Jun 16, 2024
I’d seen enough paintings to know beauty when I saw it and, in this out of the way place, here it was before me.
—J.L.Carr, A Month in the Country
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I’d seen enough paintings to know beauty when I saw it and, in this out of the way place, here it was before me.
—J.L.Carr, A Month in the Country
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There was so much time that marvelous summer. Day after day, mist rose from the meadow as the sky lightened and hedges, barns and woods took shape until, at last, the long curving back of the hills lifted away from the Plain. It was a sort of stage-magic.
J.L. Carr
A Month in the Country
Those days...for many years afterwards their happiness haunted me. Sometimes, listening to music, I drift back and nothing has changed. The long end of summer. Day after day of warm weather, voices calling as night came on and lighted windows pricked the darkness and, at day-break, the murmur of corn and the warm smell of fields ripe for harvest. And being young.
If I'd stayed there, would I always have been happy? No, I suppose not. People move away, grow older, die, and the bright belief that there will be another marvelous thing around each corner fades. It is now or never; we must snatch at happiness as it flies.
We can ask and ask but we can't have again what once seemed ours for ever - the way things looked, that church alone in the fields, a bed on a belfry floor, a remembered voice, the touch of a hand, a loved face. They've gone and you can only wait for the pain to pass.
“Deep red hollyhocks pressed against the limestone wall and velvet butterflies flopped lazily from flower to flower. It was Tennyson weather, drowsy, warm, unnaturally still.”
J.L. Carr, A Month in the Country
Art- William Trost Richards
“Often since that long-ago Sunday, I have wondered why it is that men with large moustaches have this facility of declamatory prayer. For the stationmaster plainly had a fine relationship with his Maker (who he addressed as an old and valued friend): he also had a splendid, free-ranging moustache. Whereas Mr Jagger’s teatime grace was more propriatory, uneasily terser: I seem to recall that his moustache was closely clipped.
- J.L.Carr, “A Month in the Country”
Tom Birkin, Londoner, shell-shocked from the Great War, arrives, in the summer of 1920, in the village of Oxgodby in the North Riding of Yorkshire; he has been engaged to uncover a medieval wall-painting in the local church.
It is the tone of the book, written from the perspective of 50 years hence, described by Penelope Fitzgerald in the introduction to the Penguin edition as nostalgia, but not straightforward nostalgia, remembering, but not straightforward remembering, that makes it so enjoyable - wry, gentle, at an angle, but with a damaged edge; and often very funny, as here in this description of the non-conformist stationmaster and his guest, the visiting preacher Mr Jagger from Northallerton, as they offer contrasting graces, and moustaches.
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