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I’m about two thirds of the way through A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby. It’s good. Here’s a plot synopsis from the linked page,
New Years Eve at Toppers House, North London’s most popular suicide spot. And four strangers are about to discover that doing away with yourself isn’t quite the private act they’d each expected.
Perma-tanned Martin Sharp’s a disgraced breakfast TV presenter who had it all – the kids, the wife, the pad, the great career – but he ‘pissed it all away’. Killing himself is Martin’s ‘reasonable and appropriate response’ to an unliveable life.
Maureen has to do it tonight, because of Matty being in the home. He was never able to do any of the normal things kids do – like walk or talk – and loving-mum Maureen can’t cope any more. Dutiful Catholic that she is, she’s about to commit the ‘biggest sin of all’.
Half-crazed with heartbreak, loneliness, adolescent angst, seven Bacardi Breezers and two Special Brews, Jess’s ready to jump, to fly off the roof. Lastly, there’s JJ – tall, cool, American, looks like a rock-star (was, in fact, a rock-star before his band split) – who’s weighed down with a heap of problems and pizza.
Four strangers, who moments before were all convinced that they were alone and going to end it all that way, sit down together, share out the pizza and begin to talk.
Hornby’s a talented writer. He can write a book about suicide that makes you laugh regularly and out loud. He’s sort of an unpretentious Rushdie, if that makes any sense. Though maybe unpretentious isn’t the word. I’m a big Rushdie fan, but there is something ‘high’ about his language that isn’t in Hornby. For his part, Hornby posesses the same abililty at sentence wizardry, but uses less syllables than his counterpart. I’m sure you know exactly what I mean, right?
Other titles by Hornby include How to Be Good, About A Boy, and High Fidelity (the last of which I have not read). While I’m really enjoying Long Way Down, and I would recommend any of the three, I think About A Boy is the best of the group.







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