Ashford's Unsettled Foundations

Ashford, the "Gateway to Europe," is a town in the throes of transformation, its ancient roots disrupted by modern development—most notably the Channel Tunnel. Daniel Beede, a local with deep ties to the area, feels unmoored as the familiar landscape is erased. The loss of the old mill, a casualty of progress, becomes a personal wound for Beede, symbolizing the erasure of the past and the compromises forced by modernity. The town's physical and social upheaval mirrors the internal dislocation of its inhabitants, setting the stage for a story where the past refuses to stay buried.

Fathers, Sons, and Secrets

Beede and his son Kane are opposites: Beede, the principled, bookish, and wounded traditionalist; Kane, the drifting, amoral, and charming dealer. Their relationship is marked by distance, misunderstanding, and a mutual inability to connect. Kane's mother, Heather, is a ghostly presence—her long illness and death have left scars on both men. The generational divide is not just personal but cultural, as each man embodies a different response to the pressures of change, loss, and the demands of the present.

The Mill's Lost Heart

Beede's campaign to save the historic mill is a microcosm of his struggle against the tide of progress. Despite his legendary resolve, the effort ends in defeat: the mill is dismantled, its precious tiles vanish, and Beede is left with a sense of betrayal and impotence. This loss becomes a defining trauma, transforming him from a moderate reformer into a quiet absolutist, obsessed with the idea that history and meaning are being carelessly discarded. The missing tiles become a symbol of everything that has been lost and cannot be restored.

The Arrival of Elen

Elen, a chiropodist with her own scars, enters Beede and Kane's orbit. She is enigmatic, gentle, and marked by a birthmark that makes her both memorable and an outsider. Her relationship with Beede is professional but charged with unspoken emotion; with Kane, it is tinged with the memory of his mother's illness and a shared vulnerability. Elen's family—her troubled husband Isidore (Dory) and their precocious son Fleet—bring their own complexities, as Dory's mental health issues and Fleet's odd brilliance unsettle the fragile balance of the group.

The Horseman's Shadow

A mysterious horseman in yellow appears, blurring the line between past and present. Dory, prone to fugue states and paranoia, is found with a stolen horse, unable to recall how he got there. The incident is the first of many where the boundaries between reality and history dissolve, and the characters are haunted—sometimes literally—by figures from the past. The "Darkmans," a trickster spirit or force, begins to manifest, possessing people, objects, and language, and drawing the characters into a game they barely understand.

Kelly's Notorious Lineage

Kelly Broad, Kane's ex-girlfriend, is a product of Ashford's underclass: notorious, resourceful, and fiercely loyal to her chaotic family. Her brother's death, her own accident, and her struggle with addiction and reputation are woven into the town's fabric. Kelly's story is one of survival and the search for dignity in a world that offers little. Her discovery of a possible connection to a historical figure—a monk and physician—offers a fleeting sense of pride and meaning, even as it is later revealed to be a misunderstanding.

The Builders' Betrayal

The world of builders—Harvey Broad, Garry Spivey, and the shadowy Tom Higson—is rife with rivalry, corruption, and personal vendettas. The theft of the mill's tiles, the shoddy construction of new homes, and the endless disputes over contracts and payments reflect the larger theme of betrayal and the erosion of trust. Dory's entanglement with Harvey, and the eventual collapse of the scaffolding, are both literal and metaphorical disasters, exposing the fragility of the new order and the dangers lurking beneath the surface.

The Language of Jesters

A recurring motif is the figure of the jester—John Scogin—whose life and jokes are chronicled in a centuries-old book that passes through several hands. The book, and the language it preserves, become a key to understanding the novel's central preoccupation: the instability of meaning, the slipperiness of words, and the way history is both preserved and distorted through storytelling. The characters are all, in their way, jesters—masking pain with humor, using language to deceive, and playing roles in a drama they cannot control.

The Darkmans Stirs

The "Darkmans"—a force or spirit from the past—begins to possess the characters, especially Dory and Fleet. Strange events multiply: objects are moved, people speak in voices not their own, and the boundaries between self and other blur. The past erupts into the present, not as nostalgia but as a disruptive, mocking, and sometimes violent energy. The characters are forced to confront the ways in which they are haunted—by history, by family, by language, and by their own unacknowledged desires.

Gaffar's Exile

Gaffar, a Kurdish immigrant and sometime boxer, is both outsider and insider—drawn into the lives of the other characters as a fixer, a carer, and a comic foil. His own story of exile, loss, and survival echoes the larger themes of the novel: the impossibility of return, the pain of dislocation, and the need to invent new forms of belonging. Gaffar's fear of salad, his family's secret history, and his role as both victim and trickster make him a key figure in the unfolding drama.

The Scaffolding Falls

The collapse of the scaffolding at Elen and Dory's house is a turning point: a near-fatal accident that exposes the tensions and secrets among the characters. Harvey Broad is nearly killed, Kelly's "vision" is vindicated, and the event becomes a catalyst for confessions, confrontations, and the unraveling of carefully maintained facades. The incident is both a literal disaster and a metaphor for the collapse of the structures—emotional, social, historical—that the characters have relied on.

The Unraveling

As the story hurtles toward its climax, secrets are revealed: Beede's debt, his obsession with duplicating lost objects, Dory's paternity doubts, Elen's bruises, and the true nature of the relationships among the main characters. The boundaries between self and other, past and present, truth and fiction, become ever more porous. The characters are forced to confront their own complicity in the disasters that have befallen them, and the possibility that meaning itself is always provisional, always at risk.

The Peacock's Cry

The appearance of the peacock—a symbol of vanity, resurrection, and the exotic—heralds a series of climactic events: a car crash, a fire, and the final confrontation with the Darkmans. The peacock's cry is both a warning and a summons, drawing the characters into a final reckoning with the forces that have shaped their lives. The novel's symbols—birds, bells, feathers, keys—accumulate meaning even as they resist interpretation, reminding the reader that history is never settled, and the past is never truly past.

The Past Possesses

The characters are possessed—sometimes literally—by figures from the past: jesters, tricksters, martyrs, and victims. Dory, in particular, becomes a vessel for the Darkmans, his identity fragmenting as he is overtaken by voices and memories not his own. The boundaries between the living and the dead, the real and the imagined, are dissolved, and the novel becomes a meditation on the ways in which we are all haunted by what we cannot acknowledge or escape.

The Game of Doubles

Throughout the novel, doubles and forgeries proliferate: objects are duplicated, stories are retold, and characters find themselves playing roles that are both familiar and alien. Peta, the forger, becomes a symbol of the novel's central concern: the impossibility of authenticity, the necessity of invention, and the dangers of mistaking the copy for the original. The game of doubles is both comic and tragic, exposing the fragility of identity and the endless play of surfaces.

The Price of Forgiveness

As the characters seek forgiveness—for themselves, for each other, for the past—they are confronted by the limits of grace. Kelly's conversion, Beede's attempts at restitution, and Kane's search for meaning are all fraught with ambiguity. The novel refuses easy resolutions, insisting that forgiveness is always partial, always compromised, and always shadowed by the possibility of recurrence. The price of forgiveness is the acceptance of imperfection, the willingness to live with uncertainty.

The Roof and the Fire

The novel's climax is marked by fire: a literal blaze that consumes part of the estate, and a metaphorical fire that burns through the illusions and defenses of the characters. Dory, possessed by the Darkmans, climbs to the roof, reenacting the ancient dramas of destruction and renewal. The fire is both an ending and a beginning, a moment of crisis that opens the possibility of change, even as it leaves scars that will never fully heal.

The Door Opens

In the aftermath of the fire, the characters find themselves at a threshold: the door between past and future, self and other, life and death. Dory's final words—"tür," the door—are both a plea and a command, inviting the others to step through into a new, uncertain reality. The novel ends not with closure but with the sense of an opening: a door that leads to the unknown, a future that is both frightening and full of possibility.

The Puzzle of Identity

The novel's final movement is a meditation on identity: the ways in which we are all puzzles, composed of fragments, stories, and borrowed words. The characters are left to piece together their own histories, to make sense of the chaos that has engulfed them, and to find meaning in the midst of uncertainty. The puzzle is never fully solved, but the act of searching becomes its own form of redemption.

The End is a Beginning

Darkmans ends as it began: with the sense that history is never finished, that the past is always present, and that the search for meaning is both necessary and impossible. The characters are changed, but not redeemed; the town is scarred, but not destroyed. The novel closes with the sense that every ending is also a beginning, and that the game of doubles, hauntings, and reinvention will continue as long as there are people to tell stories, to love, to lose, and to hope.

Characters

Daniel Beede

Beede is the novel's moral and emotional center: a man deeply rooted in Ashford's past, yet unable to adapt to its present. His failed attempt to save the mill, his estrangement from his son, and his obsession with lost objects and history mark him as a figure of both dignity and pathos. Beede's relationships—with Kane, with Elen, with Dory—are fraught with misunderstanding, longing, and the inability to communicate. His journey is one of painful self-discovery, as he is forced to confront his own limitations, his complicity in the disasters around him, and the possibility of forgiveness.

Kane Beede

Kane is Beede's son and his opposite: a dealer, a joker, a man who lives in the moment and refuses to be pinned down by history or responsibility. His relationship with his father is marked by distance, resentment, and a deep, unacknowledged need for connection. Kane's charm masks a profound sense of loss and guilt, especially regarding his mother's death and his own role in her suicide. His encounters with Elen, Kelly, and the other characters reveal both his capacity for care and his fear of intimacy. Kane's journey is one of reluctant engagement with the past he has tried so hard to escape.

Elen Grass

Elen is a chiropodist, a mother, and a woman marked by both physical and emotional scars. Her birthmark makes her an outsider, and her marriage to Dory is fraught with difficulty: his mental illness, her own exhaustion, and the demands of their gifted son. Elen's relationships—with Beede, with Kane, with her clients—are characterized by a quiet strength and a deep capacity for empathy, but also by a tendency to absorb the pain of others at her own expense. Elen's struggle is to find a place for herself in a world that constantly threatens to overwhelm her.

Isidore (Dory)

Dory is Elen's husband, a German-English hybrid whose identity is perpetually in flux. Prone to fugue states, paranoia, and possession by the Darkmans, Dory is both victim and conduit: a man haunted by history, language, and the fear of not belonging. His relationship with Elen is loving but fraught; with Beede, it is marked by mutual dependence and suspicion. Dory's journey is one of fragmentation and (partial) reintegration, as he is forced to confront the ghosts that possess him and the possibility of forging a new self.

Fleet

Fleet is Elen and Dory's son: a gifted, odd, and sometimes unsettling child whose obsessions with building, language, and history make him both a prodigy and a puzzle. Fleet is sensitive to the supernatural currents that run through the novel, and at times seems to be a vessel for the Darkmans or other forces. His relationship with his parents is both a source of pride and anxiety, as they struggle to understand and protect him. Fleet embodies the novel's central question: what does it mean to inherit a past you cannot understand?

Kelly Broad

Kelly is Kane's ex-girlfriend and a member of Ashford's notorious Broad family. Resourceful, tough, and fiercely loyal, Kelly is both a victim and a fighter: blamed for crimes she did not commit, struggling with addiction and reputation, and searching for dignity in a world that offers little. Her discovery of a possible connection to a historical figure gives her a fleeting sense of pride, but also exposes the fragility of identity and the dangers of longing for a past that may never have existed.

Gaffar Celik

Gaffar is a Kurdish immigrant, a boxer, and a man with a genius for survival. His story of exile, loss, and adaptation echoes the novel's larger themes of displacement and the search for home. Gaffar's fear of salad, his family's secret history, and his role as both victim and trickster make him a key figure in the unfolding drama. He is both a comic foil and a figure of pathos, embodying the novel's insistence that identity is always provisional, always at risk.

Harvey Broad

Harvey is a builder, a rival, and a figure of both comedy and menace. His shoddy work, personal betrayals, and eventual near-death in the scaffolding collapse make him a symbol of the dangers of unchecked ambition and the erosion of trust. Harvey's relationship with Dory, Garry, and the other builders is marked by rivalry, resentment, and the endless game of one-upmanship that characterizes the world of Ashford's new elite.

Peta Borough

Peta is a forger, a collector, and a woman who thrives on ambiguity. Her role in duplicating lost objects, her ambiguous relationship with Beede, and her insistence on the arbitrariness of truth make her a symbol of the novel's central concerns: the instability of meaning, the necessity of invention, and the dangers of mistaking the copy for the original. Peta is both a trickster and a guide, leading the other characters—and the reader—through the labyrinth of doubles, forgeries, and reinventions.

The Darkmans

The Darkmans is not a character in the conventional sense, but a force: a spirit, a presence, a trickster that haunts the novel and its characters. Sometimes manifesting as a horseman, sometimes as a voice, sometimes as a possession, the Darkmans is the embodiment of the past's refusal to stay buried, the instability of language, and the endless play of doubles and hauntings. The Darkmans is both comic and terrifying, a reminder that history is never finished, and that the game of reinvention is both necessary and dangerous.

Plot Devices

Haunting and Possession

Darkmans is structured around the idea that history is not a settled narrative but a disruptive force that erupts into the present. Characters are haunted—sometimes literally—by figures from the past, and the boundaries between self and other, past and present, are constantly blurred. Possession—by the Darkmans, by language, by memory—becomes a central motif, exposing the fragility of identity and the dangers of denying the past.

Doubles, Forgeries, and Mirrors

The novel is obsessed with doubles: objects are duplicated, stories are retold, and characters find themselves playing roles that are both familiar and alien. The figure of the forger (Peta) and the proliferation of forgeries and copies become a metaphor for the instability of identity and the impossibility of authenticity. Mirrors, twins, and doubles proliferate, reminding the reader that every self is also an other, every original a copy.

Language as Trickster

Language in Darkmans is not a stable medium but a trickster: words slip, meanings change, and history is both preserved and distorted through storytelling. The figure of the jester—John Scogin—and the centuries-old book of jokes become a key to understanding the novel's central preoccupation: the instability of meaning, the slipperiness of words, and the way history is both preserved and distorted through storytelling. Puns, jokes, and wordplay abound, exposing the limits of communication and the dangers of taking language at face value.

Fragmented Narrative and Multiperspectivity

The novel is told through a series of interlocking perspectives, voices, and stories. There is no single narrator, no authoritative account; instead, the reader is invited to piece together the puzzle from fragments, confessions, and competing versions of events. The structure is deliberately disjointed, mirroring the chaos of the characters' lives and the impossibility of settling the past.

Symbolism and Recurring Motifs

Darkmans is rich in symbols: birds (especially the peacock), bells, feathers, keys, and doubles recur throughout the novel, accumulating meaning even as they resist interpretation. These motifs serve as reminders of the persistence of the past, the instability of meaning, and the endless play of reinvention and recurrence.

Foreshadowing and Echoes

The novel is structured around cycles and echoes: events repeat, characters reenact ancient dramas, and every ending is also a beginning. Foreshadowing is used not to create suspense but to remind the reader that history is never finished, and that the search for meaning is both necessary and impossible.

Analysis

Darkmans is a sprawling, polyphonic meditation on history, language, and the impossibility of escape from the past. Nicola Barker's novel refuses the comforts of closure or redemption, insisting instead on the persistence of chaos, the slipperiness of meaning, and the endless play of doubles, hauntings, and reinventions. The characters are all, in their way, exiles: from home, from history, from themselves. The novel's central lesson is that identity is always provisional, always at risk, and that the search for authenticity is both necessary and doomed. History is not a settled narrative but a disruptive force that erupts into the present, demanding to be acknowledged, mourned, and—perhaps—transformed. The only hope lies in the willingness to live with uncertainty, to embrace the provisional, and to find meaning in the act of searching itself. Darkmans is a novel for our times: skeptical, playful, and deeply humane, it reminds us that the past is never truly past, and that the game of doubles, hauntings, and reinvention will continue as long as there are people to tell

Last updated: July 24, 2025