My posts from June and October '14 have already recorded my profound admiration for writer Nigel McDowell, who died at a tragically young age early last year. Thankfully, we now have his posthumously published third and final work, The House of Mountfathom.
In his three books, Nigel McDowell has pushed the boundaries of children's/YA literature in brave and remarkable ways. Because of this, his contribution to the canon is considerable. His work is lyrical, thoughtful, at times almost mystical. It is resonant of myth and magic. It is powerfully political and intensely personal. It is of the past and of the future. Yet, in the present, it is profoundly human and deeply loving.
His books are not a trilogy, although his trademark themes interweave between them, as do his exciting adventures with both language and narrative form. This third book is again a wildly original and imaginative amalgam that mixes echos of Irish political strife and violence with the translucent shimmer of fading magic. The land is being overrun by hatred and conflict, and the old magical order, which has long upheld its peace, is failing to take. Protagonist, Luke, seems destined to become the last of his magical family, the titular Mountfathom, 'house' in both its dynastic and architectural sense.
The story of Luke's growing is a baroque fantasy where an intertwining dance of narrative and language, content and form, weaves a spell of fiction that feeds on the very highest traditions of Irish writing It is breathtakingly done. The house itself must be one of fantasy literature's most enchanting and enchanted creations; its weird and wonderful rooms delight the imagination and thrill the senses. Opposed to it, however, is all that is violent and self-seeking, whether this is the authoritarian rule of 'the castle', or the freedom-fighting rebels and 'land-grabbers'. Worst of all is the dark magic of 'Westminster', turned to political and destructive ends. The beautiful, fey magic of Mountfathom stands little chance.
In fact this is, in many ways a bleak, ominous story. It is about death and endings. It is the fading, the forgetting of beautiful magic. Yes, it is about change of revolution The old order is certainly being overturned. The long-oppressed are asserting themselves at last. But is all for the best? I was constantly, and perhaps very appropriately, reminded of W B Yeats: 'All changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born.' And, even more potently: 'Many ingenious, lovely things are gone.'
But this book is also the story of a friendship, an unexpected friendship between the magical son of the 'great house' and, Killian, a former thief from the city tenements. Have and have not. Have all and have nothing. One is proud, determined, sensitive, questioning, the other is down-to-earth and uneducated but ultimately savvy, brave and loyal. Yet they develop a mutual commitment that is rarely described, but often implied, and ultimately left beyond doubt. Which, if either, is the stronger is less certain. But their interdependence is the heart of the book in every sense. They hold each other's hands through the darkness
Is The House of Mountfathom a masterpiece? It could well be. Is it an entirely comfortable read? In truth, I think not. It is heavy going at times, rather humourless. Its unrelenting use of the present tense can be tiresome. Yet it remains a very fine piece of writing from a very fine writer; one who, I am sure , would have produced more wonderful books had he lived longer. But now we must be grateful for what we have. And indeed we are. And when, at the close, the beautiful, magical, Luke goes off into the utter, unknown dark of the 'gloaming', it is unspeakably moving. What he leaves is his friend, and love, and loss and longing - and,perhaps some hope. At the last. Luke is determined to use imagination to return the creatures of ancient magic to the land. And Killian?
I much regret that I have missed the chance to say thank you to Nigel. 'Many, ingenious, lovely things are gone.'
But the gyants and the faerie raths are back.