A beautifully written story about male friendships and the First World War
Susan Hill, almost always a writer whose fictional books deal with ethical or philosophical issues as well as whatever else she is writing about, writes in three main styles, a couple of which are ‘genre fiction’ Firstly, books with a supernatural, often gothic element – most famous of which was Woman In Black – book, then stage play, TV version, radio play, then film – I’m sure there is a tee shirt too! Then there is her incarnation as a crime writer, with the Simon Serrailler series (number 8 is the latest). Finally, there are literary fiction books which are outside a genre, though she is always a writer of literary fiction, whether or not her writing also fits within genre.
Strange Meeting belongs to this third category. Though of course particularly apposite in this hundredth year anniversary of the outbreak of the First War, Hill’s book about two soldiers in that war, and the deep friendship which develops between them, was published some forty years ago.
It is a short, quietly powerful read. The focus is on the two central characters, young officers. John Hilliard comes from a typically correct, emotionally repressed background, and is isolated, restrained and unable to be easy with his fellows. David Barton is one of the golden ones, a young man of great charm, ease and likeability, with a natural warmth which pleases everyone he meets. He comes from an unusual family, where such ability to express delight, and to not keep a stiffened lip, is responsible for his sunniness.
The two develop a friendship and love for each other – though whether that love is platonic or sexual is never mentioned – and in many ways Hill is respectful of a time and place where the strong expression of friendship may or may not mean either overt or covert sexual feelings. (There of course are biblical echoes in the forenames of the two young men)
The relationship, and the changes which the horrors of the trenches visit upon the soldiers themselves, their relationships with their families and the wider society back home who are still caught up in early jingoism, and a belief that the way will be a short push and then over, are beautifully drawn
Given the facts of that war, there can only be 4 possible outcomes to this story, only one of which would be less plausible than the other three. In a sense the story of ‘what happens’ is not the point of the book – which is the relationship, the characters, and the experience of the men in that war, and their estrangement, by and large, from an ignorant public at home, who, not having experienced the horrors themselves, cannot fully understand the terrible changes which happen when such hell is engaged with.
Cheshire Regiment trench Somme 1916 From the collections of the Imperial War Museum. Wiki Commons
Immediately, he was conscious of his own flesh, of the nerves beneath the skin, of the bone and muscle which obeyed him: clench, unclench, move this finer, bend that. His hands looked huge and pale under the water. He had never realised before how much he cared about his own body, simply because it was so familiar, because he knew better than he knew anything every shape and crease of it, the exact width of knuckle, the flatness of his fingernails. So that, when he imagined his hand torn off at the wrist it was not the thought of the pain which so terrified him, but simply the loss of a part of himself, something he had always known. He was his hand – and his legs and neck, ribs and groin
My only cavil with the book is the full and frank letters which Barton writes to his family. Officers of course censored the letters home which the ‘other ranks’ sent, but I found myself working hard to suspend a sense that Barton’s letters would surely have been censored by those of higher rank, and if not, as Hilliard was party to the letters Barton sent and received, that he, as a very correct man, would have intervened and censored the truths which Barton was telling his family about the awful futility of the war.
However – why the present front cover photo for the Kindle edition shows a group of 
remarkably modern squaddies is a bit of an artist and publicist goof I would have thought!
Lady Fancifull 
I really must get around to reading some Susan Hill one of these days – I think I’ve only read one short story. You’re right about the cover of this one – very odd!
Well you will see that Serrailer 8 comes out tomorrow and will be an ‘Aside’ on this blog!
The Woman In Black is a great ghostly one. I can feel a re-read piquing my interest – apart from the fact its not on my shelves, and must have therefore been a library borrow.
I vividly remember seeing a very early production of it on stage (a marvellous adaptation, 2 actors playing all the parts and the narrative, plus………………..and along with most of the audience one of the most frightening and shocking experiences. Most of us (including me) SCREAMED. And yet, no real technical wizardry and FX, just performances. I later saw it again with someone else, in another production, and though I knew what was about to happen, could I prevent my screams of pure terror? Of course not. Nor could anyone else.
Your caveat about the letters aside, this sounds like a moving, and currently very topical text. There must have been thousands of intense and lasting friendships born under those intense conditions which the likes of us can hardly imagine
It pre-dated Pat Barker’s magnificent trilogy, but for some reason never got picked up in the same way.
I like the very unstated nature of what exactly the relationship was between the two men. Love was declared, but in an age where much more was unexpressed and un-acted upon, and maybe even unacknowledged in the mind of the person themselves, this being an age where of course same sex relationships were illegal – but an age also which perhaps had a more nuanced idea of the love between friends than our age has, tending to assume sexual connections.
I felt that by leaving this unexpressed and unexplored Hill was writing from within that time, rather than from an age which inevitably focuses in a different way
Remember writing a short story in O grade English called Strange Meeting, after we studied the poem of the same name (is it by Wilfred Owen?) about two soldiers from opposing sides, one of whom killed the other and then was presumably killed himself, who meet in the afterlife. Doubtless Susan Hill’s work will surpass my efforts, even just a tad lol! It’s a really powerful poem. I don’t generally go for “war stories”, but this one sounds interesting.
Yes you are right she also uses the title from the Owen poem
Sounds like a wonderful book, but I agree about the cover. What were they thinking?
One of my pet gripes is that the world is run by marketing men and women, who (I think) are versed in little except visions involving dollar and pound signs. You see it everywhere. ‘Progress’ means profits. Someone says ‘oh it’s about war’ clue for slap any old stock photo of squaddies.
It makes that wonderful cover of Ken Kalfus’ Equilateral (the one with the dreaming woman, not the other version which once again was a slap-on) such a rarity, a cover which enhanced, enticed and deepened the book. In fact, I ended up buying the book, as a hard copy, rather than eread, because the cover was so utterly magnetic, and the whole way the book was put together was a glorious experience