A Review of Roma Tearne’s The Last Pier (Aardvark Bureau, 2019)

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A Review of Roma Tearne’s The Last Pier (Aardvark Bureau, 2019)
By Stephen Hong Sohn

So, I don’t want to reveal all my secrets, but I was able to get a copy of Roma Tearne’s The Last Pier (Aardvark Bureau, 2019) before it was officially out. I saved it for a night when I wanted to read something immersive. For those of you who haven’t had the chance to feast your reading eyes on Tearne’s work, you must immediately get Mosquito and Bone China, two of my literature favorites. In any case, before I get any further, I’m going to issue my requisite spoiler warning, as I begin with some big reveals right away because I want to deal with my three quibbles with this novel first.

Okay, so here are some minor critiques, where I focus on the tiny bads before the ginormous good that is this epic, atmospheric novel.

(1) Aardvark Bureau’s page quality and margins are just too small. I want to write with a heftier pen, but it will smudge or rip the pages, and the margins are TINY! I can’t even put one of those thumb print post-it notes at the edge! *sadface*

(2) I wanted to know more about Cecily Maudsley in between the two major temporal periods (prior to WWII and then the late 60s) that are being presented in the novel. Part of the issue here is Tearne’s choice to use an intimate, limited third person narration, who follows Cecily so closely that we’re only really allowed to think about what she is thinking about or trying to avoid thinking about. Thus, Cecily is less interested in what’s gone on with herself since the late 1930s and early 40s, so we don’t get too much of her life after that point. Certainly, Cecily herself is kind of like a living ghost, so perhaps she doesn’t even think that she’s been doing anything of note.

(3) I was torn by Carlo’s reappearance in the final arc of the book. On the one hand, I wanted him to show up. It presents readers with the possibility that there could be something good, even great, from that pre-WWII period to have survived (relatively) unscathed, but the wrap up is so quick, I was hoping for something a little bit more substantive. Again, though, in this fictional world, you can’t expect anything too uplifting. It’s basically a naturalist novel wrapped up in a disintegrative family saga.

So, now let me go back to the major overarching elements: the novel is an intriguing mash-up of a semi-whodunit, a spy narrative, the World War II narrative, and the family (families) saga. The families at the center are the Maudsleys and the Molinellos. Early on, readers discover that Rose Maudsley, though just a teenager, is dead. Cecily, Rose’s younger sister, is the one people indirectly blame, but readers are wondering: why?! This very question is the one that Tearne keeps close to her vest; she doesn’t reveal the intricacies of the chain reaction that results in Rose’s death until the final fifty or so pages. The payoff is well worth it, partly because Tearne is patiently portraying Cecily’s melancholic life and the fact that Cecily’s memory of the events leading up to and including Rose’s death are colored by her somewhat inaccurate, child-like perspective. We can’t quite get to the reveal because Cecily can’t figure it out herself, and our limited third does not, I would argue, know what’s gone on.

The cast of characters that surround Cecily and Rose, include their parents (Selwyn and Agnes), their Aunt Kitty, their older brother Joe, and their residence (The Palmyra House). Their family is intimately linked to an Italian immigrant family: Mario and Anna are at the head; they have a number of sons, including the youngest named Carlo and a daughter named Franca. Joe and Franca engage in a fledgling romance, while Carlo entertains some flirtations with Rose. Cecily looks on with envy because Cecily has a crush on Carlo. The other complication is a farm hand named Bellamy who also is engaging in some dalliances with Rose. When Robert Wilson, a purported surveyor, comes to their town of Bly, Tearne introduces the surveillance element. It’s pretty clear that he’s there in relation to national security, but we don’t understand what it is he is exactly trying to find out. The surveillance theme is mirrored by Cecily, because she has a habit of eavesdropping. As the War looms ever closer, the level of suspicion rises, leaving readers wondering which characters are involved in perhaps some more nefarious dealings.

The late 60s narrative is the diegetic present of the novel. Cecily has returned to The Palmyra House after having left for many years; the residence has been in a sort of fallow state since her mother Agnes died. Readers eventually discover that Cecily’s father, Selwyn, is alive, though in prison. Cecily’s return to Bly, and the Last Pier (the location where a building burned and Rose perished) is one that raises the hackles of townsfolk. She’s been tainted by what occurred just before World War II, but what exactly happened? So, hold on to your seats folks! What readers eventually discover is that Selwyn’s prison sentence is due to espionage; he’s a spy for Germany! When Selwyn suspects that he’s about to be found out, he goes to the building located near The Last Pier to burn it down and all the documents along with it. What he doesn’t realize is that his daughter is inside, having hoped to meet Robert Wilson there! The only reason why Selwyn thought that his cover was blown (which it was, but not in the way he expected) was because Cecily tells Selwyn that Rose has gone off with Captain Pinky (Wilson’s nickname) and that Pinky’s trying to get Rose to be involved somehow in espionage. This information is not quite accurate, but the damage is done.

By the time Selwyn and everyone else has figured out what’s actually happened, Rose has died in the fire, Selwyn’s been found out (due to information likely provided to Wilson by Aunt Kitty), and Cecily has been indirectly blamed for Rose’s death for having suggested to Selwyn that Rose was involved in espionage. Certainly, Wilson was using Rose for any information that she might have given him, but Wilson did not expect Rose to fall in love with him. In any case, the chain reaction is even more complicated precisely because of various love affairs going on between the Maudsleys and the Molinellos. Selwyn only married Agnes because he didn’t figure out that he was truly in love with Kitty until it was too late. Agnes, feeling ignored, eventually turns to Mario’s brother Lucio for affection and love. Eventually Selwyn realizes he cannot continue the affair with Kitty, but the termination of this relationship is one that reveals how much Kitty knows of Selwyn’s espionage duties and the fact that she’s likely to have betrayed him.

But the biggest reveal Tearne leaves is in relation to genealogy. Cecily’s biological mother is, in fact, Kitty. Tearne’s biggest trump card is perhaps the most tragic of the entire novel, because it is evident that Agnes, though far from being the perfect parent, nevertheless went above and beyond her duty to treat Cecily like she was, in fact, her biological daughter. Cecily’s realization that her actual biological mother did not seem to care for her and perhaps even held an active enmity toward her for being a favorite of Selwyn recasts her entire time as a Maudsley. Of course, the tragedy of this novel is not limited to the Maudsleys. Indeed, one of the most chilling aspects that the novel delves into are the internment camps that Italian immigrants were forced to relocate to in England.

Eventually, Mario, Lucio, and the elder sons who were born in Italy and therefore not English citizens are released, but their departure from the camp also coincides with their eventual deportation to Canada. During this period, their ship sinks; their lives are lost. Tearne bases her novel on historical events, and this sinking is a direct reference to the Arandora Star, which sank (with the eventual loss of 714 lives). The intertwining of the war and all of these associated events give Tearne’s work the epic texture we’ve come to associate with so many of her writings. The gravity and the political heft she achieves through this masterful negotiation of the domestic and the intimate, alongside the transnational and the ever-expansive, make The Last Pier more than worthy of your reading time.

Buy the Book Here.

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Gnei Soraya Zarook

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Gnei Soraya Zarook, PhD Student in English, at gzaro001@ucr.edu