The library had Nick Hornby’s latest, A Long Way Down, so I grabbed it off the new releases shelf to see what the male chick flick author had to say on the subject of suicide and if he could make it funny. Fortunately for me, himself and the rest of you lot, he did. Lots of folks, including Johnny Depp, agree and Depp and partners have bought the film rights.
Hornby has definitely increased the sophistication of his writing with each book, there’s a real progression from Fever Pitch (which is now classified as a memoir, though I thought it was a novel) to High Fidelity (book or movie) to About a Boy (who makes the best screen Nick, Colin Firth, John Cusack or Hugh Grant?) to How to Be Good (apparently being brought to the screen with Emma Thompson, mmmm!) to this one. Autobiographical, fantasy biography, protagonist with some basic similarities to himself but in most respects very different, a female lead working out problems with which very few men would really have to deal, and finally four main characters, all very different from Mr. H., alternating point of view control like a relay marathon.
Still, Hornby has a certain style and Down sticks with it; also, the tales always take place in London. No matter which of the gang of four is up front, the prose is stream of consciousness, as if the character were sitting in the Big Brother confession room or a church confessional recanting events as best they remember (or want to), no holds barred. The quartet are:
- Maureen, 51, single mother of a 20-something son born in a vegetative state
- Martin, 40-something divorced, disgraced former TV breakfast show presenter
- JJ, 29, American expat small time rock and roller
- Jess, 18, total brat daughter of a junior Cabinet minister
They meet on New Year’s Eve on the roof of Topper’s House, a gone to seed apartment tower
known as a good place to jump from if you prefer to not awake at the bottom.
Other than JJ, each has gone with precisely that intention and even he is scouting the possibility. The story covers the three months which follow since none has really sunk to the requisite level of despair.
Hornby really achieves something with this book. Each of the four is truly a different character, fleshed out and not particularly likeable. Except, of course, for the common inability, imposed by the confessional writing style, to hold anything back during turns at the camera. Perhaps Martin could have been a bit darker but how deep is a disgraced former TV breakfast show presenter anyway? Frankly, I had trouble putting the book down.
definitely recommended
FYI: According to the website, Johnny Depp bought the film rights; it only mentions that he plans to produce it, no word if he’d play Martin.
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