London Clay: Journeys in the Deep City

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I like many features of this book. Following Chivers on his travels through familiar streets (and unfamiliar substrata beneath them) is extremely enjoyable; he's a knowledgeable and contemplative guide, and his narrative is peppered with sharp observations and interesting literary references. Further, his descriptions of various London neighbourhoods are vibrant and immersive, and he reveals just enough personal detail to make his presence in the text eccentric, engaging, and recognisably human.

The Cathedral and Collegiate Church of St Saviour and St Mary Overie has witnessed over 1000 years of London history The only complaint is that the maps are pretty and schematic but it is not always easy to follow the travels unless you have a street finder at hand. There are also times when the precise course of the journey appears a little unclear and does not seem to match the cast of the map. He has released two pamphlets of poetry, The Terrors (Nine Arches Press, 2009; shortlisted for the Michael Marks Award) and Flood Drain (Annexe Press, 2012), and two full collections, How To Build A City (Salt Publishing, 2009) and Dark Islands (Test Centre, 2015). His poems have been anthologised in Dear World & Everything In It (Bloodaxe Books, 2013) and London: A History in Verse (Harvard University Press, 2012).

Tom Chivers reflects on his own life as he traverses London looking for the source of some of these lost rivers, looking at the geology that forced them into being and the human developments that were shaped by them and, in turn, how the rivers have been shaped by humans. From pre-Roman civilisation, to the demolition and rebuilding of London, each chapter is a fascinating look at a city that is in a constant state of renewal. Based on new research, it tells a tale of remarkable technological, scientific and organisational breakthroughs; but also a story of greed and complacency, high finance and low politics. Among the breakthroughs was the picturesque New River, neither new nor a river but a state of the art aqueduct completed in 1613 and still part of London's water supply: the company that built it was one of the very first modern business corporations, and also one of the most profitable. London water companies were early adopters of steam power for their pumps. And Chelsea Waterworks was the first in the world to filter the water it supplied its customers: the same technique is still used to purify two-thirds of London's drinking water. But for much of London's history water had to be rationed, and the book also chronicles our changing relationship with water and the way we use it. Initially my heart sank at the thought that I might find myself wading through the reflections on London topography of yet another psycho-geographical (or here psycho-geological) poet with a gloomy world-view (having just had to put up with that aspect of Macfarlane's 'Underland'). Bearing in mind the latest floods in London, what does the book and its lost rivers tell us about London’s future under climate change? London is my city, the one I was born in and where I grew up. So as a geologist, I was thrilled at the opportunity to read and review London Clay.

London at the beginning of the 2020s is as different from, say, London in the 1990s (my last residence decade) as the latter was from the London of the 1970s (when I first arrived). Its multiculturalism is now embedded, its 'different ideology' established and its detritus piling up. I'm interested in the history of places, what stood before, what happened when and this book has this and more. The title I think is a little misleading, making it sound more like a staid geology book than the absolute joy it is. It may, of course, be a bit cheeky of a thirty-something to offer us a memoir of a rather ordinary life but that is where the charm of the book lies. The ordinary life, the humanity of Chivers, being a Londoner, a sense of place and a sense of the past combine to give a feel for London today. I think it's hard for many to imagine historical footprints in real time, especially under own foot. The concept of others existing, breathing and surviving in the same place or area, whereas when faced in real time with a cultural and historical relic or area of significance you can actually behold, wander around and see - it's an entirely different experience.You often mention banks and the influence of finance in London. Would you say that the book is partly a commentary on the role of money in London’s history?

There’s always a temptation to have a strong opinion about the dealings of the City of London. I do have a strong opinion, because I used to live in Aldgate and it’s right on the edge of the city. I see the behaviour and the work ethics of the city and I’ve been quite critical of them. But when you take a much deeper look at the history of London, it is a city of making fortunes and always has been. Having said that, a lot of people are being priced out of the city. Macfarlane's book (though good) sometimes lost its way in the standard issue preachiness of the liberal intellectual. Macfarlane's poetic element can become almost a parody of itself at times, the tone portentous. Chivers has less ambition but achieves it more authentically. I’m not an academic. I’m not trained in any sort of research. But I did a certain amount of desk research. Reading and looking at maps – that was always important. And I would look very closely and work out any interesting stories that might emerge from that geological map. And then I would get out and walk the landscape again and again.Chivers becomes Everylondoner. The outsider who thinks he knows London from visits (including commuting) or having lived there in the past gets a subtle sense of both change and permanence, the recognisable place but also its continuing transformation when you cease to be there. In London Clay, Tom Chivers follows hidden pathways, explores lost islands and uncovers the geological mysteries that burst up through the pavement and bubble to the surface of our streets. From Roman ruins to a submerged playhouse, from an abandoned Tube station to underground rivers, Chivers leads us on a journey into the depths of the city he loves. I think we tend to forget that London really is a water city. You think about places like the Shell Centre, which is literally built on a concrete raft floating in the clay… Or Waterloo station built on stilts. I suppose if I’m doing anything with the book, it’s trying to return us to this idea that water is fundamental not only for life, but also in this city. Of course Chivers presents a lot of tangible facts and expresses feelings (about his family past and present) but there is something else lurking behind all this, an amalgam of 'Sorge' (an appropriate German word), sadnss, love and anxiety. Maybe a dash of fatalism not helped by COVID.