Shuggie Bain

I just finished a book.

Yes, I am doing my annual reading challenge on “Goodreads” but wised up a bit. No longer will I sign up for “100” books to be read by the year end. Like I did in 2019. Way too much pressure. Although, I did, in fact, meet that challenge! Since then I’ve lowered the bar. Real low.

When I was a little girl a book could transport me to another world. My world was perfectly fine but it was mine. And tiny. To get lost in a book to learn about other places and things was truly a wondrous journey. I never understood why everyone wouldn’t want that very same experience.

The same applies to me as an adult. My world is still quite small. Comparatively speaking. So I gobble up the words of authors from everywhere else. And I do not ever shy away from stark reality in my choices.

My 31st book of 2023 was Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart.

It strikes an Angela’s Ashes’ chord. Seems like everyone read that book and remembers it being riveting, tragic, heart-breaking, etc. An experience we personally never could have known. Details from the story might not be recalled decades later but the takeaway still remains indelible.

Douglas Stuart’s descriptive writing leaves a person fuller. Hopefully, their heart and mind. Not happy. Very important distinction. Fuller.

The story is set in Scotland and told in the language of the time. Today I told a Scottish friend, Gillian, that her translation skills sure would have come in handy. But the meaning of most phrases and slang can be parsed from context. It takes place during the 1980s in post-industrial Glasgow.

You visualize what the area looks like after collieries have been shut down, men without the ability to care for their families and the resulting ripples of poverty. The author’s writing paints such vivid landscapes that I could envision myself standing on the edge of town amidst the defunct mining community. To understand the lengths a person would go to feed their children or keep them warm. And the lengths a person wouldn’t go to feed their children due to addiction. It’s gray, bleak and despairing. It’s also filled with the utter love and devotion of a child for his mother.

The story weaves the abject poverty and addiction with threads of racism, religious bias and homophobia. None of this should have anyone hanging their mouth in surprise. It’s all around us and not a new thing.

What’s new is that it’s told in a different light. A snapshot in time about a place many of us do not know. This book helps us connect many dots beginning with economy. It also allows us to view the depth of addiction and love in a newfound way.

Frank McCourt, the author of Angela’s Ashes, believed that his students should, “Write what you know. Use words you know.”

Douglas Stuart did exactly that. And then he shared his heart-breaking story with us.

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Tower

This tower has been around for as long as I can remember. At Route 1 and 138 in South Kingstown.

My friend Sean drove me to the beach town a couple of weeks ago to check out some homes for sale. As we were stopped at the intersection’s traffic light I looked around for it. Because that’s what everyone does. I couldn’t see it from where we were positioned. The area looked a bit overgrown with trees and bushes.

I asked Sean if that was the location of the tower. And if it was still there.

Wasn’t sure. He’s a native New Yorker so he wouldn’t have driven by the landmark every summer and automatically look for it.

Later in the day I did a bit of googling. Didn’t take me long to get results. I sent a photo to Sean and he totally remembered the tower.

It’s sort of a unique thing on the side of a road. And not something you forget.

The tower is still there.

Here’s the interesting part.

There’s a story behind it.

It’s called Hannah Robinson’s Tower.

Hannah was the beautiful and beloved daughter of a very wealthy man named Rowland Robinson.

He sent his daughter to school in Newport. She soon fell in love with her French tutor. His name was Peter Simon.

Rowland did not think the teacher was a suitable match for his daughter and she was not allowed to see him.

The couple continued to meet secretly. With the help of someone in the family they eloped and moved to Providence.

Her father was furious and even put up some money as a reward to find out who helped them escape.

Hannah would have nine children. They lived in extreme poverty.

Her husband, realizing that he would never get his hands on a penny of the Robinson fortune, had affairs and eventually abandoned his wife and children.

The poor woman became sickly due to her living conditions.

Hannah’s father was still angry. Wanted to know who helped her leave and would only let her back in the family if he was told. Rowland headed toward Providence to see Hannah.

But his heart melted when he saw his child near death. He packed her up and brought her back home to Narragansett.

She asked her father to pull over at James Mc Sparran’s farm so that she could sit and look over her homeland. With a view of Narragansett Bay.

This is the spot where the tower now stands.

Hannah Robinson died at the age of twenty seven on October 30, 1773.

Seems there’s always a story.

 

 

 

 

 

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