Book review: The Black Eden, by Richard T Kelly

The Black Eden might, were it being punted as a TV drama, be subtitled Our Friends In The Much Further North. It may ostensibly be about the discovery of North Sea oil, and how it changes communities and individuals, but it is really about a much more pertinent question: what constitutes being a good man?

It is an ensemble novel, beginning in 1956 and with an epilogue in 1982. The great benefit of such a form is that it is immediately multifaceted, and Kelly judiciously balances the different perspectives of the different characters. I did not feel the thumb surreptitiously on the scales in terms of the author’s own convictions. These individuals, constrained by circumstance though they are, are afforded a remarkable degree of freedom.

Although the blurb says there are five major characters, there are more (and one seems to me particularly significant, and links to Kelly’s previous novel, Crusaders). So we have two Aberdeenshire schoolfriends, Aaron and Robbie, who begin the book diving together, with more than slightly ominous portent. Aaron is the son of the dominie – I am uncertain such a word would still have been widely used in 1956. Aaron wants to be a geologist, and Robbie is content enough on his father’s farm, until the lure of the money working on the rigs becomes problematic. Joseph is from a fishing family, and is keen as he starts to assume control of the company, that they might diversify away from cod and haddock and into what we would call supply chain structures, since you need boats to reach rigs. Ally “the Cat” and Mark are Edinburgh public school boys. Mark wants to be a novelist but settles on journalism (indeed, working for that estimable publication, The Scotsman: Kelly has done his research on the trade back then). He is curious about the Americans and their promises vis-à-vis oil. Ally is a bit of a chancer and a studiedly flippant person, but goes into the law and is extremely curious about the Americans and their promises about potential profits from the black gold. The sixth important figure is Torry, a bit of a ne’er-do-well son of the manse, whose arc is the most complex and intriguing.

Alert readers may have noticed that the lead roles are all male. There are female characters, and they are not merely satellites to the men or romantic interest. In fact, Kelly is precise about how stifled emotions erode relationships, even when they begin with joy. But the various worlds – science, agriculture, fisheries, journalism, law and finance, the church, and above all the rigs – are all not just male, but macho. Excavating this seam of swagger seems to be fundamental to what Kelly is doing.

That said, not one of the six is cast as the villain of the piece. They all make mistakes, but they try to do good. The Americans are perhaps the most stereotypical, but even they are given a glint of being more than just bluster, bragging and Stetsons.

It is a novel that is timely. Many of the questions raised, about profits, environmental damage, working conditions, the extent to which the discovery of oil “levelled up” the North East, even whether to be part of Europe, are firmly back on the agenda. Nationalism, of course, is part of this as well; and it seemed somewhat disconcerting to be reading this when the news of the death of Winnie Ewing was announced. Mark is actually at the election of Madame Ecosse. It is summarised well: was Labour insufficiently Socialist or insufficiently Scottish? Moreover, was it Scotland’s Oil or the shareholders’ oil? This is all presented in an equitable manner. The reader, I suppose, will judge.

As this is fiction, the country is nudged into the fictional. Aberdeen still exists, in this version, but you would struggle to find Netherdown, Blaikdoon, Tarnwick, Glinrock and suchlike on a map. The names all seem slightly off-key to me, like an impersonation of Scottish place names. Likewise, although Scots is used, it has a vague feel of ventriloquism about it. I do not feel it substantially detracts from the novel’s political and moral energy, but it is like a smudge on your glasses. This is a book posing serious questions, and anything that distracts from that is irksome.

It is encouraging to see a novelist facing up to – even facing down – recent history. It made me think twice, and there is no greater compliment. But what I will remember is that the fates of these made-up people mattered to me. Their opinions are fleeting: their emotions are not. This is a poised book, and the future is on a pivot as much as is the past.

The Black Eden, by Richard T Kelly, Faber & Faber, £20