I associate reading this story to watching one of those old newsreels of bygone planes making their first attempt to lift their carcases off the runway and into the air. I know, it’s a bit out there, but bear with me on this one. Hearing the excited hubbub surrounding the launch of the book from interviews with the author, then reading the ringing endorsements on the cover of the book was the engine’s roaring crescendo as it readies itself to begin its run up. Then the opening chapter with the zany, humorous voice of its main protagonist, fresh and innovative concept and poetic language was the rushing of the wind as the plane hurtles down the runway in an effort to build up enough speed for take-off. And then, after a number of unconvincing hops and hiccoughs, the plane shudders eventually to a halt. Which is a pity, because this novel showed so much promise.
The plot revolves around an old man of 84 who sits in the bar of an hotel and reminisces about the life he has led through the narratives of the five people that meant the most to him. But as the story unfolds the humour becomes subsumed within the tragedy of these narratives until, by the last few chapters, it has been all but extinguished by the relentless pathos that pervades every sentence. And it was the potentiality of the humour that could have given the book that much needed lift. Now, before you think I have lost the plot, I do realise that there are plenty of books full of woe out there that have received the acclaim they deserve. Let’s not forget Les Misérables, for goodness sake. But to paraphrase that much-loved comedian, Frank Carson (showing my age here!), ‘It’s the way you tell ‘em’.
This may seem a bit harsh, as it’s a well-crafted piece of art with some recognisable characters and an original concept. But there’s only so much tragedy even my sentimental heart can bear. I know some people have to endure lives filled with loss and heartache; but there was enough tribulation here to fill a small graveyard. It’s a writer’s dilemma; nobody wants to read a book about Mr Happy. I understand that. But there were times, as I waded through this mire of misery, that my heart was screaming, ‘Enough, please!’
I so wanted to love this book, mainly because it’s not often I pick up a book, read the first few lines and know I could be in for a bookish treat. I may be in the minority on this one. Griffin may indeed, and justifiably, declare me a poor audience. I trust you will be a better one, the author deserves it. My book review, a contrite 7.5/10.
Thank you for reading my book review. Your book buddy, Charles Whitmore.
This may seem a bit harsh, as it’s a well-crafted piece of art with some recognisable characters and an original concept. But there’s only so much tragedy even my sentimental heart can bear. I know some people have to endure lives filled with loss and heartache; but there was enough tribulation here to fill a small graveyard. It’s a writer’s dilemma; nobody wants to read a book about Mr Happy. I understand that. But there were times, as I waded through this mire of misery, that my heart was screaming, ‘Enough, please!’
I so wanted to love this book, mainly because it’s not often I pick up a book, read the first few lines and know I could be in for a bookish treat. I may be in the minority on this one. Griffin may indeed, and justifiably, declare me a poor audience. I trust you will be a better one, the author deserves it. My book review, a contrite 7.5/10.
Thank you for reading my book review. Your book buddy, Charles Whitmore.
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