The global disruption of 2020-21 posed a special challenge to novelists. As a subject it seems irresistible; but how to find order and pattern in a series of seemingly blank, eventless days? Stuck in the pandemic doldrums, Tim Parks’s elderly narrator at least has memories of the past and a richly stocked mind to call upon when lockdown bites.
Frank Marriot embarks on an ill-advised trip to Italy at the very start of the pandemic, when he is begged to attend the funeral of an old friend, Dan Sandow. Oddly, Frank has heard nothing about a virus spreading from China. A former cultural commentator and magazine feature writer, he has long undertaken a print and TV detox, so is unaware that he is being flung into the rapidly heating cauldron of Covid. ‘Ben, I don’t do news. You know that,’ he blithely informs his anxious son from the airport.
Charismatic, forceful Dan was the trailblazing editor of an influential New Yorker-style literary magazine, and Frank was his go-to reviewer for hatchet jobs. ‘The book would arrive by courier. It would be the flavour of the day. I knew at once I was being invited to pan it.’ (The notion that literary editors routinely demand negative reviews is very common among writers.) Dan had an affair with Frank’s wife, Connie, that ended their marriage because Frank wasn’t upset enough about it. Parks sets himself another challenge here, with an undynamic central character who tends to drift and bump along in life, following cues from others. Will mortality, crisis and isolation combine to galvanise him?
Following the death of his much younger second wife, Frank has settled for a small, dusty flat in London’s Maida Vale and hopes that the magazine’s deep pockets will cover his expensive flight to Malpensa and his accommodation.
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