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3.99 AVERAGE
3.99 AVERAGE
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
dark
emotional
funny
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
"We are Craiglockhart's success stories. *Look at us*. We don't remember, we don't feel, we don't think- at least not beyond the confines of what's needed to do the job. By any proper civilized standard (but what does *that* mean *now*?) we are objects of horror. But our nerves are completely steady. And we are still alive.
---------
Wow. To end this trilogy with the death of Prior alongside the conclusion of Rivers' Melanesian plot was so heartbreakingly perfect. In addition, Prior dies in battle while Hallet, the man he saved just a few days earlier, dies in a hospital with Rivers present to translate his final words- "It's not worth it".
Having been thoroughly "cured" of his war neurosis, Prior is sent back to France. He seems the most self-aware version of himself and yet equally self-abasing. We learn that he was sexually abused and trafficked as a child and that is sort of in line with the idea that all "hysteria" stems from childhood trauma.
Although Rivers' tribe has incorporated their spirit/ghost encounters into their most important rituals, it is Prior who is the most connected to the "ghosts" who went before him. We see this with the prostitute before he ships out and the French boy in the woods.
The parallel to the past shows that for the tribes the lack of war will be the undoing of their society, while for Europe and England the devastation of WWI has fundamentally altered theirs and ruined the young men. We understand that Hallet's words are in answer to the question Barker has been asking throughout the trilogy about the war and trauma caused by it.
---------
Wow. To end this trilogy with the death of Prior alongside the conclusion of Rivers' Melanesian plot was so heartbreakingly perfect. In addition, Prior dies in battle while Hallet, the man he saved just a few days earlier, dies in a hospital with Rivers present to translate his final words- "It's not worth it".
Having been thoroughly "cured" of his war neurosis, Prior is sent back to France. He seems the most self-aware version of himself and yet equally self-abasing. We learn that he was sexually abused and trafficked as a child and that is sort of in line with the idea that all "hysteria" stems from childhood trauma.
Although Rivers' tribe has incorporated their spirit/ghost encounters into their most important rituals, it is Prior who is the most connected to the "ghosts" who went before him. We see this with the prostitute before he ships out and the French boy in the woods.
The parallel to the past shows that for the tribes the lack of war will be the undoing of their society, while for Europe and England the devastation of WWI has fundamentally altered theirs and ruined the young men. We understand that Hallet's words are in answer to the question Barker has been asking throughout the trilogy about the war and trauma caused by it.
The Ghost Road by Pat Barker is the culmination of the Regeneration trilogy, which sets out ostensibly to press home to the reader not only the brutal horrors experienced by those who fought on the Western Front during the First World War but also how such appalling conditions affected them psychologically.
Where the first (Regeneration) and second (The Eye In The Door) instalments in the trilogy set out respectively to detail the treatment of those suffering mentally from being on the Western Front and then how one character in particular (Billy Prior) deals with these experiences whilst being back on home soil, The Ghost Road largely alternates between Billy's preparations before returning to France and ultimately going there, as well as those of Dr. Rivers whilst in Melanesia, before he qualified as a doctor.
Dr. Rivers, as is the case throughout the trilogy, acts as the anchor, the 'relatable' character that brings us back to reality and speaks in the same voice we may imagine ourselves using, were we confronted with the same circumstances. This gives balance to the novel and serves as a means of encouraging us to consider such circumstances in a rather more circumspect manner than may otherwise be the case. Hearing the tale of his experiences in Melanesia and in particular, his interaction with the islanders there, informs us of their attitudes to death and how these differ markedly from those of western civilisation. Headhunting for example, forms a key part of their culture and the ban imposed by those attempting to govern the island deprives life of 'almost all it's zest'. The population of the Melanesian island which Rivers and his colleagues inhabit is also influenced by the mythology they attach to the ghosts arising as a result of the deaths of the islanders. Rivers is also influenced by this culture of ghost mythology, to such an extent that he is able to draw strong parallels with the experiences of those he treats. He recalls the ghost sightings experienced by Siegfried Sassoon whilst under his treatment and realises that such hallucinations were a driving force in compelling Sassoon to return to the front. The mythology and culture of the islanders was at times seemingly impenetrable and was the least compelling part of the book. Nonetheless, it was still possible to keep both eyes on the thread of the story whilst reading these sections.
The real hammer that struck my heart on reading this though was inflicted by the prose included in the last third of the book, detailing Billy's experiences following his return to France.
Marched all day through utter devastation. Dead horses, unburied men, stench of corruption. Sometimes you look at all this, craters, stinking mud, stagnant water, trees like gigantic burnt matches, and you think the land can’t possibly recover. It’s poisoned. Poison’s dripped into it from rotting men, dead horses, gas. It will, of course. Fifty years from now a farmer’ll be ploughing these fields and turn up skulls.
Where Regeneration alluded to the experiences of those who had been there, and was all the darker as a result of such allusion, The Ghost Road takes us directly there, in all it's gory, futile, trauma-inducing horror. The thoughts that the book provokes surrounding such events was mainly as a result of this segment of the novel. In between sections detailing the brutal nature of the conflict are contrasting sections which either merely serve to jog us on to contemplation of such brutality, or set the scene beautifully and evocatively.
The sun hung on the lip of the horizon, filling the sky. I don’t know whether it was the angle or the drifting smoke that half obscured it, but it was enormous. The whole scene looked like something that couldn’t be happening on earth, partly the sun, partly the utter lifelessness of the land around us, pitted, scarred, pockmarked with stinking craters and scrawls of barbed-wire. Not even birds, not even carrion feeders. Even the crows have given up. And I stumbled along at the head of the company and I waited for the sun to go down. And the sodding thing didn’t. IT ROSE. It wasn’t just me. I looked round at the others and I saw the same stupefaction on every face. We hadn’t slept for four days. Tiredness like that is another world, just like noise, the noise of a bombardment, isn’t like other noise. You see people wade through it, lean into it. I honestly think if the war went on for a hundred years another language would evolve, one that was capable of describing the sound of a bombardment or the buzzing of flies on a hot August day on the Somme. There are no words. There are no words for what I felt when I saw the setting sun rise.
Such sections force us to cogitate on exactly what these poor bastards experienced. It was simply inhuman and barbaric and on a far greater scale than previously experienced in warfare. It almost brings home how lucky our generation are to simply be allowed to live without constant fear of death hanging over us. And it's in no small part due to Barker's writing.
The Ghost Road can be read as a standalone novel. In fact, the reading experience may benefit all the more from doing so, as this is the most powerful of the trio of works that comprise the Regeneration trilogy. Nonetheless, reading the trilogy back-to-back was a moving and poignant experience. The characters of Dr.Rivers and Billy Prior were those most heavily featured and I really feel I got to know them. Prior was undoubtedly flawed and scarred. He was left bruised and battered, largely as a result of the war but also in part due to his hard working-class existence; a father that could barely communicate with him and a mother that was over-protective. Forced to conceal his sexual peccadilloes from society due to the oppression of the Edwardian age, he battled the demons raging inside his mind both on and off the front. Barker made him an easy character to, if not necessarily like, then certainly empathise with. Dr.Rivers, whilst undoubtedly empathetic towards his patients, was only ever half-aware of the hell that they had been through. By 'aware' I don't mean of course that he knew what they had been through, he obviously did. No, I mean rather that he simply hadn't experienced it and therefore was only ever able to view it through the lens of his own experiences, including those whilst visiting a Melanesian island in his younger years.
In the final section, the story alternates between the experiences of Rivers (treating patients in London) and Prior (struggling to stay alive on the front) and this is done deliberately and to great effect, in a jarring, juxtapositional manner. The tension is ratcheted up throughout these sections, building to a climactic and devastating coda, which leaves the senses and emotions reeling for some time thereafter.
I'll end it there by simply saying that this should be read. Read it as either a standalone or as part of the full trilogy. But it's a book that carries a rare level of importance. Whilst there are those in modern society who gripe that nobody cares enough about their needs, however petty and ultimately meaningless they may be, this book serves as a reminder of the things that we really should be grateful for.
Where the first (Regeneration) and second (The Eye In The Door) instalments in the trilogy set out respectively to detail the treatment of those suffering mentally from being on the Western Front and then how one character in particular (Billy Prior) deals with these experiences whilst being back on home soil, The Ghost Road largely alternates between Billy's preparations before returning to France and ultimately going there, as well as those of Dr. Rivers whilst in Melanesia, before he qualified as a doctor.
Dr. Rivers, as is the case throughout the trilogy, acts as the anchor, the 'relatable' character that brings us back to reality and speaks in the same voice we may imagine ourselves using, were we confronted with the same circumstances. This gives balance to the novel and serves as a means of encouraging us to consider such circumstances in a rather more circumspect manner than may otherwise be the case. Hearing the tale of his experiences in Melanesia and in particular, his interaction with the islanders there, informs us of their attitudes to death and how these differ markedly from those of western civilisation. Headhunting for example, forms a key part of their culture and the ban imposed by those attempting to govern the island deprives life of 'almost all it's zest'. The population of the Melanesian island which Rivers and his colleagues inhabit is also influenced by the mythology they attach to the ghosts arising as a result of the deaths of the islanders. Rivers is also influenced by this culture of ghost mythology, to such an extent that he is able to draw strong parallels with the experiences of those he treats. He recalls the ghost sightings experienced by Siegfried Sassoon whilst under his treatment and realises that such hallucinations were a driving force in compelling Sassoon to return to the front. The mythology and culture of the islanders was at times seemingly impenetrable and was the least compelling part of the book. Nonetheless, it was still possible to keep both eyes on the thread of the story whilst reading these sections.
The real hammer that struck my heart on reading this though was inflicted by the prose included in the last third of the book, detailing Billy's experiences following his return to France.
Marched all day through utter devastation. Dead horses, unburied men, stench of corruption. Sometimes you look at all this, craters, stinking mud, stagnant water, trees like gigantic burnt matches, and you think the land can’t possibly recover. It’s poisoned. Poison’s dripped into it from rotting men, dead horses, gas. It will, of course. Fifty years from now a farmer’ll be ploughing these fields and turn up skulls.
Where Regeneration alluded to the experiences of those who had been there, and was all the darker as a result of such allusion, The Ghost Road takes us directly there, in all it's gory, futile, trauma-inducing horror. The thoughts that the book provokes surrounding such events was mainly as a result of this segment of the novel. In between sections detailing the brutal nature of the conflict are contrasting sections which either merely serve to jog us on to contemplation of such brutality, or set the scene beautifully and evocatively.
The sun hung on the lip of the horizon, filling the sky. I don’t know whether it was the angle or the drifting smoke that half obscured it, but it was enormous. The whole scene looked like something that couldn’t be happening on earth, partly the sun, partly the utter lifelessness of the land around us, pitted, scarred, pockmarked with stinking craters and scrawls of barbed-wire. Not even birds, not even carrion feeders. Even the crows have given up. And I stumbled along at the head of the company and I waited for the sun to go down. And the sodding thing didn’t. IT ROSE. It wasn’t just me. I looked round at the others and I saw the same stupefaction on every face. We hadn’t slept for four days. Tiredness like that is another world, just like noise, the noise of a bombardment, isn’t like other noise. You see people wade through it, lean into it. I honestly think if the war went on for a hundred years another language would evolve, one that was capable of describing the sound of a bombardment or the buzzing of flies on a hot August day on the Somme. There are no words. There are no words for what I felt when I saw the setting sun rise.
Such sections force us to cogitate on exactly what these poor bastards experienced. It was simply inhuman and barbaric and on a far greater scale than previously experienced in warfare. It almost brings home how lucky our generation are to simply be allowed to live without constant fear of death hanging over us. And it's in no small part due to Barker's writing.
The Ghost Road can be read as a standalone novel. In fact, the reading experience may benefit all the more from doing so, as this is the most powerful of the trio of works that comprise the Regeneration trilogy. Nonetheless, reading the trilogy back-to-back was a moving and poignant experience. The characters of Dr.Rivers and Billy Prior were those most heavily featured and I really feel I got to know them. Prior was undoubtedly flawed and scarred. He was left bruised and battered, largely as a result of the war but also in part due to his hard working-class existence; a father that could barely communicate with him and a mother that was over-protective. Forced to conceal his sexual peccadilloes from society due to the oppression of the Edwardian age, he battled the demons raging inside his mind both on and off the front. Barker made him an easy character to, if not necessarily like, then certainly empathise with. Dr.Rivers, whilst undoubtedly empathetic towards his patients, was only ever half-aware of the hell that they had been through. By 'aware' I don't mean of course that he knew what they had been through, he obviously did. No, I mean rather that he simply hadn't experienced it and therefore was only ever able to view it through the lens of his own experiences, including those whilst visiting a Melanesian island in his younger years.
In the final section, the story alternates between the experiences of Rivers (treating patients in London) and Prior (struggling to stay alive on the front) and this is done deliberately and to great effect, in a jarring, juxtapositional manner. The tension is ratcheted up throughout these sections, building to a climactic and devastating coda, which leaves the senses and emotions reeling for some time thereafter.
I'll end it there by simply saying that this should be read. Read it as either a standalone or as part of the full trilogy. But it's a book that carries a rare level of importance. Whilst there are those in modern society who gripe that nobody cares enough about their needs, however petty and ultimately meaningless they may be, this book serves as a reminder of the things that we really should be grateful for.
The middle kind of dragged but ouch the ending pulled it back :((
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
dark
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
challenging
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
dark
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Billy Prior and Rivers were engaging, complex characters whom I loved spending time with. In particular, Prior's sense of humour and Rivers calm rationality made this trilogy much more enjoyable to read than I was expecting (I'd built them up in my head as Weighty War Tomes).
The clever switch to first person journal entries when we finally got to the Front after 2 and a half books lent an urgency and intimacy. And interspersing these entries with Rivers' feverish memories of the South Pacific islanders and their approach to death meant that the dread kept building and building.
I wasn't as moved by the ending as I expected to be. Which is more to do with my mood than the book, which is very skilfully crafted to be devastating.
The clever switch to first person journal entries when we finally got to the Front after 2 and a half books lent an urgency and intimacy. And interspersing these entries with Rivers' feverish memories of the South Pacific islanders and their approach to death meant that the dread kept building and building.
I wasn't as moved by the ending as I expected to be. Which is more to do with my mood than the book, which is very skilfully crafted to be devastating.