Snow
Snow!
SNOW
Wentworh Church in the Snow by Steve Greaves
Just the word gets me all excited.
How many stories are covered in snow?
Immediately The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe springs to mind. As a child I was always disappointed when the snow started to melt in Narnia.
The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield has some excellent snow moments in it, disappointingly absent in the recent BBC Adaptation
What is it about snow that gets us all so excited? Is it a writers' ploy; dipping into magical childhood memories to whip us up into a snowball frenzy? But what if you've never experienced a cold spell? I mean never. Does the narration have the same hold over you?
Snow is very important in Life After Life, Ursula's many and varied paths always emerge from a snowstorm. It is essential to her very survival, Dr Fellowes can't get through first time round and the midwife, Mrs Haddock never makes it. She is forever consigned to the Blue Lion, in the warmth with a hot rum. Not such a bad deal.
Snow is always better when seen from behind some heavy double-glazing with a piping hot radiator nearby. You see, I love snow, don't get me wrong. I love the idea of it, the anticipation of it. The smell of it in the air. The first fat flakes falling on my cheeks and eyelashes. Then I make a run for it. I scurry home, crank up the heating, put the kettle on and take my post by the window, pressing as much of my body against the radiator as is physically possible. Ahhh. Bliss.
You didn't think I'd be reaching for my skies or snowboard, did you? Seriously? Oh no. A bracing English upbringing involving plenty of fresh air, too many icicles and a constantly shivering body made me an indoor snow person.
Sylvie insists on leaving all her babies out in the big pram, to be covered by leaves, or to be hypnotised by the dangling silver hare. Somewhere I can hear Mrs Glover quietly dropping one of her pithy comments on the subject. I wonder what she thinks? All the children are under Sylvie's "robust regime" involving " a fixation with fresh air". My mother had the same idea I think. Fresh air: it's good for you! What about soggy gloves and freezing wellies? However hard you try, icicles will never taste of strawberry or coca-cola. They will stick to your lips and make your fillings ache. And if they taste of nothing but cold crunchy ice then you are very, very lucky.
Ice
Now there's a thought. Ursula's story may start off in the snow storm, but one of her early life divergents is pre-empted by the evil Apache Maurice ( what an unpleasant person he is ) the beloved knitting dolly, Queen Solange and an icy roof. Later on the icy roof is proof of how determined Ursula is in her quest.
Queen Solange, Knitting Dolly
Back to Snow
The great thing about Atkinson's descriptive style is that it is like a concise sketch. She doesn't need paragraph upon paragraph to set the scene, in a couple of broad strokes she can give you everything you need.
"The light was extraordinary, the black bat was vanquished.
'So bright,' Sylvie said, shielding her eyes."
That special light; you just know there's snow, even before you pull back the curtain or fling open the shutters. Dark, dangerous and scary; night-time has been obliterated. Sylvie isn't overacting when she puts up her hand. There's a repeated contrast being shown here: the bright whiteness of the snow, the black bat, and darkness falling.Yet nothing in this story is black and white, is it?
I love the contrast with Mrs Glover's piccalilli: "the lurid colour of jaundice". It is becoming less appetising with each mention.
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| Cat Tracks Watercolour. Debra Sisson |
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