For anyone who likes oral history and the English countryside, this new edition of ASK THE FELLOWS WHO CUT THE HAY is one of those very rare things: it is just about as perfect as it's possible for a book to be.
From the blurb inside the jacket:
'This classic work remains vigorous and true, an illuminating and unvarnished portrait of village life with all its harsh poverty and struggle as well as its rich knowledge and culture. As the Times Educational Supplement wrote, George Ewart Evans "gives the wholeness of the old life and the passionate pursuit of perfection that could make a craft like drawing a a straight furrow into something near an art".'
Originally published in 1956, ASK THE FELLOWS WHO CUT THE HAY is a beautifully-crafted ramble through a vanished age: blacksmiths, dairymaids, waggoners, pig-keepers and shepherds dwell side-by-side with candlemakers, ploughmen, bellringers, the parson and the squire, and the whole account centres on the life and memories of a small Suffolk village in the century prior to the Second World War. The traditions, superstitions, games and pastimes of the villagers are set against a backdrop of unending hard labour through the shifting seasons down the centuries.
The unsentimental writing is masterful, eminently readable, and now it is a joy to see this book issued in an edition that celebrates the hundredth anniversary of the author's birth. This is not nostalgia - this is social history at its best: from the mouths of those who lived it. All human life is here, and here is something for everyone.
The icing on the cake is the fact that the publishers (Full Circle Editions - a small press with enormous integrity) have commissioned the author's son-in-law David Gentleman to provide a wealth of watercolour illustrations to complement the text. These are nothing less than exquisite.
Gentleman, at the age of 80, needs little or no introduction: his books on London and Britain are justly famous, and anyone familiar with Charing Cross Underground Station will know his lovely murals of mediaeval builders at work; his covers for the New Penguin Shakespeare in the 1970s breathed an inspiring life and vigour into the plays that was often sadly lacking in the classroom - and more recently his anti-Blair and anti-Iraq war posters hit home powerfully in their blood-spattered economy of style. David Gentleman is an institution to be proud of, and Full Circle Editions can be very proud of his contributions to his father-in-law's classic.
This publication, so reasonable in price, is a joy from beginning to end. Snap it up while it's still around.