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Found 2 results

  1. This novel blew me away. It is a story, narrated in first person, by Cal and Manny, two young squaddies in Germany in the early 1990s. Cal is a Glaswegian; Manny is from Essex. They are in the Catering Corps, have no great military ambitions, and live for the dirty rugs (drugs) they score in Hamburg’s seamy nightclubs. Cal and Manny are best buddies. As one of the characters explains, 4am is a transitional time. It is no longer still night, but not quite day. It is a time when things change; it is a time when many people who die in their sleep pass away. In the nightclubs, it is the time to decide whether to return home to bed or to stay and party into the new day. In this novel, we meet Cal and Manny at their own, personal 4am – as they transition from boys to men. They discover relationships; make significant life choices; choose sides. Cal and Manny have very distinctive voices, and address the reader directly. Cal speaks in a Glasgow dialect; Manny is pure Estuary English. They are an odd pair, but are united in their love of the rave culture. The communal living arrangements in the army barracks allow friendships to be formed quickly and with intensity; they also let small matters of resentment build quickly into deeply held enmity. Cal and Manny both make choices that most readers would not make. They have brash exteriors and seem superficially worthless. But underneath, both are complex characters with deeply held insecurities. Neither has a happy family background and the army represented an escape – the escape now sought in the drugs and clubs. It is interesting to see the fierce loyalty and love that Cal and Manny have for each other and for their closer comrades; loyalty and love that seems to out-muscle their love for their girlfriends. Both form a close bond with the reader. Nina de la Mer gives a wonderful, compelling portrayal of the army’s need to break young soldiers and rebuild them in the desired form. This comes at a human cost, and the reader sees it and feels it. In a sense, the army here represents a metaphor for life as a whole; even on civvy street, young people are shaped and formed into acceptable members of society. Rebellion can only be tolerated up to a certain point. The contrasts between the regimented life in barracks and the freedom of Hamburg is done especially well. The swagger of the squaddies in the town, living it large, blowing their paycheques, riding the trains and driving off to Amsterdam all comes crashing down each night in barracks, and the next morning’s diet of inspections, parade ground drill, and boiling potatoes in the kitchen. It’s not Richard Gere in An Officer and a Gentleman: it’s a fraction of the glamour but so much more meaningful. This is a novel that, at first, is warm and humorous. But with time and growing realisation, it becomes pretty bleak. The ending (I won’t spoil it) is deeply moving and handled with great sensitivity. Right now, it is January. Have I already read my book of the year? *****
  2. Layla takes poor decisions. She’s 19 years old, living in a shared flat in London and earns her living as a dancer in a strip club. The subject matter tends to channel people’s thinking down pre-conceived channels. Perhaps Layla is a poor innocent, being exploited for men’s pleasure. Perhaps she is a drug addict. Perhaps she is really a lovely person just waiting for the right man to rescue her. Perhaps she hates men. But Layla is way more subtle. There may be shades of these preconceptions that apply, but basically Layla is a selfish and headstrong woman who is trying to earn enough money to run away with the son she seems to have abandoned back home in Peacehaven. Her motives mix good and bad, but mostly are just not thought through. There’s little consideration of the consequences of her actions on others and very little attempt to match short term decisions to her long term strategy. Layla is not going to have a good life. The novel is told, unusually, in second person. Whilst this is normally irritating in a novel, here it is mostly successful. It creates a sense of immediacy and is presumably supposed to add to the authenticity of Layla’s voice – as though she is narrating aloud to herself. On balance I think the first person would have been a wiser choice – at best the second person screams of quirkiness for its own sake – but it’s not a biggie. The subject matter is grungey and explicit. We get to see the inner workings of the club; the expectations of the clients and the services on offer. At times it becomes quite gynaecological. We also get a good insight into Layla’s private life; her back story; her flatmates; her boyfriends. It isn’t a pretty picture but, at the same time, one has to conclude that Layla is pretty much the architect of her own misfortunes. There are so many points, in the story itself and in Layla’s past, where you just will her to take a different course of action. And despite past experience, each future choice brings fresh hope that Layla will get it right. This is not a light, heartwarming novel. It has been described as James Kelman-esque in the offering of an [almost] unbroken monologue from the margins of society. I’d say that’s a fair comparison. And just like James Kelman, a reader’s perception of the novel will hinge entirely on whether or not they bond, however loosely, with the narrator. ****0
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