Spring by Ali Smith: A review

Third in Ali Smith's remarkable seasonal series of novels comes Spring. All three of the books have been timely, the action in them occurring almost in the time frame in which we read them. The action here is mostly in October 2018. Considering the time it takes to write a book - the drafting, the revision, the editing, and finally the publication - how does she manage to do that?

The books are very much of this political era, the post-Brexit vote in the UK and the post-2016 presidential election in the US, and this book deals cogently and in white-hot passion with the monstrous treatment of immigrants, refugees, and asylum-seekers.

The opening line of Spring is, "Now what we don't want is facts" and thus Smith sums up very succinctly the governing strategy of the moment. Facts are not really facts but are whatever you can get people to believe. Truth is malleable and waiting to be shaped by the master propagandists. This is the background for the stories she tells us.

She gives us a psychological tale about Richard Lease, a filmmaker. Lease is grieving over the death of his best friend, an older female screenwriter with whom he had collaborated. Thus one of the themes of the series, male appreciation for female artists, continues with this book. But it is not only Lease's appreciation for the work of his (fictional) friend but also he reveres the work of a real artist named Tacita Dean. Moreover, the last gift his now deceased friend gave him was an idea for a film about writers Katherine Mansfield and Rainer Maria Rilke who spent weeks in the same small Swiss town in 1922 but never met. She also bequeathed her set of Mansfield books to Lease. So, in fact, the work of three female artists is woven into the story.

Smith also interweaves sections of social media renderings, particularly the collective voice of Twitter trolls which are just as hateful, racist, misogynistic, and ignorant as you might expect. These examples of contemporary "culture" are especially disturbing because we know that they actually do occur. Users of Twitter and other such platforms do threaten to rape, murder, and otherwise physically assault anyone - especially any woman - who dares to express opinions at variance with their dogma. These sections give the novel even greater timeliness. Many could have been taken from our president's daily Twitter output.

Smith then shifts again to the story of Brit, a young woman who works in an Immigration Removal Center, which, she helpfully explains to a refugee who had come to Britain sealed in a hauling container, is not a prison, "it's a purpose-built Immigration Removal Center with a prison design." We understand very quickly that Brit has lost any moral sense she might have once possessed.

Brit's life is changed when she meets a 12- or 13-year-old schoolgirl named Florence who showed up at the I.R.C. one day and somehow - magical realism? - managed to shame the director into having the stinking bathrooms cleaned. Those who meet Florence seem to be in thrall to her and willingly do her bidding.

Soon, but not until we have fully experienced the horrors of the Immigration Removal Center, Brit and Florence hit the road and eventually end up, along with Richard Lease, in a Scottish town. Here, the stories of Lease, Brit, and Florence do finally merge.

Any summary that I give of this novel is bound to be inadequate. It really has to be experienced. It could be a stand-alone but, ideally, I think it should be experienced, along with Autumn and Winter, in the order in which Smith has published them. Although the stories are not tightly connected in any way, they do build on each other. This one could be said to be the most political of the three. It is certainly the angriest and, in many ways, the most despairing and pessimistic. What, I wonder, will Summer bring?

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

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