I can't explain what it is about lighthouses
Dispatch from Writing with the Seasons - April 2024
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I have news: I’ve just read one of the best books of my life.
It’s an extraordinary collection of interviews with lighthouse keepers called, fittingly, Lighthouse, published in 1976. Tony Parker, the author, encouraged lighthouse keepers to open up about their lives. We see the rhythms of their days, how it feels to work in such remote, coastal locations on the outer edges of Britain.
It’s not a romantic book. Life in a lighthouse is cramped, monotonous and heartbreaking, taking the keepers away from their families for months. But for some, life in a lighthouse offers a calm and hopeful existence, connected to nature.
Barry looked at the overcast sky as daylight began to disintegrate and fade. Five gulls flapped past in an untidy line; he watched them until they had almost disappeared.
— Peculiar, he said. You have to be peculiar to do this sort of job. Fancy standing watching seagulls from the top of a bloody great lump of granite sticking up out of the sea and thinking they look interesting.
I’ve never really considered lighthouse keepers, I don’t have a particularly strong relationship to the sea. Lighthouses became automated years ago—in the UK, the last keepers completed their service in 1998—yet this book feels like a timely read.
It’s full of humanity, wisdom and lovely details: how many plates fit in a tiny cupboard, the ways the weather is reported, how keepers keep fruit fresh by slipping pieces between window panes, the kaleidoscopic view up high in the pentagon of the lens.
The morning watch is my favourite because you see the dawn. You extinguish the light at sunrise and every time it’s my watch and I do it, it gives me a thrill. It’s like you’re in charge of starting the day; the light’s done its job so you’re letting the sun take over.
There’s much in the book about the importance of temperament over skill. About class, gender and social structures, loss, melancholy and the weight of the past, too. Hearing individuals tell the story of their lives cultivates empathy. It deepens our understanding of human nature, reminds us of the uniqueness of others. Listening is powerful. People are extraordinary.
More about Tony Parker’s Lighthouse here! Writing with the Seasons is brought to you by Write & Shine. Join us for our spring season of writing workshops! Events are virtual, so you can join us wherever you’re based. Spring artwork by Paulina Kozicka