We’re coming to the part of the story that smacks of dream worlds, of lurid Gothic emotion, the stylized excess and lunacy that hangs about the subconscious and peeks out in nightmare. All the more dramatic for me, recounted as it was in my uncle’s slow countryman’s voice while we ambled through the Eden that is his kingdom. We started off by entering another walled garden—and isn’t that what the source of the word Paradise means?—and strolled the outer circular path past the fruit trees heavy with buds, the currant and gooseberry bushes, the espaliered fruit clutching the brick, and the glass house on the south side that sheltered the white peaches. The order and abundance formed the backdrop to Magnus’s account of his youth. He told me about his father, Adam Goodman, who was also the head gardener like his father before him, and about his mother, Esther, as we sat on the parapet of a large pond at the centre of the garden and dangled our hands in the water.
What do You think about The Cuckoo's Child (2014)?
