My intentions in writing this book were not particularly complicated. My father had not long since died, the funeral was over, the eulogy read, all that was left was to sort through his things, with my mother's help. Anyone who has had to do this knows how difficult and painful it can be. The way I decided to approach it was to try and mentally prepare myself beforehand, take a deep breath, then work through his dozens of jackets, his hundreds of shirts, shoes and ties. I seem to recall that it was sometime around then, in going through his personal effects, organising many of them into a filing cabinet, that a conversation with my mother arose about Dad's migrating to England from Dominica in 1956.
Dominica, being the land of my father's birth, has recently suffered a catastrophic hurricane, Hurricane Maria. It has probably surpassed the damage caused by Hurricane David in 1979. Here is an excerpt from the disaster relief site set up last week:
Leaving a trail of destruction in its wake, Hurricane Maria has taught us that a prosperous, growing nation can lose everything in a matter of hours, and that caring, welcoming people can see their entire livelihoods washed away. Dominica, with its once-promising economy and kind-hearted citizens, now finds itself in urgent need of regional and international support.
We are grateful for, and humbled by, the messages of solidarity and words of encouragement received from all across the world. Without doubt however, at this time of dire national crisis, concrete aid is desperately required.
Oh dear, don't you just hate it when you do a print run on your 77,000 word manuscript, only to find you still have a dozen or more proofing errors! Never mind, they're corrected now, thanks to the hard work of some very helpful people; epsecially you, Mrs. Morgan. A lesson has been learnt regarding over reliance on automated tools such as Grammarly, which seems far more oriented toward American spelling and grammar, anyway.
I worked on Scuthorpe steelworks in the late seventies and early eightes, which, now that I look back on it, is not so very long after the period covered by the book. The book predominantly covers the years 1956 and 1964, but it does also momentarily flash forward to the 21st century.
Fidelity is one of William Wordsworth's less known poems about a shepherd being led to the body of a young artist by the artist's faithful dog. The young man met his demise on Helvellyn Mountain near Grasmere in the Lake District.
In 1805, Charles Gough, a former Quaker - it's interesting that at the age of twenty-one he had time to be a former anything - had ventured from Patterdale to Grasmere with nothing more than his dog and his painting equipment, but suffered a tragic accident that cost his life. Three months later, his dog led a local shepherd to the body. The incident became immortalised in the poems by William Wordsworth and Sir Walter Scott, and in the paintings of Sir Edwin Landseer and others.
What is my place in this world?
It's a question that many people ask at some point in their lives, especially when they are young. Whole communities and even countries frequently ask the same question.
In April 1956, a young Dominican, Tio Mourillon asks schoolteacher, Clara Celestine, where he belongs in the world, how he can make a way for himself during a time of widespread economic difficulty. He believes himself capable of accomplishing much in life, if only his opportunities were not forever thwarted. The search for the answer to the question leads Tio to cross an ocean.