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Alan Hollinghurst's new novel is a comedy of sexual manners that follows the interlocking affairs of four men: Robin Woodfield, an architect in his late forties, who is trying to build an idyllic life in Dorset with his younger lover, Justin, a would-be actor increasingly disenchanted with the countryside; Robin's 22 year old son Danny, a volatile beauty who lives for clubbing and casual sex; and the shy Alex, whose life is transformed by house music and a tab of ecstasy. As each in turn falls under the spell of romance or drugs,country living or rough trade, a richly ironic picture emerges of the clashing imperatives of modern gay life, the hunger for contact and the fear of commitment, the need for permanence and the continual disruptions of sex. At once lyrical and farcical, sceptical and romantic,The Spellconfirms Alan Hollinghurst as one of Britain's most important novelists.… (more)
User reviews
It's described as a comedy, but the problem is that it just isn't funny. There are a few funny moments, yes, but over-all... no. Another problem is that the characters aren't
This could have been a good story. It starts of promising, with the four main characters in a cottage out in the country. If it had stayed that way, I think it definitely could have been an interesting chamber play, but alas it didn't.
I'll still give The Swimming Pool Library a chance, because while I didn't enjoy this particular book, I still enjoyed Hollinghurst's writing.
This is the third Hollinghurst novel I've read. I preferred it to the constipated emotions of "The Line of Beauty", but missed the thrill I had when reading the Swimming Pool Library (quite a few years ago).
In The Spell the gay scene itself was the plot line, or at least that part of the scene that involves an older man / younger man dynamic. Hollinghurst writes with introspection around the draw of the fun, hedonistic younger guys to the older men who think they've found nirvana only to break their hearts over the inevitable transience of the relationships. In many ways I suppose it's not dissimilar to the classic heterosexual relationship disaster of women who go for the 'bad boys' and then sob with incredulity when they turn out not to be husband material. Both moths to a flame. Possibly more sex involved in the former.
There was a lot more shagging in this novel than in some of his other titles. And I mean a lot of shagging. If someone wasn't at it every few pages they were primed and ready to be at it. Hollinghurst evidently wanted to write a novel that was squarely about the 1990s London gay scene of clubbing, drugs and promiscuous sex with strangers in toilet cubicles / park bushes, etc., and the trickiness of trying to keep monogamous relationships going when there were so many strangers in toilet cubicles / park bushes, etc. to be having sex with.
Having a very good friend of old who was having a gay old time (pardon the pun) doing exactly that in 1990s London (the promiscuous bit - not so hot on the relationship side), I get that Hollinghurst depicts the London gay scene very well in this novel. However, for me it wasn't enough of a plot line to carry the rest of the novel. The younger characters were intolerably selfish and self-absorbed (so far, so accurate when I think back to my friend during that period), and the older characters were desperately annoying doorsteps. Their relationships therefore left me a bit cold, and perhaps I was too heterosexual for all the shagging but after a while I just wished they'd give it a rest for 5 minutes and watch a bit of tele and drink some cocoa.
However, having said all that, although Hollinghurst's novels can often be imperfect (sometimes I find I lose interest a bit when his plots meander), he's a very, very fine writer at a prose level, and I find myself drawn back to his novels time and time again like... well, a moth to a flame.
3.5 stars - with more plot beyond the shagging this could have been a very fine novel, but sadly this novel was as superficial as the relationships it described. An extra half star for the consistently fine writing, though.