A Street Cat Named Bob by James Bowen

A Street Cat Named Bob, James Bowen, Hodder 2012

A fun, easy read, not great literature. The book was actually co-written with Garry Jenkins, who is acknowledged on the inside and at the end of the book, though it doesn’t say this on the cover. The unpretentious style contributes to the sense of honesty that is a keynote of the book, and is one of the things that make it so attractive.

Readers – all of whom live and work in London – learnt a lot about London from this book, and about a different side of London life. The homeless become real people; you started to think about the different causes of homelessness. The same with The Big Issue sellers, and what it’s like for them. One of the bookclubbers has a friend who comes from the part of London in which part of the book is set, which makes it particularly vivid for them. You also learn how The Big Issue scheme works, and about Drug Dependency Units and prescription methadone.

It’s a very good book for young people who are just about to leave home as it has values, and it shows – and explains – clearly, how hopeless doing drugs really is. It would be equally good for people who are not very well educated but need a lift – it’s easy to read, as stated above – and for people who have jobs and money, to make them realise how the other half live. It is really frightening to see the lengths people can go to, in order to numb their feelings and avoid facing reality, avoid facing who they are.

In the book, James comes across as totally honest, without making a song and dance of it. Even when he seems to be on the verge of self-pity, when explaining the effects on him of his parents’ divorce (instability, being bullied at school, and dropping out), or the way that as a busker or Big Issue seller he is ignored by most people and beaten up by a few, he never falls into self-pity. His writing is by turns resigned, common-sensical, and determined. This is more remarkable as he started off, as a teenager, by being very angry indeed, and understandably. Another aspect of his character is the way he instantly falls into panic and fears the very worst, as soon as anything goes wrong – e.g. the times when Bob was frightened and ran away from him, and when he was accused of cheating when selling The Big Issue. A couple of bookclubbers watched a TV interview by Jeremy Vine with James Bowen and Bob. James is jerky and febrile, presumably an aftermath of his addiction; Bob was as cool and composed on screen as he is in the book.

With all of this, nothing in the book is written to give offence, and it is very easy to imagine how it could have been. It is obviously not written for children, but the grittiness of life as a drop-out, addict, busker, and Big Issue seller is depicted realistically enough to bring it home to the reader, yet without making you feel that you are having your nose rubbed in the dirt – although he has been angry, he does not write angrily. Instead, step by step, he dwells on the way his life and attitudes change as he takes in Bob and gets to take responsibility for him – and then as he sees what Bob is doing for him. It is not only the fact that people give far more money to him when Bob is there; it is the fact that James loses his “Harry Potter invisibility cloak” (p. 77), and begins to become a person again, because people look at him, talk to him, and treat him like a human being. And by the end of the book, p. 186, he realises that “Bob brought back my faith in human nature,” because he finds people being kind, going out of their way to help, and keeping their promises.

This book made an excellent contrast with our last read, The Sisters of Sinai – they had a huge amount of money and were extraordinarily well-educated; James had nothing and had a raw deal from the start. It is notable that while Bob alone made him a success as a Big Issue seller, it was the Internet – technology – that made him famous.

Sisters of Sinai, Janet Soskice

Janet Soskice, Sisters of Sinai: How Two Lady Adventurers Found the Hidden Gospels, Vintage Books, 2010.

This book was a chance suggestion that turned out to be one of the most successful books we have read so far in terms of enjoyment, discussion and “reader engagement”. Book-club members did various forms of research on the writer and on the subjects of the book and all of this was brought up at the meeting.

The two “lady adventurers” were the twins Agnes and Margaret Smith of Irvine, Scotland, born on 11^th January 1843. They were brought up as Presbyterians and both of them firmly believed and practised their faith all their lives. In a way their Presbyterian faith could be said to be what drives and inspires – rather even than simply guides – their whole lives. They inherited a large fortune, and as Soskice explains, their Presbyterianism told them that this was for a purpose: they could neither give it away, nor spend it on themselves. So they travelled, researched ancient manuscripts, endowed  a Presbyterian college (Westminster College) at Cambridge, and started the Boys’ Brigade.

So many puzzling features of their lives now made sense. Their money, for instance – never unwelcome, but what was it for? Giving it all away, St Francis-like, had never been a Presbyterian option. Riches (especially riches, like theirs, acquired almost accidentally) must be intended to play some part in the providential plan.

Now it was clear that they did have vocations, and ones for which their life experiences entirely suited them. (p. 252)

Some people found the book rather heavy going at the beginning, but soon became engrossed in the story. Agnes and Margaret’s father (their mother died two weeks after they were born) promised them that for every new language they learned, he would take them to visit the country where it was spoken. They made the most of their amazing gift for languages (and their capacity for serious study and hard work) to learn modern European languages and then went on to more exotic ones, Greek, Arabic, Syriac, and more. It was notable that they had no mother to teach them a woman’s place in the nineteenth-century world, i.e. to hold them back and limit their horizons...

The book covers the whole of their lives, but dwells especially on their journeys to St Catherine’s Monastery in the Sinai Desert. They went there because they had been told by a friendly professor at Cambridge (where they had settled) that he had visited the monastery and seen a manuscript there which might prove to be extremely important, but had been unable to examine it. While they were there, Agnes discovered a battered old chunk of pages all stuck together, and realised it was a palimpsest of the Bible – a palimpsest being a manuscript whose original writing had been scraped or washed off and something else written on top. With careful examination and sometimes special treatment, the original writing can be made out. It turned out to be an extraordinarily early manuscript of the whole Bible in Syriac. Agnes and Margaret, helped by the monk-librarian, started to photograph the whole manuscript page by page. They had to come back a year later, this time accompanied by more scholars, to complete the work of making a good copy of the whole manuscript.

The whole story is fascinating and it takes a book to do it full justice. In addition, we hear about the travelling conditions for European visitors in the Middle East at that time. The story is told with no dramatization, but very clearly and vividly, and the difficulties they had to tackle all the way are very real, so much so that it is quite distressing. They quickly got used to riding on camels – and how the sisters got on with the Greek Orthodox monks. They were of course totally ignorant of this form of religion, and one Sunday when the monks were going by in solemn procession Agnes thought that she ought to shake hands with the Prior. Read the episode on p. 139! They were, nevertheless, open-minded and respectful despite their complete inability to understand. 

Another interesting feature that comes up in this extremely rich and eventful story is the terrible way that some academics treated others – nothing has changed in this respect, alas! Obviously there were also some who were kind, generous and helpful, though. Plus the atrocious plundering of manuscripts that went on – again, plus ça change...

As for the twins themselves, there is a lot more we would like to know about them but don’t, simply because the twins didn’t write about it. You get a real sense of their self-restraint, privacy, – from their point of view even decency – in that they don’t let it all hang out, or go in for either navel-gazing or self-advertising. That itself tells you a lot about them.