Become Ocean
Ben Smith's "Doggerland"
Doggerland is the name given in the 1990s to an area of
land, now submerged beneath the North Sea, which connected Great Britain to
Continental Europe. Doggerland once
extended to modern-day Denmark and far north to the Faroe Islands. It was a grassland roamed by mammoth, lion, red deer
– and their human hunters – but melting ice turned it into an area of marshes
and wetlands before it was finally and definitively claimed by the waves around
8,000 years ago. (Incidentally, Doggerland was recently in the news following
exciting archaeological discoveries).
The idea of a submerged world resonates with mythical and
poetic associations and, as a result, “Doggerland” lends itself well as the
title of Ben Smith’s debut novel. The
work, in fact, portrays an unspecified but seemingly not-so-distant future,
where global warming and rising sea levels (possibly exacerbated by some other
cataclysm) have eroded the coastline and brought to an end civilisation as we
know it.
This strange, new world is made
stranger still by the purposely constrained stage against which the narrative
plays out. Smith focuses on two main
characters, maintenance men on an enormous wind farm out in the North Sea, who
lead a solitary existence on a decrepit rig amongst the rusting turbines. Although we are given their names, they are
generally referred to in the novel as “the Boy” and “the Old Man”. Early on in the book, we are told that of
course, the boy was not really a boy, any more than the old man was all that
old; but the names are relative, and out of the grey, some kind of distinction
was necessary. It’s a significant observation, because much of the novel’s
undeniable power derives from a skilful use of a deliberately limited
palette. The men’s life is marked by a
sense of claustrophobia, the burden of an inescapable fate. The monotony of the routine is only broken by
occasional visits of the Supply Boat and its talkative “Pilot”, who is the only
link with what remains of the ‘mainland’.
The struggle to keep the turbines working with limited resources becomes
an image of the losing battle against the rising oceans, at once awesome and
terrible in their vastness. The Romantic
notion of the Sublime is given an environmentalist twist. One can smell the rust and smell the
sea-salt.
Whilst the reader is made to share the ennui of
the Boy and his mentor, Smith turns his story into a gripping one by making the
most of the scant plot elements. For instance, we are told that the Boy was
sent on the rig to replace his father, after the latter’s unsuccessful escape
attempt. What exactly happened remains
unclear but, together with the Boy, we glean some disturbing details along the
way – in this regard, Smith takes a page out of dystopian post-apocalyptic
fiction, and suggests that society has been taken over by some sort of
totalitarian regime of whom the Boy’s father was, presumably, a victim. Part of the pleasure in reading this novel
comes from trying to piece together an understanding of what exactly is
happening on the mainland, considering that the perspective given to us is that
of two people stranded in the middle of nowhere.
At times, Doggerland reminded me of Megan Hunter’s The End We Start From, which also describes a future marked by rising
water levels. However, whereas Hunter’s vision, with its images of creation,
birth and maternity, is ultimately a hopeful one, Smith’s is devoid of any
feminine figure, suggesting a sterility in the human condition which can only
lead to its annihilation. Doggerland is
haunting in its bleakness: The wind
blows, the branches creak and turn. Somewhere in the metal forest, a tree
slumps, groans but does not quite fall.
The landscape holds fast, for a moment. For how long? It may be
centuries. Barely worth mentioning in the lifetime of water...
Kindle Edition, UK, 208 pages
Expected publication: April 4th 2019 by Fourth Estate
***
As a counterpoint to Ben Smith’s novel, I have chosen
three classical works which share a minimalist/post-minimalist aesthetic.
First on the (play)list is “Industry” for amplified cello
and electronics (1992) by American composer Michael Gordon (b. 1956), here performed by Ashley Bathgate. The screeching feedback effects remind me of Doggerland's giant, rusting turbines.
Italian singer-songwriter-composer-artist-director Franco
Battiato (b. 1945), with his obsession with Middle Eastern myth and religious
traditions, is possibly the last person one would associate with a dystopian,
post-apocalyptic novel. However, his
Stockhausen-Prize-winning electronic piece L’Egitto Prima dell Sabbie (Egypt
before the Sands), with its obsessive repetition of one simple rising scale,
reflects on the one hand the expanse of the sea and, on the other hand, the
mind-numbing weariness of the protagonists of Doggerland.
In 2014, American composer John Luther Adams won the
Pulitzer Prize for his 40-minute orchestral piece Become Ocean. Like Doggerland, his piece evokes “the
depth of the waves and the spray of the sea. But it
also warns us that ‘as the polar ice melts and sea level rises, we humans find ourselves
facing the prospect that once again we may quite literally become ocean’. You can listen to the piece here (performed by the Seattle Symphony Orchestra) and
read about it on the brilliant Corymbus classical music blog.
No comments:
Post a Comment