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Deer Island
At the beginning of the 1980s Neil Ansell chose a life of voluntary poverty working for the Simon Community, a charity with radical approaches to helping homeless people. He lived in squats and 'derries' across London, becoming part of a floating community of volunteers and rough sleepers whose purpose was to offer companionship and support for each other.
But around them Britain was changing. It was becoming the decade of the individual. Soon there would be 'no such thing' as society. More and more young people started arriving in the Community, set adrift by unemployment, and the city streets and squats were becoming awash with heroin.
Immersed in this fragile world, Neil's sense of self began to disintegrate against the hard truths of homelessness. Worst of all were the people he lost, the friends who died or disappeared.
To escape he started taking occasional trips to the Isle of Jura, off the west coast of Scotland, to seek solace and isolation in the landscape. Along the way he hoped to find his way back to himself.
In spare and beautiful prose Neil Ansell overlaps two contrasting journeys through the streets of London and the wilds of Jura, building a powerful and moving meditation on what it means to belong. What makes us feel attached to a place or a community? What do we mean when we call a place home? Are memories the only things we can ever truly own?
But around them Britain was changing. It was becoming the decade of the individual. Soon there would be 'no such thing' as society. More and more young people started arriving in the Community, set adrift by unemployment, and the city streets and squats were becoming awash with heroin.
Immersed in this fragile world, Neil's sense of self began to disintegrate against the hard truths of homelessness. Worst of all were the people he lost, the friends who died or disappeared.
To escape he started taking occasional trips to the Isle of Jura, off the west coast of Scotland, to seek solace and isolation in the landscape. Along the way he hoped to find his way back to himself.
In spare and beautiful prose Neil Ansell overlaps two contrasting journeys through the streets of London and the wilds of Jura, building a powerful and moving meditation on what it means to belong. What makes us feel attached to a place or a community? What do we mean when we call a place home? Are memories the only things we can ever truly own?
120 pages, Hardcover
First published May 30, 2013
About the author
Neil Ansell
6 books47 followersNeil Ansell is an award-winning freelance journalist and writer. He spent seven years with the BBC as a community affairs specialist, working predominantly in television but also in radio, and working in both news and current affairs as researcher, assistant producer and producer.
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
July 31, 2013
I started Deer Island thinking I'd just read for thirty minutes before bed. I put it down in the early hours, when it was nearly finished and all hopes of a full night's sleep were gone, and I'm still trying to define its appeal. The quality of the writing certainly has something to do with it; the prose is clean and bare, yet wonderfully descriptive, but there is something more than style.
I'm also trying to define the book. It doesn't fit easily with convenient labels. 'Memoir' is probably the closest fit, since it structured as personal recollections. Ansell has lived and worked with the destitute, has himself been a squatter, and has wandered the wild places of the earth. This slim book could also be seen as a series of vignettes; of poverty, of lifestyles, of places, all of which are articulated with sharp clarity.
I think I was hooked by the way he writes with such respect, even love, for the kind of people most of us hurry past in the street; the alcoholics and homeless beggars, Ansell's friends and companions during his years serving with the Simon Community. There are also descriptive passages of intense beauty; it's worth buying the book just for the paragraphs where he emerges from a freezing rainstorm in the Kalahari desert to see a scimitar-horned gemsbok standing under an extraordinary, purple sunset. His descriptions of Jura, the 'Deer Island' of the title, could inspire me to shoulder a backpack and start walking North.
I'm left with the impression of a man whose life is richer for carrying so little with him, 'Memories,' he says, 'are the only things we truly own, and even they slip from our grasp if we don't handle them with care'.
I'm also trying to define the book. It doesn't fit easily with convenient labels. 'Memoir' is probably the closest fit, since it structured as personal recollections. Ansell has lived and worked with the destitute, has himself been a squatter, and has wandered the wild places of the earth. This slim book could also be seen as a series of vignettes; of poverty, of lifestyles, of places, all of which are articulated with sharp clarity.
I think I was hooked by the way he writes with such respect, even love, for the kind of people most of us hurry past in the street; the alcoholics and homeless beggars, Ansell's friends and companions during his years serving with the Simon Community. There are also descriptive passages of intense beauty; it's worth buying the book just for the paragraphs where he emerges from a freezing rainstorm in the Kalahari desert to see a scimitar-horned gemsbok standing under an extraordinary, purple sunset. His descriptions of Jura, the 'Deer Island' of the title, could inspire me to shoulder a backpack and start walking North.
I'm left with the impression of a man whose life is richer for carrying so little with him, 'Memories,' he says, 'are the only things we truly own, and even they slip from our grasp if we don't handle them with care'.
February 28, 2024
My last unread book by Ansell (whose Deep Country, The Last Wilderness, and The Circling Sky I’ve loved) and one that had been out of print for many years, so it was great to hear that Little Toller was reissuing it. Ansell has visited most countries; pressed for a favourite place, he names the Scottish isle of Jura. In memory he returns to a place he hadn’t been in over 20 years. In the early 1980s he lived in London and volunteered with The Simon Community, a homeless charity, for three years. Later that decade, he found himself in the same situation as those he served, squatting in chaotic multi-occupancy London properties. But in between he’d had a magical jaunt to Jura by hitchhiking and motorbike with a girlfriend. And later, when his only sentimental keepsake was stolen from his squat bedroom, he left that lifestyle behind and fled to Jura, haunt of golden eagles and otters; refuge for George Orwell, who experienced his fair share of squalor – Down and Out in Paris and London gets a mention, but Ansell doesn’t belabour a comparison he more than earns. It’s a shame this is so short, but it’s a carefully crafted slice of life, and illustrates a sobering truth: “Security is an illusion.”
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
February 6, 2018
At the beginning of the 1980's society was declared to be non-existent, the rights of the individual were set to dominate. As political change flowed across our country the community spirit that had been there was steadily eroded. The effects of these changes were most profoundly felt at the bottom of society as the number of homeless increased steadily. Neil Ansell felt moved to work for the Simon Community as a volunteer helping those sleeping rough and living in squats. Living with almost nothing, avoiding bailiffs and living from day to day was pretty tough. Harder still was seeing those that he came to know and some who became friends either vanish never to be seen again or pass away with health and drug issues.
To escape from the intensity of living in London he would head to the beautiful Isle of Jura to reset his mind and soul. Whilst there he would revel in the remoteness and solitude and reconnect with the natural world.
Memories are the only things we truly own, and even they slip from our grasp if we don't handle them with care
Deer Island is not a quite a memoir, more a brief and intense recollection of life in squats and sleeping rough around London and two brief interludes in Jura. Ansell has quite a beautiful way of writing, and like Deep Country, this is a delight to read. It is a fitting eulogy to those that he knew briefly and an acknowledgement of the landscapes of the West Coast that help ground him again.
To escape from the intensity of living in London he would head to the beautiful Isle of Jura to reset his mind and soul. Whilst there he would revel in the remoteness and solitude and reconnect with the natural world.
Memories are the only things we truly own, and even they slip from our grasp if we don't handle them with care
Deer Island is not a quite a memoir, more a brief and intense recollection of life in squats and sleeping rough around London and two brief interludes in Jura. Ansell has quite a beautiful way of writing, and like Deep Country, this is a delight to read. It is a fitting eulogy to those that he knew briefly and an acknowledgement of the landscapes of the West Coast that help ground him again.
April 15, 2024
Given the main content of this book focuses on people at the edges of our frayed society it is, at times, a little bleak - but it is nevertheless finally optimistic.
Very highly recommended.
Stewart M.
Very highly recommended.
Stewart M.
November 9, 2017
I read Deep Country a few years ago and it really stuck with me, encouraged me to read a lot more nature writing, and also to start my own sort of nature journal. Neil Ansell for me, is an inspiration. His writing is quite practical, whilst never failing to be whimsical and captivating. The rural country man of Deep Country is slightly at odds with the journeying, political rough sleeper of Deer Island, and yet, his quest for isolation and appreciation of nature feeds through from start to finish. I highly recommend that you read both, though in which order I am not sure!
January 28, 2021
Short book set in London and Jura. Well written and an interesting contrast of the two places, in London working with the homeless and in Jura finding the wonders of nature (which has followed through in the two other books I have read by the same author).
February 5, 2024
A lovely little book contrasting homeless people on the streets and squats of London with the beauty and wilderness of Jura and how some survival and resilience skills work just as well in both places.
April 29, 2018
Two places you probably won't know or get to - an isolated island off Scotland and the squats of London - in the 1980s. An emotional journey.
November 16, 2020
Totally immersive. A mixture of chaos and tranquility, what a life Neil has had!
Read
September 19, 2021Isle of Jura. Rough sleeping. Squatters. London. Disappointing.
June 17, 2013
This book is way outside the classifications I generally read. In fact it is probably outside classification altogether. It is a sort of social issues/nature memoir.
Realistically, the author's life experience is way outside mine. Leaving aside the two main topics of the book, in the intermission, as it were, he is riding an ancient motorbike around the far North of the UK with his Swedish girlfriend. In a rough Scottish town he is told to keep his voice down as it's a rough place and if he were noticed it would be provocative. He comments he had often been told this - in Belfast, Harlem and Bogotà. How unlike the home life of our own dear Queen. Or for that matter, most of us dear readers.
If, like me, you find flowery descriptions of nature off-putting, don't be thrown by the introduction - like the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy which famously begins ('Space is big. Really big. You just won’t believe how vastly hugely mindbogglingly big it is. I mean you may think it’s a long way down the road to the chemist’s, but that’s just peanuts to space.') after a while it settles down.
The main thrust of the book alternates between life pretty much down but not out in London and life in semi-paradise on the Hebridean island of Jura. The London segments are the more gripping - one working with a charity for the homeless and the other as a squatter in a building with what starts as a quite a gentle experience but goes down hill over the year the author was there. I can relate slightly to the first of these - it reminds me in some ways of my time as a volunteer with a rather down-at-heel branch of the Samaritans - but the second is scarily alien.
Then there is Jura, twice visited, so different in character from the city. This I find much easier to relate to. The author mentions hitchiking a lot elsewhere, and when his bike broke down on Jura on the first visit, he and his girlfriend had to hitch to the village. I have never hitched in my life, I am far too wary. But when I spent 2 weeks on the next island out from Jura, Colonsay, it was notable if ever you walked along the road, every passing car would stop and ask if you wanted a lift. You didn't hitch a ride, they hitched a passenger.
This is a short book - if it had been fiction, it would be a novella - and you can read it in afternoon. It left me wanting more, and having read it, I suspect I will savour it much longer.
Realistically, the author's life experience is way outside mine. Leaving aside the two main topics of the book, in the intermission, as it were, he is riding an ancient motorbike around the far North of the UK with his Swedish girlfriend. In a rough Scottish town he is told to keep his voice down as it's a rough place and if he were noticed it would be provocative. He comments he had often been told this - in Belfast, Harlem and Bogotà. How unlike the home life of our own dear Queen. Or for that matter, most of us dear readers.
If, like me, you find flowery descriptions of nature off-putting, don't be thrown by the introduction - like the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy which famously begins ('Space is big. Really big. You just won’t believe how vastly hugely mindbogglingly big it is. I mean you may think it’s a long way down the road to the chemist’s, but that’s just peanuts to space.') after a while it settles down.
The main thrust of the book alternates between life pretty much down but not out in London and life in semi-paradise on the Hebridean island of Jura. The London segments are the more gripping - one working with a charity for the homeless and the other as a squatter in a building with what starts as a quite a gentle experience but goes down hill over the year the author was there. I can relate slightly to the first of these - it reminds me in some ways of my time as a volunteer with a rather down-at-heel branch of the Samaritans - but the second is scarily alien.
Then there is Jura, twice visited, so different in character from the city. This I find much easier to relate to. The author mentions hitchiking a lot elsewhere, and when his bike broke down on Jura on the first visit, he and his girlfriend had to hitch to the village. I have never hitched in my life, I am far too wary. But when I spent 2 weeks on the next island out from Jura, Colonsay, it was notable if ever you walked along the road, every passing car would stop and ask if you wanted a lift. You didn't hitch a ride, they hitched a passenger.
This is a short book - if it had been fiction, it would be a novella - and you can read it in afternoon. It left me wanting more, and having read it, I suspect I will savour it much longer.
August 5, 2016
This is a memoir of a young man on the road. The narrative is beautifully descriptive and it brought me into each setting, gently but firmly. Author Ansell’s experiences teach an important lesson. Since we don’t always know the exact nature of those we meet as we follow our chosen course, we should, at the very least, try to find something of value in everyone and use that as the basis for our interaction. From life among those people considered outcasts of our society into a life with no human interaction at all, Ansell shoulders his pack and travels onwards. His restless wandering leads him across the UK through gritty urban alleys and broad fields and woods, finally all the way North into Scotland where he finds a very unique solace on Jura Island.
I’m grateful that Neil Ansell’s ragged journey is one we can all share. Illustrator Jonny Hannah’s steel-etching style spot illustrations insert just the right bit of whimsey. The author’s prose, pared down to easy, conversational essentials; shines like a beacon of pure white light. A very quick read; it’s nonetheless a jewel destined to endure. I hope it reveals something of lasting value -- possibly left behind, to all who read it.
I’m grateful that Neil Ansell’s ragged journey is one we can all share. Illustrator Jonny Hannah’s steel-etching style spot illustrations insert just the right bit of whimsey. The author’s prose, pared down to easy, conversational essentials; shines like a beacon of pure white light. A very quick read; it’s nonetheless a jewel destined to endure. I hope it reveals something of lasting value -- possibly left behind, to all who read it.
July 24, 2013
This is a real gem of a book, which is best described as a meditation on what it means to belong. Set in the 1980s, it moves between Neil Ansell's three years spent in a life of voluntary poverty working for the Simon Community, helping homeless people, his first trip to the remote Scottish Island of Jura, his penniless return to London living in rough squats, and a return trip to Jura. He describes each setting in vivid detail, moving with ease between the harshest orders of human urban existence, where fear and insecurity rule every day, and the wild beauty of an island with a small human population and unafraid wildlife.
Neil Ansell has a way with saying so much in so few words, in flowing and visual prose. It is a book that is an enriching experience to read, and one that I'll return to time and time again.
Neil Ansell has a way with saying so much in so few words, in flowing and visual prose. It is a book that is an enriching experience to read, and one that I'll return to time and time again.
August 13, 2019
This was one of those serendipitous discoveries for me in my local bookshop. I picked it up and noticed the name of The Simon Community on the back. I lived and worked there for a few months in the early nineties, so I picked up the book and paid for it. It's well written and evoked the undercurrents of London life well - the freedom and rootless news of a certain age and place. I've never been to Jura and couldn't quite see, to be honest, what he was getting at by linking those two places, specifically, out of all the other places he's visited. In that respect, I felt like it missed the mark ever so slightly but maybe I'm just thick.
Anyway, it's a short, crackling read, and if you ever dropped out of the world for a while and immersed yourself in travel or voluntary work you'll probably find something here that touches a chord.
Anyway, it's a short, crackling read, and if you ever dropped out of the world for a while and immersed yourself in travel or voluntary work you'll probably find something here that touches a chord.
January 4, 2014
I confess to a slight disappointment with this book. It's a slim volume, a Little, Toller volume, it's a memoir... that's getting my expectations up high. I enjoyed it, but it wasn't quite what I was expecting. I take no issue with the experiences Ansell writes about, or the quality of the writing per se, and it certainly seems a worthwhile exercise to contrast the experience of volunteering with homeless people and living in a squat in London with his time in the Scottish Isle of Jura... except that he really only made two visits to Jura to judge from the book, neither of them long and the book feels more like he just sat down and wrote about various episodes in his life - articles - rather than actually constructing a book.
August 11, 2013
Absolutely fantastic new book by Neil Ansell, this precedes his five-year stint in the Welsh hills, and contains tales of working with homeless people in London, squatting in a building next door to a policeman's house, and travelling around the remote Scottish island of Jura on a Triumph Bonneville!
November 19, 2014
Read it cover to cover in one sitting, not because I considered it to be in the same league as "Deep Country" but because it is a small book. Frankly, I was disappointed by the book, though my admiration for Neill Ansell went up a few notches.
May 17, 2016
Not a long read - it's barely mentioning Scotland and seems more interested in slightly idealising a series of criminal activity
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews