History:This is a remarkable and compassionate book by a remarkable and compassionate man. Anthony Stokes is a senior prison officer at Reading Prison, that imposing red-brick structure a short walk from the middle of the town, which anyone who takes a train from Paddington Station in London to the west country or back cannot fail to notice.
It is where Oscar Wilde served a prison sentence. It is where 1916 internees were held. Stokes details how they managed to subvert the system to get privileges: books were smuggled in with hollowed out pages which outside sympathisers had stuffed with produce from one of Reading's most famous employers, the Huntley & Palmers biscuit factory. At one stage H&P employed 5,000 locals and was reputed to be the biggest biscuit-maker on the planet.
This is a meticulous and insightful book, its appendices, illustrations and tables are informative and never, ever dull. Stokes has had access to records of hangings in the jail, time-tables of daily life, diet and regimes. Such regimes were mostly harsh, but sometimes, as Stokes shows, governors showed a degree of compassion, humanity and understanding that was years before its time.
For the Irish reader the story of Oscar Wilde, prisoner C.3.3 (the reference is to his cell number and floor number) and the chapter on the 1916 internees are of particular fascination. It was Anthony Stokes, by the way, who saw to it when he was rising through the ranks at the prison, that Wilde's cell should be in some way recognised. Today there is a plaque on the wall outside the place where every day for two years Wilde sat in what he called a "foul and dark latrine". One thing intrigued Stokes about Wilde and Reading: how come Oscar got there? As Stokes writes: "Having worked closely at Reading for many years and with a unique degree of access to place, records, facts and archives, I found that many questions remain unanswered. And the one that intrigued me most is why on earth Oscar Wilde ended up in Reading Gaol, then a comparatively obscure prison?"
On this front it is clear that Wilde's contacts outside in the free world had an amazing way of breaking through prison walls. Look out for some well-connected names. These contacts involved Huntley & Palmer, the aforementioned biscuit people. Here's what happened: George Palmer, son of the founder, had a younger brother, Walter, who was married to Jean, a renowned society hostess who had given literary parties at their home in Westfield. At these, Oscar and his wife, Constance, were regular guests. Wilde even had a nickname for Jean, "Moonbeam". George Palmer was a member of the visiting committee at Reading Gaol. One of the prison commissioners was RB Haldane, a decent man who arranged for Wilde to have books and pen and ink when he was held temporarily in Pentonville. Haldane knew that with Palmer's connection, Wilde would receive some sort of protection at Reading Gaol. Thus did Oscar's social contacts come to his aid.
ANTHONY STOKES HAS researched carefully something which puzzled him for years: in The Ballad of Reading Gaol, Wilde writes about being able to see where the hanged CTW, Charles Thomas Woolridge (to whom the ballad is dedicated), was buried. There have been those who said Wilde could not have been able to see the grave or even know where it was, from his cell. Stokes, however, kept searching and is now able to write: "I have carefully worked out the sightlines from the small window of Wilde's cell and had access to the original plans of the prison which show that the view was not at that time obstructed, as it is nowadays." A small point but an indication of Stokes's care and enthusiasm for his subject.
Stokes records the famous Irish 1916 internees who spent some time in Reading. They included WT Cosgrave, Arthur Griffith, Terence McSwiney, Darrel Figgis and one Laurence Ginnell, known as Larry. He had been an MP in 1906 but when he pitched up in Reading he was so unco-operative that he was kept longer than most internees and the line in the prison records reads: "REFUSED TO GIVE ANY INFORMATION. (Released 6 March 1919)".
Stokes also notes that Figgis, a writer, had secured for the internees the equivalent of political prisoner status, had demanded access to letter-writing via a censor and, upon discovering the censor lived in Reading and there was a large Irish community in the town, had pressurised the poor fellow into feats of smuggling to the internees that quickly meant they gave up prison rations altogether. There is one final poignant note from Figgis. On December 24th, 1916, the governor arrived and informed the Irish they were being repatriated. Figgis writes: "So at half-past four we passed out through the streets of Reading, singing our songs as we went."
When Anthony Stokes is coming towards the end of this fascinating trawl through the history of Reading Gaol, he adds some chapters on life as a prison officer today. He should make us sit up and think with his comments on the system and the treatment, particularly, of young offenders. Among his heroes is the late Lord Longford whose tireless efforts to remind those of us outside that those inside are human beings too. I knew Frank Longford and met him many times during the last 20 years of his life. While people like me were going to race meetings or playing cricket on Saturday afternoons, he was taking second-class trains to Wakefield, Reading or Durham prisons to speak to men and women who had no-one else to talk to. Would that I had his compassion, that more of us had.
I have met Anthony Stokes once, for a radio interview and to discuss his book. I believe he has done two things. He has written the definitive history of Reading Gaol and he has underlined how little the rest of us know about what life can be like when the cell door slams. Oscar Wilde knew it. Stokes knows it from the other side but has the soul to make us stop and think. I recommend this book. Don't flip through it, but read it with care. You will learn about Oscar Wilde, the 1916 internees and the very stones and smell of Reading Gaol will come to you. Once you pick it up, perhaps on a stopping train that goes through Reading, I am convinced you won't put it down and that at the end you will feel humbled and uplifted. I was.
Henry Kelly is a journalist and broadcaster
Pit of Shame: The Real Ballad of Reading Gaol By Anthony Stokes Waterside Press, 194pp. £19.95