Let These Things Be Written
AD 675, Lindisfarne, a monastery on an island on the north-east coast of Britain. A seven-year-old child, Wilfrid, is sent as an ‘oblate’: a gift; an offering. Why would parents offer their child? For prestige? The monastery is under the patronage of Ecgfrith, both king of Northumbria and High King of Britain. To dispose of an unwanted child? To expiate sin? Whose sin?
Wilfrid doesn’t know. He only knows that he misses his mother and, under the monkish regime, is constantly hungry. He can’t ask questions: by day he must work. By night, the Great Silence rules. But, clumsy and tongue-tied, he senses that he is outcast, unwanted. The boy slips away and is mesmerised by an enigmatic figure, standing alone for hours on the beach, arms outstretched, oblivious to wind and waves. Thus, we meet Saint Cuthbert, still an icon of the North-East to this day.
This story, closely based on contemporary accounts of Cuthbert, is brought to life by the sufferings of the lonely, guilt-ridden child, who is comforted by Cuthbert’s magnetic presence. Wilfrid grows up, becomes embroiled in politics, and eventually understands his life. The author cleverly portrays inner lives, enabling interpretation through the demons Cuthbert battled, but also as witness to trauma and anxiety.
Whyte brings an era to life, to revive a man who never really died. Cuthbert inspired devotion not only in life, but also in death. His cult lives on today, with an annual parade in Durham, where the World Heritage site was founded around Cuthbert’s shrine. Recommended for those interested in the mindset of the Anglo-Saxon era, the influence of religion on inner lives and mental health, and redemption.
