First up, an apology in advance for some of the content of this review, which may well be unbearable. This novel made me rediscover some of my youthful pretensions, a fact that I realised about 15 pages in, when I found myself thinking ‘This is like Tristram Shandy as written by Thomas Pynchon’.
Well, I stand by it. On the offchance that not everyone wasted quite as much of their misspent youth on esoteric literature as I did: Tristram Shandy was described by my favourite university lecturer as ‘the first postmodern novel’, quite some feat when you consider that it was published in 1759. It is, at bottom, a send-up; in an attempt to catalogue absolutely everything about his life, the narrator starts with his birth and – due to the fact that, to explain his birth, you have to go back to how and why his parents met, at least – ends some 500 pages later and five years earlier. Thomas Pynchon wrote one of my favourite cult novels, The Crying of Lot 49, which is a concise little masterpiece of connectivity and conspiracy theories.
The – I was going to say plot, but maybe ‘premise’ would be a better word. The premise of Satin Island is that everything is connected. The main character (and yes, he’s called U, and yes, that’s heavy-handed) is a corporate anthropologist, and has been tasked by his slightly shadowy boss with cataloguing modern life. ‘An anthropologist, she’d said; that’s…exotic. Not at all, I’d replied; I work for an incorporated business, in a basement.’
You’ll note that this novel is short, running to a little under 200 pages, and you may conclude from that that he doesn’t in fact achieve his goal. Well, wait and see. It’s a gloriously comic chronicle of the attempt, though. It’s also sprinkled with some pithy truisms of modern life, particularly modern corporate life, such as this one: ‘Not that it was secret. Things like that don’t need to be. They creep under the radar by being boring.’
Duncan White in the Telegraph said this about this novel: ‘Reading a McCarthy novel is like being in a McCarthy novel: everything is part of a fizzing network, the scope of which can never be fully apprehended.’ I couldn’t have put it better myself. I think it’s the use of the word ‘fizzing’ that is perfect; that’s exactly how my brain felt when I was reading this, like it had been dipped in Alka-Seltzer. Passages like this one made me think about things and make connections in a way I hadn’t done before, or perhaps a way I had only done subconsciously (in the way that you read something and stop and say to yourself, surprised, ‘That’s so true!’):
‘Forget family, or ethnic and religious groupings: corporations have supplanted all these as the primary structure of the modern tribe. My use of the word tribe here isn’t fanciful; it’s modern that’s the dubious term. The logic underlying the corporation is completely primitive.’
So is this one my Booker winner? Hmm, I don’t think so. Before the shortlist was announced I placed this one seventh on my list, so just outside it, but I actually quite like the fact that it got the nod – it’s part of the overall diversity of the shortlist, and I think it deserves it. I don’t hope it wins, though. There are a few places where I found it tripped over itself for trying to be so clever (the references to Schrodinger’s cat were a bit too laboured, for example, and it wasn’t the only place), and I think wherever McCarthy needed to make choices between including something to make him look clever and something else (plot, character, lyricism), the cleverness won. That will limit his audience; I think he knows that, and I don’t think he cares. But I expect the Booker panel will, and I don’t disagree with them for that.