The Hive, by Gill Hornby – review

Who would have thought that the idea for a novel about mothers at the school gate would spark a frenzied bidding for world  rights? Not a subject to make the heart race, surely, but race publishers did for a first novel by Gill Hornby, whose inspiration it was. Plainly she did her research at a school gate, and her acute ear has captured every nuance of the motherly buzz that will be universally recognised.

Heavens, they’re a lively lot, and how they talk — all in a language that is particular to forty-something mothers. They share a vocabulary — keenos, newbie, yikes, oops.soz, bagsy, delish. The words ping off the page, indicating incredible speed of communication that sometimes leaves the reader breathless.

The children all go to St Ambrose School. We mostly follow the mothers’ A team: Bea, Rachel, Georgie and poor Heather — a wonderfully sad but comic character, constantly striving to be more popular, more wanted. Others in the group are less often but just as wittily sketched in, while the fathers, although bit-players, are also brightly drawn.

The mothers must be the most charitable, hospitable and energetic of any such group in the land. (As they don’t have very seriously taxing jobs, they do have time.) When a new — unmarried — headmaster arrives and explains that savage cuts have to be made, they explode with good ideas to raise money. There are constant home-cooked lunch parties (£15 a head), of varying success, in different houses. Other inspirations are a car boot sale, a ball, and finally a quiz, where we learn how brainy some of the mothers are. Whatever the idea, no matter how much hard work it means, those gallant mothers face it. The  daily timetable — drop off 8.30