Krindlesyke

In Short

This play centers on the Barrasford family, a lineage marked by impulsive cruelty and a cycle of desertion. Beginning with the elderly, blind Ezra and his bitter wife Eliza, the narrative follows their sons and the women they entangle. It is a story of bastards, broken promises, and the desperate, often violent, search for home. What gives this work its lasting, haunting weight is the author’s refusal to sentimentalize poverty or motherhood; he presents the characters as they are—fierce, flawed, and inextricably bound to the land that sustains and consumes them.

The Story

The drama opens in the isolated cottage of Krindlesyke. Ezra, a broken man, sits by the fire while his wife, Eliza, prepares for the return of their youngest son, Jim, who is supposed to be bringing home a bride. However, their past resurfaces in the form of Judith Ellershaw, an abandoned woman who arrives with a child—the product of an earlier, discarded romance with Jim. When Jim eventually arrives with his intended bride, Phoebe, the confrontation forces a reckoning. Phoebe, showing a surprising strength of character, refuses to let the cycle of abandonment continue; she leaves Jim, taking Judith and the child with her to build a life of their own, leaving Jim stunned and isolated in the home he thought he could command.

Decades pass, and the cottage remains a pivot point for the family’s decay. The original generation fades, but their "fancies" and failures persist. We find Bell Haggard, a woman who has lived at Krindlesyke for fifteen years, raising her son, Michael, and helping manage the household. The arrival of a new generation brings the same old tensions: Michael and his partner, Ruth, struggle to define their future against the shadows of their parents.

The climax arrives when an aging, desperate Jim returns, seeking refuge after a life of aimless wandering and suspected violence. He is a ghost of his former self, still terrified of being hunted for a past crime. Bell, who has protected the sanctity of the home with a sharp tongue and a fierce sense of propriety, recognizes him as the ruin he is. She eventually confronts Jim, driving him away into the night as the law or his own conscience closes in. In the final movements, the weight of the years takes its toll on Bell herself. After a final, cryptic encounter with Jim in the heather, she collapses, broken by the physical and emotional exhaustion of maintaining a home that was never truly hers. The story concludes not with a resolution of comfort, but with the stark reality of survival—the younger generation remains, but the shadows of the past continue to haunt the stone walls of the fells.

How It Unfolds

The arrival of the past. The play begins with the domestic tension of the aging Barrasfords, which is shattered by the unexpected appearance of Judith and her daughter. Her arrival forces a public confrontation that exposes Jim’s shallow, reckless nature.

The decision to leave. Phoebe’s unexpected choice to reject Jim and protect Judith serves as the turning point for the first generation, effectively ending Jim’s dominance over his own household.

The long shadow of the home. The narrative shifts to the perspective of Bell, who has essentially stepped into the role of the house's keeper, though she remains an outsider who rejects the constraints of marriage.

The return of the prodigal. Jim’s eventual reappearance as a desperate, aging fugitive brings the suppressed history of the family to a head, forcing the new generation to face the legacy of their predecessors.

The final toll. The play concludes with Bell’s decline, as she finally acknowledges the futility of her long struggle to keep the home "respectable" against the encroaching chaos of the past.

The People

Ezra Barrasford is the patriarch, blind and physically ruined, who views his life and his children with a cynical, detached amusement. He is a man who recognizes the flaws in his sons because they are mirrors of his own past.

Eliza Barrasford is his long-suffering wife, whose life has been defined by the labor of raising six sons who eventually fled or fell. She is the keeper of the hearth, yet she is haunted by the ghosts of her children and the cold reality of their choices.

Jim Barrasford is the central antagonist of his own life—a "gaumless" man driven by fleeting desires and a lack of moral backbone. He wants the comfort of home without the responsibility of building it.

Judith Ellershaw is the woman Jim cast aside. Her journey is one of quiet, hard-won survival, as she transforms from a victim of Jim’s cruelty into a woman who finds strength in supporting her daughter, Ruth.

Bell Haggard is perhaps the most compelling figure: a woman who refuses the label of "wife" but takes on the duty of "mother." She is sharp, fiercely independent, and constantly at war with the limitations imposed upon her by the society she inhabits.

Michael and Ruth represent the attempt to break the cycle. They are the next generation, trying to build a life within the same stone walls that trapped their parents, forced to navigate the legacy of abandonment left by Jim and the others.

In Its Own Voice

The setting is established as a place of enduring, brutal history, isolated from the world:

Four bleak stone walls, an eaveless, bleak stone roof, Like a squared block of native crag, it stands, Hunched, on skirlnaked, windy fells, aloof.

Eliza reflects on the heavy, unrewarding nature of her life as a mother, comparing her struggle to the relentless, stinging cold:

And they buzzed like bees, The snowflakes in my head--hot, stinging bees ... And blinded me ... and buzzing, till my head Was all ahum; and I was fair betwattled.

Bell expresses her defiant self-respect, grounded in the realities of a hard life rather than social standing:

I've never done what I would blush to own to: I've got my self-respect.

What It's Really About

At its heart, this is a study of the "weight of the stone"—the idea that geography and ancestry act as a cage. The book argues that human beings are trapped by their own natures, which are as immutable as the fells surrounding them. It questions whether it is possible to outrun one’s own blood or if, like a "broken-winded, hirpling tattyjack," one is doomed to repeat the mistakes of the father. The play does not offer hope so much as it offers a recognition of the stubborn human drive to build a hearth, even when the foundations are built on sand and the walls are destined to crumble under the pressure of the past.

Why Read It Today

This work is for the reader who values regional authenticity and is not afraid of a bleak, unvarnished portrait of humanity. The writing is visceral and grounded; the dialect and phrasing—"gaumless nowt," "hirpling," "scunner"—provide a texture that is difficult to find in modern drama. It requires a willingness to engage with a slower, more rhythmic pace where the landscape itself functions as a major character.

You will find it challenging because it lacks the traditional comforts of a moralizing ending. There is no redemption arc here, only the grind of survival and the occasional, bitter clarity of those who have seen too much. However, if you are drawn to stories where the environment defines the soul, and where the truth of a character is revealed through their stubborn resilience in the face of ruin, you will find this work rewarding. It stays with you because it captures the specific, crushing reality of the "fells"—the feeling of being trapped by the consequences of one's own history. It is a work of deep, honest observation that treats its characters, even the most "broken-winded" among them, with a cold, clear-eyed, and ultimately human dignity.