LAST GREAT READS FOR JANUARY
The Mystery of Mercy Close, by Marian Keyes
Marian Keyes: Queen of Chick Lit, one of the funniest Irish
authors in print, and creator of a series of much-loved books about the Walsh
sisters (there are five) and their long-suffering parents. A wonderful success story, surely, were it
not for the fact that Ms Keyes has suffered from life-threatening bouts of
depression, an illness she writes about from sad personal experience in this
latest novel.
Ms Keyes follows her usual
formula: each book is wonderfully
humorous, but deals with big subjects:
domestic abuse; drug dependency; alcoholism and infidelity – our sisters
experience many of the pitfalls of life and Helen, the youngest sister and
protagonist of ‘Mercy Close’, is about to suffer her second bout of depression,
the knowledge of which utterly terrifies her.
Helen has just been forced
by circumstance to move back in with her parents – a fact that her parents
greet with as much dismay as she. Her
formerly successful business as a private investigator has dried up, thanks to
the all-encompassing Irish recession, and her beloved flat is no longer hers
but now belongs to the bank: she is
thirty-three years old, homeless, jobless, and if it weren’t for her reluctant
family, friendless; she’s too prickly and blunt to have many friends. Poor Helen is the ideal candidate for
depression - insidious messenger of desperation,
hopelessness and despair - to set up
shop.
Enter
Jay Parker, detested ex-boyfriend and Con Man, oily, smarmy, bad news in a good
suit – but he has a confidential job for her.
(Confidential?
CONFIDENTIAL?! She’ll sew her
lips together with #8 wire after removing her tongue if that’s what’s
required: she needs the dough!) Jay has now transformed himself into the
manager and go-to guy for one of Ireland’s many Nineties BoyBands, the Laddz,
who, because they are also in dire need of
money, are planning a big comeback concert in a week’s time. Unfortunately, one of the Laddz, Wayne
Giffney, has disappeared and Jay is relying on Helen to find him. Otherwise they’ll ALL be in the cack –
promises have been made; merchandise has
been ordered; the venue is booked ( a
15,000-seat stadium – Mary, Mother of God!), and where the Bloody Hell is Wayne?? Time is running out and he has to be found,
or they’ll all be in for a quick trip down the gurgler.
Despite a complete absence
of clues to his disappearance and a stunning lack of co-operation from those
whom she felt should help, Helen finds that the deeper she delves into Wayne’s
life, the more of an affinity she feels with him – maybe he doesn’t want to be
found; maybe he just wants to continue
living peacefully in his little house in Mercy Close, as far away from the
cut-throat music world as possible.
Sadly, too much is at
stake with the other band members for that to happen, and as the concert draws
near and Helen’s illness threatens to engulf her, life-changing decisions have
to be made, not all of them good.
Ms Keyes peoples her story
with great minor characters; she is a
shrewd, almost painfully funny observer of everyday behaviour – no foible is
left unturned! – but she also gives a courageous and honest account of what it
is like to live with a disease that makes its sufferers want to die. Highly recommended.
The
Dinner, by Herman Koch
On the front cover of this
explosive little book a question is asked:
‘How far would you go to protect the ones you love?’ The reader finds out soon enough as Paul
Lohman and his wife Claire prepare to meet his detested older brother Serge and
his wife Babette for dinner at a restaurant that has a three month waiting
list: naturally, Serge didn’t have to
book three months in advance; he is such
a popular politician that the way is cleared for him wherever he wishes to go,
for it is a foregone conclusion that he will win the next Dutch election.
Paul would be quite happy
not to have contact with his brother at all;
he considers him a hypocrite and a boor, coarse and unmannerly, and it
mystifies him that Serge is so popular -
‘a man of the people’ – worse
still, he can’t bear to be witness to the wide-eyed admiration and fawning of
staff and patrons in the restaurant.
Serge has arranged the
dinner for a particular reason: they
must discuss their sons, 15 and 16 year old cousins who spend a lot of time
together. Recently, a dreadful crime has been committed: a homeless woman was burnt to death as she
sheltered in an ATM cubicle, and the Netherlands is up in arms at the sheer
ruthless brutality of the act. The entire
population is screaming for justice – a perfect opportunity for an astute
politician to cement his already secure position as front-runner, turning to his advantage the public’s horror at the
barbarity of the crime. Instead, Serge
wishes to discuss with his family his retirement – for clips have surfaced on
YouTube of the ATM cubicle; though the
authorities are as yet unaware, the boys are implicated in the country’s most
heinous murder. Serge’s son has
confessed.
To read this beautifully
constructed little horror story is to peel off layer after careful layer the
veneers that people wrap around themselves in order to be respectable, happy,
successful – normal? And the criminal
lengths they will employ to preserve the façade, and the survival of those they
love.
Mr. Koch is adept at
leaving the reader with more questions than answers – what an excellent writer
he is, helped most ably by his translator, Sam Garrett.
Canadian writer Anne
Michaels once said that to read a novel in translation is like kissing a woman
through a veil: that may be true, but
this reader (who must always depend on
translators!) marvels at the ease and facility that Mr. Garrett employs to make the words
flow. There wasn’t a veil in sight. Highly recommended.