Escaping the Inferno

I read this, Meg Rosoff’s first novel for adults (though her previous fiction, aimed at teenagers, is widely enjoyed by older readers), curled up with my beautiful lurcher, Una, twitching her ears beside me. Appropriately so, as the novel concerns the relationship between a young man and two dogs, super-intelligent collie Dante and devoted spaniel Sissy. All dog-owners will recognise how Rosoff describes their interactions: Jonathan worries about ‘the practical and spiritual difficulties of caring for other sentient beings’, and spends hours imagining ‘the Byzantine quality’ of their inner lives (when I read that sentence, I exchanged glances with Una; she lifted her tail as if to say, You didn’t know?)

Jonathan is gingerly approaching the borders of adult life. His job is dissatisfying; he writes advertising copy for Broadway Depot, a stationery supplier: ‘Plastic folders 30 per cent off, one day only!’ Any attempt at creativity is firmly squashed. His girlfriend Julie’s ‘belief system consisted of medium heels, a decent hair cut and solid retirement funds’. His collie, Dante, on the other hand, is so clever he ‘should really be running a medium-sized investment bank’ (as much a comment on banks as it is on collies) and has a major talent for herding things, including people.

Jonathan is, like all young people in big cities, totally lost, seeking things he doesn’t want, completely unaware of what it is that he does, feeling a terrible void in his heart whenever he logs on. He is very much in need of herding. Imaginative, borderline-crazy, he spends his time writing a cartoon version of the Inferno, with his dog Dante as Virgil. The picture of modern life is both acute and alarming.

Rosoff has a gift for the well-phrased, dry inversion — ‘Jonathan wished he had a girlfriend who was more dog friendly or dogs that were more girlfriend friendly’ — and takes great pleasure in swiping at business speak: ‘I need to wrongside yesterday’s headlines.