Sometimes the most special books are the hardest ones to write about, and after three false starts it was looking as though this post would end up a brief one if it made it to published status at all: identifying fine writing is much easier than analysing it. However, just saying 'read this book' won't do, so let me try to explain why I think it is worth seeking out.
I've no idea what possessed me to pick up a copy of William Fiennes' The Snow Geese in a bookshop a few years ago - as someone who doesn't care much for birds, this account of the author's travels on the migration routes of the snow geese through North America would not be typical reading, but the impulse probably had to do with the cover quote: "A beautifully quiet, beautifully solitary and beautifully reflective book". It is all that, and avians nothwithstanding, I loved it.
So keen was I to read William Fiennes' second book, The Music Room, that after snapping it up I stowed it in my bag on a flight to London for a day at Wimbledon. I should have known that that sort of frenetic environment was not the place to take in something 'quiet, solitary and reflective', so it was put aside then and only now picked up again, but at last I've read it and it is all I'd hoped.
It is a memoir of a family and their home, but it's also a book about childhood and growing up, about parents' instincts to nurture and protect their offspring, about the accommodations - both small and subtle and large and distinct - which all families make when there is imbalance somewhere and when one of their number needs more care than most. It's the story of the Fiennes' home Broughton Castle, a fortified manor house, medieval and moated, and of William's elder brother Rich, a young man whose life itself was "moated in" - dominated and directed by his epilepsy - and it's about a sibling's place in a family whose heritage is all around them and whose personal history is marked by loss as well as love.
Fiennes is such an observant, sensitive narrator. He is, here, the custodian of so many memories, and it is the texture of those remembered times, the layered details which shape and colour a moment, which his gift for language brings out. Lucid, restrained, accepting, tender - that's the mood of the piece, and it gives much to savour. If you're drawn to contemplative writing and to understated poignancy, then this essentially sad but ultimately uplifting book should touch and impress you, and will undoubtedly make you think.
Oh I L-O-V-E-D this book, so much strength in it. Cross continents to hear William Fiennes talk about it Karen, you won't be disappointed!
Posted by: dovegreyreader | 20 March 2012 at 10:28 PM
I remember Harriet Devine loving this writer, I think... thanks for the encouragement to read him. Your final sentence has definitely got me interested.
Posted by: Simon T | 20 March 2012 at 11:18 PM
I loved this book, as well as The Snow Geese. I hope he is working on another.
Posted by: Gavin | 21 March 2012 at 01:33 AM
I loved both these exquisite books when I read them and was so glad to be reminded about how special they are.Thank you Karen.
Posted by: Jill | 21 March 2012 at 06:27 AM
I read it after dovegreyreader raved about it and couldn't agree more - a really beautiful, thoughtful book which says so much about family.
Thank you for reminding me that I have an unread copy of The Snow Geese on my shelf that I definitely feel the need to read now after a frantic couple of weeks!
Posted by: LizF | 21 March 2012 at 05:06 PM
You did a beautiful job. It sounds truly wonderful. Thank you.
Posted by: Nan | 21 March 2012 at 09:35 PM
I disappeared into this book when I read it and had to get my husband to go out so that I could read it in complete peace. BEautiful. We then went to Broughton castle the following weekend.
Must reread
Posted by: Verity | 22 March 2012 at 01:41 PM
I'd very much like to hear him, Lynne!
Isn't it just one of those books you want to press on people you think will love it? I've given a copy to a friend today as I'm sure she'll be on that wavelength.
Posted by: Cornflower | 23 March 2012 at 08:31 PM
He's uncommonly good I think, Simon.
Posted by: Cornflower | 23 March 2012 at 08:32 PM
Oh, I hope so too, Gavin.
Posted by: Cornflower | 23 March 2012 at 08:32 PM
You're welcome, Jill. They are such special books.
Posted by: Cornflower | 23 March 2012 at 08:33 PM
He's a very 'still' writer, isn't he - perfect after a busy time.
Posted by: Cornflower | 23 March 2012 at 08:34 PM
I think you would love both his books, Nan.
Posted by: Cornflower | 23 March 2012 at 08:35 PM
I'd like to visit the castle, too, and I can quite see why you shoo-ed Mr. W. out so that you could get on with the book, Verity!
Posted by: Cornflower | 23 March 2012 at 08:37 PM
I like memoirs very much. The sad part I can take if as you say its uplifting as well. Any memoir would have its sad element. No life can be smooth sailing all the time.
Posted by: Mystica | 26 March 2012 at 03:26 AM