Michael Symmons Roberts and Paul Farley’s book Edgelands reads like a poem with its lyrical prose dedicated to the oft-forgotten spaces between the urban sprawl of our cities and the chocolate box prettiness of the countryside.

For this exercise I read the chapters Wire and Power about fences and power stations respectively and I have previously read some of the other chapters.  From Wire the following extract stood out for me:

Variations on the theme of the fence include rows of upstanding spears tilted at the top to point outwards at potential climbers, plus the alternative toppings of barbed wire or razor wire.

Coils of barbed wire, like a well-trained bramble coiled along the top of a fence, are threatening enough, but razor wire takes latent violence to a new level.  Kids at school who carried razor blades were unhinged, off-the-scale, unpredictable.

This extract is typical of the way the book examines the ‘eyesores’ of the outskirts of cities, the areas that many of us bypass without a thought, and relate them to human experience.  This is often the experience of youth; of ordinary working class children and teenagers who play in the street, the type who are themselves often overlooked by society.

There is a gentle beauty in the discussion of both forgotten landscapes and overlooked youth, in the way the book invites contemplation of areas we never usually think of yet turn out to be fascinating in their unique banality.

References:

Farley, P. and Symmons Roberts, M. (2011) Edgelands Journeys into England’s True Wilderness.  Rochester: Vintage Digital