‘The effort of typing made the corners of his mouth turn down,
so that no-one could guess how much he was enjoying himself.’
Anne Tyler is writing about the protagonist of ‘The Accidental Tourist’ but
the sentence could equally describe, and be penned by, her acolyte, Nick
Hornby. And her wry insight into the quietly fraudulent is itself open to
question. What if the character’s mouth turns down, not through fingertip
exertion, but existential misery? Who would know? Who would help? The next
sentence appears to be irrelevant bathos: ‘I am happy to say that it’s
possible now to buy Kentucky Fried Chicken in Stockholm’. So even if
the tragic mask is real, not false, we can escape into universal trivia – the
comforting detritus of urban life.
This is the classic Nick Hornby mode. No wonder Tyler is his favourite novelist.
From her he has learnt the winning blend of high comedy with aching sadness;
the truth of the questing but terrified heart – found living and bleeding
somewhere in London. Yet Anne Tyler would never be dismissed as a ‘popular’ novelist,
eminently readable though she is. Was a plant label ever punched out for
her in durable metal – as in as in ‘Lad Lit’ or ‘Aga
Saga?’ I doubt it. Considering genre, Martin Amis once described Elmore
Leonard as ‘a literary genius who wrote re-readable thrillers,’ pointing
out, ‘His characters are equipped…with a cranial jukebox of
situation comedies and talk shows and advertising jingles, their dreams and
dreads all mediated and second hand.’ Now, if someone wrote those exact
words about Hornby it would be a put-down.
Just as J.K. Rowling got non-reading boys hooked on Harry, so we can praise
Hornby for getting young men wearing Arsenal shirts to pick up a book – and
keep picking them up almost as often as they sink a pint. But that is not
all he has achieved. He followed the runaway successes of ‘Fever
Pitch’ and ‘High Fidelity’ with ‘About a Boy’ and ‘How
To Be Good’ and his paperback sales total 6 million, excluding US
sales and translations. ‘A Long Way Down; went straight to number
one in the Italian bestseller charts, and Robert de Niro’s production
company paid £2 million for the rights to ‘About A Boy.’ And
so on. Hornby books make movies - and money. It’s enough to make
the average literary hack reach for the poisoned arrows.
After ‘How To Be Good’ was long-listed for the Booker, certain
literati wanted to take this too-popular writer down several pegs. When ‘A
Long Way Down’ was published in hardback more than one critic questioned
the ‘high concept’ - aka unrealistic conceit - of four strangers
(Jess, a damaged middleclass girl; Martin, a disgraced TV presenter; Maureen
whose son is profoundly disabled; JJ whose band and girl have left him) meeting
accidentally on a high rooftop famous for suicide and preventing each other
from leaping off. ‘Unlikely’ they decided, prosaically. Do we
have to be so literal when discussing literature? The particular criticism
was about as valid as suggesting it doesn’t ring true that Gibreel
and Saladin plunge to earth from an exploded high-jacked jumbo jet, clinging
to each other, talking and singing songs, only to survive…which is,
of course, how Salman Rushdie starts ‘The Satantic Verses.’ ‘Is
birth always a fall?’ Rushdie asks. In ‘A Long Way Down,’ birth
is a fall averted.
The opening of Adam Mars-Jones’s ‘Observer’ review set
the tone: ‘P.G.Wodehouse may have been the last light-comic writer
to be comfy in his pigeonhole. Since then it has become hard to find a jester
who wants to play anything other than Hamlet.’ Repeatedly Mars-Jones
mocks Hornby’s ‘riffs’ without ever explaining what a ‘riff’ is – self-consciously
riffing himself, in order to out-muso the arch-muso at the same time as condemning
him for ‘emotional truth processed into convenience food, insight that
you boil in the bag.’
The reference to Hamlet and the jester falls into a convenient trap: bagging
Hornby as a comic writer who wants to be tragic - as if there were no middle
ground, indeed as if the truly comic were not always shot through with sweet
melancholy, characteristic of Shakespeare and Racine. ‘Comic’ does
not mean ‘funny,’ although the words have become synonymous.
In his classic 1965 text ‘The Life of The Drama’ Eric Bentley
says this: ’The comic sense…tries to deal with living, with
the pressures of today, with the responsibilities of adulthood. Its dual
character presupposes in the comic artist… on the one hand an eagerness
and zest in sheer being, and on the other a keen and painful awareness of
the obstacles in the path…’
That duality is quintessential Hornby. Where there is laughter in ‘A
Long Way Down’ it is a neither cruel nor knockabout, but a moment of
identification and brief superiority. You recognise the character, pity him
or her, and laugh with relief because you are not (like insufferable Martin) ‘an
arsehole.’ Not this time at least. Since one of the purposes of comedy
is the entirely serious quest for self- knowledge, we need to mock those
(like Malvolio) who do not have it. So Hornby’s four inadequate, suicidal
characters make jokes against themselves which are infinitely more purposive
than those made against them by others. Towards the end of the novel they
are – yes – trying to be good - and have formed one of those
uneasy allegiances of disparate people thrown together by a common need.
Yet you know they will always dislike each other, since we cannot forgive
those who know too much.
This is fiction transforming pain into the archetypal comic mode - through
pity and laughter to purge the emotions. Hornby’s accessibility should
be celebrated - offering millions of readers the gripping possibility of
redemption. The ordinary bloke glimpses hope only to see it disappear behind
a cloud, but goes on waiting because it will appear again. Won’t it?