Every caw of the din a detonation, every wing beat a ricochet, every black silhouette a spinning shell. [p. 10]
Tommy Catkins (or, at least, a young man going by that name) is sent to Salixbury Island Hospital, in the Wiltshire countryside, after appalling experiences at Verdun. He's warned that he 'may notice a few odd things on the island ...not everything is what it seems to be'. This might explain the talking cat, or the blue-skinned folk with tails who Tommy sees in a puddle, who tell him of their peaceful land Onderwater. Tommy tells his two doctors -- military Dr Snell and civilian Dr Hendriks -- about some of his odder experiences. They want to send him back to the Front; he's understandably reluctant, and barbarous 'therapeutic' treatments (including electric shocks) do nothing to convince him otherwise. He forms more positive relationships with Nurse Vann, Gardener Holt (who's given to gnomic utterances) and Maid Mooren. But the war needs young men to devour, and Tommy is going to have to make a choice.
This novel was on my wishlist for quite a while: I can no longer find the review that tempted me in, but I think I was expecting more 'bloody weird cats' and fewer horrific experiences, in battle and at the hospital. Onderwater is intriguing, with its maritime themes (travel by manta ray; nictitating membranes; narwhal airships) and the gradual revelation of Tommy's backstory was poignant. Salixbury Island had more than a touch of the mythic about it, with the Ferryman (who must be paid), the gnomic gardener, the dog whose shadow has three heads... Excellent depiction of class distinctions, too: encountering his old CO who's been admitted, mute and trembling, with neurasthenia, Tommy says brightly "It’s what officers g-get – the neurasthenia bug. But I g-got the war neurosis one, for p-p-privates, and that was pretty b-bad." [p. 160] But, perhaps due to my expectations, I finished Tommy Catkins with a strong sense of having missed the point.
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