I couldn’t resist asking for a review copy of Smelling of Rooks when I read its synopsis. Written by the bestselling author of Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, it contains a collection of his Facebook posts published between 2015 and 2024. The account from which they were taken was set up by his American publisher at a time when authors were expected to cultivate a social media presence as a marketing tool. de Bernieres soon found he derived some enjoyment from posting his reflections and observations on the life he was living at the time.
The author has published many more books than just his bestseller (including Blue Dog, previously reviewed). What comes through on these pages is how much time is spent travelling around talking about new works at bookshops and festivals. de Bernieres is also a song writer and musician, performing in this guise when he can, often in collaboration. There are many mentions of people he meets and spends time with – old acquaintances as well as new friends made. He is much enamoured with the female sex.
For reasons explained there are only passing and vague mentions of his romantic relationships. The reader is left to ponder if de Bernieres is an active philanderer or merely a dreamer.
“We sat in a wine bar whilst she talked to me at great length about what an emotionally illiterate idiot I am. She says she knows exactly what she’s talking about, because we are so alike.”
Born to upper middle class parents, the author was sent away to boarding school at the age of eight. Although fond of his wider family, he harbours a lifelong anger at being subjected to this experience and the extensive abuse it entailed. His background did, however, open doors that eventually led to the life changing publication of his most famous work. When he left London for Norfolk he was able to purchase an old vicarage including its acres of land.
Although acrimoniously divorced from the mother of his two children they all now live close enough to see each other regularly. de Bernieres clearly derives immense pleasure from being a father and wishes to provide his children with happy memories. He states he would typically write his Facebook posts on a Sunday evening when the pair had been returned to their mother, a way to fill a suddenly lonesome evening. Despite amassing a sizable Facebook following, replies and comments to these posts are not included – obtaining permissions would have been too complex.
What we have here then is more akin to a very personal blog. Described as ‘defiantly unfiltered’ it is this that makes the posts so entertaining. There is a degree of repetition but mostly this comes across as proof of authenticity – such things have not been removed by the editorial process. The author is also unafraid to state his opinion, even as times change and public figures are expected to sing from the same song sheets, or risk cancellation.
“I would like to propose the abolition of the word ‘populist’ to refer to the votes and opinions of all the uneducated unwashed yobs who vote differently from the smug semi-washed, semi-educated gits who use the word to denigrate them.”
One small downside of his honesty around the antics of his young children is rather too many mentions of bogies…
While mostly writing of his time spent with family and friends, there are amusing asides about the strange life he lives as a well known author. He has now retained this title for many years and observes certain changes. For example, on the Hay Festival:
“it is now unfeasibly enormous, with lots of events happening simultaneously, and whilst it remains a book festival, it is no longer a literary one. Too many celebs.”
de Bernieres clearly has enough disposable income not just to retain his sprawling residence but to indulge his many hobbies. He collects various types of guns, using them to shoot clay pigeons and tin cans on his land. He refurbishes a wide variety of musical instruments. I lost count of the number of old cars he was working on, and then he started to collect motorbikes as well.
Changes happen over the decade in which he posts on Facebook (before he breaches ‘community standards’ and is shut down). These include Brexit and then Covid. Although warranting mentions they barely touch the life he is living in rural Norfolk with his children and the various women he gets close to for a time. He also cares for many cats with their somewhat disturbing killer instincts, and a dog that was loved but sadly did not last. He adopts rooks and writes of other wildlife in his menagerie. When he eventually buys a smartphone one reason given is for access to the Merlin app.
The author is privileged but also generous with his time and hospitality. The mentions of social events and travel offer up a vision of life lived within the strange bubble of the successful writer, but they include enough other aspects – such as evenings spent waiting for his daughter, when she attends gymnastics classes or competitions, while trying to keep his son entertained – to bring things back down to earth. When resentment is harboured at being ‘dumped’ by a lady friend this is tempered by comments on regularly helping out other exes in small ways.
Easy to read and to dip in and out of, this book offers a reminder of how Facebook used to be when it was mostly updates from known friends. Whether or not I would have befriended de Bernieres given some of his opinions remains open to question, but it is refreshing to find such apparent integrity when life is now passed through so many filters before seen as fit for public consumption.
A reminder that some are still capable of clear thinking and respectful, constructive disagreement. An interesting but still light hearted read.
Smelling of Rooks is published by Salt.
