Booker Prize 2018 | sue yockney

Nothing to do with the Red Planet

With only a few days until the 2019 Booker shortlist is announced, I think it’s fair to say that I’m running a bit behind with my reading, having just finished The Mars Room by Rachel Kushner, one of the shortlisted books from last year. I chose this one because of the title, but it’s nothing whatsoever to do with a room full of astrophysicists monitoring the Red Planet. No, the Mars Room in question, is a lap dancing club and previous workplace of 29 year old Romy Hall, about to start two consecutive life sentences at Stanville Women’s Correctional Facility, California for murdering one of her clients.

The novel opens with Romy and her fellow prisoners being transported to their destination. It’s a powerful scene that introduces us to a number of characters, people she will be spending a lot of time with. Whilst she tries to remain detached from the bizarre, often brutal, events going on around her, the reader can sense her fear. The strength of the writing is apparent from the start, the restraint, the raw uncompromising tone and the occasional rye touches of humour.

But overall it’s bleak, outlining the plight of those that are born into a world of poverty and neglect, lives lived on the margins of criminality. Romy Hall is a woman with no hope. No hope of getting out any time soon and no hope of seeing her son, Jackson. We feel for her plight and yet, she’s not a sympathetic character, nor is she intended to be. During the novel, we’re given glimpses of her past life as a stripper and mother, it’s a story of bad luck and bad choices, in equal measure.

The harsh reality of prison life is expertly portrayed – the constant hustling for bare essentials, the bickering, the boring monotony of routine tasks performed day after day. Frustration ignites into aggression, then violence, over sometimes trivial issues. It’s a place populated by survivors and those less equipped to survive, like the naïve prison educator Gordon Hauser manipulated by many of the inmates, not least Romy herself.

For many reasons it’s not an easy read. It could be argued that there are too many characters. The storyline is haphazard and meandering. The novel jumps between perspectives, between first and third person narratives. Sometimes Romy’s voice gets lost amongst all the detail. I found it difficult to keep track of it at times. The ending is abrupt.

It’s an uncompromising book, but the book that Kushner wanted to write. So if you’re looking for a conventional read with a progressive storyline then don’t read this one. I found it a challenge – but well worth the effort.

Delivers in so many ways

I tend to come to things a little bit later than most. I didn’t get round to watching Game of Thrones until the end of series four. As for Breaking Bad, the whole thing was well over by the time I dipped into this brilliant piece of television. This explains why, four months after it was awarded the Man Booker Prize 2018, I have just read Milkman by Anna Burns. By distancing myself from all the hype surrounding the launch of things, I find that I approach them with fresh eyes, unaffected by others thoughts and opinions. This method does, however, have its pitfalls. There is a definite art to being a latecomer that involves the avoidance in the media, generally, and social media, in particular, of any references to interesting new films, TV programmes, books etc. that you think you might pick up on in the future. It’s possible, but not easy.

So when I started reading Milkman, all I knew about it was that it had a strange title; it was set in Northern Ireland; and was unanimously considered excellent by the Man Booker Prize judges. The novel is narrated by a girl of eighteen and is set in the late 1970’s during the Troubles. However, don’t expect any historical or political analysis or judgement because that’s not the remit of this book. This is the ‘norm’, the everyday life, for our unnamed heroine. She recounts extraordinary events in a matter-of-fact voice tinged, often, with a light touch of humour. The very first sentence sets the tone of this extraordinary novel. “The day Somebody McSomebody put a gun to my breast and called me a cat and threatened to shoot me was the same day the milkman died.” What an opening sentence!

However, it isn’t without its challenges and is quite unlike anything I’ve ever read before. It’s wasn’t the long chapters or sentences (some the length of a whole page); the minimal punctuation; the lack of paragraphs or the flow of consciousness narrative that surprised me. Although I have to admit that, in the past, I’ve given up on books that have had all, or some, of these features. What I hadn’t come across before are characters with no proper names, only denominations – like tablets girl, maybe-boyfriend, third brother-in-law, Somebody McSomebody and milkman. Some characters have more than one, like the narrator herself. The wee sisters were my favourite characters, all aged under ten and intellectual far beyond their years, who enjoy nothing more than a bit of philosophy or dipping into Thomas Hardy novels.

However, the mistake I made, from the start, was thinking that I knew exactly where the plot was going – young girl being stalked by older predatory male comes to a grisly end. Perhaps I’ve watched too many episodes of Silent Witness. So, early on, I was annoyed by the narrator’s habit of breaking off at key plot moments and taking off on long rambling and, apparently, unconnected outpourings. But be warned. Don’t even think about giving up on it at this stage. Before long, you realise that you have become totally invested in this girl’s life and predicament. The sense of place that she conjures up is so vibrant and realistic that you feel you are there beside her. You begin to be affected by the claustrophobic atmosphere, feeling trapped, with no escape from the prying eyes and caustic gossip of its inhabitants. You worry every time she sets foot out of her door. In short, you’re completely hooked.

So, yes, there’s no doubt that this book is a challenging read, but it’s well worth the journey.