The Irish Mail on Sunday

...KILLER IN THE PULPIT

Shilpit? Shoogly? Plooks? Self-confessed oddball Stuart Kelly uses language as bizarre as his subject in this remarkable account of the...

- CRAIG BROWN RELIGION

The Minister And The Murderer: A Book Of Aftermaths Stuart Kelly Granta Books €28 ★★★★★

This book is not normal, and nor is its author. For a start, it comes peppered with words so unfamiliar – shoogly, fankle, skelf, perjink, dwam, plooks – that they read more like misprints, or as though a small bouncy animal has run amok on a keyboard.

At two different points, Stuart Kelly describes the time he was nearly struck by lightning. ‘It was there before its noise,’ he writes, ‘with a petrichor smell and umber palinopsia.’ His reaction to this singularly wordy lightning was also unusual: he was disappoint­ed that it had missed him. ‘As it crackled and spilt and leapt around like an idiot in front of me… I wanted to be in it – it seemed divine.’

Before the book has even got going, Kelly has singled himself out as an oddball. He dedicates it to his nephews and niece, ‘in the hope that one day this makes sense of your eccentric uncle’. Now, a lot of authors like to boast of their eccentrici­ty, but this usually means that they wear a bow-tie or have a passion for musicals. Kelly is something else entirely. Aged 11, he was, he says, ‘a pious little s***’, who spent his days writing summaries of each of the books of the Bible.

His confession that he was ‘a strange child’ is justified by the evidence. ‘I used to cry because I thought one half of the bed would be sad if I slept on the other.’ Later, he compares himself unfavourab­ly to his father: ‘He is strong where I am insubstant­ial, he is attractive where I am shilpit, his eyes are piercing where mine are presbyopic, he is honest where I have been found wanting many, many times…’. Shilpit! Presbyopic! Did the young Kelly suffer a knock on the head from a thesaurus?

Described by the blurb as ‘a Scottish critic and author’, Kelly is examining the case of another Scottish oddball, James Nelson, who murdered his own mother in a fit of rage in 1969. After his release from prison 10 years later he applied, amid much controvers­y, to become a minister in the Church of Scotland.

The Minister and the Murderer of the title are, then, one and the home to live with his parents and same person. Though Kelly offers his sister after getting into financial a reasonable amount of detail difficulti­es. about the crime and its perpetrato­r, One day, when his sister and his he is more concerned with the father were at choir practice, he wider philosophi­cal and theologica­l got into an argument with his issues of forgivenes­s and redemption than with the man himself. ‘Nelson for me is a keyhole through which I can see issues and ideas that have troubled and intrigued me for decades,’ he explains.

Neverthele­ss, the story of the crime and its aftermath is compelling. Aged 24, Nelson was a flash Harry, a joiner by profession,whoreturne­d mother. It kicked off after he sat in her chair. By his account, she told him to get the hell out of it, and a row ensued. According to Nelson, his mother called his girlfriend a ‘dirty whore’ and a ‘lazy bitch’, and he lost it. ‘Something just snapped.’ He grabbed his grandfathe­r’s old police truncheon and battered her head, then finished her off with a brick from the garden. He dragged her corpse to the garage, washed, changed his clothes, packed a bag, and left. He never really offered an explanatio­n, though he suggested it was the culminatio­n of an unhappy childhood. His sister said their father used to beat them. ‘When he started to hit us he forgot when to stop.’ But, as Stuart Kelly asks, if that was the case, then why did James kill his mother rather than his father?

During his 10 years behind bars, Nelson studied the Bible, sang in the choir and learned New Testament Greek. On his release, he studied divinity before applying in 1984 to the Church of Scotland to become a probationa­ry minister. This was the first time a convicted murderer had ever been considered for a ministry, and the 150-minute debate in the Assembly was, in the words of The Scotsman, ‘emotion charged’. It divided conservati­ves from liberals and tested the limits of Christian forgivenes­s. Meanwhile, his father phoned BBC Radio Scotland and condemned him live on air as a conman, a liar, a thug and a cheat. In many ways, James Nelson was not the ideal candidate for the liberal cause. He seemed incapable of expressing heartfelt repentance, sometimes preferring to laugh it all off. Asked why he wanted to be a minister, he said he was ‘in it for the money’ and that his ideal parish would be ‘one with a salmon stream at the bottom of the manse garden’.

Later, after he became a minister, his youthful self-indulgence made an unwelcome reappearan­ce. He left his wife for a wealthy widow, arriving at their wedding in a Mercedes, his bride drove up in a pale blue Rolls-Royce.

The Minister And The Murderer is a collection of wide-ranging essays, each prefaced with a biblical quotation, some of them billed as ‘sermons’, on themes arising from the case. What is the nature of evil? How true is the Bible? Should forgivenes­s have limits? Can a human being ever be fully transforme­d? These are profound topics, tackled by Kelly in a wholly fresh and exciting way.

Unlike normal writers, he never mistakes solemnity for seriousnes­s, and refuses to think along prescribed lines. In the middle of an essay on the absence of clerical murderers in crime fiction, he will offer a short history of Cluedo, before calculatin­g the statistica­l likelihood that the Reverend Green is the killer. Writing on evil, he gives a vivid account of the time, in the middle of the countrysid­e, when he felt ‘something unspeakabl­e behind me’ and ran home, locking the door behind him. He is also wonderfull­y subtle and clear on the subject of faith: having gone from passionate believer to cynical atheist, he now concludes that ‘I wish to be the me that believes more than I wish to be the me that mocked belief’.

On the other hand, his command of the Bible and more obscure texts may overwhelm even those readers who relish his theologica­l zest.

Kelly asked Nelson’s first wife for an interview, but she said no. He didn’t contact the second wife because ‘I decided that she deserved her privacy’. He visited Nelson’s old parish, and found some parishione­rs respected him, and some did not, but he doesn’t quote any of them. He is a prolific reader and a remarkable thinker, but I doubt he’ll win any awards for investigat­ive journalism.

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 ??  ?? PULPIT FICTION: James Nelson outside his church in Hope Park, St Andrews, in 1985. Left: facing the media the previous year
PULPIT FICTION: James Nelson outside his church in Hope Park, St Andrews, in 1985. Left: facing the media the previous year
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