This review appears in the new issue of Liberator. You can download it free of charge from the magazine's website.
Mike Parker
Harper North, 2024; £10.99
The Welsh border is the most intoxicating landscape I know, and Mike Parker is a companionable guide to it. Immune to the tendency to complain that things aren’t what they used to be – when were they ever? – he is interested in the towns and countryside as he finds them today.
Parker made the journeys he describes in this book during the Covid pandemic, a period that may turn out to be little represented in our literature. An English-born Welsh Nationalist, he found the more collectivist traditions of his adopted country served people better in that time of trial.
Along some stretches of the border, it’s easy to forget which country you are in. I remember once coming down off the hills to Kington and being almost surprised to find myself in a red-brick Midland town with Burton beers in all the pubs. Further north, around Chester in particular, Parker shows the border is still a hard reality that affects the economy and society on both its sides.
Much as I enjoyed All the Wide Border, it’s a reminder of how personal our reaction to places can be. The first chapter takes you to a place I’ve been many times: the country west of the Stiperstones up to Shropshire’s border with Powys.
For me it means the remains of the lead-mining industry; the children’s books of Malcolm Saville; Ronnie Lane and one of his rock star mates, down to use the studio at Lane’s place a couple of fields into Wales, playing unannounced at a remote pub; the death at a farm of the foster child Dennis O’Neill, which led both to the 1948 Children’s Act and Agatha Christie’s play The Mousetrap. Parker’s chapter mentions none of these, yet I still found it as interesting as any in the book.
Jonathan Calder
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