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.
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.
