Jeremy Cooper won my attention with his novel Brian, which I first mentioned here two years ago, then again last spring. Over the recent holidays, I read this earlier, award-winning novel, more extraordinary fiction that brings alive a solitary soul. Mr. Cooper is one of those rare novelists who writes with not only exceptional insight, but a perspective that profoundly and sincerely brings us into the heart of a character.
Ash Before Oak is written in the form of a fictional journal kept by a London antiques professional who has left the city to heal himself on a secluded country estate in Somerset County. He lives in an old cottage, which he updates and repairs, and he devotes himself to naturalizing the surrounding fields, cutting back invasive plants and overgrown hedges and trees, while planting wildflowers. Animal wildlife, including a particularly determined mole burrowing a tunnel close to the cottage as well as unusual birds and butterflies, also gets recorded in his journal. Many entries are only one or two lines, and almost all the entries rarely go beyond a page. This creates a light rhythm to reading the book, and a realistic sense of writing a diary.
From what the narrator suffers isn’t clear in the beginning. Initially, he can’t put his anxiety into words, nor does he want to dwell on it. Much of the book therefore comes across as a nature journal, which in many respects it is; however, as the unnamed man’s suffering creeps into his entries, the book then reveals itself as a story about wanting to find meaning in life.
He introduces us to Beth, a neighbor and companion who works with him on his field and cottage projects, and throughout mentions friends and colleagues he keeps in touch with. There’s a breakdown, its consequences, and his expressions of hoping what happened doesn’t get the better of him. Following details of the breakdown, there’s this:
Love the tail-feather flash of yellow in the dipping flight of a bird up the lane ahead of me. Love the gold glow at the transparent centre of an insect’s long tapering body, its tinted wings whirring at the closed kitchen window. Reach across the sink to let it out. So much to note. However long I live here I’ll never cease seeing things before unnoticed.
Ripples of optimism in the stagnant pond.
Even though the narrator lives with daily despair, it doesn’t speak louder than his involvement with the outdoors. The pesky mole and whirring insect at the window take on the greater significance, as they and all the creatures and plants are meant to do, in this one-of-a-kind novel of hope.
Mr. Cooper’s new novel Discord is to be published in June.
The Longest Chapter 