The Dark is Rising

Comfort reads for midwinter days

I love December. It isn’t just because it contains Christmas, though maybe as a Christmas baby I am especially alert to its joys, but the whole month has a sense of magic. As it approaches each year I am attuned to its delights and greet it with great anticipation and excitement.

The low light, the bare branches and watching birds flit in the hedgerows are outside pleasures, while curling up with a familiar, much loved book in a dark corner, lit by a lamp, is my inside joy. And as it has rained incessantly over the last few weeks here in Norfolk, and drawing trips have been few, I thought I would share two books with you that capture this midwinter magic.

This first is Lucy M. Boston’s “The Children of Green Knowe”, written when the writer was 62 and was her first submitted manuscript. I didn’t know of the book as a child, but came to it as a student in 1986 when I saw the children’s series on television ( it was the end of term, approaching Christmas, and that is my excuse!) I was completely entralled but the series disappeared without trace, lost from the archives, until fairly recently when it was rediscovered and reissued on DVD. Then, of course, I had no connection to Norfolk and the Fens, but the watery landscape pulled at me. It remained completely enchanting on second viewing, but there was another surprise in store when I watched it afresh. The opening sequence showed Tolly at boarding school, eating his lunch in the refrectory and then being summoned to the headmistress’ office. I could hardly believe my eyes when I recognised this boarding school. This was Brandeston Hall in Suffolk, where I had taught English for many years and had indeed taken those same steps many times!

The first of a series of six novels, it tells the story of seven year old Tolly Oldknow, an only child whose parents live in Burma, and who is invited to stay with his great grandmother for the Christmas holidays to Green Noah, his ancestral home. He arrives in darkness, at a time of great flood, and is collected by the mysterious Boggis in a small rowing boat. Tolly views the drowned landscape by the light of his small lantern, passing the submerged hedges and trees when suddenly the great house appears, its welcoming lighted windows reflected in the water.

As the story unfolds, we meet the spirits of those who have lived in the house in years past, and while it is in some respects a ghostly tale, it is more a story of how the past is still with us, just a breath away in the traces that have been left behind. It captures the hushed excitement before Christmas and it creates a longing for that time of innocence and wonder and the hope of snow. It is a story that once you have read, you will return to, I hope, again and again.

But there is an added delight to this story, and that is the house, Green Knowe, was the home of the writer and can be visited. The Manor at Hemingford Grey, in Huntingdonshire, lives up to expectation in every detail. You can see the animal topiary in the garden, the cherubs in the hallway, the rocking horse in Tolly’s bedroom and you can even see the Japanese mouse that lay under Tolly’s pillow. I confess I inadvertently squealed when Diana Boston, the author’s daughter-in-law, the now guardian and caretaker of the Manor, opened her hand to reveal this treasure. And how could I resist bringing home a tiny replica?

I should also mention that the text is enhanced by the hypnotic scraperboard and pen and ink drawings by the author’s son, Peter Boston. His light-filled images emerge from the darkness, and the one above is a particular favourite, and I am sure you can identify the reason!

My second delight, is The Dark is Rising by Susan Cooper and, if this is a book you don’t yet know, now is the time to discover it.

I read the five novels in this sequence in the long summer holidays aged about 12. I wasn’t a particularly bookish child, but I was intrigued by their beautiful covers in my local library and by the mysterious title of the first, “Over Sea, Under Stone”. I read them one after after, spending whole days, laying on my bed, gripped by their thrilling, folklore infused narrative. They are stories that seep into you and I am certain that my love of Wales originated in these books.

It is set over the 12 days of Christmas and it begins on Midwinter Eve, the day before Will’s 11th birthday, when he learns that he is the last to be born with the power of the Old Ones. There is a strong contrast between the warm, nurturing family home, a-buzz with jolly pre- Christmas preparations and the bitter, iron cold weather that grips outside. The story develops into a battle between Light and Dark and in these troubled times such a book remains more relevant and compelling than ever.

Last year this rich and evocative radion adaptation was released on the eve of the Solstice, in daily episodes: the perfect way to listen. It also has the most haunting soundtrack by Johnny Flynn. How can you resist?

To whet your appetite, listen to the brilliant Backlisted podcast , episode 127 , which is a gem, featuring Jackie Morris and Robert Macfarlane discussing “The Dark is Rising” alongside other reading suggestions.

What has struck me in writing of these formative books are the many threads that have emerged in my later life, one of which has been my obsession with rooks. In “Darkness is Rising”, a sign that dark forces are building is the strange, watchful behaviour of the rooks. I am always aware of them flying homeward above me at the end of a day’s drawing, reminding me that it is time to return home, and each January I visit their rookery in the next village and listen to their clamorous nestbuilding, something I look forward to each year.

I would love to hear of your favourite childhood books, or indeed any novel that brings comfort at Christmas, and can you see connections to your adult selves?

Next week I shall be visiting North Norfolk for a few days for the Winter Solstice and hope to return with a sketchbook of wintry drawings to share with you next time.

I shall return in the New Year, but wanted to thank you all for the support in this new Substack adventure, it has meant a great deal. I wish you all a happy and peaceful Christmas.

My Rook linocut