Patrick Gale, Mother’s Boy

Patrick Gale, Mother’s Boy. Tinder Press, 2022.

Patrick Gale is a Cornwall-based novelist, and much of his fiction has a Cornish setting or theme. Mother’s Boy, his latest novel, is his spirited account of the life of one of Cornwall’s most famous writers: the poet Charles Causley (1917-2003).

Patrick Gale Mother's Boy cover A friend of mine said he thought it misrepresented some aspects of the life; I don’t know enough of the biography to comment on this. In my ignorance I enjoyed this as a well-wrought narrative. I think it’s ok for a novelist to exercise some imagination in selecting from the ‘facts’ of a life and leavening them with ingredients that suit their artistic purpose (within reason, I suppose, so that’s a bit of a cop-out on my part).

I won’t go into the details of Causley’s life as portrayed by Gale, as this might interfere with your own response. I can say that he lived most of his life in the small market town of Launceston, near the border with Devon. His childhood was quite tough, as the household had a small income. He didn’t fit in with school very well, and was bullied at times. In a small community this was problematic.

After a spell during and shortly after WW2 in the Navy, he trained to teach and returned to his home town to teach in the school he’d attended as a child. In his younger days he wrote plays and fiction, but gradually specialised in poetry. His style and themes show the influence of local folklore, ballads and the oral Celtic-English tradition, making his poetry more accessible than many 20C English poets.

The term ‘mother’s boy’ is usually pejorative, but here it’s largely positive. He had a very close relationship with his mother. His homosexuality was risky in the years when it was still illegal, and this may have contributed to his relatively secluded life.

Patrick Gale writes his story with great sympathy; it’s not a hagiography, for we see aspects of Causley’s life that aren’t entirely flattering. His intimate relationships were initially faltering and not always fulfilling as he struggled to come to terms with his sexuality. He clearly found it difficult to commit to a full-on relationship with anyone other than his mother.

Much of the novel deals with his younger, more formative years. Gale creates atmospheric scenes portraying small-town life, and then the claustrophobic world on board naval vessels – which interestingly he likens to that in prison – in ways that provide not just colourful, event-filled narrative, but also show the building of an artist’s mind.

Jeanine Cummins, American Dirt

Jeanine Cummins, American Dirt. Tinder Press, 2020. First published in the USA 2019

NemesiaBefore I write about this novel, I’d just like to mention some flowers that are blooming happily in our front garden. They have pretty little pink and white petals, but it’s their scent that’s most notable. It’s a cross between vanilla and coconut. The fragrance wafts over us when we sit outside: like being next to an ice-cream factory.

My sister-in-law passed American Dirt on to Mrs TD, who recommended it to me when she’d finished it. I found it almost painful to read, as the subject is so harrowing, but it’s compelling.

It begins with a massacre in Acapulco, Mexico – sixteen members of the Pérez family who’d gathered for a birthday party are murdered by cartel gangsters. It’s a reprisal for the newspaper articles about the enigmatic cartel jefe written by Lydia Pérez’s journalist husband. He’s one of the few who hasn’t been bribed or threatened into complicity with the cartel’s vicious hold on the city.

Cummins American Dirt coverLydia and her eight-year-old son are the only survivors. She knows the killers will come after them, so she has to take off. She and young Luca join the hordes of migrantes heading north from all parts of central America for the USA and comparative safety. They are fleeing from the murderous cartels and poverty.

The novel traces Lydia and Luca’s perilous journey across Mexico: much of the time they walk, but they also have to learn how to leap aboard the Bestia – the freight train that heads north.

Along the way they witness some terrible things. They also encounter the kindness of strangers, and the bonds of love that survive even during the most hellish of experiences. If it weren’t for these humane moments the novel would be unbearable.

I heard the author interviewed on a radio book programme recently. She was asked about the criticism that had been levelled against her for a kind of cultural appropriation; she’s not of Mexican heritage. In a note at the end of the novel she explains why she felt it incumbent on her to research this migrant crisis and write about it.

In 2017, when she was finishing the novel, a migrant died on the US-Mexican border every twenty-one hours. Many more simply disappear. There were forty thousand people reported missing across Mexico at the time of writing, and mass graves are regularly found. ‘Mexico was the deadliest country in the world to be a journalist’. No wonder so many ordinary people like Lydia and her little boy risk their lives to get away from such an awful situation.

Of course I’d heard news stories about the migrants, and felt sympathy for them. Then came the punitive, vindictive policies of the current US president and his crazed obsession with his infamous Wall.

One of the most moving moments in the narrative comes when Lydia recalls listening to those same reports on the radio as she cooked the family’s evening meal. As we all do, she pauses and thinks how terrible it is that human beings have to endure such hardship and suffering; Lydia then realises she’s out of garlic, and her sympathy is forgotten as she wonders how to cope with this minor domestic crisis.

As we fret about Covid, it’s sobering to read this searing story about the cruelty humans are capable of displaying, and heartening to be reminded that even in the worst possible environments, we’re also capable of generosity and loving kindness.

Every one of those migrants has a heartbreaking story like Lydia’s. They’re not the rapists, murderers and drug dealers that they’re depicted as by this heartless president. I think Jeanine Cummins has done us all a service in telling this story.