In the generation before my own, Newfoundland became a province in the nation currently called Canada.
It’s about 3,000 km away from me, but it feels like a world apart. For me, as a reader, Michael Crummey’s The Innocents (2019) makes it seem both farther away and closer.
Historical Note: It was settled about 9,000 years ago, the homeland of several indigenous groups (whose descendants – other than the Beothuk, extinct from 1829 – still inhabit these lands today) but French and English colonial forces were in conflict over it for centuries before English government – eventually, Canadian government – seized control and Newfoundland and Labrador become a province in 1949. (The colonies took some indigenous people back with them as souvenirs: efforts to repatriate their remains are still underway.)
The language makes it seem farther away, like another nation.
Take, for instance, a passage like this, sprinkled with dialect which reminds readers of the Irish/Scottish/English settlements which took root:
“In August Ada swept the beach clean, scraping mollyfodge from the rocks on the bawn to make an untainted platform for laying out the cod that had been sitting weeks in salt bulk.”
But the story, in particular the relationship between Ada and her brother, Evered, the universal struggles they face (survival – how much more basic does it get – and a desire to connect), makes it seem closer. As does the occasional glimpse of humour in what is a chronicle of an often-difficult and occasionally tragic life.
“You was lost in the dawnies again,” she said. “What was it you was dreaming about?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Some old foolishness.”
“You’re an awful liar, Brother.”
He shrugged. “It idn’t for lack of practice,” he said.
‘Mollyfodge’, ‘bawn’, and ‘dawnies’: that might put you back on your heels. But Evered’s quiet joke, and the talk of dreams, the everyday work (be it sweeping or fishing): in essence, it’s everyday life.
Crummey is a writer I’ve been following for years. Since I learned he was a winner of the Bronwen Wallace Award for young writers (she was one of my first MustReadEverything authors).
His writing about Newfoundland is accomplished and resonant, but when he talks about storytelling, that’s when he wins my reader’s heart. And my favourite book of his (so far) is all about storytelling: Galore.
There is a lot to admire in The Innocents. And it gripped me from its opening pages. But the story felt uncomfortably intimate from the start. Not in the way that you might guess if you’ve read the story (that part – which I won’t identify as it’s a spoiler – didn’t trouble me). But in the same way that one of these characters views a scene which cannot be forgotten, I could not set aside some of the sadnesses herein. They surged beneath the remainder of the narrative. As sad things do.
The language is beautiful. One also cannot forget that Crummey is a poet, so we have snippets like this to enjoy: a man who reads “periodically from the black book in his hands, his voice like a spadeful of gravel against wood”.
The setting is mesmerizing: “The cove was the heart and sum of all creation in their eyes and they were alone there with the little knowledge of the world passed on haphazard and gleaned by chance.” (Here, too, you can glimpse the genesis of the title.)
And there is a balance to the telling, so although there is starvation, there is also feasting: “Once a week Ada fried a breakfast of toutons as a treat and she and Evered slathered the doughy cakes with molasses, licking their plates clean when they were done, each smiling to see the other do the same.”
But the loneliness.
It’s unshakeable: “They had all their lives been the one thing the other looked to first and last, the one article needed to feel complete whatever else was taken from them or mislaid in the dark. But each in their own way was beginning to doubt their pairing was requisite to what they might want from life.”
Like Carol Birch’s Jamrach’s Menagerie (2011), Cherie Dimaline’s The Marrow Thieves (2017) and James Hanniham’s Delicious Foods (2015), Michael Crummey’s The Innocents takes a survival narrative and forces a hard look at the ties that bind and support and choke. It’s a hard story to swallow, all the more so because it’s rooted in hard truths.
SHADOW GILLER 2019: You can also follow the Shadow Giller Jury’s progress at Kevin from Canada’s site and read Naomi’s reviews at Consumed by Ink. Our reading schedule for this year’s shortlist is here, if you’d like to mark a particular title on your own calendar.
I found this book so easy to read. I fell right into it every time I picked it up and the reading felt like smooth sailing. It was such a pleasure. But I hear what you’re saying about the sadness and loneliness. It’s impossible to let go. The distance between Ada and Evered was especially hard for me. I was constantly yelling at them internally to ‘talk it out’!
I don’t know if I would, myself, use the word ‘pleasure’ but you also heard him read from it, and I think that might impact one’s response reading it on the page later. Anyway, that doesn’t mean anything: one can find merit even in the absence of pleasure. I did find it read smoothly – when I looked up the length before responding to Anne’s comment above, I was surprised that it was just over 300 pages. It didn’t feel that long. How far from NFL do you feel, both in general, and via this book?
I still have to say it was a pleasure to read, even though the characters were sad and lonely at times. For some reason, their grim story made me happy. I like to think those real children from long ago would feel pleased to be understood so well. (Unless they weren’t and he got it all wrong – ha!)
I feel physically a long way from NL, probably because I’ve never been there. When we talk about visiting there, we inevitably end up talking about the cost of the ferry and the long drives to see everything we’d like to see. That makes it feel farther away than it really is. But I feel like we have things in common – mostly to do with being surrounded by the Atlantic and the reliance on the fishing industry (although theirs is probably greater than ours). I don’t know if there would be any coves left in NS as isolated as the one in The Innocents. But 100+ years ago there would have been.
Lovely review. He’s an author I’ve never read before.
Thanks: I imagine many American publishers would consider him “regional” but Newfoundland Gothic should be as much of a thing as Southern (U.S.) Gothic.
Great review! Crummey has been on my radar, but I haven’t read any. Maybe I’ll have to try Galore (I like sprawl!) especially since it would take the library months to cough up a copy of The Innocents, but I could get Galore right away. Thanks!
There’s something to be said for backlisted reading. Okay, lots of things, not just some thing. My copy of The Innocents was a Best Bet, snagged off the ‘new’ shelf at the library in a lucky moment (being as they aren’t hold-able, unlike the catalogued copies of it).
I’ve heard such great things about this book, but honestly I’m not a huge fan of Crummey to begin with (Galore was just ‘meh’ for me). Still, I hold out hope on this one, it most certainly seems intense!
Hmmm, then this one might actually be a better match for you. Smaller set of characters, landscape is ever-present but more backseat than Galore, and because day-to-day survival is a concern, there is more of a page-turning element (but it’s got some poetic bits so no danger of mistaking it for an out-and-out thriller), and although it’s still 300 pages, it feels shorter, I think. Not that I’m trying to say you should be a Crummey fan, but if you do enjoy this one more, I’ll shuffle down on the couch to make room for you.
hahaa ok noted!
I received a notice this morning from the library that my reserved copy of The Innocents is waiting for me, but I didn’t make it in before closing. 🙁
I have loved every Michael Crummey book that I have had the pleasure to read, but of all of them, I thought that Galore drove home the timeless, subsistence existence of the people of those coves. If The Innocents makes that point even more powerfully, then I may well be overwhelmed by this book!
Maybe the same reasons that I loved Galore so much are the reasons that it’s not popular with all readers – its sprawl, its willingness to embrace both the natural and the supernatural, an expansive set of characters, both joy and misery – and maybe it’s unreasonable to hope for another dense and storied read like that one.
Will be interested to hear how you get on with this one, Debbie: hope you can get to the library during opening hours before long!
[…] To find out which of Crummey’s books is Marcie’s favourite, and to read her full review of The Innocents, pop over to Buried in Print. […]