE grew up in various provincial towns and attended a number of schools, graduating from Trinity College, in Dublin, with a degree in history. He first exercised his artistry as a sculptor, working as a teacher in Northern Ireland and then emigrated to England in search of work when the school went bankrupt. He could have returned to Ireland once he became a successful writer, he said, "but by then I had become a wanderer, and one way and another, I just stayed in England ... I hated leaving Ireland. I was very bitter at the time. But, had it not happened, I think I might never have written at all."
In 1958 Trevor published his first novel, A Standard of Behaviour, to little critical success. Two years later, he abandoned sculpting completely, feeling his work had become too abstract, and found a job writing copy for a London advertising agency. 'This was absurd,' he said. 'They would give me four lines or so to write and four or five days to write it in. It was so boring. But they had given me this typewriter to work on, so I just started writing stories. I sometimes think all the people who were missing in my sculpture gushed out into the stories.' He published several short stories, then his second and third novels, which both won the Hawthornden Prize (established in 1919 by Alice Warrender and named after William Drummond of Hawthornden, the Hawthornden Prize is one of the UK's oldest literary awards). A number of other prizes followed, and Trevor began working full-time as a writer in 1965.
Since then, Trevor has published nearly 40 novels, short story collections, plays, and collections of nonfiction. He has won three Whitbread Awards, a PEN/Macmillan Silver Pen Award, and was shortlisted for the Booker Prize. In 1977 Trevor was appointed an honorary (he holds Irish, not British, citizenship) Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (CBE) for his services to literature and in 2002 he was elevated to honorary Knight Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (KBE). Since he began writing, William Trevor regularly spends half the year in Italy or Switzerland, often visiting Ireland in the other half. He lived in Devon, in South West England, on an old mill surrounded by 40 acres of land.
In 1958 Trevor published his first novel, A Standard of Behaviour, to little critical success. Two years later, he abandoned sculpting completely, feeling his work had become too abstract, and found a job writing copy for a London advertising agency. 'This was absurd,' he said. 'They would give me four lines or so to write and four or five days to write it in. It was so boring. But they had given me this typewriter to work on, so I just started writing stories. I sometimes think all the people who were missing in my sculpture gushed out into the stories.' He published several short stories, then his second and third novels, which both won the Hawthornden Prize (established in 1919 by Alice Warrender and named after William Drummond of Hawthornden, the Hawthornden Prize is one of the UK's oldest literary awards). A number of other prizes followed, and Trevor began working full-time as a writer in 1965.
Since then, Trevor has published nearly 40 novels, short story collections, plays, and collections of nonfiction. He has won three Whitbread Awards, a PEN/Macmillan Silver Pen Award, and was shortlisted for the Booker Prize. In 1977 Trevor was appointed an honorary (he holds Irish, not British, citizenship) Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (CBE) for his services to literature and in 2002 he was elevated to honorary Knight Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (KBE). Since he began writing, William Trevor regularly spends half the year in Italy or Switzerland, often visiting Ireland in the other half. He lived in Devon, in South West England, on an old mill surrounded by 40 acres of land.
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November 20, 2025
CONTAINS SPOILERS, MAJOR ONES HIDDEN [Revised, spoilers hidden 8/13/22]
The main character comes across at first as a special ed kid, but as the story evolves we see that he is truly mentally disturbed. He’s an older teenager who is cast aside by his family. He has no father and his mother and older sister are good buddies, laughing, smoking, eating together, while he fends for himself and eats leftovers in his room.
So the youth wanders the town doing odd jobs for people, stealing petty things and small amounts of money, and getting into trouble. He’s the type who tells corny puns, repeats them and then says “do you get it” and still explains it to you. A minister with infinite patience tries to help steer the young boy straight.
The boy hatches a plan to present a bizarre play in a local talent show. It’s a parody of a famous murderer who killed women in their baths --- just what you want at church-sponsored event in a small town.
But with age he has become vicious; basically blackmailing people to get the props he needs for his play. He gets his blackmail material from what he has seen peering through windows and listening in the bushes. Here are some of the things he knows:
Two other main characters are a young girl and a boy whose parents just married after the death of the man’s wife. The malicious kid concocts a story with just enough bits of truth to ruin their relationship.
It’s a good read. Like other Trevor stories, it’s about lonely, listless people trapped in a stifling small town a generation or more ago. My thanks to Nancy Oakes for recommending this book to me.
William Trevor is one of my favorite authors and I have read about 15 of his novels and collections of short stories. Below are links to reviews of some others of my favorite novels of his:
Mrs Eckdorf in O'Neill's Hotel
After Rain
The Hill Bachelors
Fools of Fortune
Nights at the Alexandra
Top photo from inroadsireland.com
The author (1928-2016) from nytimes.com
The main character comes across at first as a special ed kid, but as the story evolves we see that he is truly mentally disturbed. He’s an older teenager who is cast aside by his family. He has no father and his mother and older sister are good buddies, laughing, smoking, eating together, while he fends for himself and eats leftovers in his room.
So the youth wanders the town doing odd jobs for people, stealing petty things and small amounts of money, and getting into trouble. He’s the type who tells corny puns, repeats them and then says “do you get it” and still explains it to you. A minister with infinite patience tries to help steer the young boy straight.
The boy hatches a plan to present a bizarre play in a local talent show. It’s a parody of a famous murderer who killed women in their baths --- just what you want at church-sponsored event in a small town.
But with age he has become vicious; basically blackmailing people to get the props he needs for his play. He gets his blackmail material from what he has seen peering through windows and listening in the bushes. Here are some of the things he knows:
Two other main characters are a young girl and a boy whose parents just married after the death of the man’s wife. The malicious kid concocts a story with just enough bits of truth to ruin their relationship.
It’s a good read. Like other Trevor stories, it’s about lonely, listless people trapped in a stifling small town a generation or more ago. My thanks to Nancy Oakes for recommending this book to me.
William Trevor is one of my favorite authors and I have read about 15 of his novels and collections of short stories. Below are links to reviews of some others of my favorite novels of his:
Mrs Eckdorf in O'Neill's Hotel
After Rain
The Hill Bachelors
Fools of Fortune
Nights at the Alexandra
Top photo from inroadsireland.com
The author (1928-2016) from nytimes.com
August 19, 2021
The truth can be the scariest thing in the world.
Many people spend their lives cowering from it, and who can blame them. It's nearly impossible to face one's greatest fear head-on. It's almost indecent. There's a grotesque nakedness, a ruthless, wide-eyed violence to such an act.
The truth comes in the shape of a creepy fifteen year old boy in a pair of yellow jeans. At least, it does here, in the pretty British seaside town of Dynmouth. Timothy Gedge shows up just where he's not wanted, sucking on a fruit gum, smiling a horrid smile, talking in a woman's voice. He tells truth that shatters privacy, devastates a decades-long marriage, exposes family secrets, points a finger at sexual infidelity, and maybe even reveals a murder. Suddenly, the pretty seaside town isn't all that pretty.
That awful, hideous truth. That awful, hideous boy. What is worse, the truth or the bearer?
Needless to say, I am in complete awe of William Trevor's 1976 Booker Prize nominated novel. God, I loved this. Where can I even begin in my praise of this new addition to my favourites shelf?? The structure, which is so sophisticated? The scenes, one after the other, of absolute agonizing tension, which compel and repel in equal measure? The way the dark spectre of George Joseph Smith, a Victorian serial killer, threads malignantly through these pages?
Maybe what I loved best is the gorgeous crescendo, in which a little girl confronts a clergyman, thus elevating this book far past "a story about a creepy kid". Elevates it to catastrophe, the revelation of how simply existing can batter a person to the point where nothing, not laughter or light or hope or prayer, can touch them. Witnessing that is enough to shake your faith in God and the world.
William Trevor has shaken me. I'd like him to do it again. That's the truth.
Many people spend their lives cowering from it, and who can blame them. It's nearly impossible to face one's greatest fear head-on. It's almost indecent. There's a grotesque nakedness, a ruthless, wide-eyed violence to such an act.
The truth comes in the shape of a creepy fifteen year old boy in a pair of yellow jeans. At least, it does here, in the pretty British seaside town of Dynmouth. Timothy Gedge shows up just where he's not wanted, sucking on a fruit gum, smiling a horrid smile, talking in a woman's voice. He tells truth that shatters privacy, devastates a decades-long marriage, exposes family secrets, points a finger at sexual infidelity, and maybe even reveals a murder. Suddenly, the pretty seaside town isn't all that pretty.
That awful, hideous truth. That awful, hideous boy. What is worse, the truth or the bearer?
Needless to say, I am in complete awe of William Trevor's 1976 Booker Prize nominated novel. God, I loved this. Where can I even begin in my praise of this new addition to my favourites shelf?? The structure, which is so sophisticated? The scenes, one after the other, of absolute agonizing tension, which compel and repel in equal measure? The way the dark spectre of George Joseph Smith, a Victorian serial killer, threads malignantly through these pages?
Maybe what I loved best is the gorgeous crescendo, in which a little girl confronts a clergyman, thus elevating this book far past "a story about a creepy kid". Elevates it to catastrophe, the revelation of how simply existing can batter a person to the point where nothing, not laughter or light or hope or prayer, can touch them. Witnessing that is enough to shake your faith in God and the world.
William Trevor has shaken me. I'd like him to do it again. That's the truth.
May 14, 2021
It was a quarter past seven, and the ladies of book club were gathered in their typical circle of seven. Aimee had already claimed her Pinot Grigio, but the other ladies still looked on with anticipation, wondering when Barb would manage to open the damned Pinot Noir.
Some of their knees touched briefly in Barb's little living room, crouched as they were on two small loveseats and three dining room chairs.
Chloe grabbed her phone from her purse, saw that it was 7:17 now. She put her phone away, took out her hardcover copy of The Children of Dynmouth and tossed it hard on the coffee table. Danielle, seated next to her on a loveseat, looked over at it and sighed. She leaned in to Chloe and whispered, “Yours has the little creep on the cover??” Chloe nodded, biting a nail.
Barb pulled up hard on the corkscrew, managing to break the cork in half. A broken piece of cork emerged up out of the liquid, while the other half remained inside like a buoy, bobbing up and down in the dark wine. Barb growled to the side of the wine bottle, “Mother fucker.”
Ruth-Anne, the group's self-appointed leader, glanced at her phone now, horrified that it was almost half-past seven. She gave what she considered to be a polite cough, to call the ladies to order, and she offered “Shall we get started then?”
Charmaine, balancing a small plate of dip and chips, leaned in to grab Chloe's copy of the book to simulate her interest. In doing so, she dropped a thick clump of dip on Barb's plush carpet. She went breathless, leaning over to catch it with a napkin, and grumbled “For fuck's sake,” as she sat back up.
She asked Barb, in an agitated voice, “What made you pick this one, Barb?”
Barb, who was now pouring Pinot Noir into various fat glasses, watched in dismay as small pieces of cork floated at the top of each glass. She sighed, distracted. “Burt, my stepdad. He's British?”
Off to the side, Alison, the only non-drinker in the group, rolled her eyes. “So, he likes this William Trevor, then. Is that what you mean?”
Chloe grabbed the wine glass offered to her, said, “You guys. Are we still reading the new Jodi Picoult next month?”
Danielle, grabbing her drink now from Barb, nodded enthusiastically. “It's supposed to be so good. I've already started it.” Chloe wondered if she could borrow Danielle's copy soon. Ruth-Anne sat forward to insert herself deeper into the circle. If she didn't keep these women on task, no one would.
She coughed again, then, “So, Barb. Burt's from the Cornwall area, right? Was this Trevor someone he grew up reading?”
Barb finally planted herself heavily on one of the chairs. She could see that both of her kids were at the top of the stairs, spying. She made a gesture with her hand to threaten them back to bed. “Yes. He said we'd love this one.”
Chloe gave Danielle a meaningful stare, while Charmaine, with a mouth full of dip, contributed, “Our son Thomas. . . he was almost a Timothy.”
Several of the ladies groaned.
Alison looked up at one of Barb's exposed windows. She imagined she could see a pale face there. “Thank God I never had sons,” she announced to the group. “Bunch of creeps.”
Charmaine gave an involuntary shudder and almost dropped a cracker.
Aimee leaned in to grab a carrot stick, shared, “I think this Trevor guy must be some kind of pervert.”
Chloe and Danielle nodded emphatically from the loveseat.
“I thought the whole story was sick,” Danielle contributed. “And they eat the weirdest shit over there. I didn't even know what anyone was saying.”
Barb coughed on a small piece of cork that had fled down her throat. Fucking Burt. First that incest book, now this.
Danielle piped up again, “You guys. The Picoult book is supposed to be so good.” Chloe nodded with enthusiasm. “I know. I can't wait to read it!”
She reached for her phone again: 7:31. Maybe she'd tell the group she just started her period and had to leave early. No. Then she'd have to walk home alone in the dark, picturing that pale-faced little fucker at every corner.
Some of their knees touched briefly in Barb's little living room, crouched as they were on two small loveseats and three dining room chairs.
Chloe grabbed her phone from her purse, saw that it was 7:17 now. She put her phone away, took out her hardcover copy of The Children of Dynmouth and tossed it hard on the coffee table. Danielle, seated next to her on a loveseat, looked over at it and sighed. She leaned in to Chloe and whispered, “Yours has the little creep on the cover??” Chloe nodded, biting a nail.
Barb pulled up hard on the corkscrew, managing to break the cork in half. A broken piece of cork emerged up out of the liquid, while the other half remained inside like a buoy, bobbing up and down in the dark wine. Barb growled to the side of the wine bottle, “Mother fucker.”
Ruth-Anne, the group's self-appointed leader, glanced at her phone now, horrified that it was almost half-past seven. She gave what she considered to be a polite cough, to call the ladies to order, and she offered “Shall we get started then?”
Charmaine, balancing a small plate of dip and chips, leaned in to grab Chloe's copy of the book to simulate her interest. In doing so, she dropped a thick clump of dip on Barb's plush carpet. She went breathless, leaning over to catch it with a napkin, and grumbled “For fuck's sake,” as she sat back up.
She asked Barb, in an agitated voice, “What made you pick this one, Barb?”
Barb, who was now pouring Pinot Noir into various fat glasses, watched in dismay as small pieces of cork floated at the top of each glass. She sighed, distracted. “Burt, my stepdad. He's British?”
Off to the side, Alison, the only non-drinker in the group, rolled her eyes. “So, he likes this William Trevor, then. Is that what you mean?”
Chloe grabbed the wine glass offered to her, said, “You guys. Are we still reading the new Jodi Picoult next month?”
Danielle, grabbing her drink now from Barb, nodded enthusiastically. “It's supposed to be so good. I've already started it.” Chloe wondered if she could borrow Danielle's copy soon. Ruth-Anne sat forward to insert herself deeper into the circle. If she didn't keep these women on task, no one would.
She coughed again, then, “So, Barb. Burt's from the Cornwall area, right? Was this Trevor someone he grew up reading?”
Barb finally planted herself heavily on one of the chairs. She could see that both of her kids were at the top of the stairs, spying. She made a gesture with her hand to threaten them back to bed. “Yes. He said we'd love this one.”
Chloe gave Danielle a meaningful stare, while Charmaine, with a mouth full of dip, contributed, “Our son Thomas. . . he was almost a Timothy.”
Several of the ladies groaned.
Alison looked up at one of Barb's exposed windows. She imagined she could see a pale face there. “Thank God I never had sons,” she announced to the group. “Bunch of creeps.”
Charmaine gave an involuntary shudder and almost dropped a cracker.
Aimee leaned in to grab a carrot stick, shared, “I think this Trevor guy must be some kind of pervert.”
Chloe and Danielle nodded emphatically from the loveseat.
“I thought the whole story was sick,” Danielle contributed. “And they eat the weirdest shit over there. I didn't even know what anyone was saying.”
Barb coughed on a small piece of cork that had fled down her throat. Fucking Burt. First that incest book, now this.
Danielle piped up again, “You guys. The Picoult book is supposed to be so good.” Chloe nodded with enthusiasm. “I know. I can't wait to read it!”
She reached for her phone again: 7:31. Maybe she'd tell the group she just started her period and had to leave early. No. Then she'd have to walk home alone in the dark, picturing that pale-faced little fucker at every corner.
September 8, 2025
Fictional Dynmouth in the 70s shares many a trait with my cross-Atlantic hometown, its seaside location and population size of roughly 4-5K not the least of them. As the novel begins to bite into small-town community life and gossip, the transfiguration grows complete, a few cultural differences and brand names aside.
In The Children of Dynmouth, William Trevor sets in motion an eerie story that brings to mind Wes Anderson’s campiness on several occasions. It begins with this guy Timothy, dressed in yellow from head to toe, hitting the ground running as the town’s de facto oddball.
Watching 15-year-old Timothy leave consternation in his wake as he tours familiar households and consistently overstays his welcome proves fun: the novel grows into a savoury study in conventions and boundaries, and things usually left unsaid. Focusing on a ragtag lineup of town figures, William Trevor orchestrates with Timothy’s help a series of reveals where appearances and reputations are suddenly on the line, in a community where nothing much typically happens.
In my opinion, Timothy is a psychopath in the true sense of the word: he draws actual pleasure from spilling hurtful opinions and observations never meant to be shared, paying no mind to consequences. But the angle chosen is delicious if not entirely inoffensive, and witnessing a troubled and verbose teenager wreak havoc on unsuspecting households develops into a kind of guilty pleasure. For if Timothy himself lacks introspection skills and emotional intelligence — which isn’t to say he isn’t clever — the reflections of startled community members everywhere he goes bloom into insightful observations on small-town life and thinly veiled secrets. Despite the yellow-garbed troublemaker, regardless of the unlikely scenes he causes, no matter the eccentricity of it all, this novel nails the reality of conservative, uneventful communities in more ways than one.
I read this with Ebba, whose tender heart may forgive Timothy more easily than mine. On my end, I’m making short work of attenuating circumstances, but The Children of Dynmouth remains no less a coup, in my eyes.
In The Children of Dynmouth, William Trevor sets in motion an eerie story that brings to mind Wes Anderson’s campiness on several occasions. It begins with this guy Timothy, dressed in yellow from head to toe, hitting the ground running as the town’s de facto oddball.
Watching 15-year-old Timothy leave consternation in his wake as he tours familiar households and consistently overstays his welcome proves fun: the novel grows into a savoury study in conventions and boundaries, and things usually left unsaid. Focusing on a ragtag lineup of town figures, William Trevor orchestrates with Timothy’s help a series of reveals where appearances and reputations are suddenly on the line, in a community where nothing much typically happens.
In my opinion, Timothy is a psychopath in the true sense of the word: he draws actual pleasure from spilling hurtful opinions and observations never meant to be shared, paying no mind to consequences. But the angle chosen is delicious if not entirely inoffensive, and witnessing a troubled and verbose teenager wreak havoc on unsuspecting households develops into a kind of guilty pleasure. For if Timothy himself lacks introspection skills and emotional intelligence — which isn’t to say he isn’t clever — the reflections of startled community members everywhere he goes bloom into insightful observations on small-town life and thinly veiled secrets. Despite the yellow-garbed troublemaker, regardless of the unlikely scenes he causes, no matter the eccentricity of it all, this novel nails the reality of conservative, uneventful communities in more ways than one.
I read this with Ebba, whose tender heart may forgive Timothy more easily than mine. On my end, I’m making short work of attenuating circumstances, but The Children of Dynmouth remains no less a coup, in my eyes.
December 3, 2017
William Trevor was one of the Booker Prize's perennial bridesmaids, and this book was shortlisted in 1976. The setting is Dynmouth, an outwardly sleepy Dorset seaside town rather reminiscent of Lyme Regis. Like another book I read recently, Michael Frayn's Spies, this is a story about innocence and experience, and childhood games colliding with adult secrets with unforeseen consequences.
The central character is brilliantly drawn. Timothy Gedge is a 15-year old loner who spends much of his time watching people. At the start this seems fairly innocent and harmless - he dreams of escaping his inevitable destiny in the town's sandpaper factory via a talent contest, for which his act requires the help of various props he can only obtain by revealing what he has seen while watching people. It becomes clear that he has learning difficulties, and although he has seen and remembered much, he understands little and uses a lively imagination to fill in the gaps.
As he cannot resist talking to everyone he can, his revelations leave a trail of destruction. This is largely described via his harassment of Stephen and Kate, two 12 year olds who have been brought together because Stephen's widowed father has just married Kate's divorced mother.
The portrait of the community is fully realised and full of comic 70s detail - as somebody who was brought up in 70s England this had many resonances. The ending is surprising and has an element of redemption.
The central character is brilliantly drawn. Timothy Gedge is a 15-year old loner who spends much of his time watching people. At the start this seems fairly innocent and harmless - he dreams of escaping his inevitable destiny in the town's sandpaper factory via a talent contest, for which his act requires the help of various props he can only obtain by revealing what he has seen while watching people. It becomes clear that he has learning difficulties, and although he has seen and remembered much, he understands little and uses a lively imagination to fill in the gaps.
As he cannot resist talking to everyone he can, his revelations leave a trail of destruction. This is largely described via his harassment of Stephen and Kate, two 12 year olds who have been brought together because Stephen's widowed father has just married Kate's divorced mother.
The portrait of the community is fully realised and full of comic 70s detail - as somebody who was brought up in 70s England this had many resonances. The ending is surprising and has an element of redemption.
March 3, 2023
Absolutely brilliant!!!
William Trevor takes us to this quiet seaside village and introduces us to one of the most malevolent characters I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. He is 15 year old Timothy Gedge. He spies on everyone and knows secrets about everyone. Is it truth or lies though? Is he simple minded or evil incarnate?
The writing is exceptional. William Trevor drew me in immediately with his description of the quaint village of Dynmouth. But all is not as it seems. Life as everyone knows it is about to be fractured by Timothy Gedge. He insinuates himself in everyone’s life. There is so much underlying tension, I seriously had to keep reading or lose sleep thinking about what would happen next.
“The truth was insidious, never blatant, never just facts.”
Most of the people we meet in this book are hiding from a truth they do not wish to acknowledge. Definitely a theme of the book- we do not know everything about the people around us and ourselves. Or if we do know, we do not want to admit it.
This is an exceptional book which has gone straight to my favourite’s list. I highly recommend it but be prepared to be gobsmacked!!
Published: 1976
William Trevor takes us to this quiet seaside village and introduces us to one of the most malevolent characters I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. He is 15 year old Timothy Gedge. He spies on everyone and knows secrets about everyone. Is it truth or lies though? Is he simple minded or evil incarnate?
The writing is exceptional. William Trevor drew me in immediately with his description of the quaint village of Dynmouth. But all is not as it seems. Life as everyone knows it is about to be fractured by Timothy Gedge. He insinuates himself in everyone’s life. There is so much underlying tension, I seriously had to keep reading or lose sleep thinking about what would happen next.
“The truth was insidious, never blatant, never just facts.”
Most of the people we meet in this book are hiding from a truth they do not wish to acknowledge. Definitely a theme of the book- we do not know everything about the people around us and ourselves. Or if we do know, we do not want to admit it.
This is an exceptional book which has gone straight to my favourite’s list. I highly recommend it but be prepared to be gobsmacked!!
Published: 1976
April 18, 2017
I wanted to read one of my favorite authors and listen to a familiar voice. That longing took me to Dynmouth on the Dorset coast of England where I anticipated pleasurable hours reading a William Trevor novel set in the 1970s. It will be a quiet read, methinks, since the story is supposed to unfold in an unspoilt seaside town complete with charming tea-shops and laces. I was sorely mistaken. The Children of Dynmouth turned out to be an unnerving story that shattered my sense of equanimity. Trevor is, as always, an inimitable master of his craft. I had forgotten, however, how brilliantly he can tell an unsettling story.
The central character is Timothy Gedge, a 15-year-old latch-key youth with predatory, hungry eyes and a creepy smile. He loiters in town, peers into people’s houses, eavesdrops on conversations, and attends funerals of complete strangers. He invites himself to super with the Abigails every Wednesday evening. He does odd jobs for them, albeit shoddily, to earn pocket money. However, Mrs Abigail does not know that he goes through her drawers in her bedroom. He stops people in their tracks, makes empty conversations, and demands attention for his rude jokes or stories. Timothy’s “chatterbox eccentricity” seems merely annoying at first, but it becomes so gratingly intrusive that I cannot help feeling a surge of sadistic gladness whenever he is told to go away.
The vicarage is gearing up for an Easter fête and the annual “Spot a Talent” show. Timothy becomes fixated with the idea of staging a gruesome one-man comedy of a man who murdered his three wives in a bath. His obsession to win sets in motion a devious plan to secure the props he needs: curtains, a bathtub, a wedding gown and an officer’s suit. Timothy begins to blackmail his neighbors by threatening to reveal their secrets. He fabricates lies or spouts vicious half-truths that gnaw at the fragile threads that hold families together. . In the upheavals that arise from Timothy’s unravelling of secrets that are none of his business, truth is revealed in its gory complexity. We learn that "..Timothy had not told lies entirely. The grey shadows drifted, one into another. The truth was insidious, never blatant, never just facts." The truth can be liberating but it comes at grave personal costs that the affected Dynmouth individuals are ill-prepared to bear.
Although Timothy hounds his kindly neighbors with diabolical intent and is perceived to be demon-possessed, he used to be a child with winning ways. What happened along the way? Children are notoriously vulnerable. It is not as if Timothy was ever subjected to harsh abuse but he is damaged all the same. His creepy strangeness is baffling and yet not. The vicar sums it up well, “You couldn't understand it and mockingly it seemed that you weren't meant to: it was all just there, a small-scale catastrophe, quite ordinary although it seemed not to be." Trevor succeeds in developing a disturbing portrait of an unsavory youth who engenders little sympathy. The callousness we are made to feel toward Timothy Gedge is what makes him a tragic character.
The Children of Dynmouth merits five unsettling but remarkable stars.
The central character is Timothy Gedge, a 15-year-old latch-key youth with predatory, hungry eyes and a creepy smile. He loiters in town, peers into people’s houses, eavesdrops on conversations, and attends funerals of complete strangers. He invites himself to super with the Abigails every Wednesday evening. He does odd jobs for them, albeit shoddily, to earn pocket money. However, Mrs Abigail does not know that he goes through her drawers in her bedroom. He stops people in their tracks, makes empty conversations, and demands attention for his rude jokes or stories. Timothy’s “chatterbox eccentricity” seems merely annoying at first, but it becomes so gratingly intrusive that I cannot help feeling a surge of sadistic gladness whenever he is told to go away.
The vicarage is gearing up for an Easter fête and the annual “Spot a Talent” show. Timothy becomes fixated with the idea of staging a gruesome one-man comedy of a man who murdered his three wives in a bath. His obsession to win sets in motion a devious plan to secure the props he needs: curtains, a bathtub, a wedding gown and an officer’s suit. Timothy begins to blackmail his neighbors by threatening to reveal their secrets. He fabricates lies or spouts vicious half-truths that gnaw at the fragile threads that hold families together. . In the upheavals that arise from Timothy’s unravelling of secrets that are none of his business, truth is revealed in its gory complexity. We learn that "..Timothy had not told lies entirely. The grey shadows drifted, one into another. The truth was insidious, never blatant, never just facts." The truth can be liberating but it comes at grave personal costs that the affected Dynmouth individuals are ill-prepared to bear.
Although Timothy hounds his kindly neighbors with diabolical intent and is perceived to be demon-possessed, he used to be a child with winning ways. What happened along the way? Children are notoriously vulnerable. It is not as if Timothy was ever subjected to harsh abuse but he is damaged all the same. His creepy strangeness is baffling and yet not. The vicar sums it up well, “You couldn't understand it and mockingly it seemed that you weren't meant to: it was all just there, a small-scale catastrophe, quite ordinary although it seemed not to be." Trevor succeeds in developing a disturbing portrait of an unsavory youth who engenders little sympathy. The callousness we are made to feel toward Timothy Gedge is what makes him a tragic character.
The Children of Dynmouth merits five unsettling but remarkable stars.
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March 7, 2017Devastating
Oh, you have to watch the names with Trevor. Timothy: honouring god. Surname Gedge, which has an unpleasant sound to it but apparently comes from an ancient word gygge and designated someone with high spirits. And yes, spirits he has, although Kate is convinced the ones in possession of Timothy are devils. She applies to the local clergyman but finds him inadequate when he rejects the idea of exorcism. As Trevor said in an interview, there's always a bit of god-bothering in his work, a gnawing, nagging complaining about this world: if it was created, what was he thinking?
Beware the well-meaning romanticism of a student teacher (Trevor himself worked as a teacher. And note the name of this one):
A gentle, tender, distressing exposure of the loss of innocence. Timothy is a malevolent spirit, a destructive animus, one that kicks away the props holding up cracked and sagging illusions and self-deceptions. Are the characters better off when their protective shell has been stripped away and they are left squirming in the unaccustomed light of day? Is Timothy as much victim as he is perpetrator? And how does Trevor manage to be so hilarious at the same time as devastating???
Oh, you have to watch the names with Trevor. Timothy: honouring god. Surname Gedge, which has an unpleasant sound to it but apparently comes from an ancient word gygge and designated someone with high spirits. And yes, spirits he has, although Kate is convinced the ones in possession of Timothy are devils. She applies to the local clergyman but finds him inadequate when he rejects the idea of exorcism. As Trevor said in an interview, there's always a bit of god-bothering in his work, a gnawing, nagging complaining about this world: if it was created, what was he thinking?
Beware the well-meaning romanticism of a student teacher (Trevor himself worked as a teacher. And note the name of this one):
A student teacher called O'Hennessy arrived at the Comprehensive and talked to his pupils about a void when he was scheduled to be teaching them English. 'The void can be filled,' he said.Timothy decides that the local sandpaper factory is not his avenue to a fuller life. He has a talent indeed. He can be abrasive in many, many ways. And doggedly single-minded in pursuing his goal.
Nobody paid much attention to O'Hennessy, who liked to be known by his Christian name, which was Brehon. Nobody understood a word he was talking about. 'The landscape is the void,' he said. Escape from the drear landscape. Fill the void with beauty.' All during his English classes Brehon O'Hennessy talked about the void, and the drear landscape, and beauty. In every kid, he pronounced, looking from one face to another, there was an avenue to a fuller life........
Timothy Gedge, like all the others, had considered O'Hennessy to be touched in the head, but then O'Hennessy had said something that made him less certain about that. Everyone was good at something, he said, nobody was without talent: it was a question of discovering yourself.
A gentle, tender, distressing exposure of the loss of innocence. Timothy is a malevolent spirit, a destructive animus, one that kicks away the props holding up cracked and sagging illusions and self-deceptions. Are the characters better off when their protective shell has been stripped away and they are left squirming in the unaccustomed light of day? Is Timothy as much victim as he is perpetrator? And how does Trevor manage to be so hilarious at the same time as devastating???
October 19, 2025
Imagine you had a spouse that would bring dripping swim-trunks in your kitchen every day, and put them there to dry on a hanger from the ceiling. And you would need to mop this mess up one and a half hours later. This is disrespectful. Would you not want to learn the truth about this particular spouse? I surely would - in its entirety.
I think it is good that the truth was being told by the fifteen year old Timothy. It offered a chance for changes and new beginnings.
To quote my friend Robin "Timothy Gedge shows up just where he's not wanted, sucking on fruit gum." And is making people uncomfortable. He is usually dressed in yellow and is always wearing the same clothes because he does not own many and his yellow jeans are pale because of washing them too often. He is emotionally neglected and not seen/not heard by his family. He was a latchkey child since he was five years old. His mother nowadays leaves him a half full tin of spaghetti behind. She has not forgotten entirely of his existence. His mother and sister are close. His sister used to say to him, when she was younger, three was a crowd.
"There had, over the years, developed in Timothy a distrust of his mother, and of his sister also. He didn't speak much in their company, having become familiar with their lack of response."
This was the most engaging read for me this year; a joyous buddy-read with Charles who has shared such enriching point of views with me. William Trevor is an immensely skillful writer! I am still thinking about the characters. They are so present and on my mind, even though I have finished reading this on 3 September. I put this novel in my jewel box.
I particularly liked the bond that the new step siblings have:
"[Kate] believed, privately, that she loved Stephen in the same way as people in films love one another. When they walked along the seashore at Dynmouth she always wanted to take his hand, but she had never done so."
"Stephen: "... not unpopular with other boys and not aloof, but affected by a shyness that hadn't existed in his relationship with his mother and didn't with Kate. He found it easy to drift in and out of conversations with Kate, as it had been with his mother. It wasn't necessary to make an effort, or to be on guard."
A dramatic truth concerning their parents comes to light, and I believe it is important that it does.
"The truth was insidious, never was blatant, never just facts."
I think it is good that the truth was being told by the fifteen year old Timothy. It offered a chance for changes and new beginnings.
To quote my friend Robin "Timothy Gedge shows up just where he's not wanted, sucking on fruit gum." And is making people uncomfortable. He is usually dressed in yellow and is always wearing the same clothes because he does not own many and his yellow jeans are pale because of washing them too often. He is emotionally neglected and not seen/not heard by his family. He was a latchkey child since he was five years old. His mother nowadays leaves him a half full tin of spaghetti behind. She has not forgotten entirely of his existence. His mother and sister are close. His sister used to say to him, when she was younger, three was a crowd.
"There had, over the years, developed in Timothy a distrust of his mother, and of his sister also. He didn't speak much in their company, having become familiar with their lack of response."
This was the most engaging read for me this year; a joyous buddy-read with Charles who has shared such enriching point of views with me. William Trevor is an immensely skillful writer! I am still thinking about the characters. They are so present and on my mind, even though I have finished reading this on 3 September. I put this novel in my jewel box.
I particularly liked the bond that the new step siblings have:
"[Kate] believed, privately, that she loved Stephen in the same way as people in films love one another. When they walked along the seashore at Dynmouth she always wanted to take his hand, but she had never done so."
"Stephen: "... not unpopular with other boys and not aloof, but affected by a shyness that hadn't existed in his relationship with his mother and didn't with Kate. He found it easy to drift in and out of conversations with Kate, as it had been with his mother. It wasn't necessary to make an effort, or to be on guard."
A dramatic truth concerning their parents comes to light, and I believe it is important that it does.
"The truth was insidious, never was blatant, never just facts."
April 16, 2021
Having worked with adolescents for more than 30 years it is fair to say that I've come across a few strange ones. Such is the subject of Trevor's novel. I have always thought it difficult to write about that age group and portray it accurately, but Trevor does an excellent job here.
I prefer to see it as a sad story rather than one of horror, as I have seen it described. And as a splendidly accurate piece of historical fiction about the inhabitants of a small English seaside town.
The protagonist is 15 year old Timothy, more lonely than evil, at the local comprehensive, parentless in effect, with a seemingly predictable future at the town's sandpaper factory. But he dreams... of being a stand-up comedian and appearing on Opportunity Knocks with Hughie Green. He sees his chance for stardom initially at the town's Talent Show at the Easter Fete, performing an act based on the Brides in the Bath murders from 1915, which fascinates him, as do the town's funerals. He just needs a few props...
The wonder of this novel is that it broaches so many issues. What is to be done with Timothy, who ends up offending just about everyone in town? Trevor's slant is an optimistic one though, he sees a chance for redemption for the boy, and even a place in the community. And he probes deeper questions. In what may seem to outsiders an idyllic town, how could someone with Timothy's tragic background slip through the cracks. There is even an orphanage with perfectly happy children, that have in many cases been failed by parents, but it has missed Timothy, and the two 12 year old step-siblings home from their resepective private boarding schools for Easter holiday, also with absent parents, who Timothy tries in such a wrong way to befriend.
This is a sensitive and memorable novel of great compassion.
I was the same age as Timothy when this novel was published and indeed set, so the culture and habits of the day were thoroughly appreciated also.
I prefer to see it as a sad story rather than one of horror, as I have seen it described. And as a splendidly accurate piece of historical fiction about the inhabitants of a small English seaside town.
The protagonist is 15 year old Timothy, more lonely than evil, at the local comprehensive, parentless in effect, with a seemingly predictable future at the town's sandpaper factory. But he dreams... of being a stand-up comedian and appearing on Opportunity Knocks with Hughie Green. He sees his chance for stardom initially at the town's Talent Show at the Easter Fete, performing an act based on the Brides in the Bath murders from 1915, which fascinates him, as do the town's funerals. He just needs a few props...
The wonder of this novel is that it broaches so many issues. What is to be done with Timothy, who ends up offending just about everyone in town? Trevor's slant is an optimistic one though, he sees a chance for redemption for the boy, and even a place in the community. And he probes deeper questions. In what may seem to outsiders an idyllic town, how could someone with Timothy's tragic background slip through the cracks. There is even an orphanage with perfectly happy children, that have in many cases been failed by parents, but it has missed Timothy, and the two 12 year old step-siblings home from their resepective private boarding schools for Easter holiday, also with absent parents, who Timothy tries in such a wrong way to befriend.
This is a sensitive and memorable novel of great compassion.
I was the same age as Timothy when this novel was published and indeed set, so the culture and habits of the day were thoroughly appreciated also.
March 27, 2019
Those who didn't like gravy were indicated also, for there was often trouble where gravy was concerned.
My first William Trevor novel, read for the Trevor vs. Ali Smith knockout round of the 2019 Mookse Madness (https://www.goodreads.com/topic/group...) - except this book turned out to have been eliminated in a previous round and advanced by mistake.
Set in the early 1970s, the novel is set in the fictional small sea-side town of Dynmouth. Part of the novel's attraction, read 45 years later and as someone who was born at the same time as the 4 year old twins featured in the story, is how Trevor very much captures England at that time. On the one hand meals-on-wheels, and Opportunity Knocks and on the other the local gang, the Dynmouth Hards, who regularly attack the one non-white face in the town ‘the Pakistani from the steam laundry’ as part of an almost checklist-based regime of menace:
- leathers on - tick
- girlfriend on back of bike - tick
- attack the man from the laundry - tick
- terrorise the local nurse - tick
- spray pay racist graffiti - tick
- destroy a bench - tick
But the plot is driven by 15-year old Timothy Gedge, a memorable if not entirely realistic creation, who devises a bizarre and disturbing routine for the local talent show and then proceeds to blackmail most of the local residents with secrets observed in his wanderings around town (including a married man to whom Gedge's revelation of his true sexuality seems as big a surprise to the man as it is to his wife) in order to obtain the props he needs.
The black humour and disturbing story is rather muted by a thread that concerns the local clergyman and his wife - the former concerned at his impotence in being able to genuinely help his parishioners, and something of a redemptive ending to the novel involving the latter.
Worthwhile but no Ali Smith. 3.5 stars
My first William Trevor novel, read for the Trevor vs. Ali Smith knockout round of the 2019 Mookse Madness (https://www.goodreads.com/topic/group...) - except this book turned out to have been eliminated in a previous round and advanced by mistake.
Set in the early 1970s, the novel is set in the fictional small sea-side town of Dynmouth. Part of the novel's attraction, read 45 years later and as someone who was born at the same time as the 4 year old twins featured in the story, is how Trevor very much captures England at that time. On the one hand meals-on-wheels, and Opportunity Knocks and on the other the local gang, the Dynmouth Hards, who regularly attack the one non-white face in the town ‘the Pakistani from the steam laundry’ as part of an almost checklist-based regime of menace:
- leathers on - tick
- girlfriend on back of bike - tick
- attack the man from the laundry - tick
- terrorise the local nurse - tick
- spray pay racist graffiti - tick
- destroy a bench - tick
But the plot is driven by 15-year old Timothy Gedge, a memorable if not entirely realistic creation, who devises a bizarre and disturbing routine for the local talent show and then proceeds to blackmail most of the local residents with secrets observed in his wanderings around town (including a married man to whom Gedge's revelation of his true sexuality seems as big a surprise to the man as it is to his wife) in order to obtain the props he needs.
The black humour and disturbing story is rather muted by a thread that concerns the local clergyman and his wife - the former concerned at his impotence in being able to genuinely help his parishioners, and something of a redemptive ending to the novel involving the latter.
Worthwhile but no Ali Smith. 3.5 stars
January 8, 2019
This is my first William Trevor novel, and as the UK prepares to exit Europe in 2019, the timing of my read is appropriate; The Children of Dynmouth was written in 1976, immediately after Harold Wilson’s referendum on EU membership one year earlier, in 1975.
The portrait of Dynmouth (population 4139) is expertly laid out by Trevor. It’s a local community content to concentrate on local matters, with British television and film (James Bond, of course, Randall & Hopkirk (deceased)), and three banks (Lloyd’s, Barclays, and the National Westminster). The Simon Cowell of fifty years ago was Hughie Green, encouraging the belief that Opportunity Knocks for the undiscovered. Young adolescents spent time not on Play Stations, but studying Wisden, and the myriad of possibilities afforded by County cricket averages.
It’s a different, simpler, more socially incestuous pace of life in western England in the 1970’s; more inward looking, than the modern age of cable TV and social media. It’s a moment in time wonderfully captured by Trevor- the book set between 1970-1974.
The narrative, and plot gives the author the chance to dig beneath the surface of the seemingly law abiding, god fearing residents of Dynmouth. Central to which is fifteen year old Timothy Gedge.
Its a clever age to ascribe to your anti hero. Notionally still a child, Timothy is no novice when it comes to his ability to delve into secrets, and irritate even the most indulgent adult. Timothy is a petty thief, he's constantly snooping, he blackmails; there's an implicit sense that he has the potential to cause real harm to children younger than himself.
The Children of Dynmouth is well worth a read for Timothy alone. The reader is drawn into Timothy's plotting, and his faux matey persona... "cheers".. a man/ child lacking basic social graces.
In everything he said there were wisps of mockery (146)
I was reading a book that had five stars in prospect, and I only changed my mind when Timothy left centre stage and William Trevor gives voice (via Lavinia Featherston) to wider ranging questions of morality and of whether its "bad luck to be born damaged" (210), or as consequence of bad parenting.
This reflection is evidently why Trevor titled the book The Children of Dynmouth. The insight didn't work for me, and especially against the devilish Timothy, this element of the novel lacked something, hence a small downgrade.
The portrait of Dynmouth (population 4139) is expertly laid out by Trevor. It’s a local community content to concentrate on local matters, with British television and film (James Bond, of course, Randall & Hopkirk (deceased)), and three banks (Lloyd’s, Barclays, and the National Westminster). The Simon Cowell of fifty years ago was Hughie Green, encouraging the belief that Opportunity Knocks for the undiscovered. Young adolescents spent time not on Play Stations, but studying Wisden, and the myriad of possibilities afforded by County cricket averages.
It’s a different, simpler, more socially incestuous pace of life in western England in the 1970’s; more inward looking, than the modern age of cable TV and social media. It’s a moment in time wonderfully captured by Trevor- the book set between 1970-1974.
The narrative, and plot gives the author the chance to dig beneath the surface of the seemingly law abiding, god fearing residents of Dynmouth. Central to which is fifteen year old Timothy Gedge.
Its a clever age to ascribe to your anti hero. Notionally still a child, Timothy is no novice when it comes to his ability to delve into secrets, and irritate even the most indulgent adult. Timothy is a petty thief, he's constantly snooping, he blackmails; there's an implicit sense that he has the potential to cause real harm to children younger than himself.
The Children of Dynmouth is well worth a read for Timothy alone. The reader is drawn into Timothy's plotting, and his faux matey persona... "cheers".. a man/ child lacking basic social graces.
In everything he said there were wisps of mockery (146)
I was reading a book that had five stars in prospect, and I only changed my mind when Timothy left centre stage and William Trevor gives voice (via Lavinia Featherston) to wider ranging questions of morality and of whether its "bad luck to be born damaged" (210), or as consequence of bad parenting.
This reflection is evidently why Trevor titled the book The Children of Dynmouth. The insight didn't work for me, and especially against the devilish Timothy, this element of the novel lacked something, hence a small downgrade.
May 17, 2018
I really enjoyed this - it's a really interesting and creepy exploration of village life in a small and claustrophobic place. The writing was great and the characterisation and atmosphere so well done.
September 14, 2020
This bittersweet novel by the great writer William Trevor is truly a classic in every way. The story of a small British village and the lives of the people who live in it. His characters are unforgettable, especially his portrait of an adolescent boy who both disturbs and compels the entire village with his
spying. Five stars.
spying. Five stars.
May 16, 2023
One of the most genuinely unsettling things I've ever read.
August 15, 2014
Seriously creepy! William Trevor is one of my favourite authors - and my favourite short story writer - and he does this brilliantly as always. What is actually wrong with Timothy Gedge? The references to him being 'bewildered' when his victims run away from him or shout at him suggest social ineptitude, but he is clearly also shown to be malicious, and Kate thinks he is possessed.
The whole 'small seaside town' and its introspective nature is so well done too. To have thought of a character like Timothy Gedge is a mark of a great imagination, but to place it so well and have all the other characters really makes this novel. Highly recommended.
The whole 'small seaside town' and its introspective nature is so well done too. To have thought of a character like Timothy Gedge is a mark of a great imagination, but to place it so well and have all the other characters really makes this novel. Highly recommended.
February 27, 2021
It’s always interesting to read a new author and not really know what to expect. Reading the synopsis for this novel, it sort of gives you the impression that you’re going to get a bit of a low-key thriller involving a creepy kid, but what you really get is an examination of loneliness through the eyes of someone who has been abandoned by those around him (albeit because he IS very creepy) and the breakdown of village life by an outsider who knows and uses all their secrets.
Timothy Gedge is quite the creation, half annoying child - half master blackmailer, Trevor imbues the character with a commendable level of spunk, whilst also making sure to keep the creep factor at a level that never tips over into likability. He’s always just a little *too* weird, or a little *too* calculated for you to get behind how he goes about attempting to destroy his fellow villagers lives, resulting in a novel full of characters who can best be described as ‘grey’.
It’s an interesting tale that truthfully took me a little while to fully immerse myself in, and if there’s anything negative to say here it’s that it simply began to end just as it began to truly engage me, resulting in a finale that felt a little deflated considering the expectations that had risen as the novel continued.
Overall, Trevor is definitely an author I plan to read a bit more of, especially since his novels now come in all MATCHING editions! Thank you publisher, you’ve done good work 🙏
Timothy Gedge is quite the creation, half annoying child - half master blackmailer, Trevor imbues the character with a commendable level of spunk, whilst also making sure to keep the creep factor at a level that never tips over into likability. He’s always just a little *too* weird, or a little *too* calculated for you to get behind how he goes about attempting to destroy his fellow villagers lives, resulting in a novel full of characters who can best be described as ‘grey’.
It’s an interesting tale that truthfully took me a little while to fully immerse myself in, and if there’s anything negative to say here it’s that it simply began to end just as it began to truly engage me, resulting in a finale that felt a little deflated considering the expectations that had risen as the novel continued.
Overall, Trevor is definitely an author I plan to read a bit more of, especially since his novels now come in all MATCHING editions! Thank you publisher, you’ve done good work 🙏
May 21, 2014
God, William Trevor is brilliant. This story of a strange, misfit teenager in a coastal town opens up, as so much of Trevor's fiction does, into the astonishing breadth and depth of the mysteries of human experience (I know that sounds pretentious--blame me for that, not Trevor). Now the same sort of boy would be hanging out in the nastier sort of Reddit chatrooms and trolling online and igniting flame wars for the lulz.
May 9, 2021
This was part mystery, part scary book, part travelogue, part gardening hints, part games, and lots of creepiness. It introduced me to a lot of new words and expressions such as bad hat,quidnunc,coconut shy(my favourite!)shingle and several others. It also introduced me to Timothy Gedge, who I previously described as Hannibal Lector without the charm. The children are the focus of the book but there are plenty of adults with all their attendant faults, sins and idiosyncracies .There are a lot of sub-plots, characters and shocks in this book. I have two suggestions for it. 1)read the book and 2) read it slowly and carefully. There's an awful lot to it. 4.5 stars
n.b. There's even a crocodile and a zebra in it!
n.b. There's even a crocodile and a zebra in it!
December 3, 2023
I like to think of myself as a kind person, we probably all do. One who can understand other people’s situations, one who can empathise and, where possible, help.
I also like to think of myself as a person with limits and borders: knowing when to say “no”, where my help is being taken for granted, and when helping someone else can easily turn into you being used.
But then I also like to think of myself as an every-day person, which means I get confused, torn between wanting to help and wanting to run, and feeling guilty if I leave someone behind.
In that regard, The Children of Dynmouth was a very uncomfortable book to read! I love it when a book questions my moral stance on things. When it’s not a plain and straightforward story that tells you “here is a sad story of a mistreated person: now empathise” or “here is a story of a bad person: see how mean they are?” William Trevor has packed all of that in a single character making you walk the vicious circle of wanting that person both severely punished and hugged and protected at the same time.
While I was reading the book, I had a brief chat with @books.in.films about it and about how there are so many things complicating your judgement about Timothy even further: on the one hand, the question of whose responsibility it is if all of us as a society create a monster. Then what if this monster is actually a child? And then how do you judge what’s an appropriate punishment or what consequences should be taken if you know that whatever harm they’ve caused was not entirely intentional?
This book creeped me out and gave me the shivers and I have to say, it’s such a complex and multilayered piece of storytelling that I don’t think I’ve come across anything like it in many contemporary works of fiction!
I also like to think of myself as a person with limits and borders: knowing when to say “no”, where my help is being taken for granted, and when helping someone else can easily turn into you being used.
But then I also like to think of myself as an every-day person, which means I get confused, torn between wanting to help and wanting to run, and feeling guilty if I leave someone behind.
In that regard, The Children of Dynmouth was a very uncomfortable book to read! I love it when a book questions my moral stance on things. When it’s not a plain and straightforward story that tells you “here is a sad story of a mistreated person: now empathise” or “here is a story of a bad person: see how mean they are?” William Trevor has packed all of that in a single character making you walk the vicious circle of wanting that person both severely punished and hugged and protected at the same time.
While I was reading the book, I had a brief chat with @books.in.films about it and about how there are so many things complicating your judgement about Timothy even further: on the one hand, the question of whose responsibility it is if all of us as a society create a monster. Then what if this monster is actually a child? And then how do you judge what’s an appropriate punishment or what consequences should be taken if you know that whatever harm they’ve caused was not entirely intentional?
This book creeped me out and gave me the shivers and I have to say, it’s such a complex and multilayered piece of storytelling that I don’t think I’ve come across anything like it in many contemporary works of fiction!
December 30, 2016
Dynmouth is a West Country seaside town with residents of all ages and classes and in influx of visitors in season. There are several adults, often with secrets hidden behind a respectable facade, but the main characters in this novel are some of its children and one fifteen-year-old boy called Timothy Gedge in particular.
Timothy is a disturbed and disturbing boy, who does some rather unpleasant things, including spying on the adults and attempting to manipulate them or upset them. It is difficult to like Timothy, but we also feel sorry for him; he wants to be noticed and liked, and his manipulations are designed to persuade those adults to help him put together the props for a macabre comedy routine for the church fete's talent contest. He dreams of being discovered and appearing on the television talent show of the time, 'Opportunity Knocks', where everyone from the town will see him and be amazed by his unusual comic talent. Meanwhile he wanders the town and beach in the rain, friendless and ignored (unless he approaches people), despite his distinctive yellow attire.
While our sympathies may be with Timothy rather than the adults whose grubby secrets he uncovers, Trevor is too finely nuanced a writer for such a pat story-line. When his victims are the other main child characters of the novel, Stephen and Kate, whose widowed father and divorced mother respectively have recently married, our sympathy for Timothy vanishes (although Trevor does remind us of it with a poignant ending).
Timothy is a disturbed and disturbing boy, who does some rather unpleasant things, including spying on the adults and attempting to manipulate them or upset them. It is difficult to like Timothy, but we also feel sorry for him; he wants to be noticed and liked, and his manipulations are designed to persuade those adults to help him put together the props for a macabre comedy routine for the church fete's talent contest. He dreams of being discovered and appearing on the television talent show of the time, 'Opportunity Knocks', where everyone from the town will see him and be amazed by his unusual comic talent. Meanwhile he wanders the town and beach in the rain, friendless and ignored (unless he approaches people), despite his distinctive yellow attire.
While our sympathies may be with Timothy rather than the adults whose grubby secrets he uncovers, Trevor is too finely nuanced a writer for such a pat story-line. When his victims are the other main child characters of the novel, Stephen and Kate, whose widowed father and divorced mother respectively have recently married, our sympathy for Timothy vanishes (although Trevor does remind us of it with a poignant ending).
August 26, 2023
Is Timothy Gedge simply a bored, neglected teenager, or something more sinister? How does he know so many secrets in the village? Is it because he has nothing better to do than to spy on people, or is he a psychopath? Or is he possessed by demons? Or perhaps he is to be pitied? He harasses and torments the people of the village relentlessly, until he gets what he wants from them. He claims to know things they would rather keep hidden, but perhaps what he threatens them with are all lies? They will do anything just to make him go away.
This book had me running the gamut of emotions; I would laugh (uncomfortably), gasp in shock, then feel like crying. The less you know about the story the better. I can't believe how good this short book was, it was so creepy and sad. I spent a whole afternoon, glued to my chair, dying to know what would happen. This is one for the top shelf.
This book had me running the gamut of emotions; I would laugh (uncomfortably), gasp in shock, then feel like crying. The less you know about the story the better. I can't believe how good this short book was, it was so creepy and sad. I spent a whole afternoon, glued to my chair, dying to know what would happen. This is one for the top shelf.
November 16, 2019
I started to read William Trevor’s books in the late 1990s and consider him as one of my favorite authors. His fiction and short stories are equally good. I joined GoodReads about 2 months ago and wanted to start to build up my library/books read here, since I do enjoy reading.
I gave this book an A in my rating system some 22 years ago! Apparently others liked it too - it won the Whitbread Award in 1976. Also these: Allied Irish Banks Prize for fiction; Heinemann Award for Fiction;Shortlisted for the Booker Prize.
I gave this book an A in my rating system some 22 years ago! Apparently others liked it too - it won the Whitbread Award in 1976. Also these: Allied Irish Banks Prize for fiction; Heinemann Award for Fiction;Shortlisted for the Booker Prize.
March 25, 2021
My introduction to William Trevor was through his short story collection,"Last Stories." It was so good, that I immediately decided to try out one of his novels, and I was not disappointed. It's all in the writing with William Trevor, it is so unobtrusive, so subtle, so understated. In this novel he builds up an atmosphere, a tension, a presence that takes over and tears away the facade of what appears to be a peaceful, friendly and kind community. I will definitely continue reading William Trevor.
October 18, 2020
Questo è un grande romanzo, forse il capolavoro di Trevor, e in Italia non è conosciuto come meriterebbe. Avvincente e inquietante, si legge tutto d'un fiato, e anche se la tristezza si fa sempre più intensa e inesorabile fino alle ultime pagine, è un libro che non si può non leggere.
August 30, 2020
My fascination with the work of William Trevor continues apace with his 1976 novel, The Children of Dynmouth, the story of a malevolent teenager and the havoc he wreaks on the residents of a sleepy seaside town. It’s a brilliant book, one that veers between the darkly comic, the deeply tragic and the downright unnerving. I can definitely envisage it being one of my highlights of the year.
The novel revolves around Timothy Gedge, an ungainly fifteen-year-old boy who spends much of his time hanging around the town of Dynmouth, pestering people with his unfunny jokes and unwelcome small talk.
Timothy has grown up as a latch-key child, left to his own devices with very little in the way of family support. The boy’s mother and older sister are as thick as thieves, locked in their own private clique, largely at the exclusion of Timothy himself. Moreover, there is no male role model for Timothy to look up to, his father having upped and left the family home not long after he was born. Perhaps as a consequence of this, Timothy has turned out to be a very strange boy indeed – a point that Quentin Featherston, the local vicar, frequently considers.
He was a strange boy, always at a loose end. His mother was a good-looking woman with brassy hair who sold women’s clothes in a shop called Cha-Cha Fashions, his sister was six or seven years older than Timothy, good-looking also, employed as a petrol-pump attendant on the forecourt of the Smiling Service Filling Station: Quentin knew them both by sight. In adolescence, unfortunately, the boy was increasingly becoming a nuisance to people, endlessly friendly and smiling, keen for conversation. He was what Lavinia called a latch-key child, returning to the empty flat in Cornerways from the Comprehensive school, on his own in it all day during the school holidays. Being on his own seemed somehow to have become part of him. (p. 9)
At first, Timothy comes across as being a bit slow, a child with learning difficulties or behavioural issues. However, as the narrative unfolds, a more sinister facet of his personality soon begins to emerge. There is a malevolent side to the boy, a deliberately vicious streak that manifests itself in several ways. Timothy loiters around the town, watching people’s movements, peering through their windows, and listening in to private conversations – all with the intention of using any information gained to its full advantage. More specifically, Timothy knows why Commander Abigail likes to hang around the beach on the pretence of going for a swim; he knows that Miss Lavant loves Dr Greenslade from afar, setting an imaginary place for him at her dining-room table; and he knows that Mr Plant is having an affair with Mrs Gedge, one of several women the local publican appears to have on the go at once. Funerals are another source of fascination for Timothy, to the extent that he hangs around at the graveside, even when the deceased is unknown to him.
To read the rest of my review, please visit:
https://jacquiwine.wordpress.com/2020...
The novel revolves around Timothy Gedge, an ungainly fifteen-year-old boy who spends much of his time hanging around the town of Dynmouth, pestering people with his unfunny jokes and unwelcome small talk.
Timothy has grown up as a latch-key child, left to his own devices with very little in the way of family support. The boy’s mother and older sister are as thick as thieves, locked in their own private clique, largely at the exclusion of Timothy himself. Moreover, there is no male role model for Timothy to look up to, his father having upped and left the family home not long after he was born. Perhaps as a consequence of this, Timothy has turned out to be a very strange boy indeed – a point that Quentin Featherston, the local vicar, frequently considers.
He was a strange boy, always at a loose end. His mother was a good-looking woman with brassy hair who sold women’s clothes in a shop called Cha-Cha Fashions, his sister was six or seven years older than Timothy, good-looking also, employed as a petrol-pump attendant on the forecourt of the Smiling Service Filling Station: Quentin knew them both by sight. In adolescence, unfortunately, the boy was increasingly becoming a nuisance to people, endlessly friendly and smiling, keen for conversation. He was what Lavinia called a latch-key child, returning to the empty flat in Cornerways from the Comprehensive school, on his own in it all day during the school holidays. Being on his own seemed somehow to have become part of him. (p. 9)
At first, Timothy comes across as being a bit slow, a child with learning difficulties or behavioural issues. However, as the narrative unfolds, a more sinister facet of his personality soon begins to emerge. There is a malevolent side to the boy, a deliberately vicious streak that manifests itself in several ways. Timothy loiters around the town, watching people’s movements, peering through their windows, and listening in to private conversations – all with the intention of using any information gained to its full advantage. More specifically, Timothy knows why Commander Abigail likes to hang around the beach on the pretence of going for a swim; he knows that Miss Lavant loves Dr Greenslade from afar, setting an imaginary place for him at her dining-room table; and he knows that Mr Plant is having an affair with Mrs Gedge, one of several women the local publican appears to have on the go at once. Funerals are another source of fascination for Timothy, to the extent that he hangs around at the graveside, even when the deceased is unknown to him.
To read the rest of my review, please visit:
https://jacquiwine.wordpress.com/2020...
October 28, 2024
The Children of Dynmouth was written by William Trevor, an Irish author, in 1976. The setting is 1970's Dynmouth, a fictional coastal town in Dorset, England. Timothy Gedge is the 15 year old protagonist. I was 15 in the 70's, too, so I felt an extra connection. Gedge is an odd lad, one that adults in town end up spending a lot of time thinking about. He's a shiftless, fatherless young man who really sees no future for himself besides sliding into a life of drudgery working at the sandpaper factory. In reality, Gedge is sandpaper himself. He amuses himself saying things to adults that leave them nearly speechless and angry. He's the town snoop, and always knows who's seeing who, and delights in letting the cat out of the bag. He uses his knowledge to make things go his way. In other words, he's not at all averse to blackmailing adults. And the thing that he's focused on now is an act he's preparing for the town talent show that will blow the roof off the town. So he's directed his "influence" on obtaining items he needs for his depraved "magic act". He needs a bathtub, an obnoxious suit, a wedding gown, and curtains so that he can quickly change scenes. What does that all add up to ? His rendition of the Wives in the Bath, an actual event in British history that occurred when three wives to the same man suffered the same bizarre fate - drowning in the bathtub. And now Gedge has added a 12 year old brother and sister to his list of targets.
I'm sure the prominence of the Generation Gap, a huge social issue in the 1970's, was a moving force as Trevor wrote the story. Gedge is what teachers used to call a troublemaker. The stern reactions that Timothy engenders in adults reminded me of some grumpy people in our neighborhood as kids - which made us want to irritate them all the more ! Gedge loves to tell off-color jokes to adults and watch their reactions. While the subject matter of the story isn't funny, the words and expressions Trevor puts in Gedge's mouth are absolutely hilarious, making The Children of Dynmouth one of the funniest novels I've read in a very long time.
I never read or watched Peyton Place, but this story reminds me of its reputation - that of a town where the obvious things are ignored, and what goes on behind closed doors is dwelt upon almost exclusively.
Stephen King is an encyclopedia of older horror literature, and after reading Trevor's style, I'd be surprised if King wasn't familiar with this book. The story purports to concern the bizarre behavior of teenager Timothy Gedge, but through him it exposes the uglier and seamier sides of the people of Dynmouth.
I'm sure the prominence of the Generation Gap, a huge social issue in the 1970's, was a moving force as Trevor wrote the story. Gedge is what teachers used to call a troublemaker. The stern reactions that Timothy engenders in adults reminded me of some grumpy people in our neighborhood as kids - which made us want to irritate them all the more ! Gedge loves to tell off-color jokes to adults and watch their reactions. While the subject matter of the story isn't funny, the words and expressions Trevor puts in Gedge's mouth are absolutely hilarious, making The Children of Dynmouth one of the funniest novels I've read in a very long time.
I never read or watched Peyton Place, but this story reminds me of its reputation - that of a town where the obvious things are ignored, and what goes on behind closed doors is dwelt upon almost exclusively.
Stephen King is an encyclopedia of older horror literature, and after reading Trevor's style, I'd be surprised if King wasn't familiar with this book. The story purports to concern the bizarre behavior of teenager Timothy Gedge, but through him it exposes the uglier and seamier sides of the people of Dynmouth.
February 9, 2017
Another almost perfect William Trevor novel. I wish I'd discovered him years ago - there is a large body of work to get through: I understand he was renowned for his short stories as well as his novels. Trevor was born in Ireland in 1928 and died last year (2016). The other novels I've read have been set in Ireland but this one is set in the English west country where Trevor lived for most of his adult life.
The title of the novel suggests innocence - but even from a short acquaintance with Trevor's work I knew that it would contain dark elements. The key figures are the children, Stephen and Kate, whose parents have recently married and the strange adolescent, Timothy Gedge. In the week the parents are honeymooning abroad, Timothy sets out to destroy Stephen and Kate's innocence. He is a peeping Tom who wanders the village and discovers unsettling secrets - not only about the death of Stephen's mother but also about the habits and proclivities of the village's adults.
Trevor uses language brilliantly - particularly his descriptions and dialogue - to show us the inner lives of characters. Adult as well as child characters are well drawn and we come to understand that even though there are people like Mrs Blakey for whom clouds are there 'for the harvesting of their silver linings', there are others who hide unhappiness, even from themselves, and others who go through life so carelessly that they create misery for others. Timothy's mother is such a person and Trevor allows us to understand how Timothy has become the nasty, scheming and destructive boy that he is.
A compelling read: 4 and a half stars.
The title of the novel suggests innocence - but even from a short acquaintance with Trevor's work I knew that it would contain dark elements. The key figures are the children, Stephen and Kate, whose parents have recently married and the strange adolescent, Timothy Gedge. In the week the parents are honeymooning abroad, Timothy sets out to destroy Stephen and Kate's innocence. He is a peeping Tom who wanders the village and discovers unsettling secrets - not only about the death of Stephen's mother but also about the habits and proclivities of the village's adults.
Trevor uses language brilliantly - particularly his descriptions and dialogue - to show us the inner lives of characters. Adult as well as child characters are well drawn and we come to understand that even though there are people like Mrs Blakey for whom clouds are there 'for the harvesting of their silver linings', there are others who hide unhappiness, even from themselves, and others who go through life so carelessly that they create misery for others. Timothy's mother is such a person and Trevor allows us to understand how Timothy has become the nasty, scheming and destructive boy that he is.
A compelling read: 4 and a half stars.
October 13, 2016
Timothy Gedge, an adolescent in yellow, is the stuff of nightmares, intimidating and manipulative of children and adults, able to be so because of his creeping about observing their every foible and sin. Trevor is masterful at building up tension as Gedge goes about the 70s Dorset seaside town, getting people to give him things for his projected slot in the Spot a Talent competition at the Easter fete. A wedding dress, a tin bath, a dog toothed suit for a macabre recreation of the brides in the bath murder, that he'd seen on a trip to Madame Tussauds. While he does so the whole town is exposed: The Commander goes 'homo-ing about', the publican has sex in the toilet with various wives etc.
Great little novel, which brought back a lot of memories for me, Petula Clark and Hughie Green with Opportunity Knocks, double bills at the cinema - in fact it seemed a little earlier than the mid-70s, maybe late 60s.
Great little novel, which brought back a lot of memories for me, Petula Clark and Hughie Green with Opportunity Knocks, double bills at the cinema - in fact it seemed a little earlier than the mid-70s, maybe late 60s.
December 21, 2016
For me, William Trevor is a writer far outside the star ranking system. How does (now did) he do it? Through one spare and elegant description after another, of things seen and heard from a cool distance, he breaks your heart for the decaying town of Dynmouth and all its yearning and enduring residents. And especially for Timothy Gedge, the awkward, devious, broken boy at the heart of the story. There's never a sense that Trevor wants us to DO something: care more, maybe. He simply stands, observers, and (for me anyway) shatters the reader's carefully constructed equilibrium.
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