I really love fairy tales. Well, you know, right? I don’t want to repeat myself, but I really don’t remember whether I explained the reasons for my unquestioning sympathy. They are outrageously simple and banal - there is so much life in life, albeit sometimes extremely incredible, magical or frightening more than the most first-class thriller, but still very often very everyday and simple. That is why I want to hear "Alohomora" more often, to admire a strange ring or a dragon soaring in the sky. At least in books and films, since there cannot be such delights in our reality.
"Half an hour later, as I was deeply immersed in the story of The Man of the Hill, that curious, lengthy digression which seems to have nothing to do with the main narrative but is in fact its cornerstone.." ― Jonathan Coe, The Rotters' Club
If someone asks me what this book is about, I will simply say, "About life." And this will be the most complete answer, even if further separated by commas and you can list a lot - Britain of the 70s, politics, rock music, rallies and strikes, teenagers and whole families, the IRA, growing up and looking for oneself, workers and trade unions, crazy parties, school and first love, riots, creativity and this is not a complete list. But all these are just additions. Although, no, not really. All these are, rather, separate details, fragments of what, when put together into a general picture, is called life. Yes, it is not honey and sugar, but it is not waste water either. As one clever and talented author said through the lips of his hero, "Life, whatever you say, is not as good, but not as bad as people think about it." It really is. She is with bitter tears and sweet joys, with a bunch of insoluble problems and carefree fun, with many desperate situations and heady freedom of choice, with constant struggle and a sweet world. In my opinion, the author managed to show her simple and complex at the same time, in general, just as beautifully awful and voluminous as she often happens in reality.
You can't deny Coe the talent. He skillfully handles many characters and storylines, none of which the language will turn to call secondary. It does not deprive anyone of attention, but it does not put it on a pedestal either. He seemingly tries to grasp the immensity, touching upon an unthinkable number of topics and questions in a relatively small volume of text. However, it is sinful to reproach the author for overload or superficial consideration. The detailing is sometimes frankly impressive, despite the fact that everything is written out with ease, lovingly. He even has a time, an era, a history - not a background, not a decoration, not a cause and effect, not a hero - but another part of that very life, which simply cannot but play its role in everything that happens. Coe juggles moods, intonations and accents with incredible skill. He is serious, funny, romantic, ironic and God knows what he is, and the changes of all these states are very unexpected and quick. He teases, sets traps, keeps his secrets to throw in your eyes when you least expect it. He's adorable.
"The Rotters' Club" is an excellent example of a work, the author of which is not only obscenely literary handsome, but also did a great job, took on a lot, but exactly as much as he could. As a result, the light saw the light of a large, deep, multi-layered, bright and harmonious novel, capable of giving the reader a lot of pleasure. I advise all doubters to check, and even more so to those who do not.
This article was sponsored by STEVEN SPECTOR
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