Salt Path controversy and the lessons from history

She never fully recovered from her 2,000 mile journey, but it led to celebrity. She had a private audience with Queen Victoria, became a fellow of the Royal Geographical Society and founded a charity which is today known as St Francis Leprosy Guild.

Marsden’s journey and her book did not meet with general approval, and many readers found it difficult to accept what she claimed, with some openly suggesting that she had undertaken the trip to Russia to atone for her homosexuality, rather than seeking a cure for leprosy.

W T Stead, the famous Victorian newspaperman, openly ridiculed what she wrote, and the Reverend Alexander Francis – a St Petersburg-based priest – alleged that Marsden had committed fraud.

Marsden initially thought about suing for libel and would eventually bring a case, but dropped that after noting what had happened to Oscar Wilde in his court proceedings against the Marquis of Queensbury, who had left Wilde a note at his club describing him as a “posing sodomite”.

I’ve thought about Marsden and her search for a cure for leprosy a lot recently given the controversy surrounding The Salt Path – the 2018 best-selling book written by Raynor Winn and which is described by Penguin as “an unflinchingly honest, inspiring and life-affirming true story” and which has been adapted into a film starring Jason Isaacs and Gillian Anderson. 

The book was adapted into a film.(Image: Supplied)

Winn claims that the book is an account of her decision to walk the 630 mile South West Coast Path in England, with her husband Moth, after their home had been repossessed, due to a bad investment in a friend’s company, and despite the fact that Moth had an irreversible and terminal neurological condition called corticobasal degeneration (CBD). 

Homeless, they “wild camped” along the way, relying on the kindness of strangers who would offer food and sometimes shelter and, as they continued their adventures, Moth’s health seemed to improve.

The Salt Path quickly became a book club staple, appealing especially to middle-class audiences who wanted to see hope triumph over adversity and who seemed to admire Winn’s plucky determination to start again, unencumbered with all the trappings and responsibilities of modern life. And, of course, Moth’s health was always central to the narrative.

In the wake of an expose in The Observer about the book and indeed about Ray and Moth themselves, there’s now some re-thinking that has to be done. 

The newspaper alleged that Ray and Moth – actually Sally and Tim Walker – became homeless as a result of defrauding her former employer of £64,000, and it raises questions about Moth’s CBD which, as one leading consultant contacted by the newspaper put it, “doesn’t pass the sniff test”.  It also emerged that the couple had a house in France and while that seemed to be in a state of disrepair it implied that they were not quite “homeless”.

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Ray/Sally responded to The Observer’s expose claiming that the article is “highly misleading” and that they are taking legal advice.  She also released medical letters addressed to her husband which seemed to confirm his CBD diagnosis, although PSPA – the charity that supports people with CBD – has now terminated its relationship with the couple.

Does it matter that their story might not be true in every respect? It does, especially as their publisher openly advertised that the book was a true story and “unflinchingly honest”, although Penguin has now also released a statement explaining that they had “undertaken all necessary due diligence” before publishing the book and that it had not received any concerns about its contents prior to The Observer’s expose.

All of that may well be true, but where does it leave a reader who bought and consumed the book not just as entertainment – it was a pleasant and uplifting story – but as something that was sold to them as the truth. In other words, not just fiction but something that described an authentic crisis in the lives of the Winns/Walkers, who then overcame that crisis in the way described in the book.

This was not just about Ray/Sally and Moth/Timothy’s “truth” but the truth – writing which described fact and reality; experiences which were objective and, in that way, universal and so applicable to us all.

There’s some precedence here. James Frey’s 2003 A Million Little Pieces – supposedly a “brutally honest” memoir about his alcoholism and drug addiction, which was championed by Oprah Winfrey and topped the New York Times bestseller list for 15 weeks, turned out to have been fabricated. 

Winfrey was furious and asked Frey to come onto her show in 2006.  She told him that she “felt duped” and that he had “betrayed millions of readers”.

That’s an important point, as nonfiction is about the trust that’s established between the reader and the author and stating that something happened when it did not dupes, betrays, fools and deceives.

As a result, Frey and his publisher Random House offered refunds to readers who had purchased his book and felt that they had been defrauded.

The settlement involved a total payout of $2.35 million, which included refunds for customers who could prove that they had purchased the book and who gave a sworn statement that they had believed the book to be a truthful account, legal fees and a donation to a charity.

It remains to be seen what will happen to Ray/Sally and Moth/Tim and The Salt Path, although my own branch of Waterstones has now taken it out of the nonfiction section, and I doubt that this controversy will dampen in the weeks to come.

As for Kate Marsden, controversy seemed to dog her until her death in 1931.  She was even buried in an unmarked grave in Hillingdon cemetery, although in 2019 a new headstone was erected – the first honour bestowed on her in England since the 1890s.

Professor David Wilson is a Scottish emeritus professor of criminology at Birmingham City University. A former prison governor, he is well known for his work specialising in murder and serial killers.