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lostgwennel's review
adventurous
challenging
dark
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.5
Content Warnings
Graphic: Misogyny and Sexism
Moderate: Murder, Death, and Sexual assault
blackoxford's review against another edition
4.0
When Obligation Ruled
It’s tricky to write effective fiction about an entirely alien culture, even if it’s human. Naturally the writer must presume we share a language with his characters. And it helps from a literary point of view that he allows them to use that language fluently and intelligently as their own.
But then the question arises of how to convey the mores of the alien society. These, of course, are so deeply embedded in any society as to be entirely invisible to its members. To be credible, the indigenous narrator cannot refer to them explicitly. They are there in the action but never commented upon. The normal can never even referred to only implied.
This is the trick Crace knows how to perform well: dealing with the normal by never mentioning it explicitly. As in his other novels, the rules of the social game are never stated. Why should they be? They are obvious and a matter of course for all the characters. Their actions and motivations may be enigmatic to the reader. How could it be authentically otherwise?
In the Gift of Stones , the cultural context is a primitive British society which is literally uncivilised but is nevertheless fairly complex. The populace consists of villagers and wandering bands which carry out trade, armed assault and robbery in about equal measure. The economy is not just pre-capitalist and pre-feudal, it is pre-monetary. Every transaction is one of negotiated barter. There is, of course, no legal framework to protect either life or wealth.
But there is a glue that in fact binds folk into a society: obligation. Obligation drives everything in Crace’s narrative. The villagers presume an obligation to work together without discussing it. They presume an obligation to work skilfully to presume their economic niche. Not much to inspire, therefore. If that were the extent of social obligation, the book would be banal.
The interesting cultural twist/observation/comment, however, is the obligation given and received by those with different, somewhat contradictory interests, namely those like the wandering bands. Even in the face of violent threats, the villagers are convinced that the traders will recognise that the villagers well-being is in the interest of the traders. The villagers, after all, are both customers and suppliers. The goose and golden eggs come to mind.
Significantly, obligation overrides everything else. Most importantly, obligation substitutes for emotion. Emotion is transitory and not to be given in to much less trusted. Obligation greases the wheels of social interaction much more efficiently than sentiment. But obligation as the social imperative is dependent on the primitive economy of flint stone and its usefulness in the world.
Like the transition from hunting to agriculture, the transition from stone to metal in human life was undoubtedly traumatic. An unexpected cultural casualty of this transition in Crace’s fiction is the dominance of unforced obligation. Its disappearance as the matrix of society rather than the economic change is the real cause of the trauma. This can only be communicated in stories after the fact. As usual, we only appreciate what we have recently lost.
It’s tricky to write effective fiction about an entirely alien culture, even if it’s human. Naturally the writer must presume we share a language with his characters. And it helps from a literary point of view that he allows them to use that language fluently and intelligently as their own.
But then the question arises of how to convey the mores of the alien society. These, of course, are so deeply embedded in any society as to be entirely invisible to its members. To be credible, the indigenous narrator cannot refer to them explicitly. They are there in the action but never commented upon. The normal can never even referred to only implied.
This is the trick Crace knows how to perform well: dealing with the normal by never mentioning it explicitly. As in his other novels, the rules of the social game are never stated. Why should they be? They are obvious and a matter of course for all the characters. Their actions and motivations may be enigmatic to the reader. How could it be authentically otherwise?
In the Gift of Stones , the cultural context is a primitive British society which is literally uncivilised but is nevertheless fairly complex. The populace consists of villagers and wandering bands which carry out trade, armed assault and robbery in about equal measure. The economy is not just pre-capitalist and pre-feudal, it is pre-monetary. Every transaction is one of negotiated barter. There is, of course, no legal framework to protect either life or wealth.
But there is a glue that in fact binds folk into a society: obligation. Obligation drives everything in Crace’s narrative. The villagers presume an obligation to work together without discussing it. They presume an obligation to work skilfully to presume their economic niche. Not much to inspire, therefore. If that were the extent of social obligation, the book would be banal.
The interesting cultural twist/observation/comment, however, is the obligation given and received by those with different, somewhat contradictory interests, namely those like the wandering bands. Even in the face of violent threats, the villagers are convinced that the traders will recognise that the villagers well-being is in the interest of the traders. The villagers, after all, are both customers and suppliers. The goose and golden eggs come to mind.
Significantly, obligation overrides everything else. Most importantly, obligation substitutes for emotion. Emotion is transitory and not to be given in to much less trusted. Obligation greases the wheels of social interaction much more efficiently than sentiment. But obligation as the social imperative is dependent on the primitive economy of flint stone and its usefulness in the world.
Like the transition from hunting to agriculture, the transition from stone to metal in human life was undoubtedly traumatic. An unexpected cultural casualty of this transition in Crace’s fiction is the dominance of unforced obligation. Its disappearance as the matrix of society rather than the economic change is the real cause of the trauma. This can only be communicated in stories after the fact. As usual, we only appreciate what we have recently lost.
unicorndave's review
adventurous
dark
funny
hopeful
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.75
kim_hoag's review against another edition
2.0
This slim book has garnered praise from dozens of authors and reviewers for its poetic language and insight. Taking place at the end of an indistinct Neolithic time, it focuses on a boy who doesn't want to work in flint, loses an arm, and becomes a teller of tales. I love books whose authors use great language to reveal; where the words become metaphors in and of themselves. I did not see that here and I did not care for this book. I wearied of the author's “poetic” language which often seemed pretentious. There were moments when Crace slipped between the cracks of character and action and revealed much (in the character of Doe, for instance), but those moments were not enough. He evidently did a lot of research on knapping (shaping flint) and it shows, yet much of the book just did not strike me as true. He turned an entire village of flint workers into nerds who only worked the stone or sold it—no shamans, no one had a goat—what ancient village could afford such a mono-subsistence? An entire village of flint knappers and there were no flint knives to cut an arm off with? Someone had to go make the knife first?
But the most difficult for me to swallow was that the protagonist did not tell stories, the author made it clear he was a liar. He entertained with his lies. I am a storyteller and I'm aware of the cultural history of that calling and of its importance to the people. This “shaper of lies” did not sit well with me nor did it seem accurate in any way. If the story was a parable or an allegory, it was lost on me. Crace needed to do research on more than just flintknapping. I understand it was never meant to be an historical novel, but, except for some great moments, I was not able to enjoy it on any level.
But the most difficult for me to swallow was that the protagonist did not tell stories, the author made it clear he was a liar. He entertained with his lies. I am a storyteller and I'm aware of the cultural history of that calling and of its importance to the people. This “shaper of lies” did not sit well with me nor did it seem accurate in any way. If the story was a parable or an allegory, it was lost on me. Crace needed to do research on more than just flintknapping. I understand it was never meant to be an historical novel, but, except for some great moments, I was not able to enjoy it on any level.
jendru's review
5.0
Extremely well written book, very enjoyable, despite the often cringe inducing violence and poverty. How often do you read a novel about the stone age? Highly recommended.
blackoxford's review
4.0
When Obligation Ruled
It’s tricky to write effective fiction about an entirely alien culture, even if it’s human. Naturally the writer must presume we share a language with his characters. And it helps from a literary point of view that he allows them to use that language fluently and intelligently as their own.
But then the question arises of how to convey the mores of the alien society. These, of course, are so deeply embedded in any society as to be entirely invisible to its members. To be credible, the indigenous narrator cannot refer to them explicitly. They are there in the action but never commented upon. The normal can never even referred to only implied.
This is the trick Crace knows how to perform well: dealing with the normal by never mentioning it explicitly. As in his other novels, the rules of the social game are never stated. Why should they be? They are obvious and a matter of course for all the characters. Their actions and motivations may be enigmatic to the reader. How could it be authentically otherwise?
In the Gift of Stones , the cultural context is a primitive British society which is literally uncivilised but is nevertheless fairly complex. The populace consists of villagers and wandering bands which carry out trade, armed assault and robbery in about equal measure. The economy is not just pre-capitalist and pre-feudal, it is pre-monetary. Every transaction is one of negotiated barter. There is, of course, no legal framework to protect either life or wealth.
But there is a glue that in fact binds folk into a society: obligation. Obligation drives everything in Crace’s narrative. The villagers presume an obligation to work together without discussing it. They presume an obligation to work skilfully to presume their economic niche. Not much to inspire, therefore. If that were the extent of social obligation, the book would be banal.
The interesting cultural twist/observation/comment, however, is the obligation given and received by those with different, somewhat contradictory interests, namely those like the wandering bands. Even in the face of violent threats, the villagers are convinced that the traders will recognise that the villagers well-being is in the interest of the traders. The villagers, after all, are both customers and suppliers. The goose and golden eggs come to mind.
Significantly, obligation overrides everything else. Most importantly, obligation substitutes for emotion. Emotion is transitory and not to be given in to much less trusted. Obligation greases the wheels of social interaction much more efficiently than sentiment. But obligation as the social imperative is dependent on the primitive economy of flint stone and its usefulness in the world.
Like the transition from hunting to agriculture, the transition from stone to metal in human life was undoubtedly traumatic. An unexpected cultural casualty of this transition in Crace’s fiction is the dominance of unforced obligation. Its disappearance as the matrix of society rather than the economic change is the real cause of the trauma. This can only be communicated in stories after the fact. As usual, we only appreciate what we have recently lost.
It’s tricky to write effective fiction about an entirely alien culture, even if it’s human. Naturally the writer must presume we share a language with his characters. And it helps from a literary point of view that he allows them to use that language fluently and intelligently as their own.
But then the question arises of how to convey the mores of the alien society. These, of course, are so deeply embedded in any society as to be entirely invisible to its members. To be credible, the indigenous narrator cannot refer to them explicitly. They are there in the action but never commented upon. The normal can never even referred to only implied.
This is the trick Crace knows how to perform well: dealing with the normal by never mentioning it explicitly. As in his other novels, the rules of the social game are never stated. Why should they be? They are obvious and a matter of course for all the characters. Their actions and motivations may be enigmatic to the reader. How could it be authentically otherwise?
In the Gift of Stones , the cultural context is a primitive British society which is literally uncivilised but is nevertheless fairly complex. The populace consists of villagers and wandering bands which carry out trade, armed assault and robbery in about equal measure. The economy is not just pre-capitalist and pre-feudal, it is pre-monetary. Every transaction is one of negotiated barter. There is, of course, no legal framework to protect either life or wealth.
But there is a glue that in fact binds folk into a society: obligation. Obligation drives everything in Crace’s narrative. The villagers presume an obligation to work together without discussing it. They presume an obligation to work skilfully to presume their economic niche. Not much to inspire, therefore. If that were the extent of social obligation, the book would be banal.
The interesting cultural twist/observation/comment, however, is the obligation given and received by those with different, somewhat contradictory interests, namely those like the wandering bands. Even in the face of violent threats, the villagers are convinced that the traders will recognise that the villagers well-being is in the interest of the traders. The villagers, after all, are both customers and suppliers. The goose and golden eggs come to mind.
Significantly, obligation overrides everything else. Most importantly, obligation substitutes for emotion. Emotion is transitory and not to be given in to much less trusted. Obligation greases the wheels of social interaction much more efficiently than sentiment. But obligation as the social imperative is dependent on the primitive economy of flint stone and its usefulness in the world.
Like the transition from hunting to agriculture, the transition from stone to metal in human life was undoubtedly traumatic. An unexpected cultural casualty of this transition in Crace’s fiction is the dominance of unforced obligation. Its disappearance as the matrix of society rather than the economic change is the real cause of the trauma. This can only be communicated in stories after the fact. As usual, we only appreciate what we have recently lost.
clairewords's review
4.0
One of Jim Crace's earlier philosophical works, tells the tale of a village of stone workers, who live a simple life working stone into weapons, which are then traded with passers-by for food and other essentials, things they are not able to provide for themselves, in the arid landscape where they reside. It is a livelihood they think little about, it is all they know.
A boy's destiny is changed after he is injured in the arm by an arrow. The arrow is a symbol of change and both opens and closes this short, though provoking novella.
The injury becomes a turning point for a boy, his arm partially amputated, making him unable to follow in the village tradition, he must find another way of contributing to his community. His predicament is a foretelling of what is to come, but first he alone must learn to adapt.
He ventures outside, further from the village than anyone has ever been, near the sea and the heath, bringing them tales of beyond, discovering the allure and power of imagination. Experiencing things and feelings he has never encountered.
Already an orphan living with his uncle in a stone age village of people who work with flint, his injury turns him into a storyteller, inspired by his walks along the coastline towards the heath where he meets a woman with her baby living alone in a hut. He discovers how to captivate and amuse an audience, to take their minds off their day-to-day torments.
He brings the woman back to the village, however she isn't welcomed by the villagers, set in their ways. She too symbolises the lessons they must learn, though they will realise this much too late. When he tells the villagers her history, a truth, they become bored and turn away.
It is a philosophical tale of unrequited love, abandonment, survival and the heralders of change, how communities react to the necessity to adjust, and to those who are different, outsiders.
It touches on the role of imagination and storytelling, not just as entertainment and a craft, but as those who foresee change, create invention, imagine other ways of life.
Poignant and intriguing, given the era within which it is set and a kind of tribute to the greater importance of storytelling within society.
A boy's destiny is changed after he is injured in the arm by an arrow. The arrow is a symbol of change and both opens and closes this short, though provoking novella.
The injury becomes a turning point for a boy, his arm partially amputated, making him unable to follow in the village tradition, he must find another way of contributing to his community. His predicament is a foretelling of what is to come, but first he alone must learn to adapt.
He ventures outside, further from the village than anyone has ever been, near the sea and the heath, bringing them tales of beyond, discovering the allure and power of imagination. Experiencing things and feelings he has never encountered.
Already an orphan living with his uncle in a stone age village of people who work with flint, his injury turns him into a storyteller, inspired by his walks along the coastline towards the heath where he meets a woman with her baby living alone in a hut. He discovers how to captivate and amuse an audience, to take their minds off their day-to-day torments.
'The paradox is this - we do love lies. The truth is dull and half-asleep. But lies are nimble, spirited, alive. And lying is a craft.'
He brings the woman back to the village, however she isn't welcomed by the villagers, set in their ways. She too symbolises the lessons they must learn, though they will realise this much too late. When he tells the villagers her history, a truth, they become bored and turn away.
'Quite soon they found it far too dark and cold to listen to my father any lore. They peeled away before the tale was done, unmoved by my father's portrait of the widow and her child on the heath, her struggles not to die, her hardships, grief and hunger, the slaughter of the geese, the crushing of her hut. Quite soon there were no cousins left to hear my father's tale. His audience - excluding bats and mother - had crept away, unamused and angered by the venom in his voice.
My father stood alone and startled - for now he understood the power of the truth.'
It is a philosophical tale of unrequited love, abandonment, survival and the heralders of change, how communities react to the necessity to adjust, and to those who are different, outsiders.
It touches on the role of imagination and storytelling, not just as entertainment and a craft, but as those who foresee change, create invention, imagine other ways of life.
Poignant and intriguing, given the era within which it is set and a kind of tribute to the greater importance of storytelling within society.
ibeallison's review
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
More...