Meltdown by Ben Elton
As he often seems to do so well Elton has pulled off the trick of catching the zeitgeist with this tale of greed, hubris and amorality.
Centred around a group of six university housemates known as the radish club, Meltdown deals with their respective and intertwining lives as they forge post-university careers in New Labour politics, banking, city trading, architecture and lifestyle consumerism.
The story follows them as the good times roll and leads inevitably to the period we now find ourselves in of financial meltdown, credit crunch, sub-prime lending, MP's expenses, 2nd home flipping, Bernard Madoff and insider trading.
What Elton does well in this story is to make the characters responsive to the times they are living in. This allows for an understanding and empathy with each one of them as we recognise their failings and foibles as being very human and very contemporary. Self-righteous discussions on schooling, wealth creation, the commodification of everything from homes to art to wine and even gilt edged tickets to the Live 8 gig help the reader to place these people in a Cool Britannia to Northern Rock bail out time frame.
The book is well paced and deeply satirical but with a message that despite the blind greed that may have appeared to be the norm prior to the financial crash there are those who can become better people out of it. A case in point being Jimmy and Monica having to withdraw their son from a private school and panicking over the thought of him getting knifed and dealing in crack as they prepare to take him to the least favoured state primary in the borough. As Jimmy says to Monica, they both attended state schools and fared OK.
I did, however, find the discussions on childcare, nannies and private versus state education rather too similar to the conversations of John O'Farrel's characters in his book 'May Contain Nuts'. Moreover Jimmy and Monica's way of dealing with their straitened circumstances was sometimes a little too good to be true and though it made for them as sympathetic characters I couldn't help feeling that Ben Elton was a little too generous to them.
The other main characters in the book, the radish club members and their respective spouses, move this story on without ever becoming superfluous to it and help bring this modern day contemporary morality tale to a believable conclusion.
Reviewed by Robert Hill
Tuesday 24 August 2010
Sunday 8 August 2010
Eye Of The Red Tsar by Sam Eastland
Eye Of The Red Tsar by Sam Eastland
Reviewed by Robert Hill
'He was condemned to the gulag, now Stalin needs him back.'
This strap line from the front cover of this book should have been a warning of how dire the experience of reading this was going to be.
Essentially this story revolves around a former Tsarist agent Pekkala, once so close to the Romanovs and the only man Nicholas II could really trust, and the murder of the Romanovs in Ekatierinburg in 1917.
Captured and tortured by the Bolsheviks and unable to tell them the whereabouts of the Romanov fortune he is sent to a Siberian gulag and left to rot. However, our hero, known by his super scary spy name 'The Emerald Eye' is made of sterner stuff and manages to survive his torture and captivity.
Found, 13 years later, by a young political commissar Kirov, 'the Emerald Eye' is summoned from the gulag with the offer of total freedom if he cooperates in the investigation of the murder of the royal family, an investigation ordered by Stalin himself. A Stalin that Pekkala was tortured and interrogated by on his original capture.
Added to this mix is Pekkala's brother Anton, a former Cheka agent who had been a guard on the house where the Romanovs were executed and who, surprise, surprise, has unresolved family issues with Pekkala.
Without having a thesaurus to hand it is hard for me to come up with all the synonyms that exist for the adjective 'contrived' but however many that exist can be applied to this poorly written and predictable story.
Told in the present and in flashback in alternate chapters a change in graphology is used to present the action occuring from the past. Presumably this change being just one of many literary devices employed to further insult the intelligence of the reader just in case the change to the past tense isn't enough to show us where we are.
Pekkala seems to make a marvellous physical and psychological recovery from the horrors endured in his incarceration with a shave being the only therapy he requires to shake off the years of isolation, 40 degree summers, minus 40 degree winters, inadequate food, no dentistry or medical help and hard physical labour.
Eastland does allude to the psychological adjustment of a return from the gulag when Pekkalla eats a proper meal for the first time (Kirov turns out to be a former trainee chef) and when a nun grasps his hand which is his first female contact in 13 years. Unfortunately, Eastland skips over this in order to carry on with the pace of this mass of coincidences and cliche.
A love interest is of course present in this story, Ilya, a former teacher in the Romanov court whom we meet in the italicised flashback chapters, a women from the early 1900s but who seems to have seen the film 'Show Me The Money' as she manages to paraphrase Rene Zeilwegger's famous line from that movie. Pekkala, with the intention of proposing to her, rows Ilya blindfolded to an island in the middle of a Petrograd Lake where he has set up an elaborate and romantic meal, on revealing to Ilya what he has done she utters the rather anachronistic phrase 'you had me at the creaking of the oars.'
I will leave this review with a short paragraph from the book that actually made me burst out laughing whilst sitting on a bus, an example of prose so bad that the comedian Stuart Lee would have the same field day with it as he had when he deconstructed the paucity of quality of Dan Brown's prose in his (Lee's) stand-up act. This extract speaks far more eloquently than I in terms of how bad Eye Of The Tsar really is.
'The child waved back, then giggled and ran behind the house. In that moment some half-formed menace spread like wings behind his eyes, as if that child was not really a child. As if something were trying to warn him in a language empty of words.'
Robert Hill
'
Reviewed by Robert Hill
'He was condemned to the gulag, now Stalin needs him back.'
This strap line from the front cover of this book should have been a warning of how dire the experience of reading this was going to be.
Essentially this story revolves around a former Tsarist agent Pekkala, once so close to the Romanovs and the only man Nicholas II could really trust, and the murder of the Romanovs in Ekatierinburg in 1917.
Captured and tortured by the Bolsheviks and unable to tell them the whereabouts of the Romanov fortune he is sent to a Siberian gulag and left to rot. However, our hero, known by his super scary spy name 'The Emerald Eye' is made of sterner stuff and manages to survive his torture and captivity.
Found, 13 years later, by a young political commissar Kirov, 'the Emerald Eye' is summoned from the gulag with the offer of total freedom if he cooperates in the investigation of the murder of the royal family, an investigation ordered by Stalin himself. A Stalin that Pekkala was tortured and interrogated by on his original capture.
Added to this mix is Pekkala's brother Anton, a former Cheka agent who had been a guard on the house where the Romanovs were executed and who, surprise, surprise, has unresolved family issues with Pekkala.
Without having a thesaurus to hand it is hard for me to come up with all the synonyms that exist for the adjective 'contrived' but however many that exist can be applied to this poorly written and predictable story.
Told in the present and in flashback in alternate chapters a change in graphology is used to present the action occuring from the past. Presumably this change being just one of many literary devices employed to further insult the intelligence of the reader just in case the change to the past tense isn't enough to show us where we are.
Pekkala seems to make a marvellous physical and psychological recovery from the horrors endured in his incarceration with a shave being the only therapy he requires to shake off the years of isolation, 40 degree summers, minus 40 degree winters, inadequate food, no dentistry or medical help and hard physical labour.
Eastland does allude to the psychological adjustment of a return from the gulag when Pekkalla eats a proper meal for the first time (Kirov turns out to be a former trainee chef) and when a nun grasps his hand which is his first female contact in 13 years. Unfortunately, Eastland skips over this in order to carry on with the pace of this mass of coincidences and cliche.
A love interest is of course present in this story, Ilya, a former teacher in the Romanov court whom we meet in the italicised flashback chapters, a women from the early 1900s but who seems to have seen the film 'Show Me The Money' as she manages to paraphrase Rene Zeilwegger's famous line from that movie. Pekkala, with the intention of proposing to her, rows Ilya blindfolded to an island in the middle of a Petrograd Lake where he has set up an elaborate and romantic meal, on revealing to Ilya what he has done she utters the rather anachronistic phrase 'you had me at the creaking of the oars.'
I will leave this review with a short paragraph from the book that actually made me burst out laughing whilst sitting on a bus, an example of prose so bad that the comedian Stuart Lee would have the same field day with it as he had when he deconstructed the paucity of quality of Dan Brown's prose in his (Lee's) stand-up act. This extract speaks far more eloquently than I in terms of how bad Eye Of The Tsar really is.
'The child waved back, then giggled and ran behind the house. In that moment some half-formed menace spread like wings behind his eyes, as if that child was not really a child. As if something were trying to warn him in a language empty of words.'
Robert Hill
'
Sunday 25 July 2010
The Quiet American By Graham Greene (Reviewed by R.L Hill)
Set in Saigon in early 1950s French Indo-China, Greene analyses the post-war decline of European imperialism, the rise of anti-colonial insurgency and the Cold War chess games that are played out in this era of Asian decolonisation. Published in 1955, this story precedes, predicts and uncannily forebodes the involvement of the USA in South East Asia that was to eventually become the Vietnam war.
Pyle, the Quiet American of the title, arrives in Saigon with naive, pre-conceived and romantic notions of promoting US style capitalist democracy in the region by channeling funds to a 'Third Force', represented by the renegade General The. Via his cover as part of the US Legation's medical mission Pyle attempts to strengthen the hand of a group that is neither the crumbling French imperial government or the purportedly Communist Vietminh.
Fowler, an embittered and cynical English journalist is in situ as the foreign correspondent of a London newspaper covering the insurgency. Estranged from his wife, who won't grant him a divorce, and dreading the loneliness that would come with a home posting Fowler uses opium and battlefield journalism as both escape from and connection to the reality of his life.
Though these men seemingly have nothing in common they find themselves linked by a sometimes inexplicable friendship and more so for their love of the same Vietnamese girl, Phuong. The lives of all three intertwine as the novel unfolds with the tug of love (or possession) of Phuong acting as an analogy for the struggle to win the heart and mind of Vietnam itself.
This book should be required reading for any White House, Department of State or Department of Defense staffer in the US administration who may have ideas or delusions of nation building and the exporting of democracy to so-called developing or failing states.
In a little under 200 pages Greene explores the shared European and US mindsets of paternalism, what can only be described as institutional racism and self-serving ideas of superiority. Greene also cleverly juxtaposes and contrasts the Cold War and decolonisation era differences of the European need to hang on to past imperial glories and US desire to shape a global future in its own image.
Strikingly, Greene manages to explore this palimpsest of political perspectives in a novel that is essentially an old fashioned story of love, desire, need, conflict and betrayal.
Pyle, the Quiet American of the title, arrives in Saigon with naive, pre-conceived and romantic notions of promoting US style capitalist democracy in the region by channeling funds to a 'Third Force', represented by the renegade General The. Via his cover as part of the US Legation's medical mission Pyle attempts to strengthen the hand of a group that is neither the crumbling French imperial government or the purportedly Communist Vietminh.
Fowler, an embittered and cynical English journalist is in situ as the foreign correspondent of a London newspaper covering the insurgency. Estranged from his wife, who won't grant him a divorce, and dreading the loneliness that would come with a home posting Fowler uses opium and battlefield journalism as both escape from and connection to the reality of his life.
Though these men seemingly have nothing in common they find themselves linked by a sometimes inexplicable friendship and more so for their love of the same Vietnamese girl, Phuong. The lives of all three intertwine as the novel unfolds with the tug of love (or possession) of Phuong acting as an analogy for the struggle to win the heart and mind of Vietnam itself.
This book should be required reading for any White House, Department of State or Department of Defense staffer in the US administration who may have ideas or delusions of nation building and the exporting of democracy to so-called developing or failing states.
In a little under 200 pages Greene explores the shared European and US mindsets of paternalism, what can only be described as institutional racism and self-serving ideas of superiority. Greene also cleverly juxtaposes and contrasts the Cold War and decolonisation era differences of the European need to hang on to past imperial glories and US desire to shape a global future in its own image.
Strikingly, Greene manages to explore this palimpsest of political perspectives in a novel that is essentially an old fashioned story of love, desire, need, conflict and betrayal.
Friday 9 July 2010
Monsignor Quixote by Graham Greene
Written by arguably the best author to have never won a Booker, Greene's story of two unlikely travelling companions is a fascinating read.
Set in post Franco Spain the travels of the eponymous Monsignor and his Communist, ex-Mayor sidekick serve as backdrop to a discourse between the heroes of this tale. A discourse that draws on the writings of Marx and Lenin on one hand and the teachings of the Catholic church on the other. A discourse that allows both men to build and strengthen a friendship built on mutual respect of intelligence, integrity and deed.
In addition to the philosophical discussion that runs throughout the book Greene draws parallels with Cervantes' epic story of the Knight Errant and his companion; so much so that the Mayor is nicknamed Sancho, the priest's battered old Seat car is named Rocinante, his ecclesiastical vestements become his armour, his books of Catholic academe are his books of chivalry.
Humour runs through this story as the friends find themselves in a number of adventures and scenarios that test their beliefs, their friendship, their respective mettles and serve to cast the men as outsiders in the eyes of the civil and church authorities. A night hiding from the Guardia Civil in the refuge of a brothel, a run in with an armed bank robber, causing a riot during a rural town's feast day procession, a kidnapping sanctioned by a Bishop, a case of mistaken identity and the priest's first ever visit to a cinema where the title of the film 'A Maiden's Prayer' is a little misleading for this man of the cloth.
Greene keeps the pace of the story lively and eventful with discussions of moral, social and political philosophy always accompanied by much consumption of the wines of the regions they pass through. Great questions of social justice, the nature of corruption, hypocrisy and power juxtaposes with a story that is part 'road', part 'buddy' and part 'parable'.
Oh, and there's a great description of the English in there that had me giggling.
Reviewed by Robert Hill
Set in post Franco Spain the travels of the eponymous Monsignor and his Communist, ex-Mayor sidekick serve as backdrop to a discourse between the heroes of this tale. A discourse that draws on the writings of Marx and Lenin on one hand and the teachings of the Catholic church on the other. A discourse that allows both men to build and strengthen a friendship built on mutual respect of intelligence, integrity and deed.
In addition to the philosophical discussion that runs throughout the book Greene draws parallels with Cervantes' epic story of the Knight Errant and his companion; so much so that the Mayor is nicknamed Sancho, the priest's battered old Seat car is named Rocinante, his ecclesiastical vestements become his armour, his books of Catholic academe are his books of chivalry.
Humour runs through this story as the friends find themselves in a number of adventures and scenarios that test their beliefs, their friendship, their respective mettles and serve to cast the men as outsiders in the eyes of the civil and church authorities. A night hiding from the Guardia Civil in the refuge of a brothel, a run in with an armed bank robber, causing a riot during a rural town's feast day procession, a kidnapping sanctioned by a Bishop, a case of mistaken identity and the priest's first ever visit to a cinema where the title of the film 'A Maiden's Prayer' is a little misleading for this man of the cloth.
Greene keeps the pace of the story lively and eventful with discussions of moral, social and political philosophy always accompanied by much consumption of the wines of the regions they pass through. Great questions of social justice, the nature of corruption, hypocrisy and power juxtaposes with a story that is part 'road', part 'buddy' and part 'parable'.
Oh, and there's a great description of the English in there that had me giggling.
Reviewed by Robert Hill
Monday 3 May 2010
The Elected Member by Bernice Rubens
The story revolves around a Jewish family, living in the east end of London. The family consists of its patriarch, a widower and retired Rabbi, the unmarried eldest daughter Bella, the married 'out' and therefore ostracised and estranged Esther and only son Norman, the brilliant but drug addicted lawyer.
The dysfunctionality of this family is revealed by its responses to the sectioning of Norman due to drug related delusions and hallucinations and his father's subsequent heart condition.
Scenes played out in the family home, the family business ( a grocer's shop) and a mental hospital both in the present and in retrospect show both the strength and weaknesses of the codes that this family lives by and falls short of.
The novel contains some comical moments based on the premise of the Rabbi's naivety and other wordlyness. In particular his inadvertent visit to a prostitute and his use of Yiddish.
The scenes in the hospital have real moments of humour and pathos as well as providing further comment and insight into the nature of both normality and deviance; a theme which runs throughout the book.
A well paced story with interesting characters; the remembered dead wife and Mother, an Aunt and staff and patients in the hospital all bring colour to the tale.
The book is an interesting study of the stretching, breaking and mending of the threads that link family members and though it has a dramatic climax it doesn't have any real resolution. This I found rather frustrating.
The dysfunctionality of this family is revealed by its responses to the sectioning of Norman due to drug related delusions and hallucinations and his father's subsequent heart condition.
Scenes played out in the family home, the family business ( a grocer's shop) and a mental hospital both in the present and in retrospect show both the strength and weaknesses of the codes that this family lives by and falls short of.
The novel contains some comical moments based on the premise of the Rabbi's naivety and other wordlyness. In particular his inadvertent visit to a prostitute and his use of Yiddish.
The scenes in the hospital have real moments of humour and pathos as well as providing further comment and insight into the nature of both normality and deviance; a theme which runs throughout the book.
A well paced story with interesting characters; the remembered dead wife and Mother, an Aunt and staff and patients in the hospital all bring colour to the tale.
The book is an interesting study of the stretching, breaking and mending of the threads that link family members and though it has a dramatic climax it doesn't have any real resolution. This I found rather frustrating.
Tuesday 9 March 2010
Last Orders by Graham Swift
A story that centres on the carrying out of a dead man's last wishes has the potential to be a sentimental and mawkish examination of friendship and family relationships. Thankfully the author of this story avoids the kind of formula emotional heart string tugging that he could have employed and instead Swift gives us an interesting study of those ties that bind and how fragile they are.
Set in Bermondsey and Margate Swift has created believable characters from a working class South London setting. In the main all cliches are avoided with these characters although I did find the constant overuse of double negatives to indicate class and geographical location somewhat wearing. That said, however, where Swift succeeds , grammar notwithstanding, is by presenting us with well rounded men and women that will be familiar to anyone from a working background; not just a London background either.
Swift's incisive use of names; Jack, Vic, Ray, Vince, Joan, Amy cements the era in which these characters are from and flashbacks to wartime North Africa and post war trips to Margate allow all the characters to tell their individual and collective stories in a manner which compels the reader to follow their respective lives.
The book is well paced and manages to show how friendships, marriages and family loyalties can exist through habit as much as through love and respect. It also allows us to contemplate whether those relationships can also exist as an endurance and as testament to a class and generation of people 'doing the right thing'. This is explored in detail through the friendship built up between Jack and Ray and Ray's silent love for Jack's wife Amy.
The ambition of all those characters to better themselves through business, travel and a failed boxing career also shape this novel in a way in which the working class is shown as much meritocratic as salt of the Earth.
A highly enjoyable read with clever use of location. I just wish Swift had avoided the constant need to bash the reader over the head with the double negatives, they're from Bermondsey, we get it.
Set in Bermondsey and Margate Swift has created believable characters from a working class South London setting. In the main all cliches are avoided with these characters although I did find the constant overuse of double negatives to indicate class and geographical location somewhat wearing. That said, however, where Swift succeeds , grammar notwithstanding, is by presenting us with well rounded men and women that will be familiar to anyone from a working background; not just a London background either.
Swift's incisive use of names; Jack, Vic, Ray, Vince, Joan, Amy cements the era in which these characters are from and flashbacks to wartime North Africa and post war trips to Margate allow all the characters to tell their individual and collective stories in a manner which compels the reader to follow their respective lives.
The book is well paced and manages to show how friendships, marriages and family loyalties can exist through habit as much as through love and respect. It also allows us to contemplate whether those relationships can also exist as an endurance and as testament to a class and generation of people 'doing the right thing'. This is explored in detail through the friendship built up between Jack and Ray and Ray's silent love for Jack's wife Amy.
The ambition of all those characters to better themselves through business, travel and a failed boxing career also shape this novel in a way in which the working class is shown as much meritocratic as salt of the Earth.
A highly enjoyable read with clever use of location. I just wish Swift had avoided the constant need to bash the reader over the head with the double negatives, they're from Bermondsey, we get it.
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