Green Is The Grass

Martin Chandler | 6:59am BST 22 April 2018

Published: 1951
Pages: 142
Author: Moraes, Dom
Publisher: Asia Publishing House
Rating: 3.5 stars

It took me about twenty years to finally get around to reading Beyond A Boundary, CLR James’ book that John Arlott described in Wisden’s 1964 edition as the finest book written about the game of cricket. Make no mistake the book is still a decent read and it is not difficult to see what prompted the observation. Ultimately however by the second decade of the twenty first century the world is a different place, and Beyond a Boundary no longer has the impact that it did on publication,  and didn’t quite live up to my expectations.

Although nothing like as well known Green Is The Grass has a reputation amongst collectors that is almost on a par with Beyond a Boundary, but a copy is infinitely more difficult to track down. As far as I am aware the original 1951 edition has never been republished, and only recently have I been able to acquire a copy of the book at a reasonable price. I was determined not to wait so long before reading this classic of the genre. Based on previous experience I was quite prepared to be underwhelmed, however on this occasion I was not to be disappointed.

Dom Moraes, who died in 2004 at the age of 65, must have been a fascinating man. That snippet alone confirms that he was just 13 when this, his first book, was published. By then Moraes, whose father was the editor of the Times of India, had already packed a good deal into his childhood, in particular having travelled widely with his father. At 18 he came to England and studied English at Oxford University. Later on he made his living writing prose and poetry. One of his obituarists describes him as having visited every single country of the world.

It was as a poet that Moraes really made his name, although he wrote as many as four acclaimed volumes of autobiography.  An alcoholic, he was also a heavy smoker and, without necessarily suggesting there was a causal link, was married three times. Cancer claimed him in the end, Moraes not taking too much notice of the medical advice he received.

Despite his early start Moraes did not ultimately write about cricket very often. It was as late as 1987 that he finally published a second and final cricket book, a pictorial biography of Sunny Gavaskar. I have not read the book, but perhaps will now seek out a copy, although I am not aware of it having received any particular acclaim.

The first of the four broad sections of Green Is The Grass consists of a series of pen portraits. In the main the subjects are the great and good of Indian cricket of the time, but there are a handful of other nationalities. Not all were men Moraes had seen play, so he did not describe his subjects only as cricketers. For example of Duleepsinhji he wrote that; In his 45^th year he has grown pleasantly stout. He radiates a quiet charm, a simplicity and old world nobility not given to many in this Atomic Age. His mild, calm spirit is reflected in his shy, but endearing demeanour, and his slightly husky voice.

In New Zealand Moraes watched the Australian tourists of 1949/50 play. One of their number was ‘Wrong-Grip Jake’, Jack Iverson. Moraes provides a delightful description of an unconventional bowler; A short run, a skip like that of a playful pachyderm, then 180 odd pounds coming heavily down the wicket, and a wild yell of triumph floating to the ‘Scotsman’s Stand’, the railway line outside the lovely Carisbrook ground from which passengers can watch the game.

Part two of the book contains some match reports and descriptions of the visit of the two Commonwealth XI sides to India of 1949/50 and 1950/51. The third section is similar in that there is is a match report from the Australian tour of New Zealand already referred to and, most impressively, of the final Test between West Indies and India in 1948/49. The match had a thrilling climax, left drawn with India six runs away from victory whilst West Indies needed just two more wickets. Moraes was not even eleven years of age when he sat through the game. There is a lightness of touch in his writing and, despite his youth, a clear appreciation of the finer points of the game and a thorough knowledge of its history.

The final two sections of the book are a look backwards at English cricket after the war, and then forward to the visit of the MCC side under Nigel Howard that was scheduled for the months after the book’s publication. Again as is to be expected from a writer so young there is no cynicism, but neither is the narrative naive. For a young man of his years Moraes was well travelled, and doubtless he picked up much of his knowledge of the history of the game from books and magazines, but his preview of the tour is an impressive piece of research nonetheless. Howard’s side was nowhere near a full strength England side and not too many of them were well known at the time, yet Moraes’ summaries of the individual members of the party are thorough ones.

There is nothing in Green Is The Grass that had not been done before, and its formula has been repeated many times since. Those observations are no doubt part of the reason it is not revered in the same way as Beyond a Boundary, but nonetheless it is an excellent and, in its own way, unique look at the game we all love. It could not be described as indispensable, but any cricket lover who gets the opportunity to read it should take the chance to do so.