Sid Smith has so far written three novels about China, despite never having been there. A House by the River is his second, and the world it evokes is so convincing that by the end, it feels like you've taken a trip there yourself. A literary adventure story with touches of magical realism, A House by the River encompasses theology, linguistics, and history, in a lyrical and strange journey through an antique land.
Set at an unspecified point in the early 20th century, the book follows John and Grace Gerrard, two missionaries who are sent to a small fishing village on the coast of a large river. John quickly becomes absorbed in the village and its workings, while Grace struggles to acclimatise, her attempts to evangelise falling on deaf ears. However, after she comes up with a theory about the origins of the Mandarin language, the pair of them are targeted by the headman's soldiers, who sees her ideas as a threat to the imperial order.
By far the strongest aspect of the novel is the atmosphere and scene-setting. The fishing village and its population are vividly realised, this tiny corner of the world given weight and importance by the portrayal of the people who live there. You can feel their struggle to survive and the sadness that comes from their way of life slowly ebbing away. The arrival of John and Grace truly feels like a rupture, and the reader can sympathise with their hostility even if they don’t agree with their actions.
Indeed, where the reader’s sympathies ought to lie is a difficult question. John and Grace are naive but well-intentioned, sheltered by their childhoods in the Mission House, knowing little of the world outside. There is the sense that they don’t fully understand what they’re doing, spreading their faith because it’s what they know rather than what they want. The resistance by the villagers is understandable, but as their response grows more violent, it becomes harder to justify. It’s a complex and nuanced situation, and Smith does a good job of holding these tensions in balance, creating a moral greyness that feels true-to-life.
The writing is another highlight. Smith is an excellent stylist, poetic and precise in his use of language. There is an appealing calmness to his tone, giving the impression of careful consideration in choosing which words to set down on the page. It impressively makes it feels as though he’s an old hand at novel writing, despite this only being his second.
As the book approaches its final quarter, the momentum falters somewhat, and never quite manages to get back on track. The way it wraps itself up is a little too neat, feeling lacklustre and unsatisfying given what came before. However, there is still much to recommend in this meditation on what drives our beliefs – a strong sense of place, intriguing characters, and a delve into a little-known period of history. Sid Smith is a writer with a point of view and something to say, and I’m curious to try more of his work.
Review by Charlie Alcock
By far the strongest aspect of the novel is the atmosphere and scene-setting. The fishing village and its population are vividly realised, this tiny corner of the world given weight and importance by the portrayal of the people who live there. You can feel their struggle to survive and the sadness that comes from their way of life slowly ebbing away. The arrival of John and Grace truly feels like a rupture, and the reader can sympathise with their hostility even if they don’t agree with their actions.
Indeed, where the reader’s sympathies ought to lie is a difficult question. John and Grace are naive but well-intentioned, sheltered by their childhoods in the Mission House, knowing little of the world outside. There is the sense that they don’t fully understand what they’re doing, spreading their faith because it’s what they know rather than what they want. The resistance by the villagers is understandable, but as their response grows more violent, it becomes harder to justify. It’s a complex and nuanced situation, and Smith does a good job of holding these tensions in balance, creating a moral greyness that feels true-to-life.
The writing is another highlight. Smith is an excellent stylist, poetic and precise in his use of language. There is an appealing calmness to his tone, giving the impression of careful consideration in choosing which words to set down on the page. It impressively makes it feels as though he’s an old hand at novel writing, despite this only being his second.
As the book approaches its final quarter, the momentum falters somewhat, and never quite manages to get back on track. The way it wraps itself up is a little too neat, feeling lacklustre and unsatisfying given what came before. However, there is still much to recommend in this meditation on what drives our beliefs – a strong sense of place, intriguing characters, and a delve into a little-known period of history. Sid Smith is a writer with a point of view and something to say, and I’m curious to try more of his work.
Review by Charlie Alcock
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