Jennifer Johnston (1)Kirja-arvosteluja

We have only recently gone through a period in which many things could be said that were impossible to articulate for many centuries before us. And with this openness came the realisation that many problems can be found among people of all classes, races and backgrounds, or as Friedrich Nietzsche would say Mensliches, a (allzumensliches (Human, all too human).

Jennifer Johnston writes mostly slim novels about just such topics, and the end of her novels always present the issue with reference and dignity. Her novels portray people from a sense of deep interest, and deep understanding. Johnston's novels are often set in Ireland. Stories and characters find themselves set back, reaching out for humanity and warmth.

Grace and truth is one of those stories, gentle and warm.

Got a bit fed up with this. Started off beautifully, struggled to finish it.
Think it was me rather than the book, I just slipped off track.

[This is a review I wrote in 2008]

**A heart-wrenching First World War story**

With the huge popularity of other more recent World War One literature, such as "Birdsong", "Regeneration" etc., Jennifer Johnston's wonderful story has been largely forgotten about - but not rightly so.

In 'How Many Miles to Babylon' the author really gets to the heart of life for young men in the trenches of Northern France and she writes a truly mesmerising and horrifying story, with great skill and few words, which leaves you quite stunned at the end.

The story centres around Alec, a boy whom we meet at a young age, growing up with Anglo-Irish parents on a country estate in Southern Ireland. Alec leads a sheltered and lonely life as a boy, and neither parent provides him with companionship, so he is delighted to find a friend in a boy from the village, Jerry. The boys keep their friendship secret as both are acutely aware of class divisions and know that neither should be seen with the other. When their friendship is discovered a few years later both boys are desolate but some bonds cannot be broken, and the boys enlist and go off to war together. Jerry is off to learn to fight so he can put his skills to use for the Irish Nationalist Cause, and Alec (who vaguely believes in Home Rule) finds himself goaded into war by his mother. Kinship survives despite further class divide in the army, but some obstacles are insurmountable and the two young men find themselves facing a greater horror than the War itself.

Although there are other convincing novels that deal with trench warfare in the First World War, this one really stands out for me. You won't be disappointed.

An odd story with two main characters and others - possibly none are telling the truth?

I think the work of Jennifer Johnston deserves more attention, and I was very happy to discover this author a few years ago. One of the strengths of her novels, I think, is very convincing dialogue. However, her novels appear to be of very varying quality, some remarkably good, while others disappoint. This one, like some other of her novels, has a very strong beginning but seems to lose momentum after a while. Still parts of the novel are memorable.½

A story of friendship between two Irish boys, Alex, from a wealthy family and Jerry, a boy from a working class family in the village. Against all odds the friendship continued from youth into adulthood when they both enlisted to fight in WWI and served in the same unit.

It's an outstanding novel and although short, packs in a remarkable amount of detail in an understated way, all of which paints a much larger picture that takes in the Irish political scene of 1918, loyalty, love, as well as the fields of Flanders. It goes from the hopeful halcyon days of childhood to the tragedy that transpired.

Reading this in the month of the 100th anniversary of the end of WWI it occurred to me that in some ways not a lot has changed for combatants. Like Benedict's Sand Queen that I read recently, the enemy is not the only foe: comrades can be just as vengeful, in this case the ruthless CO, Glendinning.

An excellent book that I can highly recommend. I'll be on the lookout for more by this Irish author.

(8.5)Well what a surprise this book turned out to be. It has languished on my shelves since 2001. Neither the title nor the cover held much appeal. I had inherited it when I took over my late sister-in-laws books. It wasn't until it was recommended by a book group member that I decided to read it. It turned out to be a gem.
It is a gentle, melancholic story. Our narrator, Imogen Bailey, draws us in to the story in a voice as if she is speaking directly to you. She has become a writer and in an attempt to deal with her past she is writing a memoir of sorts.
At the age of 17 she became mute and her parents, one a surgeon and one a paediatrician decide she has had a breakdown and have her committed to a home for treatment. During this time she is informed of her older brother's death by drowning. Imogen struggles to accept this as he was a champion swimmer and continues to believe that he has swum away to a new life. Imogen makes the decision to speak so that she will be believed healed. She also decides to live independently of her parents. The author gradually reveals the reason for her silence.The small cast of characters are well drawn and credible. At the close of the story this reader wanted to believe like Imogen that one day her brother Johnny would return.
I am delighted to find that she is a prolific award winning writer. So hopefully I can find some more of her titles.½

This very short (+/-150 pages) but brilliant novel gives us two pictures: of Ireland shortly before and during WW I; and of life at the front, near Ypres, during the early stages of that war.
Alec and Jerry form that classic friendship of the upper-middle-class and the working-class boy. They enjoy themselves, horses, and the delights of a rural upbringing. In steps the heavy-handed Mother, the friendship is driven underground, and things go on.
Alec’s mother encourages him to enlist (her motives are murky). He doesn’t want to, and doesn’t have to, things in Ireland being a little troublesome. Alex goes out into the night, meets Jerry, discovers that he’s going to the war as well, and they proceed to get uproariously drunk.
Soon thereafter they’re at the front, in the same unit, but separated again by class. Their experiences, brief as they are, have profound effects on their lives.
Doesn’t sound like much, does it? Author Johnston manages to create a searing story of friendship, love, and politics all in one go. This is an amazing read; do please try it. I guarantee that you won’t regret it.½

Although the story is set over fifty years ago now, it has a timeless quality. Mr Predergast is an ageing Anglo-Irishman, living in small town Ireland. His is a melancholy existence, living alone in his decaying mansion with only a drunken gardener called Sean for company. His wife has died and he is estranged from his only child Sarah, and there is only an irritating Rector chivvying him about moving to London to be near his daughter. His memories are no solace: his childhood was marred by the death of his brother at Gallipoli, and his mother made it obvious that the wrong child had survived. His adulthood and marriage to Clare was a peripatetic life, never settling anywhere, making no friends, achieving nothing of note.

Into this loneliness comes Diarmid, a local lad whose awful parents want to offload him into work at the manor. Mr Predergast is dismissive. Apart from the fact that he can’t afford to pay Diarmid and he already has a gardener of sorts, he is ossified in his isolation. Quite properly, he sends Diarmid packing, with advice to pay more attention to schooling than he has done so far, if he really wants to be in the army.

But Diarmid worms his way into Mr Prendergast’s solitary life, and soon the old man finds himself enjoying reminiscing about games of toy soldiers with his brother, and he likes introducing Diarmid to books and poetry and history. This is all ok up to a point, but Diarmid’s parents still haven’t offloaded him and he’s still wagging school. What turns out to be even more significant is that is Sean is jealous… and then Diarmid runs away from home.

To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2018/07/01/the-captains-and-the-kings-by-jennifer-johns...

-too much jumping around between current and past
-got restless every time i read
-don't like the writing style
-have to figure out who the characters are whenever the author starts a new part
-breaks up into many parts, not chapters
-never finished reading it

He will come, and still I wait
He whistles at another gate
Where angels listen. Ah, I know
He will not come, yet if I go
How shall I know he did not pass
Barefooted in the flowery grass

The moon leans on one silver horn
Above the silhouettes of morn,
And from their nest-sills finches whistle
Or stooping pluck the downy thistle
How is the morn so gay and fair
Without his whistling in the air?

The world is calling, I must go,
How shall I know he did not pass
Barefooted in the shining grass?

The main topic of this novel is loss and told by the narrator Imogen recalling her tale some 30 years after her brother Johnny disappeared in an apparent swimming accident. However, parallel to this she reads from her great-grandmother's diary and the despair that she felt after her son Harry failed to return from WWI.

For most of the novel Imogen is a young, vulnerable teenager overshadowed by her older brother Johnny, liked by her father, ignored by her mother, and loved by Mathilde, the family's housekeeper. Johnny is athletic, handsome, and intelligent, a swimming champion and possible Olympian. Imogen is largely over-looked by her wealthy parents has a normal brother and sister relationship with Johnny.

Johnny brings home a charming German friend with whom Imogen falls in "love" as do other members of the family all bar Mathilde. When Imogen is confronted by a shocking revelation she can't handle it and becomes mute. She is then sent to a sanatorium to recover her mental health. Whilst there she is informed by her father that Johnny has drowned. Imogen does not accept it believing instead that he left to start a new life. Therefore she hopes that Johnny will read the book and return, her parents having died.

Throughout lengthy pages of her grandmother's journal and letters from her father are included. However, most of the so-called family "secrets" I was able to guess them long before their were actually revealed. On the plus side this is a relatively quick read with some poignant passages and I enjoyed the author's spare writing style. I just found it fairly predictable.

A brilliant, haunting and heartbreaking story that does a great commentary on the senselessness of class and the brutality of war. It hammers home the importance of the two best equalisers in the world: love and death.

Longer discussion here: https://youtu.be/sq1GMERTVCI

Shadowstory is a deceptively simple story by Irish writer Jennifer Johnston, a favourite author of Kim from Reading Matters so I didn’t hesitate when I saw it at the library. It’s a coming-of-age story that explores the nature of love – and the betrayals that complicate it.

Polly is born into a loving Anglo-Irish family, but she becomes an outsider in her own family after her father Greg is killed in WW2 and her mother Nonie remarries. Polly sees this remarriage (and the unnecessary secrecy beforehand) as an act of betrayal and although she gets used to things even when she reaches her teens, she never recognises her stepfather Charlie as having any legitimate interest in her affairs. While vaguely fond of them, the small step-siblings that take away her mother’s attention only reinforce her sense of separateness.

It’s miles away from Dublin, at Kildarragh in County Donegal, that Polly feels at home. She is very fond of her grandparents Beatrice and Geoffrey who live on a large property, large enough to have farm hands, a couple of domestic servants and a devoted cook called Sadie who seems to anticipate every need. It is there that she develops a close bond with her uncle Sam, youngest of the brood and only five years older than she is. It is Sam who tests the boundaries of love, burdening her with his secret ambitions to be part of the Communist Revolution in Cuba. It is never made clear exactly what he does for the movement, only that he is doing some sort of preparatory work before going there, and that he won’t allow her to tell anyone about his plans or his whereabouts.

To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2016/05/06/shadowstory-by-jennifer-johnston/

First time I've read any of her work. It was for me a something and a nothing story it seemed to promise enough to keep me reading but then failed and yet I kept thinking that there could have been so much more. The writing style I got used to and again in an odd way kinda liked it so for that reason alone I might read one of her other books but I somehow doubt it.½

I read The Railway Station Man for an Contemporary Irish Literature course at university. In short, Johnston's prose is simply beautiful. It reads more like poetry than traditional prose. As for the plot and themes? Poignant and moving.

I first heard about this story because the actor, Andrew Scott, was set to read it for the BBC on their "Book at Bedtime" series. (Info is here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01rqnw1) I listened to him read an abridged version and it was incredibly haunting. I just had to know *what* had been left out.

This story still haunts me. It's a very simple tale, and quite short as well. But it's incredibly poignant and sad. It's a tale of wasted lives, loyalty, misplaced priorities (or perhaps that was merely a sign of the times?)

If you have a chance I would recommend this book. It's not a difficult read like many "deep" thinking type novels are. This book is fairly straightforward.

The only thing that wasn't told right out in the story was whether the "teller" of the story was in love with his friend or whether he was only a friend. I wasn't quite clear on that. But either way, his loyalty (and the stupidity of the higher-ups) really affected me, and still does.

Jennifer Johnston is an Irish author, whose work is characterized by her inimical and fine style, with a great attention to detail. Particularly, her eye for the natural world makes her books a pleasure to read.

A feature of non-mainstream authors is possibly that their style of writing is more difficult, and that it takes more effort on the part of the reader to get into the world and the characters they portray in their books. While some of the work of Jennifer Johnston could be said to be experimental in narrative structure, The railway station man is a fairly conventional novel.

Like The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald, The railway station man is set in a remote village in the countryside, some time in the 1976. The novel begins with a chapter describing Helen Cuffe's youth. The chapter ends with the tragic death of her husband, making Helen a young widow with a child, their son Jack. As her marriage had been happy, Helen resigns to the death of her husband, which leaves her in a state of permanent depression. Part of the bleak effect of the novel is that the story is seen through Helen's eyes. When Roger Hawthorne settles into the village, he is at first viewed with suspicion. Because of his hobby, putting derelict railway stations into order, he is nicknamed the railway man. Roger woes Helen, who gradually thaws to his warmth and love. While Roger, Helen and many villagers are locked into traditional life in the village, the younger generation is keen to get away from that Manus, who regularly goes to Dublin, Jack and Damian, hang in the pub and pull pranks. Until one day the two worlds violently collide.

The railway station man is a beautifully written novel, but somewhat difficult to get into. The inaccessibility into the minds of the character is thus reflected in the novel. Both Helen and Roger hold onto the life of old, for each of them 1944 was the year when their ordinary happy lives took a dark turn. The story unfolds against the background of the natural scene, the seasons and weather that creates a sense of permanence. Roger's hobby suggests passion, but his passion is focused on obsolete and useless objects, an attempt to recreate the past in the present. The derelict rail road also symbolizes the insulation of their existence in the countryside, and in time.

This is one of those books that I can see is good, and why, but I don't particularly like it. It just didn't strike a chord for me — Alec's relationships with his parents dominated the narrative for me, rather than the relationship with Jerry; this clearly was not what the author intended, is not where the "delicacy and power" that Siria mentioned resides, and meant that I was paying attention to literally the wrong story.

Jerry just didn't catch my gaze as a reader. I honestly would have missed a goodly portion of the erotic charge between Alec and Jerry if I hadn't been looking for it, having been told about it beforehand (thanks, goodreads!).

::sigh:: I wanted to love this. I wanted to request this for Yuletide.

One of these days, I'll have to go back to it.

not one likeable character except maybe damien. helen reminded me of barbara fisher who used to teach esl. unpleasant but attractive to look at and you're kind of drawn to her. i found the book quite good but i don't know if i can recommend it?

A dying woman looks back on key moments in her life in this novel about living and dying, connections and isolation. The Christmas tree serves as a symbol for youth, innocence, light, tradition, and fulfillment. I loved the story and grew to love the flawed, but very human, charac ters.½

J’aime d’amour Jennifer Johnston (à part pour son dernier roman paru en France) parce qu’à chaque fois, elle me touche, elle me met les larmes aux yeux (j’ai un côté parfois maso). C’est ce qui nous plaisait, à ma mère et à moi, dans la littérature irlandaise. Bien sûr, il ne faut pas lire ces romans quand on est vraiment trop déprimé (quoique je suis en train de lire Breakfast on Pluto de Patrick McCabe et c’est triste mais réjouissant à la fois, plein de pèche).

Donc encore une fois, elle m’a mis les larmes aux yeux. C’est une femme, quarante-cinq ans, mais aussi une jeune maman, qui se meurt d’une leucémie et qui a décidé de mourir sans que la médecine ait rien décidé là-dedans. C’est donc une femme avec un caractère particulier, un caractère libre et courageux. C’est ce côté libre qui a dirigé toute sa vie. Elle a abandonné ses études pour se débrouiller toute seule et suivre sa voie à Londres (elle n’a pas réussi car elle voulait de venir écrivain). Elle a fait un bébé toute seule. L’impression que cela m’a fait, c’est qu’elle n’a jamais réussi à vivre complètement. On lui dit qu’elle a un petit talent pour l’écriture et elle arrête. Avec le père de l’enfant, c’était le grand amour et elle le quitte une fois qu’elle est enceinte. Finalement, mourir elle ne pourra pas arrêter, même si elle le décide, avant d’avoir réussi. C’est comme si enfin elle arrive au bout de quelque chose.

Jennifer Johnston alterne les périodes de souvenir et les moments de maladie. Au fur et à mesure que le mal avance, cela devient plus confus ou plus mêlé (on est censé suivre le rythme des pensées de Constance car c’est le livre qu’elle écrit pour après sa mort. Par définition, elle ne le finira pas.)

La seule chose qui m’a dérangé c’est les changements de mode de narration. Dans le même paragraphe, où Constance parle, on a une alternance entre le je et le elle. Est-ce que le problème vient de la traduction ? Je n’en sais rien.

J’adore Jennifer Johnston donc quand un de ses romans sort, j’ai tendance à me précipiter. Jennifer Johnston c’est des histoires de famille, en Irlande, toujours de gens un peu perdus, qui se retrouvent à la fin du livre. Jennifer Johnston c’est aussi une écriture qui emporte. Elle est toujours simple mais par un je-ne-sais-quoi elle vous apporte des petites étoiles dans les yeux. On n’est pas triste en lisant un roman de cette auteure même si l’histoire est triste. Si vous n’avez pas encore découvert ses livres, n’hésitez pas mais par contre pas avec ce livre.

Ici, à mon avis, ce n’est pas un de ses meilleurs opus. Elle avait une histoire de base très intéressante, même si déjà traitée ailleurs. J. Johnston s’est surtout intéressée à la reconstruction de la cellule familiale autour du malade, quitte à laisser des points intéressants dans l’ombre. L’impression que j’ai eu c’est qu’elle n’était pas allée chercher assez loin ; les faits du passé sont un peu vite oubliés (c’est ce qui à mon avis donne l’impression d’excentricité du livre), la fin est un peu brutale … Pour ce qui est de l’écriture, c’est toujours bien (c’est ce qui m’a permis de lire le livre jusqu’au bout) mais je mets un bémol : tous les “mon chéri”, “ma chère”, “ma belle” … a toutes les sauces c’est très très lourd. On ne comprend pas pourquoi ils se donnent tous ces petits noms. Je ne sais pas si en anglais cela donne mieux. Cela rend les dialogues assez difficiles à suivre.

En conclusion, un roman plutôt pas mal mais je n’en garderai pas un souvenir au delà de deux semaines. Il me reste deux Jennifer Johnston dans ma PAL, mais des anciens : ce sera sûrement mieux …½

C’est le neuvième livre de Jennifer Johnston que je lis. Elle ne m’a déçue qu’une seule fois et ce n’est certainement pas avec cet opus-ci qui est, à mon avis, un de ses livres les plus réussis.

Au départ, ils étaient deux, Geoffrey et Beatrice. Puis six enfants sont venus se rajoutés, cinq garçons et une fille. Ils habitent Kildarragh, une belle bâtisse près de Galway. Ils y vivent heureux. En tout cas, on le suppose car cela se passe avant le début du roman. Les enfants grandissent et commencent à prendre leurs envols : l’aîné va étudier à Dublin. Il, Greg, se marie en secret avec Nonie et à une fille, Polly. C’est elle qui nous raconte l’histoire de Kildarragh de sa naissance (à elle) jusqu’à la mort de ses grands-parents, qui marquera la vente de la maison.

La guerre, la Seconde, éclate. Bien que l’Irlande soit neutre, Greg s’engage dans les troupes britanniques. Il décédera au combat. Jassie elle aussi s’engage à Londres (où elle vivait avant) dans la surveillance aérienne (si j’ai bien compris). Elle mourra dans un bombardement. C’est une première épreuve pour la famille.

Pour autant, cela ressoude. En plus, il y a Polly que tout le monde appelle Baby parce que c’est le bébé de la famille. Il y a aussi Sam, l’oncle de Polly qui n’a pas eu le temps de connaître Greg car il est né seulement cinq ans avant Polly. Entre les deux enfants, un lien indéfectible, encouragé par les adultes, se noue. Pourtant, Polly et Nonie après la guerre partiront s’installer à Dublin. Polly ne reviendra que pour les vacances voir “sa” famille (en opposition avec la nouvelle famille de Nonie). Elle grandit et connaît les joies de l’enfance, les difficultés de la préadolescence. On ne lui dit pas tout pour ménager son enfance. Elle le vit plus ou moins bien, pleure beaucoup et souvent. Pourtant, quand Sam (qui l’aime comme une fille et non comme une nièce) décide de partir à Cuba pour s’engager aux côtés des communistes, il ne le dira qu’à elle et lui demandera le secret, secret qu’elle gardera malgré les demandes répétées de ses grands-parents.

Il y a la mort du chien adoré par toute la famille ou plutôt adoré comme un membre de la famille. Il y a la tentative de mariage d’un des fils, Harry, avec une toute jeune fille. Le problème qui se posera n’est pas l’âge mais la différence de religion.

Comme vous le voyez, il y a une multitude de personnages qui sont tous attachants, bien décrits. Ce n’est absolument pas difficile de s’y retrouver. On n’a pratiquement l’impression de faire partie de la famille.

Ce qui m’a particulièrement plu dans cet opus de Jennifer Johnston c’est la manière dont elle se met dans les pas de Polly. Le texte est censé avoir été décrit par Polly plus tard mais à chaque, on a l’impression de ressentir ce qu’elle a ressenti au moment de l’histoire. C’est un peu comme les mémoires d’une vielle femme, comme une histoire que raconterait une grand-mère à ses petits-enfants, autour d’un feu de cheminée.

En conclusion, Jennifer Johnston dit les ombres qui passent dans une maison au cours de la vie de celle-ci. C’est fait avec nostalgie et une douce mélancolie. Cela touche au cœur.½

With a title referencing a traditional nursery-rhyme this novel retraces some familiar ground. How Many Miles to Babylon presents issues of friendship, family, class and war. What makes the novel worthwhile is the fine writing style of the author. Both the description of the desolation of Ireland as seen from the eyes of the impressionable youths and the experience on the fields of Flanders as it ends their innocence is well told.

The story begins, however, with the complex tale of a friendship between two boys in Ireland prior to and during World War I. Alec, the son of Anglo-Irish parents grows up lonely and friendless on his parents' estate in Wicklow during the early years of the 20th century. His parents have a difficult relationship and it is stated that "their only meeting place was the child." He meets a local boy, Jerry, who shares his passion for horses. Alec's mother, who believes strongly in the class system of early twentieth century Ireland, discovers the friendship and forbids him to spend any more time with Jerry. Their friendship is one that transcends their differences in class and character.

I found the psychology of the family triangle of Alec, his over-bearing mother and his deferential father to be the most interesting aspect of this slight novel. Their friendship is continued in private until the outbreak of the First World War. Jerry signs up as his father is already in the British Army and the King's Shilling would be of great benefit to his mother. Alec feels no compulsion to sign up until his mother tells Alec that his father Fredrick is not his biological father and in that moment he is so frustrated with his mother he impulsively signs up. In France the two friends are stationed together, but now divided by rank as well as class. They are commanded by Major Glendinning, a ruthless officer who shares Alec's mother's belief in the class system and divisions between rank, demanding that there be 'no flaw in the machinery'. When Jerry learns that his father is missing, he leaves to find out what happened to his father leading to a tragic ending.

While the end of the story is apparent from the opening pages, the complex and lyrical style of the author held my interest and kept me reading to discover the story behind the sad beginning. Another view of the tragic nature of the Great War, this short novel resonates with better and more substantial fictions and I would recommend readers turn, or return, to Erich Maria Remarque's magnificent All Quiet on the Western Front for the seminal version of this tragic turning point in World history.