Once Upon a River
A slow-ish quirky novel that’s either charming or infuriating depending on how much you value efficiency (I don’t)
A river on a map is a simple thing. Our river starts at Trewsbury Mead, and follows a course of some two hundred and thirty-six miles to reach the sea at Shoeburyness. But anyone who takes the trouble to follow its route, whether by boat or on foot, cannot help being aware that, furlough by furlough, singleness of direction is not its most obvious feature.
One of Amsterdam’s gems is a place called Mezrab, a bar-cum-podium that’s centered around storytelling. Once the lockdown is over, you can go there (it’s open a few nights a week), eat some wonderful homemade Iranian soup made by the owner’s mom, and enjoy the too-often-forgotten pleasure of listening to someone tell you a story. Highly recommended.
This is not a review of Mezrab, however: it would be cruel to write such a thing at a time when covid has forcibly put a stop to their activities. Instead, the novel I will discuss is Diane Setterfield’s 2019 Once Upon a River.
The book centres around a Victorian equivalent of Merzab, the Swan inn, which stands in the quaint village of Radcot right by the Thames. Though woefully lacking in delicious Iranian soup. the Swan offers a lot to the lovers of storytelling: its patrons take turns in telling their tales, listening to those of others, and helping them tweak their stories to deliver them better next time.
Pub-goers will debate on what words to use, on how to string together events so that the listener remains fully engaged, and on the best way to tweak facts to help them cohere into a satisfying tale.
This informal MFA seminar is interrupted one winter evening by an astonishing event: a severely wounded stranger, soaking wet and bleeding, stumbles into the inn while carrying a doll and promptly faints. The doll, it turns out, is a dead child. The dead child, it turns out, is a living child. The living child’s identity, it turns out, is a great mystery: is she the daughter of the wealthy couple whose toddler had been kidnapped two years ago? Is she the daughter of the young man whose wife recently committed suicide? Or is she indeed the sister of the perplexing middle-aged lady living in the depleted house by the river?
Though the plot of the novel largely revolves around ascertaining who can rightfully claim to be the caretaker the mysterious child – a fascinating puzzle that I (genuinely) did not find at all obvious – its main attraction is the way in which multiple narratives are woven together. Once Upon a River has a large cast of characters, all of them having their secrets, their individual pursuits and, most importantly, their own version of events.
Some readers, a quick perusal of Goodreads shows, found it difficult to keep track of the different characters; the same people tended to be annoyed at how slowly the plot proceeded. To this criticism, which does has its merit, I would juxtapose my own opinion – that the whole point of this novel is the plurality of voices and stories. As a reader you are invited to enjoy the domestic atmosphere of Robert Armstrong’s farm and to suffer with Helena Vaughan because her child disappeared. You’re forced to puzzle over Lily White’s apparently self-defeating behavior and you’re bound to enjoy nurse Rita Sunday’s practical and clear-eyed relationship with the community of Radcot.
The river Thames is so central to this novel that it could be pin-pointed as its protagonist: it gives and takes life, it threatens and nourishes, it functions as a waterway and it inevitably connects a variety of places and all the quirky characters who inhabit them. Just as the Thames is always in the background of all of the events that take place in this novel, its meandering course is an explicit metaphor for Once Upon a River’s long-winded and intricate story line.
En route the river does not seem particularly intent on reaching its destination. Instead it winds its way in time-wasting loops and diversions. Its changes of direction are frequently teasing: on its journey is heads at different times north, south and west, as though it has forgotten its easterly destination – or put it aside for a while.
In short
This book offers a mysterious story line, intriguing (and often heartwarming) characters and a careful portrayal of rural England during the reign of Queen Victoria. It is, above all, a love letter to storytelling. It is also a book that delights in setting the scene and that wholeheartedly believes in humankind being mostly good (make of that what you will – sometimes it can be a welcome change of pace from the more depressing offerings of literary fiction and Real Life).
If you are often annoyed with writers who describe “too much” or narrate events that might not always be 100% necessary for the plot, this 500-page novel might not be for you. If you’re the kind of person that enjoys being led astray a little bit and who can appreciate a plot that takes the scenic route, then Once Upon a River might just be the thing for you.
Written by Angel Perazzetta