(courtesy McCabe Media Ltd)
Firsts are a curious thing.
They can either be the stuff of liberation and exhilarating novelty; a chance to ditch the status quo, throw ruts out the window and to experience in ways that have never been part of your life before.
But equally, depending on the circumstance, they can be terrifying and emotionally draining and emotional mountains to climb without end that once summited may turn out not to be so bad, after all.
However firsts go, they are an inescapable part of life, whether you have chosen them or not.
In the deceptively, lightly named Christmas at Flora’s House by Freya North, which takes readers to the atmospherically remote Isle of Harris in the Outer Hebrides off the far northwest coast of Scotland, firsts are everywhere and they are a mix of both aspects of this voyage into the thrillingly alive and yet emotionally stressful truths of doing something for the first time.
In the case of the novella’s central characters, Maggie and Roger, it is the first time in a number of decades that they haven’t celebrated Christmas at their long-time home, a decision taken in the light of some personal trauma which made the decision to throw tradition out the window seem the only fair and reasonable thing to do.
One concession, a fairly major one at that, has been made to the usual way of celebrating – as well as a suitcase of the usual clothes and shoes and toiletries, they have brought another suitcase full of all the Christmas decorations that usually adorn their lovely suburban house, now sold.
‘If it’s too early for a snifter, it’s definitely time for tea and cake,’ he [Roger] says. “Come on Maggie, let’s go for a little explore.’
Getting to know Maggie and Roger is an illuminating exercise.
While Roger is adventurous and eager to discover and explore, disappearing on long walks on the evocatively beautiful landscape of the island which North, writing with nuanced power and impact, brings alive so fully you would swear you would swear you are there yourself, Maggie is shut down and cantankerous, what she has of an even emotional keel thrown off balance by things as small as whether to place a decoration or trying to get their fairy lights to work.
To be honest, Maggie is not a terribly likeable character at first, and while Roger is all enthusiasm and calm happiness, Maggie is petulant and cranky, flying off the handle – she can’t understand why there isn’t a key to enter the house until it becomes clear the place, in true island style, is unlocked – and making her husband’s life complicated.
But then, in a quiet, unassuming and beautifully written that makes your heart drop so suddenly that you almost gasp as the understanding hits you, you appreciate why Maggie is this way, and that she was once someone else entirely until her once ordered and happy life went south.
For a story that tracks at a shade under 120 pages, Christmas at Flora’s House packs in an enormous amount of character development, lush and evocative descriptive passages that never overstay their welcome, and narrative moments where the extraordinary sits cheek-by-jowl with the ordinary to astoundingly moving effect.
(courtesy official author site)
Understanding why Maggie is the way she is, and this gorgeously cosy house on a windswept island with only the Atlantic for company to its wild and rugged west, is the stuff of quiet revelation.
Giving any of that away would rob Christmas at Flora’s House, the first of four novellas set in the same holiday house which comes with a “big history”, of much of emotional power which, in contrast to more bombastic, melodramatic books, slides some fairly intense emotional moments quietly into a story centred on walks and meals and Maggie slow and happy conversations with Shona who works at the community run store near where Maggie and Roger are staying.
North, who writes with a real descriptive beauty that never goes too far or too big despite some of the most beautiful writing I have read all year, if not ever, has a wondrous ability to keep things quite and unassuming while letting some big emotions play out.
There’s a delight in seeing how Maggie goes from shut down and angry at the smallest thing to someone who can appreciate the friendship and kindness of others and who, after some initial reservation, is happy to thrown herself into some significant firsts such as accepting Christmas lunch at Shona’s after initial plans for the big day go awry.
‘Shona!’ I call but a gust whips my voice back over my shoulder so I wave instead but she hasn’t seen me [Maggie]. Damn this tussocky grass! Damn these sixty-six year old knees of mine! ‘Shona!’
She looks up and around and then she locates me. She raises her hand straight up in the air in greeting. I head her way.
Firsts are everywhere in Christmas at Flora’s House but they come into a play from a place of real humanity and empathy.
North beautifully captures that sense of arriving at a holiday home in a place you’ve never been before and wondering if this will be the best holiday ever or a colossal mistake.
There’s a weird tension either way, and whether you’re a Roger who seizes the day with unbridled glee and a thirst for the new and the unknown, or a Maggie who wants to enjoy it all but finds self-imposed roadblocks big and small along the way, Christmas at Flora’s House is full of those moments where you wonder what kind of getaway you will get.
Watching Maggie in particular, who is grappling with a lot of firsts, make her peace, slowly and with considerable emotional angst before quite acceptance and a thoughtful joy take over, with her current changed Christmas circumstances is such a lovely and often heart-wrenching thing.
It gives this remarkably intense and yet quietly nuanced book such an emotional centre and you will love taking the journey with Maggie especially who comes to appreciate that firsts can be both the things described at the start of this review and that dislocating though that is, that it may not be a bad thing.
Christmas at Flora’s House is a joy and treasure, a lot of story, heart, humanity and emotion packed into a seasonally pitch-perfect story understands we are creatures of habit and that we take great comfort in that but sometimes, the firsts come breaking in and that accommodating and growing in and with them may be one of the best things we can ever do, even at a time of the year where tradition usually rules.