The Perfect Golden Circle by Benjamin Myers

I think it’s best we start with a confession – I’m pretty sure I’ve approached Benjamin Myers all wrong. I did not start at the beginning and, if you take the first book of his I read as I starting point, then I did not even read what I have read in right order.

My first experience of Benjamin Myers came through Twitter. Upon the release of The Gallows Pole, I kept seeing the cover for it everywhere and, yes, I did indeed judge that book. I judged it to look very interesting indeed. There was something captivating about the stark, retro design. There was also something 70s heavy metal infused about it, which was an impression doubtlessly inspired by the title. It felt like something I needed to read.

I didn’t encounter the book in real life, however, until I was shopping in Richmond during a horrendous storm a few years ago. I took shelter in a small bookshop and found myself talking to the owner, who was desperately worried about her front windows blowing in, but who would accept no help when trying to wrestle her awning down.

Whilst chatting to her about the weather (probably to shore up our Englishness during that uneasy time) I spotted The Gallows Pole on a table of new books and knew this storm had upped the ante of book shopping that day – browsing was no longer an option.

For the rest of that holiday, I found myself totally engrossed in Myers’ recreation of the period and true life story he’d captured in the pages of The Gallows Pole. I made a note to read more of his books and then got completely distracted by my pile of waiting books when I arrived home.

It wasn’t until I saw him promoting the release of The Perfect Golden Circle that I remembered I was meant to be reading his work. And, yes, I won’t lie; it was some of the early press comparing Golden Circle to Mackenzie Crook’s Detectorists which caught my eye.

Having now finally read his latest book, I can confirm that Myers has yet again written something poetic and deeply rooted in the human experience. I can also see where the comparisons to Crook’s brilliant TV series have come from. Yes, there are two main characters, working out in fields. Yes, they are outsiders, in a sense, possessed by a task which calls to them through the nature around them and the pull of our deep, shared history. However, that is where a lot of the similarities end for me (although there is possibly an invisible dog for a few pages).

The story itself appears fairly simple. Two men, Redbone and Calvert, are spending the summer nights of 1989 treading crop circles into the fields of England. This is not their first summer working together and each of them are carrying their own pain as a motivation for what they’re choosing to do. They design the circles and plan their work in secret; Redbone drawing out the circles and Calvert finding the locations. They let the conspiracy theories and press interest grow around them. Never breaking their silence about their work, always following their code. For them, the work is the key.

Each of the chapters strips the idea of the book down to the barest of structural bones. Myers focuses our attention on the production of one crop circle, before finishing the section off with an excerpt from an article regarding the finished piece. Each excerpt coming from a different paper (allowing him one particularly juicy dig at a certain tabloid during the course of the novel).

We get to watch our heroes set off to their new location, occasionally encounter someone or something unexpected, and then leave as they get ready for the next circle, but it's the depth and richness of the main characters which really drives this novel forward. Each of them contains wounds, some of which they share with their friend and some of which they cling to within themselves. They see the world in different ways, through their different experiences, but their sometimes clashing backgrounds have intersected just enough to inspire the art they’re spreading over the drought stricken fields of England.

The sense of brotherhood between them holds you close to the story. The sense of them trying to change the world in the most purest and artistic of ways. Myers’ book is so invested in their fragile, healing perspectives that I think to say too much more would be a spoiler. Every details, every revelation, every chance to see their world and each other through their eyes is something to be savoured as you tread this golden and very nearly perfect circle.

After reading Wodehouse, I would say it was definitely a shift in gears to dive into this book. Beyond the rhythm of the chapters, Myers builds the world of Redbone and Calvert through the thoughts and conservations of his two main characters. The rest of the world around them might intrude from time to time, sneaking past the fences or staggering up the lane drunk, looking for a fight, but never for long. There isn’t a pervading force which threatens their lifestyle or gives their work a narrative arc from, say, anonymous myth makers to artistic legends. Which, don’t get me wrong, is not a negative - it just might leave some readers wanting a little more.

Myers resists the temptation to give these men strong love interests or any sort of recurring rival, beyond 80s England itself. Instead, a lot of the story comes from within them. Calvert’s experiences on the battlefield. Redbone’s anger at society. It comes from the hints we’re given of their lives outside of the time we spend with them, treading a curving pattern carefully, methodically, into the fields. Occasionally, we are allowed a glimpse beyond their night work, but never for long. It’s a decision which makes each piece of information we’re offered about these men all the more tantalising.

For me, it was Myers writing on the elements and nature which really pulled me into this book to begin with. You can feel the heat on your back. You can hear the rain rattling off Redbone’s van. You can breathe in the growing crops, as they’re trod gently down to form a pattern.

All in all, this is a great read. It’s a psychological portrait of two men trying to create a new form of art as a way to mend themselves and locate themselves in their modern world. It might be a little hefty with the prose at times, but it’s well worth sticking with. It won’t be long before Redbone and Calvert have created another wonder to share with you.