The Running Man

Alan Sillitoe - The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (1959)
Short Story – 60 pages / my paperback published 2007 & borrowed
- 3 nods out of 5 –

‘There’s a war on’ claims Smith, the 17 year old who is confined to Borstal for robbing a baker’s shop; continuing: ‘between us and them’. Us, are the other Out-laws like Smith, Them being the In-laws; it is a conflict which can never be resolved, Smith believing both sides being unable to understand one another.

This short story by Sillitoe comprises of three parts: the opener which establishes Smith’s situation as a long distance runner, training for a Borstal run at which a cup will be awarded to the victor; the second in which Smith recounts his robbery and how he was caught (worth the read itself); whilst the ending chapter is that of the race itself. It is a run Smith can easily win, yet decides against doing so. This despite incurring the wrath of the Borstal governor, despite being sentenced to the most awful duties in the last six months of his internment. His decision to throw the race can be seen as his refusal to bow down to the way of the In-laws; even though such a decision wrecks his continuance of running – something which gives him time for enlightened thought and peace, to make him seem like both the ‘first man’ and the ‘last man’ on earth.

Smith’s decision is one which can be debated until blue in the face. He turns his back on “going straight”, “doing right”, “turning over a new leaf”; but he notes, that in doing what he does he is staying true to himself. This kind of honesty is one in which the governor and other insufferable In-laws will never know the full value of. Whilst its larger overtones – coming from the 1950s – unmistakably hints at the divide of classes in society. Well, we could expect nothing less from working class venom.

Keep On Rocking In The Free World

Simon Schama - The American Future: A History (2008)
History – 380 pages / Bought for £10 in Jan 2009 from Waterstones
- 5 nods out of 5 –

America is the land of plenty, of the free and of the brave; many have marvelled at its size and its people, while others have simply been bewildered. To Israel Zangwill, it was ‘God’s Crucible, the great Melting Pot’ whilst in the 1950s the broadcaster Arnold Toynbee stated that America was ‘a large, friendly dog in a very small town; every time it wags its tail it knocks over a chair’. Such a country, rich in diversity, is a historical topic not undertaken lightly, a task celebrated historian Simon Schama has taken to hand.

One thing is immediately apparent: Schama’s foreign blood – even if we do consider his residence on the eastern seaboard for many years – aids him in his perception of America. A mammoth land, yet his book does not pretend to scale the heights of his previous three volumes on Britain’s history that covered the dawn of time to the present day. Rather, The American Future is a portrait of a country primarily based on the author’s taste and own experiences. Indeed, Schama is involved in the setting, action and dialogue within the book right from the off on the first page: ‘I can tell you exactly, give or take a minute or two, when American democracy came back from the dead because I was there’; in reference to the presidential battle of 2008 (the result of which remained unknown the time the book when to the printers). It does not pretend to be comprehensive history, but rather one in which Schama has dipped into and selected according to his own tastes: to rattle, to thrill, to sadden, to inform and enlarge our knowledge of this land and people.

The book is cut into four segments: in ‘American War’ he details the ongoing conflict upon the continent between Jefferson idealism (with its related pacifistic undertones) and Hamiltonian militarism), from the revolutionary period, through the Civil War, to the present day operations in the Middle East; which centres roughly on the Meigs family – a large proportion of whom have served and died in various branches of the armed forces. In the second part, ‘American Fervour’, Schama recounts us with numerous trials of faith and race, before tackling thornier questions of American’s existence: ‘What is an American?’ The final instalment, ‘American Plenty’, highlights the insatiable thirst that the United States has shown since its birth in striving forward, from gaining independence to the conquering of the west, and eventually the world: its long hailed ‘Manifest Destiny’.

The results keep the reader entertained, page after page; a feat all the more commendable if it is noted how Schama was under pressure of a schedule of not only the book but also the BBC documentary series. Throughout, Schama maintains a novelist’s touch in bringing to life the history of the past; and for this I salute him with five nods.

Rebel With A Cause?

Jay McInerney - Bright Lights, Big City (1984)
Novel – 180 pages / My copy (1985), bought for £2.50 from Barbican beardy dude sometime in 2006
- 2 nods out of 5 -

‘It’s six a.m. Do you know where you are?’ so begins McInerney’s short, crisp novel detailing a week in the life of, well, “You”. It is the mid-1980s, the excesses of city-living and the yuppie scene are documented - reminiscent of McInenery’s novelist friend, Bret Easton Ellis – the bright lights are from the big city of New York.

Written entirely in 2nd person perspective, the main character (a twenty-something who remains unnamed) spends most of his nights snorting ‘Bolivian Marching Powder’, speaking to girls and going in and out of clubs with his friend Tad; always ending up asleep alone. As “You” continues down this route of hedonism, his working commitments suffer (ending in the sack), whilst more of his personal trauma is revealed: that his wife has left him to model in Europe, and his mother passed away in the recent past.

Although at many times funny (notably so the scene towards the novel’s end when the main character comes face to face with his ex-partner Amanda), McInerney rarely hits the reader’s emotions; the exception to this being the description of the protagonist’s mother’s death, both holding hands with her parting words: ‘Don’t let me go.’ Yet there is an argument to be made that such remote emotions is central to understanding the character at this traumatic juncture in his life, and furthermore, the chief reason as to why the novelist has chosen such a distancing perspective.

As a snap-shot of a particular time – as well noting it as a debut novel - Bright Lights, Big City excels. McInerney’s prose is at times seamless: both intelligent and witty. Yet the very plot-line and weak characters make this ultimately a stunted read.

King of the Jungle

Paul Theroux - The Mosquito Coast
Novel – 380 pages – 1981 / my edition paperback (1987), bought for £2 from Barbican Second Hand Book Shop sometime in 2005
- 3 nods out of 5 -

A few years ago when at the age of twelve, I returned home from a family event and caught the second half of a movie which fascinated me. It detailed the life of an American family who for some reason – mysterious, as I missed the beginning – were located in what was presumably the rain-forest carrying ice to the natives. That film was The Mosquito Coast, staring River Phoenix and Harrison Ford. However, I didn’t know this at the time – there being no listings to tell me so – and therefore for years afterwards I would accost people at parties or other social gatherings, outlining the plot of the film in the hope that they could tell me its name. Eventually, Brian was able to muster the words from his lips: ‘The Mosquito Coast’.

I bought the book, read the first 100 pages, then promptly forgot about it (as happens, from time to time, if derailed from reading a novel). Now, it was time to finish my quest of Theroux’s novel.

The plot – other than ice being carried to natives – concerns the adventures of the Fox family; Allie Fox (Ford in the movie) is an ingenious inventor, yet is sick of America and the “vultures” that have infested it:

‘We eat when we’re not hungry, drink when we’re not thirsty, buy what we don’t need, and throw away everything that’s useful. Don’t sell a man what he wants – sell him what he doesn’t want. Pretend that he’s got eight feet and two stomachs and money to burn. That’s not illogical – it’s evil’ (p.83-84)

Deeming himself ‘the vanishing American’ (p.68), Fox takes his family to Central America to begin afresh, to make their own Garden of Eden. His inventions stun the natives but things start to turn sour and they are forced to abandon their community due to the threat of invaders, setting in a trend of misery and an ominous horizon.

The novel is told through the eyes of Fox’s son, Charlie (Phoenix in the film), who begins in awe of his father and what he can achieve, ending the book by rebelling against him for his family’s welfare. Throughout all, Theroux builds the tension, the interest climaxing in the middle of the novel with the explosion of the ice-making machine (labelled by Charlie as ‘Fat-Boy’). Yet it begins to tire towards its end, as the Fox family are forced to up-root and settle down repeatedly as Allie’s dream turns to dust.

If the plot does not sustain to the end, then the creation of Allie Fox surely does; all the characters that the family meet are argued and verbally beaten black and blue by Allie Fox. His constant reaffirmation of man’s power (‘Man is God’) is joined by growing megalomania and insanity, matched with Allie’s always interesting quotes on life.

Theroux’s book is an adventure novel for the vigorous spirit, a travel-logue of sorts - which is no surprise considering Theroux’s many travel books – that takes the reader to another world, with differing ideas, with devastating results. Visit The Mosquito Coast and enjoy the journey.

In Darkest Africa

Bill Bryson’s African Diary
Travel – 60 pages / 2002 / bought mine for £1.99 in Oxfam Book Shop, St Austell, Cornwall, June 2009
- 2 nods out of 5 -

A snippet for Bryson fans in-between his larger travelogues and what would be his mammoth A Short History of Nearly Everything, African Diary just about keeps the hunger for more Bryson trivia at bay…but only just.

Written principally as a charity project for CARE international, Bryson visits Kenya, commenting on its general poor state and the vast amount of aid needed. His visit takes in a destitute – and illegal – shanty town; a market in which women can club together to get out a loan for their crafts business; small villages off the beaten track – and all whilst conversing with local aid workers. Doesn’t sound like a great deal, however, accompanying is Bryson’s humour. Most interesting is the Gedi ruins, a town that remained undiscovered until the 1920s, where archaeologists ‘found beads from Venice, coins from China, an iron lamp from India, and scissors from Spain’ – yet the Gedi people are found nowhere on written, historical record! Sums up this mysterious and vast continent.

The largest problem of the book is its puny size: Bryson fans will be left wanting more. A book to devour over the space of a cup of tea (or two), Bryson still manages to open the reader’s eyes to another world, all done in his usual, easy-going manner. If Bryson should return to the life of air plane adventurer and train buccaneer, then another venture upon the “Dark Continent” would be strongly recommended.