A great writer
Another diversion from my 'magic fiction' theme to recommend a book that is magical in so many other ways.
There are many stars in the firmament of children's literature but, in stellar terms, Geraldine McCaughrean could lead the Magi to Bethlehem.
For over thirty years now her enormous contribution to children's literature has been acknowledged by numerous accolades and awards. Over this time, she has written an amazing number of different books. By this I mean to emphasise not the quantity of her books (although there have been many) but their difference, each from the others. In her novels for older children, she has never been drawn into writing series fiction or even to much in the way of sequels or sequences. Each of her books is a world created and imagined anew. Several are masterpieces in their own right.
As she has developed as a fiction writer, she seems to have honed more and more finely three quintessential qualities: a amazing power of imagination, a sublime mastery of language, and a true genius for storytelling. Nowhere does each of these shine out to more devastating effect than in her latest older children's novel, Where the World Ends.
It is essentially a read for teenagers; it often references the budding romantic/sexual interests of this age group, although it is never explicit in any way. However, it does not fall easily into what many would consider the 'YA genre'. It is accessible to any relatively sophisticated readers looking for more than just light entertainment or an emotional wallow. It is, in every sense, literature for young people. But that does not mean it is heavy or dull. Far from it. It is a deep, enriching and hugely engrossing story.
A true story
The novel is based around a true incident from 1727 when a party of men and boys from the remote Scotish archipelago of St Kilda were ferried out to an even more isolated rock, the 'Warrior Stac', and abandoned there for many months. Their expedition was to harvest sea birds for meat, oil and feathers, a regular part of the islanders' meagre living and, indeed, a practice the lasts remnants of which have which have survived into our own times, much to the consternation of conservationists. Their fowling involved days of perilous climbing on sheer rock cliffs above a churning sea, whilst hard living in so called 'bothies', which were in fact no more than clefts in the rock face. Isolated as they were, the small group of this particular fowling trip had no idea why the boat that should have returned to collect them never arrived, but the situation in which it left them, for many months, was obviously dire.
What imagination
Some might mistakenly think that to 'borrow' a story like this is a rather unoriginal and uncreative route into fiction. Not a bit of it. Geraldine McCaughrean has an awesome talent for imagining the lives of others, for putting herself into their skins, getting inside their heads, and through this, taking her readers there too. And she is able to conjure not only the place and situation, but the period too. This is a truly remarkable feat. Asked to imagine what it was like for those left on Warrior Stac, many of us could probably come up with a few crass generalisations for how the boys felt: worried, hungry, cold. But Geraldine McCaughrean imagines every detail of almost every moment, incident after incident, development after development, over days, weeks and months. She can imagines every action, thought and feeling, every delight, shock, disappointment, hurt and anger. She can relive for us every step, almost every breath, every hand and foothold on the vertical cliffs of the Stac. She imagines not only how anyone might have felt, but how the people of that place and from that time in history would have thought, felt and reacted. And she imagines it with such a rich amalgam of outer detail and inner truth that we believe not only that it could all have happened in that way, but that it must have happened, indeed did happen in exactly that way and no other.
What mastery of words
In and amongst this, Geraldine McCaughrean's command of language has developed into something masterly. Never less than effective, she often turns a phrase or moulds a sentence that sends shivers down the spine. Her images are frequently so fresh and vibrant that they galvanise your own imagination like an electric current. They not only flash up the most vivid pictures, but spark layers of meaning and resonance. Her language feels new minted. Often it is said of the very best performers of a well-known piece of music, that they make the listener hear it afresh. This writer makes you hear the English language in ways you have never known it before. Yet it is always fully in service of her content. Through it, she constantly evokes the period as well as the people, place and situation. Whilst never artificially 'historical' her language, in dialogue and beyond, is always fitting to the thought of the period, never jarringly anachronistic.
What storytelling
She is a consummate storyteller too. Largely through the thoughts and experiences of her young protagonist Quilliam (Quill), she weaves a tale that is utterly compelling throughout. It is a story to surprise you, shock you, amuse you and disturb you. It will stay with you long and perhaps return now and then even after you think you have forgotten it. Quilliam will always be someone you once knew. You may remember him when you see seabirds flocking around a cliff, hear them screeching, smell them. You may think of him when you watch storm waves ponnding a rocky shore, or wake in the night to the shock of lightning and the lashing of rain. You may recall his story if you ever see an abandoned croft on a bleak, remote island. His story will affect you deeply and wash around the shores of you mind like the eternal sea itself. But it will leave you richer for Geraldine McCaughrean shows one further wonderful characteristic. Through this, and many other of her books, she mines a profound humanity.
What richness of human understanding
Her book is not a simple one and nor are her characters. She eschews easy ideas of good and bad. These people are human beings in the fullest sense,despite their limited experience of a world wider that St Kilda. They are ambiguous and ambivalent. True, one boy in particular represents a particular selfish and bullying nature, and the men, do not, in the main come out of the situation as well as the younger characters. There is selfishness aplenty as might be expected in such extreme circumstances, where survival is paramount. Religion comes out particularly badly, too, or at least its more negative aspects do: self-righteousness, cruel prejudice and hypocrisy. Yet this is not altogether a Lord of the Flies scenario; there is much human kindness and cooperation too. Sometimes, 'The fowlers simply had in mind to care for each other, being the only people in the world left to care.' Quilliam, above all, shows again and again that he is rather more angel than monster - but also that he is far more deeply and richly human than either.
Where the world ends, story survives
And to top all this, Where the World Ends also celebrates the power of story. If religion is its nemesis, then story is its hope, its survival. Quill is a natural storyteller. His upbringing may not have left him fully literate or particularly eloquent but, at least in the experience of those around him, he tells a good tale. Several times on Warrior Stac he proves that, even when there no remedy for hunger, sickness or exhaustion, a story can actually make things better. It can keep people alive. But even this is not simple. He comes to realise, through Davie, the youngest of those stranded with him on the Stac, that believing in stories has consequences. But much in life has consequences, the good as well as the bad. And sometimes bad stuff happens. We just have to survive it.
At the end of the book it is quoted that:
'After the world ends, only music and love will survive.'
For Quilliam it may have been true. But for us there is something else too. There is story. Through Geraldine McCaughrean, Quilliam's stories survive, as does his own (even if it is an imagined one). She is one of those rare writers whose stories help our world to survive, and do so anew with each wonderful book.
