August 2009 Archives

Killing God is Kevin Brooks' ninth novel and it's as fine as anything he's written. Of his previous work it has most in common with his third novel, Kissing The Rain, a book that was told in the unforgettable, stream of consciousness voice of an overweight boy, Moo Nelson.
The voice dominating Brooks' latest novel is that of a 15 year old girl called Dawn Bundy, obsessed with the music of The Jesus And Mary Chain (to the extent of calling her two dogs Jesus and Mary, much to the annoyance of her church-attending neighbours) and constantly referring back to when she was 13 years old, a time when something of huge signficance happened to turn her into the reclusive "totally unattractive" person she now considers herself to be.
Just as with Kissing The Rain, it is not sufficient to describe this as a story told in the first-person. What we get in this novel is much more than a narrative. We get the experience of feeling completely at one with the character, not merely following her story, but experiencing life as she experiences it, hearing the frequently quoted Jesus and Mary Chain lyrics in our head, sensing the menacing discomfort when the normally unfriendly Mel and Taylor visit her and spend time in her bedroom plying her with alcohol.
It seems to me that Brooks does something even more impressive than Joyce's famous Molly Bloom soliloquy, because he manages to have Dawn slip seamlessly between her stream of consciousness inner monologue, and her recounting of both past and present incidents. We gradually learn that the striking title of the novel (given a fittingly striking typographical cover design by http://the-parish.com/) is linked to the disappearance of her father, a character every bit as shambolic as Frank Gallagher from the TV series Shameless, who shortly before his disappearance became a God addict, making Dawn and her mother's life more unbearable than ever.
Since he's been gone, mother and daughter have been able to indulge and console themselves in various material luxuries - a big flastscreen TV, laptop, ipod etc. - thanks to a bag of cash the father left behind. This becomes a key factor in the developing climax of the book, as does the the trigger for the father's disappearance two years previously.
Of the book's ending I can say only that it makes the novel's title entirely apposite.
There are the de rigeur 'grateful acknowledgements' to Jim & William Reid for permission to use The Jesus And Mary Chain lyrics. I dare say the Scottish brothers are fairly grateful to Brooks in return for giving their music such high profile and thereby winning them new fans.

The verse style is accessible, direct, trippy and light, and it often makes you smile. 'It is a story handed down/from many a year ago/The tale's been told by many a tongue/but I have told it so.' Some of the stories grab you by the throat, for example the unusual 'The Seal Hunter' with its haunting black line illustrations, and 'The Pedlar of Swaffham' about a man who not only follows his dream, but also makes the most of another man's dream about treasure buried at the foot of a plum tree. 'Tam Lim' is a story that sets you on the edge of your seat as you urge the female protagonist to be sufficiently brave and strong. It works well interposing the verse with prose lines that set the scene for the next story.

The episodic presentation is mesmerising. Although the Teller returns each day with a new story rather than moving on to the next village to tell the same or similar story to a different audience, there is a clear sense of the two children participating in the unfolding narrative, and growing as a result. And in the same way that storytellers often provide tactile objects for the audience to share (my best experience of this was at the telling of an Armenian story, where the audience was presented with little red jewels from a pomegranate), so this book provides the reader and listener with a fragment from each of the five stories: 'and each holds a spell:/a curious story/to cherish and tell.'

I smiled at the author's self-promotion of his art, demonstrating this through the children's reactions: 'they knew now that a story from Teller was not to be missed.' You may well find that you set out to read one tale and are urged to carry on by your listeners, drawn into the music of the book like the children of Hamelin. It's also beautifully presented, with a part-cloth binding in sumptuous purple.

Reviewed by ALISON BOYLE