A KIND OF CONFUSION, A KIND OF REVIEW
The Fire Child by David Grubb
is the sort of book you end up
writing about, discussing, instead of
actually reading. It is a cry of hurt,
a confession, a memoir, a book
of longing and forgetting,
a book busy talking to itself.
Land falls into the sea, belief
turns into doubt, the past
becomes a ghost, folk memory,
that only a few to see. The camera
is sensitive enough, if the light
is right, to capture history passing
us by as it becomes the future.
The new vicar knows the village
is still on fire and that faith
sometimes consumes and burns.
It is customary to be quiet
and take it on the chin, but this
is a knockout blow: you might
never get up or walk again.
How does he carry the pain
of what he has seen and pour it
onto the page? Why am I
so moved? There isn't enough
food for all of us, and you may
get blown up on the way
to wherever it is you are going.
It does not matter if it is Bosnia,
Croatia, a lake in the Italian hills
or the outhouse you haven't been into
since the day she died or moved away.
Ideas and memories are everywhere
and the past will never go away.
This is the kind of book you should read.
© Rupert M Loydell
Details of this book at http://leafbooks.co.uk/New/Books/FireChild.htm