“Light Perpetual” is the title of the new book by author Francis Spufford. The image of light as in St. John’s Gospel features throughout the book.
The Background: In 1942, a V2 rocket attack on the New Cross Road branch of Woolworths killed 168 people, 15 were aged 11 or under.
The novel is written partly in memory of these South London Children and their lost chance to experience the rest of the twentieth century. Francis Spufford skilfully and beautifully offers us an alternative history of their lives.
Using the invented names of five children, we experience life had the bomb not killed them at such a tender age. We grow with them through school years, into adulthood and the world of work. We share their joys and pains, their lost loves, their moments of despair and moments of redemption. We travel with them into the final years of their lives.
Towards the end of the book, Ben, one of the main characters is dying but is surrounded by love. Ben is an individual who in his life has experienced a full psychotic breakdown and the author paints a most moving and convincing picture of that period. When he is still quite ill, he is offered a job by Marsha, the owner of a café. Marsha is of Jamaican descent, a very committed Christian, who takes Ben to her heart and to her church. They eventually end up as a couple. In the final days of Ben’s life, he is at home with Marsha and his adopted family. All of them call in to spend time with him. Ben is prescribed morphine and has regular visits from MacMillan Nurses. He slips in and out of various stages of consciousness. He remembers the first time he ever went to Church with Marsha and in his dying days we are given the great privilege of hearing his thoughts about God. I quote…………
“Praise him all the postcodes”, thinks Ben.
Praise him on the commuter trains. Praise him upon the drum and bass. Praise him at the Ritz. Praise him in nail bars. Praise him with beard oil. Praise him in toddler groups. Praise him at food banks. Praise him in the parks and playgrounds. Praise him down in the Tube station at midnight. Praise him with doner kebabs. Praise him with Michelin stars. Praise him on pirate radio. Praise him on LBC and Capital Radio. Praise him at Broadcasting House. Praise him at Poundland. Praise him at Harvey Nichols. Praise him among the trafficked and exploited. Praise him in hipster coffee houses. Praise him in the industrial estates. Praise him in leather bars. Praise him on the dancefloors. Praise him on the sickbeds. Praise him in the high court of Parliament. Praise him in the prisons and crack houses. Praise him at Pride. Praise him at Carnival. Praise him at Millwall, West Ham, Arsenal, Chelsea and Spurs. Praise him at Eid. Praise him at High Mass. Praise him on Shabbat. Praise him in the gospel choirs. Praise him, all who hope. Praise him, all who fear. Praise him all who dream. Praise him all who remember. Praise him in trouble. Praise him in joy. Let everything that has breathe give praise.
The Sun is overhead. The sun is shining straight down. The grass grows bright with ordinary light. Ben sees the light, and the light is very good”.
