Barry Unsworth (1930–2012)

I picked this one up from the dollar bin at a Goodwill store in Connecticut, knowing nothing of the book or author. Evidently, Unsworth made his name writing historical fiction, and won a Booker Prize. I'm not much for historical fiction, alas, and Sugar and Rum is not. The back cover promised “a series of bizarre events” and “a plan that just may blow up in his face,” so, for a dollar, I decided to give it a go.

The narrator, Benson, has become blocked in the middle of a novel he is show more writing on the slave trade in Liverpool, so he wanders the streets of the city, alert to the portents of dissolution, nausea and dread—

’Block’ is a violent affliction…the great psychic disease of our time. It atrophies those parts that other diseases cannot reach…

A suicide lands on the sidewalk at his feet as he passes a quiet café. Back home, an owl flies into his room and settles on the armoire before Benson shoos it into a doorframe then tosses it out the window.

So I may have unleashed upon the world a concussed, demonic owl that will become a man-eater in due course. I may have disturbed the whole ecological balance. Who knows? We never see the whole shape of things.

Benson tries and fails to cultivate a new muse in Alma, but she is opposed to metaphor. He keeps himself connected to the creative life by tutoring aspiring writers, and his rumination on their work reveals Unsworth’s theme — the grit and woe and joy of living by one’s imagination. Unsworth the writer makes Benson’s bleak circumstances pungently comic, and the reader enjoys a provocative meditation on the myriad modes of inspiration. The dénouement — an audacious bit of ‘propaganda by deed’ carried out by Benson and his tutees in a scene worthy of Eric Ambler — felt strangely appropriate.

Turns out you can judge a book by its back cover. Sugar and Rum is a great read. show less

I haven’t read Unsworth in so many years that I had forgotten the sheer pleasure of his talent. Although it may not qualify as great literature, the writing here is impressive and Unsworth offers the willing reader more than a little food for thought in the course of providing a wonderfully engrossing murder mystery. The story takes place in 14th-century England and tells of a renegade priest who joins a traveling group of dramatic players. Unexpectedly short of money, they decide to show more prolong their stay in a town where the murder of a 12-year-old has just taken place and seems to have been “closed” unusually quickly. The players decide to create a new production based on the murder in the hope that local interest will create great attendance (and thus, great revenue). As they “research” the murder in order to make the play accurate, they discover far more than they expect. Many of the characters are stock figures but it is Unsworth’s achievement to not only create a vivid and riveting story but to do so well enough to force his readers to confront the deeper questions of any morality play. Unsworth uses an intentionally stilted (or mannered) English that is surprisingly successful in evoking the era and he also succeeds in creating a claustrophobic atmosphere that contributes greatly to both his story and the questions he poses. For those who are interested, he also teaches a great deal about the secrets and symbols of medieval theater and, in the process, submerges the reader in the small world of his characters. Definitely recommended and I will return to Unsworth sooner than I had anticipated for more such pleasure. show less

Barry Unsworth’s Morality Play proves to be equal parts Ellis Peters’ Brother Cadfael and learned explication of medieval life. Please don’t let that put you off! This brief, thoroughly entertaining novel won the Booker Prize, and you’ll see why almost immediately.

Wayward priest Nicholas Barber ran away from his diocese during the springtime. Having run afoul of a cuckolded husband, at Christmas time he has fled afield and crosses paths with a traveling acting troupe just at the show more moment when one of their number has suddenly died. Nicholas eagerly takes refuge with them, while the players reluctantly consent, as they are in need of another actor. In route to a gig, they stop on the way to make a little extra coinage entertaining at a village controlled by one Lord Richard de Guise.

That the decision will prove an unwise one Nicholas announces from the very first page. A 12-year-old peasant boy has been murdered, and a local woman charged with the crime. Hollywood today can’t resist a brutal murder, nor could these medieval players, who adapt the story into a play of their own — a very novel move in Northern England at the time. However, the more they delve into the brutal killing, the less the authorities’ version of what happened holds together.

Like The Name of the Rose before it, Morality Play brings the Middle Ages — and its scourges of war, plague, corruption, and grinding poverty — to life under the guise of a whodunnit. Enjoy the heart-stopping suspense and the shocking ending, and, as a side benefit, get an unvarnished glimpse into the plight of the common man in 14th century Northern England. Highly, highly recommended. show less

The flood of cheap manufactures, for which the people have no need, destroys their industries. They become dependent on this trade and the demand for goods can only be met by enslaving their fellows. To do this they need muskets in ever increasing quantities -- which we supply. And so we spread death everywhere. But that sacred hunger we spoke of justifies all. (p. 328)

In 1752, Liverpool businessman William Kemp finances a ship to engage in the Triangle Trade: trading arms for slaves in show more Africa, and then trading slaves In Jamaica for sugar to be brought back to England. Kemp recruits his nephew, Matthew Paris, to serve as the ship's physician. Paris, recently released from prison, is eager to start a new life. Kemp's son Erasmus resents Paris' new status, holding a deep grudge against him for petty childhood "crimes."

The ship sets sail, with all the horror expected of such a journey. Paris earns the respect of some crew members, but is barely tolerated by the captain. Meanwhile, the younger Kemp leads a life of relative ease, courting a young woman to be his bride. Events in both men's lives take unexpected turns and, on these cliffhangers, the reader is propelled forward to 1765. By this time Kemp is a prosperous businessman himself and lives in the cocoon of ideals that allows someone to believe slavery is just, and that they are entitled to the luxuries that result from the profits. Paris is living in a kind of utopian society forged on ideals of equality, which are fragile and difficult to sustain. Kemp's self-centeredness and profit motive cause him to seek out Paris to act on his inexplicable need for revenge.

Barry Unsworth packs so much into Sacred Hunger. The page-turning saga of the slave ship, with all its detail about living conditions and man's inhumanity to man, could be a book unto itself. The conflict between Paris and Kemp could also stand alone. Together they make for a gripping, emotional, and memorable read. Highly recommended. show less