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joecam79's review against another edition
4.0
4.5*
The “Boston Tapes” were an oral history project about the Irish Troubles, commenced by Boston College in 2001. Researchers conducted interviews with both republicans and loyalists, on the understanding that the transcripts of the interviews would not be released to the authorities, at least until the interviewees’ deaths. Years later, investigators sought access to the tapes, giving rise to legal and diplomatic issues which, it is often argued, might have had an impact on the Irish peace process.
This novel is inspired by the Boston Tapes, and short (fictitious?) extracts from the transcripts are included at salient points of the narrative. However, “Turning for Home” is neither about the Boston Tapes nor about the Troubles. Barney Norris seems less concerned with the “grand canvas” of History than with the intimate histories of his characters.
Interwoven with the “tapes” are two first-person narrations. On the one hand, there is that of Robert Shawcross, a widower and retired civil servant, who was on placement in Belfast at the time of the Enniskellen bombing in 1987. In his understated way, Robert contributed to negotiations between the English Government and the Republicans following the bombing. On his 80th birthday, as family and friends converge on his country home for his yearly birthday party, he is briefly brought out of his retirement by two old contacts concerned about developments involving the Tapes.
In counterpoint with Robert's story, there is the narrative of his granddaughter Kate, still nursing emotional and physical scars following a horrific accident. Kate returns to her Granddad’s party after a three-year absence, and has to face meeting her estranged mother, Robert’s daughter Hannah. Against the “set-piece” of the open-air party, we learn Kate and Robert’s stories and, through them, that of the persons close to them.
There is much to enjoy in Norris’s novel. For a start, the unobtrusive yet well-crafted way he builds the structure of the novel – the alternation between the voices of Robert and Kate (as well as the ‘Boston Tape’ witnesses) is elegant and flowing, yet Norris also knows how to keep some surprises up his sleeve. What binds the different narrations together are a number of common themes running throughout the book. The theme of history and memory, for instance; how the past shapes us and how we in turn shape our past (or our reading of it, at least). There is also the theme of relationships and the sense of emptiness when these are lost or compromised – we are given to understand that both history and History are ultimately driven by personal relationships and personal needs. What struck me throughout the novel, in fact, was this constant interplay between the public and the intimate, between the extraordinary and the mundane. The novel certainly tackles major philosophical themes, but it also deals with the everyday – characters get out of bed, have breakfast, go for walks, go to the bathroom, have normal conversations over lunch, argue about whether to wash the dishes or chuck them in the dishwasher.
This is also reflected in the language of the novel. Often poetic and rich in eminently quotable “nuggets”, it nonetheless contains passages of unexpected simplicity. And this is, I think, what ultimately makes it so poignant and moving.
http://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2019/05/turning-for-home-barney-norris.html
The “Boston Tapes” were an oral history project about the Irish Troubles, commenced by Boston College in 2001. Researchers conducted interviews with both republicans and loyalists, on the understanding that the transcripts of the interviews would not be released to the authorities, at least until the interviewees’ deaths. Years later, investigators sought access to the tapes, giving rise to legal and diplomatic issues which, it is often argued, might have had an impact on the Irish peace process.
This novel is inspired by the Boston Tapes, and short (fictitious?) extracts from the transcripts are included at salient points of the narrative. However, “Turning for Home” is neither about the Boston Tapes nor about the Troubles. Barney Norris seems less concerned with the “grand canvas” of History than with the intimate histories of his characters.
Interwoven with the “tapes” are two first-person narrations. On the one hand, there is that of Robert Shawcross, a widower and retired civil servant, who was on placement in Belfast at the time of the Enniskellen bombing in 1987. In his understated way, Robert contributed to negotiations between the English Government and the Republicans following the bombing. On his 80th birthday, as family and friends converge on his country home for his yearly birthday party, he is briefly brought out of his retirement by two old contacts concerned about developments involving the Tapes.
In counterpoint with Robert's story, there is the narrative of his granddaughter Kate, still nursing emotional and physical scars following a horrific accident. Kate returns to her Granddad’s party after a three-year absence, and has to face meeting her estranged mother, Robert’s daughter Hannah. Against the “set-piece” of the open-air party, we learn Kate and Robert’s stories and, through them, that of the persons close to them.
There is much to enjoy in Norris’s novel. For a start, the unobtrusive yet well-crafted way he builds the structure of the novel – the alternation between the voices of Robert and Kate (as well as the ‘Boston Tape’ witnesses) is elegant and flowing, yet Norris also knows how to keep some surprises up his sleeve. What binds the different narrations together are a number of common themes running throughout the book. The theme of history and memory, for instance; how the past shapes us and how we in turn shape our past (or our reading of it, at least). There is also the theme of relationships and the sense of emptiness when these are lost or compromised – we are given to understand that both history and History are ultimately driven by personal relationships and personal needs. What struck me throughout the novel, in fact, was this constant interplay between the public and the intimate, between the extraordinary and the mundane. The novel certainly tackles major philosophical themes, but it also deals with the everyday – characters get out of bed, have breakfast, go for walks, go to the bathroom, have normal conversations over lunch, argue about whether to wash the dishes or chuck them in the dishwasher.
This is also reflected in the language of the novel. Often poetic and rich in eminently quotable “nuggets”, it nonetheless contains passages of unexpected simplicity. And this is, I think, what ultimately makes it so poignant and moving.
http://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2019/05/turning-for-home-barney-norris.html
karlou's review against another edition
5.0
I finished Turning For Home last week and I've been putting off writing this review because I'm not sure I'm going to be able to find the words that do this exquisitely beautiful book justice.
The story is told through the perspectives of Robert and his granddaughter, Kate as they narrate alternate chapters. Kate has arrived at Robert's house ahead of his annual birthday party - this year a milestone as it's his 80th birthday. Both are preoccupied by their pasts but for very different reasons. Robert is jolted back to his civil service days as confessions heard on the Boston Tapes - an oral history of the Troubles in Northern Ireland - bring an unexpected visitor from his past and lead to his discovering shocking secrets from that time and to having to contemplate his own role in events. The feeling of being involved again is almost intoxicating to Robert for whom this party is a poignant reminder of his own ageing and of loved ones lost, particularly his beloved wife.
Meanwhile, Kate has her own troubles. This is the first time she has attended the party for three years and she is dreading coming face to face with her estranged mother. The reasons for Kate's fragility are gradually revealed; a terrible tragedy led to her becoming very ill and ultimately needing hospitalisation. This is not my story to tell so I'm not going to discuss details of her illness suffice to say that it is covered with extraordinary sensitivity and empathy, bringing a touching clarity to a misunderstood condition without ever becoming sentimental. Male authors are often criticised for the way they write their female characters but Barney Norris has created a woman who is deeply complex and utterly authentic.
This is a story that is allowed to develop gradually, the alternating chapters are long, allowing the characters' narratives to unfold organically. Nothing feels rushed, this is a book to become engrossed in, to feel as much as to read. As it reached its conclusion the tears were streaming down my cheeks; Turning For Home shines a light on the complexities of family life and on love, loss, guilt and forgiveness with an exceptional perceptiveness. With its beautiful, lyrical prose that meant I reread passages to really appreciate them, Turning For Home is one of those books that speaks to your soul. Every word of praise you will read about this very special novel is absolutely deserved, it may only be January but this will undoubtedly be one of my books of the year. Highly, highly recommended.
The story is told through the perspectives of Robert and his granddaughter, Kate as they narrate alternate chapters. Kate has arrived at Robert's house ahead of his annual birthday party - this year a milestone as it's his 80th birthday. Both are preoccupied by their pasts but for very different reasons. Robert is jolted back to his civil service days as confessions heard on the Boston Tapes - an oral history of the Troubles in Northern Ireland - bring an unexpected visitor from his past and lead to his discovering shocking secrets from that time and to having to contemplate his own role in events. The feeling of being involved again is almost intoxicating to Robert for whom this party is a poignant reminder of his own ageing and of loved ones lost, particularly his beloved wife.
Meanwhile, Kate has her own troubles. This is the first time she has attended the party for three years and she is dreading coming face to face with her estranged mother. The reasons for Kate's fragility are gradually revealed; a terrible tragedy led to her becoming very ill and ultimately needing hospitalisation. This is not my story to tell so I'm not going to discuss details of her illness suffice to say that it is covered with extraordinary sensitivity and empathy, bringing a touching clarity to a misunderstood condition without ever becoming sentimental. Male authors are often criticised for the way they write their female characters but Barney Norris has created a woman who is deeply complex and utterly authentic.
This is a story that is allowed to develop gradually, the alternating chapters are long, allowing the characters' narratives to unfold organically. Nothing feels rushed, this is a book to become engrossed in, to feel as much as to read. As it reached its conclusion the tears were streaming down my cheeks; Turning For Home shines a light on the complexities of family life and on love, loss, guilt and forgiveness with an exceptional perceptiveness. With its beautiful, lyrical prose that meant I reread passages to really appreciate them, Turning For Home is one of those books that speaks to your soul. Every word of praise you will read about this very special novel is absolutely deserved, it may only be January but this will undoubtedly be one of my books of the year. Highly, highly recommended.
amyjane27's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
3.5
theresab's review against another edition
5.0
Beautifully written, and very emotive. I was unexpectedly reduced to tears a few times but I thoroughly enjoyed it nonetheless.
arirang's review against another edition
3.0
There ought to be truth and reconciliation in every stratum of the lives people lead.
Barney Norris is a very talented young writer - playwright, poet and novelist - and his debut novel Five Rivers Met on a Wooded Plain was certainly striking if, to my taste, rather flawed (see
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1793845387)
His second novel Turning for Home was inspired by the true-life story of what came to be known as The Boston Tapes, a series of recorded interviews conducted in 2001-6 with (former) Loyalist and Republican paramilitaries. These were intended to be confidential and to be largely about their experiences and motivations, but in many of those interviewed, rather unexpectedly, confessed crimes and named names. In 2011, the Police Service of Northern Ireland began a legal bid to gain access to the tapes and on 30 April 2014, Gerry Adams, the leader of Sinn Fein was arrested based on allegations part founded on the material (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-northern-ireland-27286543).
This novel is set, although the characters thoughts journey back in time, almost entirely on the following day. Robert Shawcross, a grammar school boy from humble stock who rose to be a senior government official in Northern Ireland, but now retired, is celebrating his 80th birthday, but also reflecting on the tapes:
They called them the Boston Tapes in the papers, not discs, not sound files. I thought that was strange at first; it made me wonder how the interviews had been recorded. I suppose it’s just the phrase still echoing onwards, even though we’ve surely all left cassettes behind by now. There is something about a tape that means the image holds interest long after it has been rendered technologically obsolete. The idea of a ribbon of speech, a voice speaking one truth on one side and then saying something else completely different on the other, two stories that might have contained anything at all, separated only by the breadth of the tongue they were told by. That is magical.
And I think perhaps it’s very human as well. Isn’t the life of any person made up of the telling of two tales, after all? People live in the space between the realities of their lives and the hopes they have for them. People spin myths from the quotidian roots of their experience, in order to create a small cocoon of space in which they can live between the dream they could never hope to grasp and the indifferent ordinariness of everything around them, in which they can tell themselves things might be about to get exciting, no matter how cramped the quarters seem, how dark the dawn, how low the ceiling.
Robert, living in a large country house, is the paterfamilias of a large extended family:
A few years ago , it became clear to me that I was now occupying a role as de facto head of my family in its diaspora, as the generation that had come before me fell slowly and finally silent.
and family tradition has an annual large gathering of the family (typically 100 or more people) at his house ostensibly to celebrate his birthday. But this year is the first he is hosting without his beloved wife, who died in the last year, so heavily coloured by sadness.
And he is also contacted and then visited on the same day by Frank Dunn, an retired Oxford professor, but who served as an unofficial communication conduit for talks with the IRA (with Robert representing the British government), notably in the immediate aftermath of the 1987 Enniskillen bombing. Frank, also retired, has been reactivated by senior Republicans to sound out Robert as to the British government's intentions with respect to the information revealed in the Tapes.
Robert's first person narrative alternates with that of his granddaughter Kate (see below) as well as fictionalised extracts from the Tapes. He reminded me of an Ishiguro narrator (from Remains of the Day, or Artist of the Floating World) looking back on his own part in historic events and perhaps overstating his role a touch. For example, he regards the dialogue between two 80 year old men as a sensible way even now to handle the concerns of the Republicans:
It seems perfectly reasonable to me to mistrust the capacity of the younger generation to handle these old issues with the tact they require.
and he sees himself as now having a role to play in healing his family (see below):
That is all I have ever wanted really - to have done my share. And perhaps in some way I have, in some walks of life. And perhaps there is still time to do more, to be of some use to my family.
Although unlike Ishiguro's narrators, Robert believes himself to be firmly on the right-side of history. However. as the novel progresses he does gain some new and unwelcome perspectives on his past dealings.
The alternating narration is by Kate, his 25 year-old granddaughter. We learn early on that this is the first birthday celebration she has attended for 3 years, that meanwhile there has been an accident and she has spent a lot of time in hospital, and that she is estranged from her mother, and indeed this party will be their first encounter for some time.
Kate is a deeply wounded character:
It’s weird, but it always throws me when someone shows me kindness. I never think I deserve it. Even when I need someone’s sympathy, it still makes me feel sick to ask them for some understanding, because I’m sure one day, when I want reassurance, I’ll call someone and they’ll tell me I’m not worth their time, they’ve seen through the act, they don’t want to know me any more.
This reference being made in the context of her new boyfriend Sam, a character from Norris's first novel [indeed the very character that most sums up my issues with that novel] making a reappearance.
And her own account makes her childhood and her mother's treatment of her sound dreadful. For example a family dinner when her mother, unusually decides to cook typically ends with her first asking Kate to do the potatoes, then:
‘You have to get those bits out with the end of the peeler! Can’t you see them? Why would you want to eat them? They’re disgusting. You have to get them out like this.’ She would snatch the potato and the peeler from my hands, and finish the job for me, sighing and harried. By the time dinner reached the table, and I sat down with Mum and Dad to eat, the air in the kitchen was usually thick with the threat of her censure.
Kate is also given to rather lengthy meditations on life which at times rather slow the narrative:
On the day we’re born, the future lies infinite before us, and all our lives can be spoken of as lying the future. Then a change, a migration begins. Little by little you journey away from the place where you started, and start to grow a past for yourself, and trail that out behind you. In the end, a day comes when you have no future left at all, only the past tense to speak in. What nothing in the world ever changes, though, is the present. The present is always only one day long. It’s always now, and everywhere, and endless. And that’s the most important screen we have to protect us – the world we’re mired in, distractions and details and miracles of the everyday.
But her genuinely very moving story gradually filters out over the course of the novel. Indeed, perhaps Norris over-relies on withholding information. It's almost a quarter of the way through the book when we learn her mother's name, a third before we find out about the accident, past halfway when we find out about her time in hospital (although rather heavy hints are there from the early pages so it comes as no great surprise) and one crucial revelation is saved, twist-like, until the end.
That said this withholding does reflect her personality. She has a new boyfriend but they seldom discuss their pasts:
We hardly talk at all about our different darknesses, our histories. We’ve picked up little secrets here and there.
…
No subject too big that it can’t be avoided with a cup of tea, a chat about the football. All real speech can happen through the secrecy of those intermediaries, and the steam rising from a cup of tea is the mast all hopes are hoisted on.
And the reference to the "intermediaries" is a deliberate nod to the roles played by intermediaries (such as Frank and Robert) in the Troubles. Ultimately Norris's theme as the opening quote suggests seems to be the need for truth and reconciliation all round, at the level of personal as well as societal conflicts. As Robert decided in his new found mission as peace intermediary for his family, but also reflecting on why so much was poured out in the Tapes:
What people want above all isn’t just forgiveness. What people love is the dream of laying it all out into the open and letting the light play over the acts of their days, all crimes confessed, all sins revealed. The idea of amnesty is only the end of a process the whole world longs for: the comforting dark of the confessional, the ease of the psychiatrist’s couch, the non-judgemental blank sheet of paper listening to them, and the giving up of sins into words. Only then, at the end of all that, do they long for some absolution to come from baring the soul. Above all what everyone wants to do is sing of their sorrows and sins.
Thanks to Doubleday via Netgalley for the ARC.
Barney Norris is a very talented young writer - playwright, poet and novelist - and his debut novel Five Rivers Met on a Wooded Plain was certainly striking if, to my taste, rather flawed (see
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1793845387)
His second novel Turning for Home was inspired by the true-life story of what came to be known as The Boston Tapes, a series of recorded interviews conducted in 2001-6 with (former) Loyalist and Republican paramilitaries. These were intended to be confidential and to be largely about their experiences and motivations, but in many of those interviewed, rather unexpectedly, confessed crimes and named names. In 2011, the Police Service of Northern Ireland began a legal bid to gain access to the tapes and on 30 April 2014, Gerry Adams, the leader of Sinn Fein was arrested based on allegations part founded on the material (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-northern-ireland-27286543).
This novel is set, although the characters thoughts journey back in time, almost entirely on the following day. Robert Shawcross, a grammar school boy from humble stock who rose to be a senior government official in Northern Ireland, but now retired, is celebrating his 80th birthday, but also reflecting on the tapes:
They called them the Boston Tapes in the papers, not discs, not sound files. I thought that was strange at first; it made me wonder how the interviews had been recorded. I suppose it’s just the phrase still echoing onwards, even though we’ve surely all left cassettes behind by now. There is something about a tape that means the image holds interest long after it has been rendered technologically obsolete. The idea of a ribbon of speech, a voice speaking one truth on one side and then saying something else completely different on the other, two stories that might have contained anything at all, separated only by the breadth of the tongue they were told by. That is magical.
And I think perhaps it’s very human as well. Isn’t the life of any person made up of the telling of two tales, after all? People live in the space between the realities of their lives and the hopes they have for them. People spin myths from the quotidian roots of their experience, in order to create a small cocoon of space in which they can live between the dream they could never hope to grasp and the indifferent ordinariness of everything around them, in which they can tell themselves things might be about to get exciting, no matter how cramped the quarters seem, how dark the dawn, how low the ceiling.
Robert, living in a large country house, is the paterfamilias of a large extended family:
A few years ago , it became clear to me that I was now occupying a role as de facto head of my family in its diaspora, as the generation that had come before me fell slowly and finally silent.
and family tradition has an annual large gathering of the family (typically 100 or more people) at his house ostensibly to celebrate his birthday. But this year is the first he is hosting without his beloved wife, who died in the last year, so heavily coloured by sadness.
And he is also contacted and then visited on the same day by Frank Dunn, an retired Oxford professor, but who served as an unofficial communication conduit for talks with the IRA (with Robert representing the British government), notably in the immediate aftermath of the 1987 Enniskillen bombing. Frank, also retired, has been reactivated by senior Republicans to sound out Robert as to the British government's intentions with respect to the information revealed in the Tapes.
Robert's first person narrative alternates with that of his granddaughter Kate (see below) as well as fictionalised extracts from the Tapes. He reminded me of an Ishiguro narrator (from Remains of the Day, or Artist of the Floating World) looking back on his own part in historic events and perhaps overstating his role a touch. For example, he regards the dialogue between two 80 year old men as a sensible way even now to handle the concerns of the Republicans:
It seems perfectly reasonable to me to mistrust the capacity of the younger generation to handle these old issues with the tact they require.
and he sees himself as now having a role to play in healing his family (see below):
That is all I have ever wanted really - to have done my share. And perhaps in some way I have, in some walks of life. And perhaps there is still time to do more, to be of some use to my family.
Although unlike Ishiguro's narrators, Robert believes himself to be firmly on the right-side of history. However. as the novel progresses he does gain some new and unwelcome perspectives on his past dealings.
The alternating narration is by Kate, his 25 year-old granddaughter. We learn early on that this is the first birthday celebration she has attended for 3 years, that meanwhile there has been an accident and she has spent a lot of time in hospital, and that she is estranged from her mother, and indeed this party will be their first encounter for some time.
Kate is a deeply wounded character:
It’s weird, but it always throws me when someone shows me kindness. I never think I deserve it. Even when I need someone’s sympathy, it still makes me feel sick to ask them for some understanding, because I’m sure one day, when I want reassurance, I’ll call someone and they’ll tell me I’m not worth their time, they’ve seen through the act, they don’t want to know me any more.
This reference being made in the context of her new boyfriend Sam, a character from Norris's first novel [indeed the very character that most sums up my issues with that novel] making a reappearance.
And her own account makes her childhood and her mother's treatment of her sound dreadful. For example a family dinner when her mother, unusually decides to cook typically ends with her first asking Kate to do the potatoes, then:
‘You have to get those bits out with the end of the peeler! Can’t you see them? Why would you want to eat them? They’re disgusting. You have to get them out like this.’ She would snatch the potato and the peeler from my hands, and finish the job for me, sighing and harried. By the time dinner reached the table, and I sat down with Mum and Dad to eat, the air in the kitchen was usually thick with the threat of her censure.
Kate is also given to rather lengthy meditations on life which at times rather slow the narrative:
On the day we’re born, the future lies infinite before us, and all our lives can be spoken of as lying the future. Then a change, a migration begins. Little by little you journey away from the place where you started, and start to grow a past for yourself, and trail that out behind you. In the end, a day comes when you have no future left at all, only the past tense to speak in. What nothing in the world ever changes, though, is the present. The present is always only one day long. It’s always now, and everywhere, and endless. And that’s the most important screen we have to protect us – the world we’re mired in, distractions and details and miracles of the everyday.
But her genuinely very moving story gradually filters out over the course of the novel. Indeed, perhaps Norris over-relies on withholding information. It's almost a quarter of the way through the book when we learn her mother's name, a third before we find out about the accident, past halfway when we find out about her time in hospital (although rather heavy hints are there from the early pages so it comes as no great surprise) and one crucial revelation is saved, twist-like, until the end.
That said this withholding does reflect her personality. She has a new boyfriend but they seldom discuss their pasts:
We hardly talk at all about our different darknesses, our histories. We’ve picked up little secrets here and there.
…
No subject too big that it can’t be avoided with a cup of tea, a chat about the football. All real speech can happen through the secrecy of those intermediaries, and the steam rising from a cup of tea is the mast all hopes are hoisted on.
And the reference to the "intermediaries" is a deliberate nod to the roles played by intermediaries (such as Frank and Robert) in the Troubles. Ultimately Norris's theme as the opening quote suggests seems to be the need for truth and reconciliation all round, at the level of personal as well as societal conflicts. As Robert decided in his new found mission as peace intermediary for his family, but also reflecting on why so much was poured out in the Tapes:
What people want above all isn’t just forgiveness. What people love is the dream of laying it all out into the open and letting the light play over the acts of their days, all crimes confessed, all sins revealed. The idea of amnesty is only the end of a process the whole world longs for: the comforting dark of the confessional, the ease of the psychiatrist’s couch, the non-judgemental blank sheet of paper listening to them, and the giving up of sins into words. Only then, at the end of all that, do they long for some absolution to come from baring the soul. Above all what everyone wants to do is sing of their sorrows and sins.
Thanks to Doubleday via Netgalley for the ARC.
joecam79's review against another edition
4.0
4.5*
The “Boston Tapes” were an oral history project about the Irish Troubles, commenced by Boston College in 2001. Researchers conducted interviews with both republicans and loyalists, on the understanding that the transcripts of the interviews would not be released to the authorities, at least until the interviewees’ deaths. Years later, investigators sought access to the tapes, giving rise to legal and diplomatic issues which, it is often argued, might have had an impact on the Irish peace process.
This novel is inspired by the Boston Tapes, and short (fictitious?) extracts from the transcripts are included at salient points of the narrative. However, “Turning for Home” is neither about the Boston Tapes nor about the Troubles. Barney Norris seems less concerned with the “grand canvas” of History than with the intimate histories of his characters.
Interwoven with the “tapes” are two first-person narrations. On the one hand, there is that of Robert Shawcross, a widower and retired civil servant, who was on placement in Belfast at the time of the Enniskellen bombing in 1987. In his understated way, Robert contributed to negotiations between the English Government and the Republicans following the bombing. On his 80th birthday, as family and friends converge on his country home for his yearly birthday party, he is briefly brought out of his retirement by two old contacts concerned about developments involving the Tapes.
In counterpoint with Robert's story, there is the narrative of his granddaughter Kate, still nursing emotional and physical scars following a horrific accident. Kate returns to her Granddad’s party after a three-year absence, and has to face meeting her estranged mother, Robert’s daughter Hannah. Against the “set-piece” of the open-air party, we learn Kate and Robert’s stories and, through them, that of the persons close to them.
There is much to enjoy in Norris’s novel. For a start, the unobtrusive yet well-crafted way he builds the structure of the novel – the alternation between the voices of Robert and Kate (as well as the ‘Boston Tape’ witnesses) is elegant and flowing, yet Norris also knows how to keep some surprises up his sleeve. What binds the different narrations together are a number of common themes running throughout the book. The theme of history and memory, for instance; how the past shapes us and how we in turn shape our past (or our reading of it, at least). There is also the theme of relationships and the sense of emptiness when these are lost or compromised – we are given to understand that both history and History are ultimately driven by personal relationships and personal needs. What struck me throughout the novel, in fact, was this constant interplay between the public and the intimate, between the extraordinary and the mundane. The novel certainly tackles major philosophical themes, but it also deals with the everyday – characters get out of bed, have breakfast, go for walks, go to the bathroom, have normal conversations over lunch, argue about whether to wash the dishes or chuck them in the dishwasher.
This is also reflected in the language of the novel. Often poetic and rich in eminently quotable “nuggets”, it nonetheless contains passages of unexpected simplicity. And this is, I think, what ultimately makes it so poignant and moving.
http://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2019/05/turning-for-home-barney-norris.html
The “Boston Tapes” were an oral history project about the Irish Troubles, commenced by Boston College in 2001. Researchers conducted interviews with both republicans and loyalists, on the understanding that the transcripts of the interviews would not be released to the authorities, at least until the interviewees’ deaths. Years later, investigators sought access to the tapes, giving rise to legal and diplomatic issues which, it is often argued, might have had an impact on the Irish peace process.
This novel is inspired by the Boston Tapes, and short (fictitious?) extracts from the transcripts are included at salient points of the narrative. However, “Turning for Home” is neither about the Boston Tapes nor about the Troubles. Barney Norris seems less concerned with the “grand canvas” of History than with the intimate histories of his characters.
Interwoven with the “tapes” are two first-person narrations. On the one hand, there is that of Robert Shawcross, a widower and retired civil servant, who was on placement in Belfast at the time of the Enniskellen bombing in 1987. In his understated way, Robert contributed to negotiations between the English Government and the Republicans following the bombing. On his 80th birthday, as family and friends converge on his country home for his yearly birthday party, he is briefly brought out of his retirement by two old contacts concerned about developments involving the Tapes.
In counterpoint with Robert's story, there is the narrative of his granddaughter Kate, still nursing emotional and physical scars following a horrific accident. Kate returns to her Granddad’s party after a three-year absence, and has to face meeting her estranged mother, Robert’s daughter Hannah. Against the “set-piece” of the open-air party, we learn Kate and Robert’s stories and, through them, that of the persons close to them.
There is much to enjoy in Norris’s novel. For a start, the unobtrusive yet well-crafted way he builds the structure of the novel – the alternation between the voices of Robert and Kate (as well as the ‘Boston Tape’ witnesses) is elegant and flowing, yet Norris also knows how to keep some surprises up his sleeve. What binds the different narrations together are a number of common themes running throughout the book. The theme of history and memory, for instance; how the past shapes us and how we in turn shape our past (or our reading of it, at least). There is also the theme of relationships and the sense of emptiness when these are lost or compromised – we are given to understand that both history and History are ultimately driven by personal relationships and personal needs. What struck me throughout the novel, in fact, was this constant interplay between the public and the intimate, between the extraordinary and the mundane. The novel certainly tackles major philosophical themes, but it also deals with the everyday – characters get out of bed, have breakfast, go for walks, go to the bathroom, have normal conversations over lunch, argue about whether to wash the dishes or chuck them in the dishwasher.
This is also reflected in the language of the novel. Often poetic and rich in eminently quotable “nuggets”, it nonetheless contains passages of unexpected simplicity. And this is, I think, what ultimately makes it so poignant and moving.
http://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2019/05/turning-for-home-barney-norris.html
busymamabookclub's review against another edition
5.0
Barney Norris has hit the jackpot again with Turning for Home. I am constantly in awe of the way he creates totally believable characters and how he uses language to convey deep meaning in a way that doesn’t feel like hard work when you are reading. So many passages in this book were incredibly profound and literally made me say ‘wow’. It’s like Barney gets right into your head and articulates thoughts you’ve had in the past for you... only in a much more eloquent way! One passage towards the end even brought a tear or two to my eye (and you should know by now if you have read any of my previous reviews that I love a good cry!).
In Turning for Home, Norris slowly unravels the life stories of Robert, an 80 year old man whose 90th birthday party is the setting for the majority of the book, and his granddaughter Kate. Both voices are distinctive and likeable. There’s a particular part in the book where we find out more about Kate’s backstory (I won’t give too much away on here) and Norris’ attention to detail/understanding of the character’s situation just shows how talented he is.
Norris’ first book (Five Rivers Met on a Wooded Plain) was a brilliant read but as it was set in Salisbury, my hometown, I wondered if that was why I liked it so much. Now reading Turning for Home I can see it’s Barney’s pure talent for writing that’s the main denominator- he really is a gifted story teller; writing in a way that I think is quite hard to rival and I wish more people celebrated just how fantastic his writing is!
In Turning for Home, Norris slowly unravels the life stories of Robert, an 80 year old man whose 90th birthday party is the setting for the majority of the book, and his granddaughter Kate. Both voices are distinctive and likeable. There’s a particular part in the book where we find out more about Kate’s backstory (I won’t give too much away on here) and Norris’ attention to detail/understanding of the character’s situation just shows how talented he is.
Norris’ first book (Five Rivers Met on a Wooded Plain) was a brilliant read but as it was set in Salisbury, my hometown, I wondered if that was why I liked it so much. Now reading Turning for Home I can see it’s Barney’s pure talent for writing that’s the main denominator- he really is a gifted story teller; writing in a way that I think is quite hard to rival and I wish more people celebrated just how fantastic his writing is!
suebarsby's review against another edition
4.0
This is a slow read. And, for anyone reading advice about writing books that show and don’t tell, it breaks all the rules. Told in the first person by two alternating points of view, Robert and his granddaughter Kate, Turning for Home is nonetheless a fascinating account of the interior world.
So what’s it about? It’s about the Troubles in Northern Ireland, about the effect we can have on other people, about loss, mental illness and it’s about not eating.
Robert is a retired member of British Intelligence who worked in Northern Ireland during the Troubles. He is celebrating his 80th birthday when a former contact comes to see him at home to ask about a new investigation the British government are carrying out following a series of interviews of former combatants on both sides – a project undertaken by Boston College. The interviews brought out more secrets than anyone wished and there is danger of trouble stirring up again. Both men are afraid of repercussions, bother personally and politically.
Among the party guests is Kate, Robert’s granddaughter, who is recovering from a near death experience following an eating disorder. Kate is Robert’s ally, and he enlists her help to have his meeting uninterrupted. In return, he has always stood by her in her difficult relationship with her mother, a relationship seen by Kate as a possible trigger for her mental disorders. The two characters narrate the events of the party day to us, reminiscing over the past and recapping difficult decisions, painful memories and explaining slowly how they came to this point.
The book was inspired, if that’s the word, by the idea of eating – or, more accurately, not eating – as an act of control by the desperate, as a political act and as a personal one. It’s a loose thread but enough to hold the novel together and is thought provoking without the author hitting the reader over the head to make his point.
Both characters are real – grubby, sometimes mistaken, pig headed but ultimately loving and supportive to each other. I especially liked Kate and it can be the case that male characters mess up writing women, but Kate is perfectly done.
It’s a slow read and I think some may be tempted to give up before finishing, but I recommend sticking with it. It’s absorbing and rewarding in ways few books are these days, not an awful lot happens and yet we cover a lot of ground. It’s also worth saving it for a few days when you can devote a chunk of time to each chapter, rather than fleeting pages on the bus or whatever. It’s an intelligent book and asks questions of its readers.
So what’s it about? It’s about the Troubles in Northern Ireland, about the effect we can have on other people, about loss, mental illness and it’s about not eating.
Robert is a retired member of British Intelligence who worked in Northern Ireland during the Troubles. He is celebrating his 80th birthday when a former contact comes to see him at home to ask about a new investigation the British government are carrying out following a series of interviews of former combatants on both sides – a project undertaken by Boston College. The interviews brought out more secrets than anyone wished and there is danger of trouble stirring up again. Both men are afraid of repercussions, bother personally and politically.
Among the party guests is Kate, Robert’s granddaughter, who is recovering from a near death experience following an eating disorder. Kate is Robert’s ally, and he enlists her help to have his meeting uninterrupted. In return, he has always stood by her in her difficult relationship with her mother, a relationship seen by Kate as a possible trigger for her mental disorders. The two characters narrate the events of the party day to us, reminiscing over the past and recapping difficult decisions, painful memories and explaining slowly how they came to this point.
The book was inspired, if that’s the word, by the idea of eating – or, more accurately, not eating – as an act of control by the desperate, as a political act and as a personal one. It’s a loose thread but enough to hold the novel together and is thought provoking without the author hitting the reader over the head to make his point.
Both characters are real – grubby, sometimes mistaken, pig headed but ultimately loving and supportive to each other. I especially liked Kate and it can be the case that male characters mess up writing women, but Kate is perfectly done.
It’s a slow read and I think some may be tempted to give up before finishing, but I recommend sticking with it. It’s absorbing and rewarding in ways few books are these days, not an awful lot happens and yet we cover a lot of ground. It’s also worth saving it for a few days when you can devote a chunk of time to each chapter, rather than fleeting pages on the bus or whatever. It’s an intelligent book and asks questions of its readers.