So language is one of the greatest things ever invented, but why is it that the words that have the greatest power in our lives are not the spoken ones but the unspoken?
A novel of a great many achievements, ‘The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry’ is an exploration of the power of words unspoken.
The titular character receives a letter from a colleague he last spoke to 20 years earlier; quickly drafts a return letter, leaves his wife indoors and heads out to post the reply. Somewhere between his front door and the end of the street, the control he has maintained over unspoken words in his life begins to unravel, and he decides to walk a little further. And further, and further, until at the end of the day he realises he has begun a pilgrimage he’s not really in control of. Over the next few days, he decides he’s going to hand-deliver the letter, and in the process walk almost the length of Britain, from Dorset all the way to Berwick in Scotland. Along the way he speaks to a number of different characters, none-of-whom are developed fully but all of whom loom out of the novel as ghosts or mythical figures. That they are referred to in vague terms like ‘the woman with food’ or ‘the silver-haired gentleman’ shows the skill that Joyce brings to her writing, she knows exactly what she is doing and where to cut things back- by not fully forming these characters, Joyce turns the story into a saga or a Arthurian legend, and the payoff is considerable. As the title suggests there are some lovely plays on the idea of pilgrimage, penance and salvation. The road to Damascus becomes the road to Berwick-upon-Tweed but Harold’s revelations catch him off guard in the same way that I imagine the Apostle Paul was caught off-guard. Our greatest revelations often occur when we least expect them.
This is a great novel. It would be great even if it didn’t have a masterful and perfectly crafted ending, which is does. The novel is moving; it’s humble; it’s funny; it’s superbly observed.