‘Our Exploits at West Poley’ by Thomas Hardy (Review)

While I’ve got plenty of books at home, what with review copies and purchases for the International Booker Prize, it’s hard to resist picking something up when I go to the library, and on a recent visit to the local Mechanics Institute (a small library on my local high street) I came across something very interesting indeed.  It was a book by a giant of English literature, but one I’d never even heard of, and something a little different to his usual fare.  Well, as you can imagine, I didn’t let the opportunity pass me by, which is why you’re reading this – enjoy!

*****
Our Exploits at West Poley, Thomas Hardy’s only outing into children’s fiction, has a fascinating back-story.  Asked to contribute something to an American magazine for boys, the writer knocked up a story and duly sent it off in November 1883, only for it not to be printed.  It then lay forgotten in someone’s folders for many years, eventually being published in another magazine over six months between 1892 and 1893, meaning it took almost a decade to go from page to print.

The story is told, in the best Hardy manner, looking back several decades into the past, with the first-person narrator Leonard telling of a visit he made to his aunt and cousin, Steve, back when he was thirteen.  Having arrived in the village of West Poley, Leonard is told by Steve of the many caves in the neighbourhood, and having come up with an excuse for his mum, the youth takes his younger cousin off to explore a new cave he’s recently discovered.  There, the pair find all kinds of exciting rock formations, and to take a better look at one that looks like a throne, they divert a stream flowing through the cave, allowing them to explore further without getting wet.

It’s only when they go home that they realise what they’ve done.  The miller is to be found wailing in the middle of the village, and with good reason – the stream flowing past his house has mysteriously dried up.  The boys soon slip back to undo their handiwork, but the damage is done.  You see, not only have the two stolen a stream from one village, they’ve also given a new one to another nearby settlement, and having had a taste of fresh water, the inhabitants of East Poley will go to great lengths to keep it in their village.

Our Exploits at West Poley is a lovely story in six (monthly) instalments, a tale drawing on Hardy’s childhood and a bit of imagination.  It’s an adventure guaranteed to appeal to the young, and young at heart, and while it’s all fun and games at first, matters soon become more serious, as Steve is quick to realise:

“I see now the foolishness of presumption.  What right had I to take upon myself the ordering of a stream of water that scores of men three times my age get their living by?”
p.64 (Oxford University Press, 1952)

This is a case of the two boys being out of their depth, literally, and in attempting to solve the problem, they end up putting their lives in danger.

This is very much a children’s book, with a fairly simple plot and a straight-forward approach to affairs, but Hardy will be Hardy:

A quarter of a mile, or possibly a little more – for my recollections on matters of distance are not precise – brought us to the mouth of the cave called Nick’s Pocket, the way thither being past the village houses, and the mill, and across the mill-stream, which came from a copious spring in the hill-side some distance farther up.  I seem to hear the pattering of that mill-wheel when we walked by it, as well as if it were going now; and yet how many years have passed since the sound last beat upon my ears. (p.7)

Yes, the book features the usual languid approach and a fair dollop of nostalgia for bygone, simpler times.  This is very much a Wessex tale, fitting nicely into the writer’s fictional landscape.

With the streamlined plot, there’s not as much space as usual for the supporting cast, but we are treated to a few encounters with the locals.  One sub-plot involves the miller, and his ill-treated apprentice, Job, who proves to be a key figure in Steve’s decision to divert the stream again.  Then there’s the enigmatic Man who had Failed, a local who had been out into the wider world, returning to his native village with equal parts of disappointment and wisdom.

Of course, in these earlier times, not everyone was as sensible, as evidenced by the discussion on how to restart the flow of water:

“My belief is that witchcraft have done it,” sad the shoemaker, “and the only remedy that I can think o’, is for one of us to cut across to Bartholomew Gann, the white wizard, and get him to tell us how to counteract it.  ‘Tis a long pull to his house for a little man, such as I be, but I’ll walk it if nobody else will.” (p.31)

Right…  This isn’t exactly the most practical of solutions, but it’s one that inspires the boys to a practical joke over in East Poley, which only serves to get them into even deeper trouble.

Alas, this one doesn’t appear to be readily available, although there is a (slightly suspicious) version advertised on Amazon.  One thing I did discover while searching for a copy, though, is that there was a 1985 UK TV film (with Oscar-winner Brenda Fricker as Leonard’s aunt!).  Running to about an hour, it looks very much as if it’s been uploaded straight from someone’s VCR, but if you fancy a look, here you go.

Our Exploits at West Poley might not be an essential part of the Hardy catalogue, but it’s certainly worth a look for those who have read most of his adult fare (and for those who can find it), a fun tale of boys behaving badly and then having to deal with the consequences.  The moral of the story?  Let sleeping streams lie – oh, and keep dangerous materials away from kids.  If you read (or watch) the end of the story, you’ll know just what I mean…