Customer Reviews

Hawksmoor

5 star:		(5)
4 star:		(3)
3 star:		(3)
2 star:		(6)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

The historical detail in this book is fabulous - I work opposite Christ Church in Spitalfields and I am intrigued to know more about the real Nicholas Hawksmoor. What interests me is where Ackroyd had the idea to make Hawksmoor a Satanist and to interpret the architecture of these churches so as to see occult references everywhere.

The story itself, though, was heavy-going and I almost did not finish the book. The book, whilst interesting, was somewhat disappointing compared to Ackroyd's other works. (I previously reviewed this in 1999 and my opinion has not changed)

If you are interested in Peter Ackroyd or historical London, his biographies of Dickens and London are terrific.

Peter Ackroyd enjoys a deserved reputation as the foremost contemporary interpretor and historian of London, especially the city's hidden and arcane aspects. As a painter of London's underbelly he is unquestionably Dickens's heir. His feeling for the city as an almost living entity, oppressive in the accumulated weight of its sprawling physical structure and the mass of lives that have passed through it, and frequently been crushed in the process, is one shared probably more or less conciously by most Londoners. In such an environment, where the most modern buildings can stand on a street pattern centuries old, the present can never entirely cut itself free from the past. This is Ackroyd's main theme, brought to life with chilling brilliance in this story of murder and superstition in the 17th century sounding a physical echo in a series of slayings in the 20th. Be aware that this is not a simple murder mystery in period costume. The narrative is poetic and allusive with much, especially the ending, left for the reader to interpret. It is not wholly succesful in the intertwining of past and present. Ackroyd's 16th century London fizzes with life, the characters and the city brilliantly conjured (Ackroyd has a skilful ability to write in a way that is actually less archaic than it feels when caught up in the narrative flow). By contrast, he fails to breathe much life into the modern day scenes and characters. This may be partly an intentional contrast, but either way these scenes are rather flat. Nonetheless, the book is hugely enjoyable. The demonical architect Nicholas Dyer (the 20th c. detective is the Hawksmoor of the title) is a great creation, and the dark world he inhabits stands with the classics of the literature of the macabre and supernatural. It will certainly impell a London (or London bound) reader to explore the churches built by the historical Hawksmoor with new eyes, as however fantastical the story, the geography and architectural details are completely accurate. I remember well seeing tramps descend into the shelter in the understory of Christchurch Spitalfields.
The structurally flawless (and very chilling) 'Dan Leno and the Limehouse Golem', which inhabits the London of Jack the Ripper and the heyday of the Music Hall, is also highly recommended.

Unlike some readers who have reviewed this work, I found it utterly compelling. The atmosphere of old London was masterfully evoked and the psychology of the principal characters was particularly well wrought. That Nicholas Dyer was a master of the "Magick Arts" but was beset by paranoia and depression, let alone his physical ills, made him an entirely believable person; very different from the usual fictional mage who is master of everything. Likewise, Hawksmoor's mental disorder and gradually loosening grip on his reality made for a sadly credible character.

I found the 18th century style of writing to be highly readable with a minimum of effort, yet it added greatly to the creation of the atmosphere of the historical period. I think that the author must have devoted a great deal of careful attention to this aspect of the novel; as he must also have done to his researches into the churches and geography of old London.

A dark and scary story; and I am slightly spooked that I found my copy at a second hand stall near the Thames just after a walk that had taken me unknowingly past St. Mary Woolnoth's church and a number of other locations in the book !

The historical detail in this book is fabulous - I work opposite Christ Church in Spitalfields and I am intrigued to know more about the real Nicholas Hawksmoor. What interests me is where Ackroyd had the idea to make Hawksmoor a Satanist and to interpret the architecture of these churches so as to see occult references everywhere.

The story itself, though, was heavy-going and I almost did not finish the book. The book, whilst interesting, was somewhat disappointing compared to Ackroyd's other works.

I have read some of the preceding reviews and I must say that the reviewer from Greece was pompous and insulting. I consider myself very well read in fiction and history and I came away from this book empty. Yes, the 18th century part was well written and evocative of that time and place, but I failed to understand the purpose of the whole. The sections in the 20th century were completely unbelievable. I twigged the business about evil, but it didn't mean anything to me. There was nothing new here. I have enjoyed Ackroyd's biographies but this stumped me. I also found the point of view to be extremely anti-intellectual. For a much better depiction of the stupidity of members of the Royal Society, read Longitude!!!

It is many years since I read this book, so I am afraid most of the details are now forgotten. However, I do know that this book will stay with me till I die. Comments about plot, character development, predictability etc. are irrelevant; it is not a ghost story, a horror story or any other type of story. Like a dream, it is the atmosphere that is so disturbing, not any particular passage or event. It either drags you into this strange, incomprehensible (but not to something deep inside yourself), terrifying world, or it doesn't. I might add that I came to this book with no expectations. I have since read every book by Ackroyd I can find; some (The House of Doctor Dee) I prefer to others (First Light) but all are interesting. This is an intelligent, dark, comically misogynistic author driven by an overwhelming sense of loss.

Clearly, the negative reviews in these pages are the product of individuals whose literary appreciation would best be confined to those works readily available in airport newsagents. Hawksmoor is one of the few truly great metaphysical works of the 20th century. The linguistic style employed by Ackroyd is not "pompous" as thus described by some halfwit from Idaho elsewhere in these reviews, but a peerless example of how to represent the richness and fluidity of the spoken word of the period. The language underpins a work which is multi-layered and largely allegorical and has been structured in such a way so as to intertwine with those same aspects as employed within the fabric of Hawksmoor's architecture itself. The novel is not a conventional narrative and should not be approached as such. If there exists a central and recurring theme then it is the precience and indivisibility of evil within the world. The juxtaposition of people and events within the text is achieved merely to highlight this theme. Those who see this work as a rather confusing ghost story would probably interpret "Ulysses" as a travel guide to Dublin. If you have a genuine love for literature and language then you will treasure this work. I guarantee that it will still be read long after the churches themselves have crumbled.

"Hawksmoor" by Peter Ackroyd was the first one I read by him, and I almost didn't want to read another. I can see from previous reviews that opinion was mixed. I did like what Ackroyd attempted: a story with an eighteenth century feel( The language in that part got on my nerves after a while) with an interesting antihero at the center. The premise that Nicolas Dyer, who designed churches, was a Satanist is both ironic and very original. That is one of the few strong points in the novel. The police detective who is investigating a series of murder is also interesting. Basically, he discovers that the killings are supernatural and echo Dyer's murders years before. The ending was what ruined the whole novel. What was the point of it? So Dyer and Hawksmoor are staring at each other through time, is in a mirror?

This was the first Ackroyd novel I read and I was hooked. The ability to bring together past and present, to suggest how a city lives us, is superb. But even more so is his ability to fascinate us with things like architectural details. True, the plot didn't make a lot of sense. It was not until I read his biography of More that I realized that the true protagonist of all Ackroyd's works is the City of London and Westminster and the true theme of all his novels is how place defines and shapes us. By the time he published London: A Biography, I was half expecting the work given all his previous books. But I wonder what he makes of Thatcher's and Blair's destruction of London through a combination of market fundametalism and Disneyland. I suppose, given the last chapter of London, he thinks London will simply absorb and transform them.
If nothing else, readers of this novel will never look upon the places in which they live in the same way again.

I am a mystery fan who recently read Hawksmoor so that this review is from the perspective of a mystery fan. As has been pointed out, the book revolves around two parallel stories, one in the eighteenth century and one in the "present" (about 20 years ago). The eighteenth century part of the book is written in first person and the writing for this part of the book is well done. The use of eighteenth century English really helps one feel the mood of post-plague London. It is a bit difficult to follow in some places, but the effort is worth the time. One the other hand, the writing for the "present" part of the book is not nearly as well done. Much of the dialogue is awkward, and the plot is rather thin. Ackroyd also has an annoying habit of making the parallelism between the two stories very very obvious. It seems that on every other page he seems to be screaming at you: "Remember these two stories are parallel!". O.K., I get it already! I was also amazed at how Ackroyd becomes so wrapped up in attempting to use pretentious writing, that he seems to lose his common sense. At one point, Ackroyd makes a comment that time passes like points on a balloon the is being blown up, his point being that all of the points on the balloon move away from each other at the same rate. The problem is that this is not true! The points on the neck of the balloon stay relatively close whereas points on the other end of the balloon move away from each other at a much faster rate.
However, my main disappointment with the book is the plot for the "present" part of the story. Not only is the plot thin, but the ending leaves one wondering if the last chapter of the book was truncated. I would have been much happier just reading the eighteenth century part of the book by itself.