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Hardcover
First published January 1, 1970
She watched him go away down the road. He did not look back, and soon he was gone around a bend. She turned and walked slowly up the hill. The sun had fallen behind the mountains, and the clouds, like bruised blood, were massing.As a former folkie I’ve long been aware of a widespread folk ballad called ‘Long Lankin’ (or variants such as ‘Cruel Lincoln’) since at least the 1970s. It’s a spooky and bloody tale of a man who breaks into a castle, for reasons which are not always clear: some versions suggest he’s a mason who’s not been paid by the castle’s lord for work he’s done, others that he’s also a leper. He somehow persuades the nurse in charge of the lord’s child to let him bleed the lord’s child to death before murdering the wife; whether it’s for some ritual purpose or for revenge is rarely made clear but eventually the false nurse and the vengeful intruder have to meet justice.
— ‘The Visit’.
—Oh yes, I was going to write a book. A love story. The story of Stephen and Alice who thought that love would last forever. And when they found that it wouldn’t or at least that it changed so much that they couldn’t recognize it anymore, the blow was too heavy. They retreated into themselves like rabbits in a burrow.For example, in many of the stories there is a visitation, a few intended but the majority unexpected. In ‘Wild Wood’ a young lad and a 16yo axe-wielding gang leader called, enigmatically, Horse feed a bonfire in a wood until another lad called Rice arrives to inform them that a grisly local murder has just been discovered. In ‘Lovers’ Peter and Muriel are planning a future life travelling, but after they visit Peter’s father in hospital these plans don’t seem so cut and dried. In ‘A Death’ a village funeral sees a strangely unmoved Stephen paying his last respects to his father, but the presence on the graveyard’s periphery of an odd stranger who then irritatingly accosts him somehow emphasises his alienation from his pregnant partner Alice and his sister Lilian.
— ‘A Death’.
Darkness was approaching. Black clouds, their edges touched with red, were gathering out over the sea, and shadows were lowering on the ugly waters. A cold damp breath touched his face.If this was Banville’s debut, it must have felt like the promise of more engrossing storytelling to come; I shall certainly look out for more from this prose balladeer.
— ‘Summer Voices’.