In this story we follow a few years of change in a young man’s life, specifically his relationships with his family and his girlfriends as they evolve. We also have short third person narrated sections filling in some of the family history, some sad events that shaped their lives for generations and underline the significance of the family farm in the minds of the current generations. In his acknowledgements, the author mentions borrowing from his family to tell this story, and it does have an autobiographical feel to it, leaving me wondering how much of it is imagined and how much not.

Barney Norris writes emotion so well. His character Ed is a profoundly thoughtful man, intense in his analysis of his own feelings every step of the way, sometimes almost too much, but always interesting.

‘Strange to search for a new place in the midst of grief, and feeling distracted while trying to make what ought to be one of the most important decisions, and completely unable to focus. But this is how life always seems to happen to me. The future can never just be created on its own. The ebb of one part of life turning into the past is what always seems to give birth to the future, so that every decision ends up being a reaction to something, not a thing in itself; every new choice is born of a kind of grief.’

Some lovely descriptions of the landscape, too, which always please me - ranging from the Welsh hills to the Cornish coast and to the city of London.

A dense book which, despite being relatively short on pages, took me an inordinate amount of time to read. Well worth the effort.

The opening chapter of Norris’s fourth (and latest) novel Undercurrent introduces us to narrator Ed and his fiancée Juliet. They are at a wedding reception when they suddenly notice that the attractive photographer seems to have taken an uncommon interest in Ed. Later that night, Ed discovers that the photographer is Amy, a girl he had saved from drowning when he was still a ten-year old boy on a family holiday. This unexpected encounter, and the jolt brought by that half-forgotten childhood memory, is the trigger which Ed needs to walk out of his relationship with Juliet which, almost without their noticing, has long gone stale. Ed builds a bond with Amy and, through her, considers anew his connection with his parents, and his life plans. The segments narrated by Ed alternate with chapters in the third person, describing the chequered history of a farming family in Wales.

A central theme of this novel is history and memory: how the past shapes us and how we in turn shape our past through the stories we tell. It deals with different layers of “history” – the history of the individual characters, the history of their families, and at a higher level, the backdrop of world events (in this case, the history of Empire and the World Wars).

I was also struck by the unexpected mixture of the philosophical and the mundane. Some of the dialogue is so ‘everyday’ (small talk while washing the dishes, conversations during long car drives) that it verges perilously on the banal. But, particularly through Ed’s soul-searching narration, Norris also presents us with meditative passages of great beauty and insight, as in this dark description of London with its:

"… ceaseless noise, the light, the fear, the anger. In this place we cling to each other and try the best we can to survive the huge indifference of the metropolis all around us… All cities are built like maps of a mind, and when you spend time in them they come to map your own, you can’t help but fall into the rhythms offered up to you…"

Life is full of challenges, pain and shattered dreams. In Undercurrent, Norris faces these realities head-on, steering a steady course between facile nihilism on the one hand, and sentimental escapism on the other. The result is a gently hopeful novel, full of that human/e warmth which we all need.

Full review at: https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2022/04/undercurrent-by-barney-norris.html