21 November 2022
The Relfe Sisters
12 December 2021
Stephen’s Purpose
Stephen Grove is a twelve-year-old schoolboy living in a small town on the south coast of England. His father walked out when he was three, leaving him with an unsympathetic elder sister and an almost equally unsympathetic mother.
Stephen is shy, friendless and studious, and has become the target of bullies. Their campaign against him is so vicious that he decides to hang himself. In the woods he chooses a tree and is about to climb up when a tiny bird appears above him in the foliage.
The bird glanced down at him, half over its shoulder as it were, revealing that the eyes were curiously tilted together by the shape of its skull. This lent it a benign, quizzical expression which seemed to be reaching deep, very deep, inside him.
He felt as if he had been found out and were being chided by an omniscient friend.
From that moment on, Stephen’s life is not his own.
1 July 2019
Phoebe Rising
The period is the early 1960s, a rather simpler time and one to which the very English flavour of the piece is suited. The setting is Kent, on the archetypal white cliffs around Dover, but the village of Pelling-on-Sea is imaginary, combining elements of a number of English seaside resorts.
The central story is about the struggle a sensitive little English girl, Phoebe, undergoes to recover from a disastrous upbringing among the super-wealthy in the South of France. Her mother dies when she is seventeen and Phoebe returns to England to meet, and live with, the father she has not seen or heard from for nearly nine years.
The extent is 141,000 words, and you can read the first chapter here.
12 August 2017
Adrian’s Wall
Eleven years on from a bitter divorce, Adrian Stowell is becoming not only a hermit but a misanthrope. He has vowed never to get caught again, to concede to another woman influence over himself and his property, and has surrounded himself with a wall of cynicism and mistrust.
One June morning he is working in his front garden. An attractive neighbour, not long arrived in the Hampshire village where Adrian lives, comes through the gate. He has never seen her before and might never have met her but for the fact that her cat has gone missing.
He accepts the flyer she offers him and promises to search his outhouses. Her eyes are kind; she smiles at him, and from then on Adrian can’t stop thinking about her.
This is a story about the alienation wrought by the increasing fragmentation of modern society and the difficulty one modern man has in adjusting to it. He struggles besides with the sort of masculine mindset which was once critical to the rise of civilisation, but whose value is becoming more and more derided, even despised.
It is also an unsentimental love story touching upon loneliness and bereavement and, above all, the magical power of forgiveness.
Extent: 119,000 words
Published: 12 August 2017
1 January 2015
Dismemberment
The British conundrum: what do you do about an intruder in your house? No one is on your side, least of all the state. And when things goes wrong, and you have a nosy neighbour who sits on the Police Authority, your nightmare is only just beginning …
Annie and Laurence Trent are a young, professional couple working in financial services and living in a London suburb. Laurence is beset with worry: about money, about his job, about the economy and the future. He and Annie long to start a family but can’t afford to.
It is 18 December, 2009. Just before midnight, she urgently turns and wakes him. There are sounds of intrusion downstairs.
Laurence arms himself with the hammer they keep by the bed and ventures out to the landing.
He waits and listens at the rail; and with a surge of relief decides the thief or thieves have taken what they wanted and gone.
Then he realizes someone is still below: still below, and heading for the stairs.
13 December 2012
The Secret Joy of Reading
Just in time for the holidays I have released a collection of ten non-fiction pieces, all but one from this blog:
My First Fountain Pen
Kathleen
The Subconscious in Fiction
Nausea
The Good and Great Reader
Feminism
Politics and Fiction
The Super Panther
Fuzzy Computing
The Secret Joy of Reading
Please help yourself to a free copy from Smashwords. It is also available from Amazon in a specially formatted Kindle edition, currently priced at the minimum (99 cents), and should soon appear for nothing at Apple, Barnes & Noble, Diesel and Sony.
26 February 2012
Darling Brenda
This is a very black comedy indeed.
The setting is England in 1955. Nigel Dodd is 23. Still living at his parents’ home, he is heir to the family business, a thriving estate agency. Unknown to Nigel, his father is embroiled in an ambitious and crooked land deal involving corrupt politicians at the County Council.
Brenda Vale is 26, a nurse, highly intelligent and extremely pretty, with a newly acquired German girlfriend named Grete. One of Brenda’s unrealized ambitions is to “find and marry some pliable man with money”. Circumstances bring her into the Dodd household; Grete’s permission to stay in the UK unexpectedly runs out, and suddenly Brenda is in need of hard cash and plenty of it.
Nigel could hardly be more pliable. Nor could he be more infatuated. The future looks bright for Brenda and Grete: but looks can be deceptive, and when the land deal goes horribly wrong Brenda must use all her wiles to keep her scheme on track.
31 May 2011
The Drowning
I have just released a new book. The title is The Drowning and the extent about 125,000 words. It is set in England and Nigeria between 1944 and 2015 and represents something of a departure for me in that it is a purely literary novel.
One of the nicest things about independent authorship is freedom from the shackles of genre. Publishers, especially these days, have become timid. They expect their authors to produce more of the same: hence the popularity of series novels. That puts the author in a quandary. Should he continue on the treadmill, writing the same book over and over again? Why is he even bothering with authorship at all? There are many other treadmills in this world, and nearly all of them pay the operative more.
My previous books have all been more or less classifiable, but the classification is arbitrary and restricting. It exists for the benefit of booksellers, not readers – unless they are of that variety that likes to stick with what it knows and regards reading as an activity akin to chewing the cud. Nothing much wrong with that, I suppose, it’s harmless enough, but supplying fodder to such an audience was not really the siren call that lured me into this trade in the first place.
No, I like to tell stories. The setting and the “genre” are important only so far as they feed into and reinforce the narrative. Thus The Tide Mill had to be an “historical novel” because of the level of technology required to make the plot work. The mill itself, its dependence on the moon and tides, its function, its politics and legal status, and its place in the religious beliefs of the time, all act as a framework and a metaphor in the account of human relationships I was trying to portray. On their own, tide mills are not especially gripping for the general reader, and to find out about them you would be better off looking at textbooks.
The Drowning is about conscience, the phenomenon that may or may not be the end of a thread leading into the most mysterious labyrinth of all. Exploring the labyrinth – trying to understand the apparently senseless fact of our existence – is the proper business of the novelist. Of course, on the journey he has to intrigue his companion, the reader. Partly the reader must be entertained and informed, but more importantly he must be offered the chance to compare his own life with that of the characters, to wonder how he himself would react in similar circumstances, and to draw from the story whatever meaning the author has consciously or otherwise built into it.
If a book remains with the reader after he has finished it, then it is a success. I believe The Drowning may be such a book, but giving a verdict on that is not the proper business of the novelist: it is yours.
This book is beautiful. Romantic, subtle, politically insightful and philosophically insightful.
I always enjoy books that span a lifetime. It makes the reader re-appraise their priorities from a more distant perspective than is usually used.
I would recommend The Drowning as heartily as it was recommended to me.
5 December 2010
Nature Writing
I have just uploaded this title to Smashwords. Here is the Introduction:
My enthusiasm for natural history was probably first sparked by Richard Jefferies, whose Bevis fevered my imagination for two or three months in 1962, when I was twelve. My recreational reading consisted thereafter mostly of books about nature. Many of these I bought with my pocket money, so they tended to be second-hand and out of date.
British nature-writing reached its heyday in the late nineteenth century. The drift to the cities had produced a rich vein of nostalgia for the countryside, and this was assiduously mined by the publishers of the day. Besides essayists like Jefferies and W. H. Hudson there were any number of authors who produced handbooks of the flora and fauna. All these books were written in a formal style and edited to Victorian standards of literacy. I didn't realize it at the time, but they were having a profound influence on the way I produced, and was ever to produce, written English.
Nature as a subject for a child's pen is ideal: it is inexhaustible. There is also scope for original observation and plain description, especially if the child is lucky enough to have been born into a literate household and attends a school whose teachers have high expectations of their pupils.
The first part of this collection comprises a series of articles published during 1984-5 by a local newspaper in my home town, Watford, on the outskirts of north-west London. After these are four short pieces I wrote purely for pleasure. These begin with Hunting Sparrowhawk.
Finally I provide a series of brief extracts – often no more than a sentence or two – from the nature journal I have been keeping since 1963. Read in sequence, these provide a curious picture of a boyish enthusiasm gradually maturing. They also give a glimpse of a disappearing world. Alas, my old school is by no means what it was, children are no longer free to wander the woods and wild seashore at will, and the English countryside is even more degraded now than it was then.
This ebook contains all the "Natureview" pieces published on this blog, together with some other essays and a selection of excerpts from my personal nature journal from 1963 onwards.
12 September 2008
Refuge
Like The Penal Colony, this is a thriller set in the near future.
It is twelve years on from a global plague. John Suter believes himself the sole survivor. He has gradually come to terms with his fate and has settled into a steady and self-reliant daily routine.
One morning he finds a mutilated body in the river near his house. In his terror, Suter knows he has no choice but to investigate.
What he discovers upstream stretches his endurance to its limits and forces him to reassess not only his own humanity, but also his place within the human family he had once believed extinct.
Earliest sketches: autumn 1992
Synopsis: October 1999
Final draft for electronic publication: 29 September 2008
Extent: 83,825 words
When this novel first came to my attention, I was excited, since Richard Herley had already authored one of my favorite books, the outstanding The Penal Colony. Then, when I read the blurb and realized what Refuge was about, I admit my excitement faltered a bit. I felt the post-apocalyptic, I'm-the-last-man-on-Earth survival milieu had already been pretty well strip-mined in a hundred works ranging from I Am Legend to Children of Men to The Stand, and I thought it would be difficult for an author to come along in 2008 and give the genre a treatment that was anything other than derivative and tired.
Happily, I was wrong. Herley immediately puts his stamp on the proceedings, much as he does in his other works, with concise, economical detail, great pacing, and a level of research and thinking-through that leaves the reader wondering why other novelists didn’t think of these things. His chops as a writer are simply amazing - several wide cuts above the average writer of popular fiction. Several themes from Herley’s other works are revisited here, most notably the villains’ Christian/Satanic delusions and the protagonists’ struggles for survival in a wild, uncaring natural world, but it’s a very different novel to The Penal Colony.
I can’t recommend this book highly enough. If you like brainy, propulsive thrillers with characters who are complex, flawed and not always easy to love, this is the book for you.
1 September 2008
The Tide Mill
The setting is feudal Sussex in the thirteenth century, a landscape and society that have changed almost beyond recognition. The power of the Church is at its zenith; yet the King, ruling by divine right, is sovereign, above all.
Ralf Grigg is the young son of a master carpenter whose business failed when Ralf was small. The family have come to live in the seaside village of Mape, where Ralf’s mother was born.
Ralf’s solitary evening walk along the sea-wall is interrupted by the distant sight of someone - a boy of about his own age - trapped in the mud of the saltmarshes. The tide is flooding. There is no time to fetch help.
The decision Ralf makes in that moment has profound and far-reaching consequences, not only for himself and his whole family, but for the lord of the manor, his sovereign, and the ruthless struggle for supremacy between Westminster and Rome.
Synopsis: February 2003
Final draft for electronic publication: February 2008
Extent: 125,773 words
The Tide Mill is an immaculately crafted work of period fiction where love, pain, gritty daily detail, natural beauty, and human ingenuity meld seamlessly into something almost epic. The depth and richness of Herley’s language is always a treat: through his writing, he constantly reminds the reader that the perfect word for the situation is not always the common or expected word. As terse and economical as his prose is, he seems bent on selecting every word for maximum impact, and succeeds over and over again, achieving an exhilarating mix of fast-moving action and rich detail. Herley is one of the few authors who can send me scrambling for the dictionary without seeming as if he’s showing off.
Much like the other books of Herley’s that I’ve read, The Tide Mill inspires not primarily because of the ending – which is never uniformly sweet in his books – but because of the characters’ personal journeys. Herley’s protagonists are never static. They err, fail, learn, grow, and eventually achieve a kind of personal redemption that is utterly believable, and The Tide Mill's Ralf Grigg is no exception to this rule.
The Tide Mill is also a love letter to England. Not the urban, tourist England of Big Ben and Buckingham Palace, but a wild, unspoiled England that I’ve never seen but, thanks to Herley’s powers of description, I feel I know. This is another running theme in Herley’s books: in The Penal Colony, the protagonist had to be exiled from civilization to find and appreciate it; in Refuge, it took the death of virtually every human on earth. Even in The Tide Mill, set in a time when England was far more sparsely populated, there’s a hint of mistrust of the city, and a naked affection for the flora, fauna, and geography of the land.
As always, Herley’s level of detail and knowledge of his setting and subject immerse the reader in the world of the story, without ever resorting to didactic, 20 page long "research dumps" - the exposition always propels the story along, rather than slowing it down. Above all, Herley is a craftsman: you feel that he knows his subject, his story, and his characters perfectly, and that every sentence of every paragraph has been meticulously honed. I was shocked to find out that The Tide Mill and Refuge were self-edited, because the pacing and continuity, normally the most obvious victims of self-edited novels, are virtually flawless here. The word "perfectionist" comes to mind.
This is my favorite book of all the ones I’ve read this year, and given the assortment of #1 bestsellers, genre essentials, and literary classics that that entails, I think that’s the highest praise I could give it.
The Penal Colony
It is 1997. The British government now runs island prison colonies to take dangerous offenders from its overcrowded mainland jails.
Among all these colonies, Sert, 25 miles off the north Cornish coast, has the worst reputation. There are no warders. Satellite technology is used to keep the convicts under watch. New arrivals are dumped by helicopter and must learn to survive as best they can. To Sert, one afternoon in July, is brought Anthony John Routledge, sentenced for a sex-murder he did not commit. Routledge knows he is here for ever. And he knows he must quickly forget the rules of civilized life. But not all the islanders are savages. Under the charismatic leadership of one man a community has evolved. A community with harsh and unyielding rules, peopled by resourceful men for whom the hopeless dream of escape may not be so hopeless after all ...
I started this book in 1985, just after the miners’ strike was quelled by the Conservative government. The difference between Mrs Thatcher and her Labour predecessors was profound. It seemed that Britain, left in such a mess and so long due a correction, was lurching too far rightwards instead.
Then as now, violent crime and terrorism were high on the public-opinion agenda. Criminals are anti-social. The cost of their crimes usually goes far beyond that of the objects they steal or destroy, or even the human cost paid by their victims. By committing a crime, a man renounces the values of the society in which he lives. A heinous crime such as murder or rape is in effect a renunciation of society itself.
Capital punishment is barbarous; incarceration is expensive and often ineffective. Since criminals demonstrate by their actions that they wish no part of civilized society, it seemed to me logical that a future British government might want to isolate them, permanently, from that society. “Isolate” is derived from the Latin word for an island.
I enjoyed a holiday in north Devon in the spring of 1985, exploring the cliffs around Hartland. One sunny May afternoon, sitting among the thrift and overlooking the sea, I suddenly had the idea for The Penal Colony, got out my notebook, and started work. Those very cliffs feature in the story.
Synopsis: October 1985
Final draft: November 1986
Editor at Grafton Books: Patricia Parkin
First publication: October 1987
Revised for electronic publication: February 2008
Extent: 103,343 words
A movie based on this book, No Escape, was released in 1994.
Grafton, London, hardback, 1987
William Morrow, New York, hardback, 1988
Grafton, London, paperback, 1988
Ballantine, New York, paperback, 1989
Heyne, Munich, paperback, 1991 (Die Strafkolonie)
Bastei Luebbe, Hamburg, film tie-in paperback, 1994 (Flucht aus Absolom)
Shinchosha, Tokyo, paperback, 1989
Proszynski i S-ka, Warsaw, paperback, 1994 (Kolonia Karna)
Grafton, London, film tie-in paperback (issued as No Escape), 1994
Herley follows his successful trilogy The Pagans with an intriguing, ultimately uplifting novel of man’s capacity for salvation, a twist on Lord of the Flies. In a not-too-distant future, the British government has relegated murderers, rapists, and others of society’s outcasts to the wild island of Sert, off the coast of Cornwall. Overseen only by satellite technology, the 500 men on the island have divided themselves into two communities: “the village” and “outside”. The village contains the most intelligent men who, rather than succumb to the savagery rampant outside its borders, try to retain what they can of civilization. “Outside” is ruled by two warring clans that despise and envy the villagers. Routledge, wrongly convicted of a sex murder, is told that he must spend a week “outside”; if he survives, he will be accepted as a member of the village. He quickly learns the meaning of survival and in the process, like the men in the village, he rediscovers dignity, respect for others and the moral satisfaction of working together for the common good. When the warring gangs outside finally combine for an all-out attack on the village, its leader, Franks, and the village council reveal a desperate but ingenious escape plan, and this fast-moving, intelligent thriller goes into top gear.
Author Richard Herley has built a thriller as tight and disciplined as his inmate society.
A gripping novel, as thriller or novel of ideas.
... a well devised and gripping novel.
It’s savagery - not civilization - that lies like a thin veneer on the human character. That’s the ironic theme of The Penal Colony, an absorbing, offbeat thriller by British novelist Richard Herley ...
Tension and philosophy artfully mix in this story, thanks to terse prose, plenty of action and a convincing milieu. Multiple battles of wits propel the plot as Routledge struggles with himself, his environment and bloodthirsty human adversaries to embrace his nature as a social animal and learn the values of his new society.
Herley explored similar themes in The Pagans (1978-84), a notable trilogy about the Stone Age now being published in paperback in the United States. The Penal Colony is the trilogy’s equal, casting the eternal love-hate conflict between individual and tribe in a modern context of solid adventure.
... a well written and a memorable story of a chilling adventure.
Normally I shun such reviewer clichés as “a real page-turner”, “leaves you breathless”, “can’t put it down”, considering them to be empty substitutes for critical thought. Well, there’s always an exception: I’ve weighed those phrases carefully, and I believe that each of them accurately applies to a new novel, The Penal Colony by Richard Herley.
The Penal Colony is a gripping novel of suspense, terror, thrills and adventure. It raises your intellectual speculation while raising your heart rate. It has been a long time since I last encountered a book that so successfully blended those elements along with compelling characters.
... It is a marvelous plot, reminiscent of Geoffrey Household’s Rogue Male in its rendering of helplessness, aloneness and vulnerability when Routledge is on the run. Herley is an expert at setting up this kind of story - heightening the reader’s suspense, easing it, backing into the resolutions of episodes.
But novels that depend almost exclusively on plot are generally not very interesting. This novel does not, and so this novel is captivatingly interesting. By setting his story only a few years in the future, Herley is asking what sort of society we are - and becoming.
Within this grand vision are other, subtle, supporting images, parables and metaphors. The Village, for instance, is like a monastic community: highly structured, obedient, non-democratic and headed by a beneficent man called “Father”. This is in contrast to the utter lawlessness of the Outsiders, one of whose dominant figures, named Martinson, has a fixation on Christ, Satan and crucifixion - and a violent hatred for Father.
Altogether, this makes a neat conceit. These are all (except Routledge) terrible lawbreakers, yet some have become law-abiding and others outlaws.
Significantly, on the island are the ruins of a monastery, one of those guardians of learning in the Dark Ages. Now we have, in Routledge’s estimation, “the new Dark Ages” with “Britain wallowing out of control”. There is more than one reference in the book to feelings of reincarnated lives and loyalties.
Is the Village, then, an example of how society can save itself, the way the monasteries once saved civilization? Maybe, maybe not. The book’s ending would seem to lead one away from such grand conceptualizations.
Yet it is true that, despite the primitive conditions, Routledge feels for the first time that he really belongs, which he never had felt in his comfortable middle-class existence. The Village offers “the opportunity to be a man”. These men deal honestly, squarely, fairly and kindly with each other, a way of interaction most of them had not experienced before.
If I could bring myself to put “perfect” in front of any noun, which I can’t, I’d be tempted to use it here. The Penal Colony came into the office absolutely unheralded, with little promotion or publicity, which usually means the publisher has few hopes for it. I really think this novel is in a class with Walter Miller’s A Canticle for Leibowitz, whose intellectual qualities it shares. I wish for it the same long-lasting fame and respect.
The Earth Goddess
It is 3000 BC. The cult of the Earth Goddess is controlled throughout the vast empire of Europe by the secretive and unscrupulous Red Order, the priesthood which manipulates all power for its own ends. The land that is now called England has been annexed and its lord, Brennis Gehan Fifth, betrayed and murdered. The Lady Altheme, his consort, has escaped to the forest. She is carrying his son, Paoul, rightful inheritor of the Valdoe domain.
But his inheritance is usurped by his illegitimate half-brother. Ignorant of his parentage, Paoul is orphaned, sold into the priesthood, and sent to the mainland citadel for instruction. His teachers predict a great destiny for him. Only later, beyond the point of no return, do his doubts begin ... This remarkable novel, complete in itself, follows The Stone Arrow and The Flint Lord and concludes The Pagans, a trilogy whose theme finds form in Paoul’s disillusionment and in his illicit passion for his half-brother’s wife, the gentle and beautiful girl who becomes for him the true Goddess of the Earth. The story of their love races to a climax of tragedy that signals devastating consequences for the evil men of the priesthood and the empire.
I have a soft spot for this book. After The Flint Lord, I read a good deal more about the late neolithic, particularly with respect to the achievements of Stonehenge and Newgrange. These are the works of a sophisticated priestly class, with a highly developed religion. The Earth Goddess is a speculation about that.
The Bronze Age is just beginning; so too are the profound, far-reaching, and ultimately disastrous consequences of the invention of agriculture.
Synopsis: October 1981
Final draft: March 1984
Editor at William Heinemann: Amanda Conquy
Publication: October 1984
Revised for electronic publication: January 2008
Extent: 73,653 words
William Heinemann, London, hardback, 1984
William Morrow, New York, hardback, 1985
Grafton, London, paperback, 1986 (omnibus edition of The Pagans)
Ballantine Books, New York, paperback, 1987
Richard Herley’s dour novel The Flint Lord described a military conflict in ancient Britain that ended in the defeat of the native, nomadic inhabitants. This sequel, the concluding book in Herley’s trilogy, The Pagans, shifts its focus to the powerful religious order that controls the empire. While the illegitimate heir to Britain - the stammering, brain-damaged Hothen - is groomed to ascend the throne, the rightful heir, his half-brother Paoul, has been orphaned, raised by the nomads as their own, orphaned again, sold into slavery, bought by the priesthood and finally curried as an exceptional student with a great future. Inevitably, Paoul discovers his true heritage and falls in love with Hothen’s wife. This highly melodramatic plot, however, contrasts with the appealing characters and the intriguing historical detail of taxes and trade, textiles and theology.
Love, religion and destiny intermingle in a strong plot in which a young man realizes his special powers and difficult choices.
One book that manages to get away from the beaten track is The Earth Goddess by Richard Herley ... The first two books in the Pagans trilogy were a gripping vision of pre-history, a brutal forest world of ambush and enslavement. The cult of the Goddess now grips the land, operated by the sinister Red Order, a kind of sacerdotal Krypteia whose methods of indoctrination blend Zen with the public school ethos, while a young hand-picked novice begins to smell the truth.
... a combination of archeological speculation and rich imagination ...
The portrayals of village dwellings, religious ceremonies and ancient culture are well done and convincing.
This is not a novel which insults the reader with glib action scenes, and its sense of daily household detail is a steady delight. Commendable.
The Flint Lord
Driven by the sinister forces of his own heritage, Brennis Gehan Fifth, Lord of Valdoe, is planning the genocide of the nomadic tribes who impede the spread of his empire in the land that was southern England of 5,000 years ago. With his army swelled by foreign mercenaries he prepares to march through the snows to annihilate the nomads’ retreat in their winter camp.
Word of the Lord of Valdoe’s intentions has already reached the nomads, but when their chieftain is killed in a hunting accident it seems his successor will not heed the warning. In all the tribes, only Tagart understands the danger and is strong enough to face the Flint Lord, but first he must win the strange battle for leadership, waged according to ancient and ruthless laws. The campaign that he then inspires is a superb story of desperate courage. This novel of intrigue, violence and betrayal in the land of our Stone Age forefathers is a magnificent successor to the author’s The Stone Arrow. Here, spurring the Flint Lord’s drive for conquest, is his passion for his beautiful, decadent sister, a drive and a passion which lead inexorably to catastrophic consequences.
After The Stone Arrow had been accepted, I was unsure how to proceed. The sequel was extremely hard to write. It is unusually violent and the deuteragonist (Brennis Gehan) was difficult to live with for so long.
However, when I came to revise the book for electronic publication I found it better than I remembered. I can praise it now because the fellow who wrote it (myself, aged 27-30) is no longer around. The shenanigans of the leadership contest among the nomads demand all the reader’s wits if he or she is to keep up; and I must say I was rather pleased with the logic of the siege. See if you agree!
Synopsis: October 1977
Final draft: August 1980
Editor at William Heinemann: Caroline Ball
First publication: June 1981
Revised for electronic publication: January 2008
Extent: 71,772 words
Heinemann/Peter Davies, London, hardback, 1981
William Morrow, New York, hardback, 1985
Grafton, London, paperback, 1986 (omnibus edition of The Pagans)
Ballantine Books, New York, paperback, 1987
Richard Herley ... won wide critical acclaim and the Winifred Holtby Memorial Prize for his first novel, The Stone Arrow, set in neolithic Sussex. Its successor is equally distinguished, a savage and breathtaking evocation, as gripping as any thriller, of an alien world.
... takes neolithic genocide, incest, helotry and weaponry in its fine imaginative stride ... the stark action and the snows and wolf-woods of a hostile landscape are powerful feats of description.
Herley is one of the best yarn-spinners in England today.
What is astonishing is that the animistic, ancient world, which to us exists merely in dusty flint arrow-tips or dried pieces of leather attached to bone fish hooks behind glass in museums, should be brought to such lusty and sometimes hideously painful life. It is sobering to realise that in 5,000 years men appear to have learned nothing but the ability to kill and maim with more sophistication.
A well researched and remarkable novel.
Herley writes with such panache that one soon feels at home in a world where blinding, boiling alive, flaying and disembowelling are the order of the day ...
Yet he is suggestive, rather than sadistic, and leaves so much to our imagination that it is hard to believe afterwards that those scenes of rape, incest and blinding occurred in the spaces between chapters ... the violence is justified whereas in the average bestseller it is gratuitous. One must also admire how Herley captures the practical details of daily life five thousand years ago: the hunting, trapping and mining.
Stone Age bop, bash and slice - competent, tough, and mean.
... it is an extraordinary achievement.
The Stone Arrow
When the men of Burh, settlers from continental Europe, fall upon the sleeping nomad tribe in the depths of the forest amid the Downs of southern England, Tagart is the only survivor, escaping by sheer chance after his wife and young son have been massacred. Twenty-five and heir to the chiefdom of the roving hunters, he sees his only inheritance now to be an overwhelming urge for merciless revenge - of his family, his tribe and indeed of a way of life which in the England of 5,000 years ago is steadily being eroded by these tillers of the soil.
Tagart’s first objective for his single-handed work of retribution is the fortified village of Burh (in what is now known as the Cuckmere Valley), and the means he uses are more subtle and deadly than any traditional form of attack. This story of his revenge, his subsequent savage enslavement by the new lords of the land and his escape with Segle, the beautiful sister of another captive, introduces a new author of considerable significance. Richard Herley writes with acute sense of place, of wind and weather, of wild life and of the background of Stone Age England when the countryside is in its last virgin state before civilization begins.
This was my first published novel. I had the idea for it early in 1975 and sat down to write the book the following winter. I had already composed a version of the scene in which the farmers attack the nomads’ camp.
The action starts in medias res, with a prologue. Part 1, Chapter 1, is set some days beforehand. It describes the farmers’ village and the political rivalry which leads to the attack. Part 1 ends just as the prologue begins. After that, the sequence is strictly chronological.
I had much difficulty with inventing a name for the hero. My notebook reveals that he was originally called “Karch”. I wanted something harsh, using at least one explosive consonant. But “Karch” seemed too stark. A two-syllable name, “Tagart”, was less uncompromising, as indeed the character himself turned out to be.
The landscape of the story, which I knew quite well as a student, may be visited today or identified on an Ordnance Survey map. Here are some OS references to places mentioned:
Apuldram SU 8302
Birdbrow TQ 3806
Bow Hill SU 8210
“Burh” TV 521992
Butser SU 7120
Cissbury TQ 1307
Eartham SU 9509
Findon TQ 1108
Harting SU 8018
Highdole TQ 4004
Hooe TQ 6809
Itchenor SU 7901
Lepe SZ 4598
Harrow Hill (“Raven Hill”) TQ 0810
Thundersbarrow TQ 2208
Valdoe SU 8711
Whitehawk TQ 3305
Synopsis: January 1976
Final draft: July 1977
Editor at Peter Davies: Kieran Phelan
First publication: May 1978
Revised for electronic publication: January 2008
Extent: 71,400 words
List of printed editions
Peter Davies, London, hardback, 1978
St Martin’s Press, New York, hardback, 1979
Granada, St Albans, paperback, 1981
William Morrow, New York, hardback, 1985
Grafton Books, London, paperback, 1986 (omnibus edition of The Pagans)
Ballantine Books, New York, paperback, 1987
Proszynski i S-ka, Warsaw, paperback, 1995 (Kamienna Strzala)
A letter from Anthony Burgess to Derek Priestley, publisher of The Stone Arrow, commenting on a proof copy:
Monaco, January 1, 1978
Dear Derek
A very happy New Year to you and yours and apologies for not having delivered a sentiment on THE STONE ARROW before now. Christmas and a trip to New York got in the way. But I have read the book, and with admiration. If this is truly a first novel, it must have behind it a long record of struggle in the art, for it is remarkably mature, and the style is highly personal though not at all heavily idiosyncratic. To write a novel about “primitive” people must be extremely difficult, and I would never dare to try it, but this one deals wholly convincingly with an ancient culture, and one is never distressed by lack of knowledge of time, location and the other alleged indispensables of a piece of fiction.
I read it with great enjoyment and instruction, and I can do no more than express my eagerness to see Herley’s next novel, having, of course, given my due meed of praise for this first. It is in every way a remarkable achievement.
As always
John
Anthony Burgess
The natural Darwinian world of which he writes with a blood-soaked passion left me gulping for air. Horridly imaginative, powerful in its refusal to avert its eyes from the results of violence, the book appeals to the blood lust in us all.
This is a gripping thriller set convincingly in neolithic Sussex. Richard Herley’s first novel is crammed with archaeological detail, but all of it is subordinate to the fast-moving story of Tagart. His wife, child and tribe have been wiped out by a farming village, and we follow his dogged attempts to wreak revenge single-handedly with mixed horror and admiration. In the Stone Age, tribal loyalty is the only morality, and as Herley resurrects this time with such panache, the gruesome bits of Tagart’s vendetta seem justified.
His re-creation of the remote past is an imaginative triumph.
Historical novels have long been with us, but few writers have ventured to set their fiction in pre-history. The scene here is Sussex around the fourth millennium BC; the theme, the tensions and clashes between indigenous hunter/gatherers and the immigrant colonists who, although they also use stone for their edge-tools, are agriculturalists, clearing the hunters’ forests for pasture and arable, and laying the foundations of an agrarian pattern which was to survive up to the Industrial Revolution. To evoke such an ancient and alien world is a daunting task to any writer, and I congratulate the author straight away on having achieved so well a picture of man as still very much part of the natural world, in competition with other animals in a shared environment determined by the subsoil and the botanical climax of undisturbed plant communities. Man was exploiting this environment while still a component of it, for food and raw materials for his artifacts: Richard Herley’s descriptions of landscape, flora and fauna, are remarkable, fully emphasizing the utility behind the beauty - food for free is there for both the hunter and farmer.
... The introduction of ceremonial intoxication by eating fly agaric is brilliant, and if the reader thinks the extraordinary details - the women chewing the fungus into pellets for the men, or the subsequent urination and drinking of this still potent by-product - have been invented by the author, they are quite wrong. They are, in fact, some of the best documented episodes in the book, taken from travellers’ accounts of Siberian tribes such as the Koryak less than a century ago.
... The life of hunters and farmers alike as portrayed by Mr Herley amply justifies Thomas Hobbes’s famous estimate of primitive societies, living in “continual feare, and danger of sudden death; And the life of man, solitary, poore, nasty, brutish and shorte”.
One can almost smell the perfumes of long-extinct forests and feel the rough ground beneath naked feet as Tagart, the only survivor of a nomad tribe slaughtered by a village of farmers, sets out to inflict his particular style of revenge.
Tagart uses his primitive but extensive skills ... in ways that are imaginative and believable. At times, his grasp of basic psychological warfare reaches near-brilliance.
You may think at first that Herley is only telling us about what may have happened a long time ago. But if you look closely, you might find yourself staring right back into your own world.
They are being slowly destroyed not by a god, of course, but by a skillful hunter who is enduring his own hell of survival. And yet, you may wonder. There is an enigmatic feeling, an eerie presence in the forest. Through the author’s judicious use of symbols, each act of revenge seems to take on more than human design and meaning ...
... an intelligent, awesome look at the violent side of human nature, and a sensitive portrayal of man’s dependence on nature. The story is clever, imaginative, believable, and once the momentum picks up, engrossing. Through the use of narrative skills and a variety of characters, Herley provides a fascinating close-up view of the villagers and nomads - the rituals, power struggles, politics, jealousies, suspicions, brutality, lust, and even tenderness and love. The cultures are human and alive, surprisingly near to ourselves.
What is remarkable about this novel of relentless revenge is that it is so convincing despite the fact that it takes place in Stone Age England.
The author, in an incredible demonstration of skill, creates a world of woods, water and wildlife and a mode of existing that seems as palpable as the prick of a flint projectile point.
No mean feat for any writer, to be sure, but singular when one considers that this is a first novel and that its occasion covers a period about which few anthropologists would brag of their knowledge. Yet Herley breathes into the novel a warm and convincing ethos of Stone Age man, his day-to-day endeavors, his passions, art, and finally his brutal cunning.
Margaret Mead would have found nothing to dismay her in this novel, and Ian Fleming would certainly have envied the derring-do.
The Stone Arrow, a first novel by a young biologist, Richard Herley, comes with a warm commendation from Anthony Burgess, no less. It takes a landscape the author knows well - the Cuckmere Valley in Sussex and the coast further west - and puts it back into the New Stone Age, peopled with three emerging civilisations that overlap and often fight for dominance: the farmers, who live in clearings; the nomads, who hunt in the forests; and the rich entrepreneurs who quarry flints with captive slave labourers. An ambitious young farmer seeking leadership in his village raids a nomad settlement and kills everyone - he thinks. But the single survivor swears revenge.
The story then has a double excitement: the Crusoe-like theme of lonely survival, using whatever comes to hand; and the technical problems of implementing the vow of vengeance and single-handedly wiping out, with the most primitive weapons, every person, building and trace of life in a large, prosperous, well-fenced village with the most modern conditions and equipment then known. By the end it is done. “In a matter of months no trace of them would remain. The forest would take over; the fields would become overgrown, unrecognizable, and then indistinguishable from the virgin woodlands that had stood unchanged for centuries.”
What is remakable and convincing about the book is its description of a way of life and a landscape. The place at a distance of five thousand years yet recognisably Sussex is shown with beauty, force and care: plants, land formation, soil and swamps, coast and rivers, the encroaching forest with its layered life, human, animal, vegetable.
It is a highly satisfactory first novel, full of information and interest, atmospheric yet solid, suggestive yet almost weirdly recognisable and credible.
No-frills, expeditious, and briskly grisly.
Prehistoric novels are a rarity - one thinks of William Golding and John Collier’s Tom’s A’Cold.
The Stone Arrow is a remarkable first attempt by biologist Richard Herley, remarkable, that is, as an evocation of the New Stone Age, the virgin Sussex forests, the weather, the tools and conditions of primitive life.
The forest is Tagart’s strong point. He knows which plants to eat, where to find pure water and how to deal with the animals around him. So does author Richard Herley, who is a biologist as well as a novelist, and the way that his forest lore is presented, in enchanting snippets appropriate to the story, helps make believable an almost feverishly imaginative tale.
Herley has a nice touch also with wildlife and landscape ... and his knowledge of the countryside and its plant life is formidable without pedantry. This is, in its novelty, a book for the jaded taste, but one with more than novelty to offer.
... this is an imaginative feat of no mean order.













