The
hero of John Lanchester's latest novel is... an accountant. A pen-pusher
no more, for he has lost his job. Understandably shocked by this
happening at the age of fiftyish, he pretends to go into work on Monday, for he
has still not told his beloved wife. He then wanders around London having
the sorts of adventures that sacked accountants would typically have in an
artistic novel such as this.
In an interview
on Radio 4, Lanchester propounded the profound theory that double entry
book-keeping is a potent metaphor for life in general. Having no desire
to study the other more boring discipline of book-keeping (as opposed to book
collecting), I'll take him at his word. Accountancy and accountants are
boring, but many people aspire to do and be them, which is probably why
Lanchester chose this as Mr Phillips' vocation, to portray a character who's
actually shattered by no longer being an accountant. How sad is
that? I'm irresistibly reminded of the Monty Python sketch where Michael
Palin's accountant desires desperately to become a lion tamer. "This
is what accountancy does to people," says Cleese in his best Attenborough.
The book's reviewers seem to struggle when asked to deal with its themes.
Philip Hensher gives a lengthy account in the Observer review about how few
novels deal with the workplace, and states the truism that the workplace is a
rather obvious source of drama. One only has to ask this: where has
Philip Hensher been living? There are lots of novels set in the workplace.
Then again, Hensher does not appear to have read Does
My Bum Look Big in This?, and instead recommends James Buchan's High
Latitudes. But the kinds of improbable adventures Mr Phillips has
sounds far more like John Buchan, only far less thrilling.
Mr Phillips, Hensher says, is a "brave stab at a difficult subject",
but is "fatally lacking in ambition". Trying to make
accountants fascinating is not ambitious? But Hensher may be onto
something when he decries the artifice of this novel, the rigidity of its
formal structure. We get to hear plenty of what Mr Phillips thinks
(especially his "numerical fantasy" about sex), but he remains
"Mr Phillips" throughout. This is a personal novel without an
"I". The one part of Hensher's review which is in bold print is
the most ridiculous, whereby the reviewer insists that Lanchester should dump
all the admirable parts of his writing because they are conceits.
Huh? I guess what Hensher is trying to say, in an overly complicated way,
is that Lanchester is trying too hard to be artistic. Or do as I say, and
not as I do.
James Urquhart interviews John Lanchester for the Independent, which is much
the same as the Radio 4 piece, with Lanchester still expressing his admiration
for double entry book-keeping. What both interviews reveal is that
Lanchester has a quite withdrawn narrative style. The real story, we're
told, only emerges in small insights and Mr Phillips' dilemma is only gradually
revealed. An effect that is instantly quashed as soon as one reads a
review or interview which reveals the whole story, perhaps saving us from the
pain of reading the book. Jane Shilling, in the Sunday Telegraph, even
deigns to give us the final sentence.
Shilling, for whose thoughts I would not give a penny, bravely battles to find
meaning in Mr Phillips, beneath a sub-heading which declares it to be "an
elegantly-written tale of redundancy". However, Shilling has to go
beyond this, for she finds it "strenuously elegant". Such is
Shilling's struggle to find meaning that she finally finds it in the picture on
the back cover. "Never judge a book by its... back cover?".
James Urquhart, and Sean Thomas in Amazon.co.uk's "aspering" review,
both describe Mr Phillips' wanderings as an "odyssey", but it is Jane
Shilling who really takes up the baton with this metaphor, as she tries to
paint this boring old fart as a classical hero, no less. However, the
only classical allusions may be accidental: the police sirens after the bank
raid. Mr Phillips is dreading going home to his wife, but she could
hardly be likened to Penelope. Maybe Mr Phillips comes home too early and
finds his wife with all her other suitors. Time to unsheathe that brolly
once more, Mr Phillips... Now that would be true drama.
Kevin
Mahoney.
Lisez cette page en français avec
Babelfish Lesen
diese Seite auf Deutsch mit
Babelfish
