The ghosts of Norwich

JAMES NOYES laments the callous destruction of the ancient city of his youth in the name of efficiency, modernity and a failed utopian vision of “the Good Life”

NORFOLK IS NOT MERRY ENGLAND. It never has been, never will be. Cut off from the rest of the country, this water-locked land of barley fields, ruined churches, sandy lanes and Viking names lingers at the end of a long road that leads to nowhere else. At its centre is Norwich, a city to which, in the words of the novelist Ralph Hale Mottram, “most Englishmen have never been”. The stones of Norwich are flint. Brittle and sharp, they are the stuff that arrows are made of, not statues. Beyond Norfolk is nothing but the North Sea: historically, Norwich has looked to its neighbour Amsterdam as much as London, and even now the daily flight from its little airport connects at Schiphol, not Heathrow. Norwich has been a cut-off city facing…

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The Critic (Digital) - 1 Issue, April 2023

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