An utterly lonely and introspective novel; narrated by a young trainee blacksmith and part-time preacher in 19th century SW England. In his pastoral visits to a dying blind girl, he seems to find his own faith somewhat lacking in contrast to her unwavering certainty. And as the solitude, comfortless lifestyle and a growing awareness of the futility of his mission in an apathetic society take hold, he seems plunged into an overwhelming depression.

The writing is so beautiful, as Charles Wenmoth tramps miles through the countryside, mulling on his Creator. He thinks longingly of days gone by, of time passing by:
"The hours desert us while we still have hold on them and though we open our hands to see what it is we grip we find our hands are empty. This present where we live is an impossible point it cannot be. There is nothing other than a falling into eternity our freedom taken from us in the rush of time." ( )

I would like to think that books, like people, can be extroverts and introverts; if that is the case, Peter Hobbs’ novel The Short Day Dying is definitely an introvert, concerned with an inner life and a man’s private experiences of the world. Published in 2005, it is a very quiet book which faithfully records the thoughts and feelings of the main character, Charles, a young blacksmith and lay-preacher living in a remote coastal area of England in 1870. Not quite a diary, it does have the feeling of a personal journal, recording changes in Charles’ life as he passes through the seasons of a year.

Charles works during the week in the forge and on Sundays he travels across the country to preach at small, almost deserted chapels in the wild country where he lives. He pins up biblical tracts in the hope that they will inspire people, despite the decline in the importance of religion to people’s lives. He also visits the sick and one person in particular becomes very important to him, a young blind girl called Harriet, who is suffering from a serious illness that is never defined.

Charles visits Harriet’s family regularly and begins to look forward to the time he spends with Harriet, talking or just sitting with her while she rests. He is inspired by her religious faith, which he comes to realise is stronger than his own despite all her suffering in life. His visits to her are moments of happiness in his sometimes arduous and wearying life. It is easy to realise how Charles feels about Harriet even though he never says it. Although, as I said, the book is introspective, Charles is still something of a mystery to himself and sometimes the reader can see or sense what Charles would never put into words. The book is full of feelings both expressed and unexpressed.

Hobbs’ writing about the landscape is very beautiful. It contains wonderful, dramatic visual descriptions and conveys how much the natural world means to Charles. This was something I loved about the book, the way I could imagine the wildness of the moors and the sea. The passage below also shows you the unusual way the book is punctuated, as if to recreate Charles’ speaking or thinking voice.

‘The farmland fell behind us and the land changed we came onto the cliff and I first saw the sea it were a beautiful thing a fine living cloth spread out to the horizon. I could not believe it were so vast. A deep shifting blue richer than the sky. The smell of salt so keen I could taste it on my tongue. The sight awed me furnished a view which has burned in my memory these years. It felt as though the scene had been waiting for me a long time.’

I would highly recommend The Short Day Dying. It is a unique and beautifully written novel which memorably describes the thoughts and feelings of the main character and the beauty of the coastal landscape. [2011]

A superb piece of writing: the central character is a preacher struggling with his life and his faith. He is relatively uneducated, only knows the Bible, and so that is how he writes, sentences without punctuation, non-idiomatic construction. It is absolutely wonderful. It was shortlisted for the Whitbread Best First Novel in 2005, and I'd like to know who won, as this would be hard to beat.
Oh, and it is also short. Long enough, but short. ( )

While it is true that the author's choice to tell this story in the way he did, without commas, and the consistent use of the word "were" in first person, may jar the reader at first, one soon gets into the rhythm of the narrative. On reaching the end of his tale, the narrator feels like a personal friend, one whom I did not want to stop talking. This is beautiful writing, though the story leaves one feeling lonely.
Not to fear however, Peter Hobbs has already produced an excellent collection of short stories wherein he's experimented with different voices and form. I look forward to whatever he chooses to publish next. ( )

This novel in set in rural England in 1870. The narrator & main character is a 27-year-old apprentice blacksmith & lay Methodist preacher. In short chapters that read very much like weekly journal entries, with regularized spelling but irregular punctuation & run-on sentences, he recounts his spiritual & material struggles over the course of that one year. His faith is inspired by the faith of a suffering young dying woman he visits regularly, but when she dies he himself suffers a "darkness" that he cannot shake. It is a story of longing for a simpler past and both a long and a fear for the future--a longing for a future he seems to have only a dim hope of attaining and a fear that he will be alone in his darkness. From my knowledge of religious history (including a reading of some journals of early 19th-century Methodist preachers), this all appears very authentic historically--a remarkable achievement especially in capturing a past age of faith (and doubt)--but it also seems to speak to the contemporary experience of twenty-something college grads (like 2 of my daughters) who have not yet quite mapped out their future. It also spoke to my current spiritual crisis, though not in a particularly hopeful way. 3All in all, a very remarkable book, though I should add that I admired it more than I liked it. ( )