I recently read ‘The Offing’ by Benjamin Myers. I felt a sense initially of walking out one Midsummer Morning with Laurie Lee – of wonder and adventure awaiting me and the principal character, Robert. I did then wonder for a while where we were going and how we, the readers, would know if we’d got there. All that changed as Robert made his way down the coast from Durham to East Yorkshire and met Dulcie – an eccentric soul who had seen aspects of life that Robert had initially so wanted to experience from himself. One scene summed up the entire book for me – when Robert ‘learns to drive’ and then finds himself hurtling through the summer countryside to an impromptu picnic destination on the lawns of Castle Howard…

The descriptions of countryside and seascapes are beautifully drawn and the prose throughout is a thing of beauty, although this is not just a whimsical jaunt through the seasons. Robert is attempting to escape a pre-ordained life down the pit and Dulcie is trying to escape the memory of a tragic love affair. Set in 1946, both could be seen as allegories for leaving behind dark forces and trying to start anew.

I loved the shape of the book and nature’s paradigm into which all men and women are forced to love, lament and live; I particularly enjoyed the ending which has stayed with me.


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​This book has received mixed reviews which immediately made it appealing to me. Any story that can lead its readers to different conclusions and appraisals immediately poses a question: which side of the literary fence will I find myself at the end.

The story follows Sabrina Boggs and her father Fergus Boggs who has suffered a stroke and is now confined to a nursing home. Sabrina finds an itinerary of a specialist and extensive marble collection in her father’s possessions, but some of the most valuable marbles are missing. This latter omission is both the driver for Sabrina to discover – in one day – what has happened to them and, over a lifetime, a metaphor for how such a key part of her father’s life could have been hidden or omitted from hers.

Ahern is telling us one life story – Fergus’s childhood and journey through adulthood – in parallel with Sabrina’s dissatisfaction and boredom with her own. I guess that the obvious question throughout is how much we really know about other people (even those among the closest to us); the more interesting one is, as always, why do/did they act in certain ways.

I loved the tales from Fergus’s childhood – especially his relationship with his older brother Hamish which was to be so key to the rest of his life. I wasn’t so sure about the ending. 

I didn’t really buy into the whole eclipse symbolism. I also found the no doubt learned or well-researched descriptions of marbles a bit tedious after a while. I understand that authors need to prove that they know what their characters are talking about, but convincing me – a mere reader - was like having a marble thrown at my head, again and again.

I was able to seamlessly inhabit the thoughts in Sabrina’s and Fergus’s heads in turn, and I did find the style of writing quite beautiful throughout. So, structurally, I thought the book worked effortlessly, with the words satisfyingly and believably providing the fat to cover the book’s body even as we were encouraged, via Sabrina, to dissect it.

Overall, I did get involved with both main characters, their struggles sustaining me for the entire book, although I’m not sure if either found true peace. Perhaps that’s the point: marbles, like life, are never clear-cut.