Book Review: The Gallows Pole by Benjamin Myers
BOOK REVIEW- THE GALLOWS POLE BY BENJAMIN MYERS
The Yahhhkshire Moorland. Squelcheh leaves. Mulch and muck. Fookin political uprisin’ and clippin’ coins, becos the Moorlands is common lands for the men of the countreh.
Funnily enough this isn’t an actual quote from Myer’s historical crime drama, but I think I sum it up quite nicely. The novel is more Yorkshire than a Yorkshire pudding dipped in a Yorkshire tea and served with Wensleydale. And what a joy it is. A huge Shane Meadows fan, I got a few eps into his prequel/adaptation on the bbc and picked up the book from a vintage shop in Haworth, when really I should have been thinking about the Bronte sisters. Although, I certainly think Gallows Pole would be up Emily’s street. The novel is based around a real-life criminal gang, the Cragg Vale coin clippers, who, led by ‘King’ David Hartley upended the 18th-century economy and stole back some autonomy from suffocating land laws being imposed on the Yorkshire Moorlands. Myers’ interpretation reads like old-timey Peaky Blinders, with a much stronger socialist undercurrent.
A few months ago I picked up a copy of Myer’s ‘Pig Iron’ a beautiful novel about the son of a gypsy wrestler fleeing a cycle of violence in an ice cream van, finding solace in the ‘green cathedral’ of the Yorkshire countryside. Since then, I’ve been really into his stuff, which is on my ever-growing TBR pile. Myers is particularly brilliant in crafting unique male voices and evoking the male experience- sensitivity, love, rage and inescapable cruelty all at once. Think Nick Hornby bloke-lit, with darker humour and more hitting each other. Whilst I adored the tightrope walk of gangly teenage awkwardness and hard-man violence in Pig Iron, let me tell you that you can smell the testosterone coming out of Gallows Pole. That’s little fault of Myer’s own, but rather a fitting reflection of the times. A particularly harrowing scene in which hypermacho kingpin Hartley sexually assaults turncoat James Hartley in front of the rest of the gang reveals that their Robin-Hood activity may simply be a well-veiled big dick competition, as much as it is about political upheaval and revolution. It’s frustrating yet commendable that Myers doesn’t allow our full sympathy to lie with the clippers, reminding us of their personal failings and cruelties, in particular towards the poor women, who are booted to the sidelines amidst all the swashbuckling. Grace Hartley, David’s wife, is lusted over, dehumanised and ignored, but is unnoticed hiding away little bits of the money David is so careless with, securing her own finances after his imprisonment. A quiet victory.
The narrative is split between an omniscient account of events, and Hartley’s own written confession during his stay in prison, spelt phonetically and in Yorkshire dialect. This inclusion of his written voice often lends a shade of ironic humour, and, especially when compared to the inclusion of letters from London lawmen towards the novel’s end, suggests that the language of the clippers is as much a part of their identity as their criminal acts. It takes a second to tune into, as any heightened (or in this case lowered?) passages usually do, and although some of his interjections were particularly enjoyable, to be completely honest there were points where I’d skip a few of David’s pages to get back to the main action. Fewer words, perhaps are needed, to establish that he’s a narcissistic bellend.
Myers again plays on the crime/drama/historical conventions by his inclusion of the supernatural within the world of the novel. Hartley is convinced he sees otherworldly stagmen and folkloric apparitions on the moors, who aid him in his business and foretell his changing fortunes. I enjoyed this inclusion, which I think Meadows realised brilliantly in his psychedelic adaptation. As in Pig Iron, the natural world is at the centre of the novel, and the Moorlands are living, breathing. The people of Cragg Vale may be suffering at the hands of greedy lawmen and London bureaucracy, but their land is on their side, as clipped coins are found beneath tree roots, hills and trees keep them hidden from the eyes of the law, and mysterious figures at the edges of their dwelling inform their leader of what is to come.
Overall, this was a pretty great read- often I find a pitfall of historical drama, particularly crime, is to feel quite twee and inconsequential. However, despite the historical setting, the violence and danger in Gallows Pole feels near to the knuckle, and its message on rebellion and uprising is resounding. Whilst the pacing ebbs and flows particularly towards the novel’s end, Myers’ language and imagery creates a narrative that is both literary and thrilling, a real one-off in the genre. Well done Benny boy.
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