I have very conflicted feelings about this book.

It is a wonderful book, beautifully written. It shows a modern male adult friendship and how positive and supportive it can be, which is something that I haven't come across hardly at all, and certainly not in today's cultural climate. It talks about regular men intentionally creating beauty, and putting hope out into the world, and I loved every bit of it.

Until the end. That ending! The hopelessness of it crushed me; it felt like a betrayal. To leave it like that, no redemption, no closure, just a vast uneasiness that we probably know exactly what will happen between the end of this summer and the start of the next. Hopeless and helpless is how the author left us, and I do not understand why.

So then how to see this book, as the beauty or as the betrayal? I finished reading it two days ago and have been trying to sort out my feelings since. ( )

This book was simply marvellous, and is perhaps the strongest contender so far for my favourite book of the year – certainly the best novel I have read, with only Katherine Rundells’ wonderful biography of John Donne, Super-Infinite, to offer any realistic challenge.

Set in the long hot summer of 1989, it is a story about male friendship, and follows Calvert (a disgruntled Falklands War veteran) and Redbone (a generally dysfunctional and almost anarchistic dropout) as they plan a campaign of creating crop circles across the southwest of England. Although I hadn’t thought about them for decades, I have very clear memories of the furore that accompanied the sudden spate of these circles appearing across the country, and the crackpot theories that were put forward to explain their origin. Indeed, in deference to the zeitgeist, one of the more esoteric crop circle designs even featured on the cover of a new Led Zeppelin compilation album released during that summer. One of the delights of this book are the brief quotations from the media that follow each chapter, with ever more outlandish explanations put forward.

Calvert and Redbone are far removed from the general drift of society, having deliberately allowed themselves to fall through the cracks. Calvert is the pragmatist, who has drawn up the code by which they will abide when on crop circle manoeuvres, drawing on his Special Forces past. Redbone is the artist, who creates the ever more adventurous designs that they will strive to bring to fruition.

Mixing history and folklore, this is a beautifully written novel – Myers seems to have a particularly close and delicate relationship with the landscape, and creates some lovely imagery. Having picked it up by chance on a regular post-payday book hunt, I found it an absolute joy to read ( )

Must borrow this again as I barely got through 1 hour. It was a little different and I must persist to see what rewards it offers.

Benjamin Myers is supposed to be one of the hot male writers of the moment, in an arena dominated by female writers, like never before.

NB: To re-borrow, it isn't at any of my Overdrive libraries (20/12/22).

This is the story of 2 men in England who are making crop circles. It is a study of characters rather than a plot driven novel. I found it a bit hard to engage in the book. There are some interesting thoughts that fit the current social commentaries. ( )

Most are aware of Britain’s crop circles. Some think these mysterious designs that appear overnight in rural fields are the result of alien activity. But a more reasonable conjecture is that they are a form of guerilla art much like the graffiti that adorn buildings and public transit in major cities or Banksy’s highly regarded wall art. Clearly, Ben Myers is too good a writer to spend much energy on the what’s and where’s of the crop circle controversies. Instead, he gives us an entertaining account of the who’s, why’s and how’s.

This is a superb novel about friendship and collaboration accompanied by thoughtful meditations on such diverse topics as class, ecology, wartime trauma, the meaning of art and loneliness. The setting is rural England during the summer of 1989. This is key not only because the depressing heat and drought presage global warming, but also because the equally depressing Thatcher years are now over.

The protagonists are a couple of rural outcasts who form an unlikely bond built on their mutual interest in creating crop circles. They manage to overcome the masculine tendency to maintain a healthy distance by developing a close and appealing working relationship. Redbone is an imaginative artist with several endearing qualities, including affability and empathy. He lives a somewhat chaotic existence in a rundown camper. He’s the idea man of the duo. Calvert oversees logistics. He identifies and locates impactful spots for their designs. As a scarred and traumatized war veteran, he isolates himself in the second smallest house in England, wearing sunglasses 24/7, and cooking strange eclectic menus. The latter are the sources of much humor.

The plot is a picaresque that chronicles their nightly forays. Each chapter bears an evocative design name and is followed by articles that appear in the press the following day. The pair adhere to a strict protocol involving secrecy and rules designed to finish the job in one night while keeping them safe and anonymous. Each design is a wonder (drawings would have been a welcome addition to the text), and they increase in complexity as the season progresses, culminating in one they call the “Honeycomb Double Helix.” Myers avoids boredom from repetitive tactics and techniques by interspersing humorous and insightful dialogue between the two men. This he garnishes with unexpected excitement from rogue dumpers, homicidal drivers, a strange old lady looking for her pet dog lost decades ago, and (best of all) a drunken Earl and his date out for a nighttime tour of the family’s estate.

Myers’ language is filled with beautiful descriptions, exhilarating events, bitter irony and abundant humor. This short book is indeed a delightful and worthy reading experience. ( )