A chain of ingenious connections in Adam Thorpe's Ulverton

mentions other ‘binding agents’", nails, trenches, bones and especially ribbons and bedwine. These rather visual images certainly do play their part in making the parts up into a whole, however there is another way of looking at this novel.

If we adopt the idea of continuity of plot which is natural to a single work of literature, we will find that the chapters of Ulverton are also connected in a rather direct way: in every following chapter we may find out something new about one or more characters from the previous chapter, even if the character in question is not extremely important.

Thus, I deliberately excluded some of the cross-chapter references, like the legend of William the shepherd and Anne the witch, or the stories about John Oadam - even though they are repeated often throughout the book. My point was to outline the links between chapters that show the continuity of events -so that we could see characters actually growing up, getting old and passing away and being replaced by other people. The local myths and legends are extremely interesting as they are, but they are out of scope of my paper, because they show the memory of the events rather than the events themselves.

To see the links between the chapters we have to briefly go through the stories told by the characters.

The first story, Return, is told by a shepherd named William. One morning he meets an old friend, Gabby Cobbold, who comes home from the war. His wife, Anne Cobbold, lives on their old farm with a man named Thomas Walters. Anne and Thomas eventually kill Gabby; and William has an affair with Anne.

The second chapter, Friends, is narrated by Reverend Crispin Brazier. The story takes place thirty-nine years later. It deals with an unhappy accident in which Reverend Brazier and two of his fellow clergymen, William Scablehorne and Simon Kistle, get lost outside during a massive snowfall. Neither Scablehorne nor Kistle survive that night. The story may seem completely disconnected from the previous one, were it not for Reverend Brazier who, in the course of his sermon, mentions the bitter end of Thomas Walters:

And may we remember the sufferings of Thomas Walters late of our parish whose scall was endured as Job’s... and whose ancient visage, ravaged though it was, bore upon it a smile sweeter than any I have ever beheld... [Thorpe 2012: 295]

As it turns out, the second husband of Anne Cobbold has died of some illness, though supposedly he found inner peace, even though he had murdered Gabby many years ago.

The third chapter, Improvements, is the story of farmer Plumm. He is works on his land in order to reap a greater harvest and, in the meantime, has an affair with a maid that is working at his farm. The maid gets pregnant and gives birth to a daughter - farmer Plumm’s only child and heir. Plumm’s wife commits suicide and becomes a local legend.

The connection to the previous chapter is implemented through the brief reference to Reverend Brazier:

she gave me notice of her intent to tell Parson Brazier (old fool though he be) of the true declination of the bellying [67].

The pregnant maid wants to get more money from Plumm and threatens him to tell everything to the priest which, in its turn, shows us that the narrator of the previous chapter is alive and well and is still working. Even the attitude to him hasn’t changed since 1689 (while the action of the third chapter takes place in 1712). The citizens of Ulverton, obviously, treat Brazier as a weird and silly man: even as he was telling the story of the decease of Simon Kistle and William Scablehorne he had to repeatedly say ‘Snigger not’ to moderate his flock, and farmer Plumm refers to him directly as ‘oldfool’.

Chapter four or Leeward contains letters of Anne Chalmers to her beloved William Sykes. She is the wife of Lord Chalmers, and he is, as we eventually learn, their employee. This, however, does not prevent them from having a baby-boy named Charles. Lady Anne often tells William about their child in her letters, and we can see that Lord Chalmers knows that the boy is not his son:

My husband’s nose is Chalmers beaked, and it seems my Lord is a little outrageous that his son is not the picture of those ranged along the gallery [84].

The point connecting this story to the previous one is, as is quite common in the novel, rather minute. Lady Chalmers mentions that they are going to buy the Plumm’s Farm - the one that was so dear to Mr Plumm. That is what she writes in her letter:

‘tis a farm well handled but poor - there is a woman husbands it, a little proud - there is some scandal attached to her birth, but I forget what now [100].

It is, apparently, the daughter of farmer Plumm and his maid - she was his only heir and, obviously, her birth was a scandal.

The next chapter, Dissection, also represents correspondence, but of a different kind. Now, a barely literate tailor writes letters to a convict named Francis Shail on behalf of his mother, Sarah Shail. Francis is going to be executed for stealing a hat in London and his desperate mother writes to him, among other things, about some news from Ulverton. There is a little anecdote Sarah is telling in her (supposedly) last letter before Francis’s execution, that is worth paying attention to:

It is just a brief moment of interest in this chapter, but it is precisely the story told in the chapter six, and Sam Daye, who is mentioned here, is actually the narrator of the following story.

As for the connections with the letters of Anna Chalmers, Sarah Shail mentions Lord Charles on several occasions:

ower lorde chairs be mity chufd at the noose [113]; medbee lord Charls did hev a hande in it hee du hate thee for pochin his dere [117].

From this short excerpt, we can learn that Sykes’s by-blow baby from the previous chapter actually became the lord - that is, old lord Chalmers had adopted Charles as his own son, even though he knew it was not so.

Chapter six, Rise, is told by Samuel Daye, carpenter. He used to be the apprentice of Abraham Webb and played a rather mean joke at him once. He learned that Abraham was extremely religious, when another apprentice of his, Thomas Ketchaside stopped working and excused himself saying that he had seen an angel:

An Ketchaside turns slow... and he says, mortal slow, ‘Master, methinks I sees an angel up there’ [138].

Instead of punishing his disciple, Webb suggest everybody pray together:

‘We’d best be on our kneen, then, lads’ [139].

Chapter seven, Deposition, tells of the times of trouble, when local farmers gathered in the mob and destroyed the agricultural machines that were stealing their jobs, as they thought. This story is represented as the examination of Hannah Heddin.

This story is linked with the previous one through old Tom Ketchaside who was injured during one of the fights:

Tom Ketchaside who is eighty was knocked to the ground [152].

It has been twenty-seven years since the story told by Sam Daye and about fifty-five since his joke was first mentioned in the book. By simple calculations we get Tom’s age at that time - he supposedly was twenty-five. At this age he could work in a team of carpenters, and the way Sam and others referred to him as ‘young’ in chapter six also proves that it is one and the same person:

An the other lad stops his stampin, an we all looks at young Ketchaside [138].

The eighth chapter, Shutter, is a collection of photographic plates. We never learn the name of the photographer/narrator, though. Among the plates, there is a picture of Hannah Heddin whose portrait the photographer loves very much:

This portrait is my most-loved, but not for beauty: Miss Hannah Heddin (now lately deceased) was sixty years of age... her mouth shows a severity -she was never known to smile; but her eyes - see how their how their hooded lids conceal beneath them a natural gaiety, that is not quite quenched! [192]

This is the part that links chapter eight to the previous one.

After exploring Ulverton and its residents, the photographer goes on a trip to Egypt with a team of archaeologists that included young Mr. Stephen Quiller, ‘an acknowledged expert in the decoration of ancient tombs’ [197]. The man, however, dies in the expedition.

The next chapter, Stitches, is probably the most difficult to comprehend, because it is the stream of consciousness of Jo Perry, ploughman. It is heavily dialectical and poorly punctuated. There are many repetitions, interjection and swift changes of topics. Jo Perry is remembering his life, and he talks of many events that appeared in the book (take the rebellion of 1830, for instance, when he was just ten). The linking instance, however, is the reference to the photographer:

I were going to show thee them glass jiggamies wi’ the shadders on ‘em I telled thee on as I found in old Miss Peep-Hole’s attic [213].

Mr. Perry also doesn’t know the name of the photographer, but he tells us that the photographer died, and before that she was grieving for poor Mr Stephen Quiller:

I were axed to clear he (the attic) out ater she had leaved this world... Stephen Stephen she do cry all on a sudden them pages o’ writin blowed all over lawn oh Mr Quiller well I says he be jus now passed away you knows that ma’am [213].

There are two more characters that Jo Perry mentions and that are quite necessary to notice, even though they don’t play any significant parts on his chapter. Mr. Perry is the first person to mention the man called Marlers and he is the only one who knows about the origin of this nickname, which will be completely forgotten later on:

old Steve Trevick’s littlest lad as we alius call Marlers for he couldn’t never say marbles only marlers [224].

Another character first mentioned by Jo Perry is Percy Cullurne:

alius down in the mouth old Jemps Cullurne on account o’ tilthing wi’ a missus as be mawkier nor a dung cart... she have had a babby boy jus now be chursened Percy [222].

These two characters are going to be important in the following chapter which is called Treasure and deals with the excavation of the burial mound located near Ulverton. It is carried out by Squire Norcoat; and his team of workers includes, among others, the narrator, unnamed but obviously well-read and intelligent man, who had been to India before he settled down in Ulverton, and Marlers Trevick who was mentioned in the previous chapter. Another link to chapter nine is Percy Cullurne, ‘Manor’s under-gardener’ who was also mentioned by Jo Perry.

Since the excavation is undertaken in 1914, some of the village folk are going to war. Squire himself inspires men to go and fight Germans by talking about Duty and showing his grandfather’s sword that he bore at Waterloo.

The people going away include Marlers Trevick. Unfortunately, this proves fatal to him:

it was at about the same time as I was crossing the square that a burst of machine-gun fire cut Marlers Trevick in two [268].

As for Percy Cullurne, he comes across as a very superstitious and strange man because he does not like the idea of the excavation:

There be the trouble, sir. En’t right, disturbin’ the dead for silver [237].

He is also the one who decides to stay in Ulverton during the war, and be humiliated- his fellow countrymen call him a ‘village idiot’. His phrase ‘I’d rather bide at home’ [251] has turned into a nickname that stuck to him forever:

Percy Cullurne’s nickname changed from ‘Yeller’ to ‘Bidatome’... ‘Bidatome’ he bears still, if somewhat worn by use and laziness to ‘Bid’m’ [268].

Before that, however, she is able to find out a lot about the residents of Ulverton. Through her insights and conversations with locals we may figure out, that Squire Norcoat had eventually committed suicide:

He took his own life in 1923,1 believe. Aye with a Martini Henry under the plumtree, in the mouth, no face poor bugger [301].

Percy Cullurne, who once stayed at home, however, managed to survive two World Wars:

Old Bidem (don’t know his real name!) rather eloquent on flowers in churchyard [314].

Chapter eleven is also the first place where we encounter the main character of the last story, Clive Walters:

Little boy watching with nose problem. Whaf s your name? Clive Walters Miss, what you up to, Miss? [326]

The last chapter, Here, is a TV film script. Clive Walters is a grown-up here, and he is a real estate developer. He wants to build new houses in Ulverton, but his workers accidentally dig up a skeleton and are forced to stop the construction works. Clive Walters is not the only link to the preceding chapters. There is also some information on the Bradmans family. Apparently, Enid Walwyn had married Herbert Bradman:

CRAWLER CAPTION ‘ENID BRADMAN, SECRETARY ULVERTON PRESERVATION SOCIETY’ [350].

When she tells about her life, we learn that Herbert Bradman had died after having some health problems:

I used to be a teacher, yes, before my late er, husband grew poorly [351].

Moreover, the skeleton that was so unexpectedly discovered has to belong to Gabby Cobbold from chapter one - the archaeologists speak of the soldier of the Cromwell’s time, and they mention that he has got silk ribbons in his hand and there are also a few coins that must have been swallowed by the man. This reference encircles the series of stories and gives the novel a nice finish, for Clive Walters is supposedly a descendant of Thomas Walters who murdered Gabby, and one may see the fact that the skeleton hinders the construction of the houses as revenge or an act of superior justice.

Having regard to the above, it seems fair to say that Adam Thorpe’s Ulverton is very nicely structured. Its chapters succeed each other not just because of the chronological order of the stories, but because the events described evolve from one into another. The connections between the chapters help perceive the novel as a single work of literature and not a compilation of separate short stories. At the same time, putting different characters in the centre of narration allows for the polyphony, which is quite typical of modern literature. Besides, the aforementioned organisation of the novel enhances the impression of the natural flow of time and history - first, there is a story, an important event in someone’s life. Then it is over - the story is told and the chapter is finished. However, the person doesn’t necessarily go anywhere far - he or she still lives in the village, he or she is still there, but moves from the centre to the periphery of the author’s and reader’s field of vision, and someone else’s life gets described in the novel.

The visual representation of the entire novel structure, in my opinion, should be an encircled chain of stories/chapters. It is encircled, obviously, because it starts and it ends with Gabby Cobbold and one of the Walters. It is a chain, because every chapter has references to the ones that immediately precede and follow it, even if these references are sometimes related to the plot of the chapter rather vaguely.