A book that my
mom tried to persuade me to read for years. All it took for me to read it was
for my boss to recommend it…
There are a
number of reasons why I particularly enjoyed this novel: being used to Zadie
Smith, Hanif Kureishi, Hari Kunzru, etc. it was refreshing for once to read a (relatively)
recent light-hearted and socio-political British novel that wasn’t set in
London. Also, despite the fact that my political allegiances lie elsewhere
(very much so), it was a welcome change to read a novel about the personal
growth and the self-doubts of a little Tory (despite the fact that Ben’s lefty
friend Doug is clearly my favourite character). Lastly, a scene in the final pages is set in
the Gramercy Park Hotel in New York, a place that was wonderfully quaint and
still oozing – between its cracked walls and leaking pipes – of Lou Reed, Bob
Dylan and Patti Smith when my dad took us there 20 years ago (before it got
refurbished and very much revamped).
From a stylistic
point of view, Coe does a great job of alternating registers and viewpoints. His
little plot twists leave you disheartened (at the very end of the first part),
warm inside (during a dialogue apparently with himself that Ben has mid-way
through the second part), giggly (when you discover who is the actual author of
some of the most hysterical letters that the editor of a school journal can
ever receive), or give you hope for the future of mankind (with Ben’s decision
to go home before the end of a disastrous family holiday in Wales).
It’s been a while since I’ve last expressed this trite idea – The Rotters’ Club is clearly not a masterpiece, but hell it’s a really enjoyable read…
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