LITERARY FICTION
THE LESSER BOHEMIANS by Eimear McBride (Faber £16.99)
EIMEAR McBRIDE’S debut, A Girl Is A Half-formed Thing, famously took nine years to find a publisher before scooping the Baileys Women’s Prize for Fiction in 2014. That its successor might struggle similarly was unthinkable, but even if it isn’t a million miles removed from Girl, there’s no sense either that this magnificent, sex-soused, innocence-to-experience rollercoaster might have been a difficult second novel.
It’s 1994 and 18-year-old Eily is a good Irish girl newly fetched up in London. She’s enrolled at drama school but her real mission is (naturally) an education in life, and soon Stephen, a much older, famous actor, has relieved her of her virginity.
That the couple’s lurching, alternately blissful and mutually lacerating affair could sustain another 300 pages seems doubtful, yet McBride’s extraordinary stream-of-consciousness style powers us along.
Yes, there are quibbles: the grim secret history shared — a little implausibly — by both Eily and Stephen, and the monologues that dominate the novel’s latter stages, while full of strong stuff in every sense, feel a trifle staid in comparison with the incandescent, innovatory brilliance of the visceral opening acts.
However, having put both her characters’ and readers’ hearts through the wringer, the sweetness that McBride ultimately grants feels earned.
SELECTION DAY by Aravind Adiga (Picador £14.99)
CHUTNEY salesman Mohan Kumar is a man with a plan — or, more exactly, a copperbottomed scheme for turning his two sons into cricketing legends.
But while handsome Radha has the hunger, his younger brother, the CSI-obsessed Manju, has the greater talent.
The scene might seem set for a slumdog success story, but Selection Day refuses to deliver anything so straightforward. Instead, as we move between characters including an ageing cricket scout and a cynical sponsor, it’s clear this is a novel concerned with exploitation, the price of freedom and the cost of being true to oneself.
As one would expect from the Booker Prize-winning Adiga, there’s no shortage of state-of-the-nation satire along the way; what’s more surprising are the slivers of sympathy he generates for even the tyrannical Mohan, as well as the mystery of Mohan’s former wife, who haunts her complex younger son’s dreams.
But the book is at its most involving in its crackling depiction of Manju’s growing attraction to the rich, privileged Muslim boy Javed, which sees Manju torn between filial loyalty and sporting glory, and the fraught path of his own desires.
HARMONY by Carolyn Parkhurst (Sceptre £18.99)
IN THE woods of New Hampshire, the Hammond family are getting back to basics — and when does that ever end well? But behind their drastic decision to leave Washington DC lies a desperate desire to help 13-year-old Tilly, a ‘fire-bright’ girl on the autistic spectrum with an obsessive interest in statues and an incurable fondness for swear words.
Having exhausted other options, her parents Alexandra and Josh put their trust in self-styled parenting guru Scott Bean and his rustic Camp Harmony. Such a name, however, could not be anything other than ironic, and the tension soon starts to build.
This is an entirely effortless read, which perhaps belies Parkhurst’s craftsmanship. The narrative is split between past and present, with Alexandra’s no-holds-barred account of the family’s backstory immersing us utterly in the challenges of life with a special needs child.
She’s no fool, either, which ensures our sympathy even as she’s drawn in by obvious fruitcake Scott. Meanwhile, the camp itself is seen through the clear eyes of Tilly’s likable younger sister, with Tilly herself occasionally providing her inimical sideways take on events.