The Cone-Gatherers
Robin Jenkins, Paul Giamatti
£9.99
Mr B's review
In the grounds of a Scottish estate, brothers Calum and Neil are working for a season gathering cones, the seeds of which are vital to timber supplies that have been exhausted by war.
The conditions they are working in are tough: climbing ridiculous heights on weak branches, chronic pain, thunderstorms and living in a shed. Calum is incredibly dependent on his brother due to a naivety and childlike mind which is often cruelly misinterpreted due to his hunchbacked appearance. Away from most of society and surrounded by innocent wildlife, the treetops feel to be a haven from the distant evil of war.
However, seemingly inevitable prejudice and hate gather like clouds above the two men as the gamekeeper Duror begins to resent their presence and whisper his malicious lies in the ears of others in this small rural community. – Katrina
Description
In the shadow of a war that rages through Europe, brothers Calum and Neil work to gather pine cones in the grounds of a Scottish estate. When Calum releases two mutilated rabbits from a snare, he comes face to face with Duror, the gamekeeper. In retaliation, in the depths of the wood, Duror lays a trap for the cone-gatherers.
Neil prophesises that forces of evil will encroach upon the harmony of their lives. It is a prophesy that comes true when Duror commits an act so brutal it destroys all sense of humanity in the once thriving wood. Powerful and unforgettable, Robin Jenkins’ masterpiece is a haunting story of love and violence, and an investigation of class-conflict, war and envy.
Publisher Review
Let me alert everyone to the best-kept secret in modern British literature. If you love the novel; if you are interested in books that are humane and wise, not slick and cynical; then treat yourself this year to some Robin Jenkins — Andrew Marr Like all great masters, his skill is lightly worn, his sentences singing with what he does not say * * The Times * * A masterpiece of concision and terrible pathos — Isobel Murray Few novels in our heritage have the bell-like harmonies of this book . . . it has a strange haunting poetic quality, conjuring from a few props a fable of eternal significance — Iain Crichton Smith
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