Review: Muscling Through by J L Merrow

Read a fab novella the other day, Muscling Through by J L Merrow. I've read a couple of Merrow's other stories, notably Pricks and Pragmatism, which I liked greatly.

I like Merrow's writing and I greatly enjoy her Cambridge setting. The humour that was present in Pricks and Pragmatism but (understandably) absent in Camwolf, is used to great effect in Muscling Through. Plus it's a lovely, poignant read with a big, fat happy ending that just made me feel good.

The story is told in the first person POV of Big Al: Alan Fletcher, a big, beefy, working-class boy. Ex-bouncer, manual worker and, in his own words, "thick as pigshit", the last thing Al expects is a love affair with History of Art professor, Larry, who is "little and pretty". Of course, Al isn't thick at all and we discover his surprising acuity and artist talent as the novella develops.

The story begins with Al and Larry's first meeting (an hilarious scene in which Al believes he is assisting a drunken Larry home, not realising that Larry is terrified and believes he's about to be attacked) and takes us through the first year of their relationship. Unusually for a romance, with the exception of one misunderstanding over fidelity, this is a happy relationship throughout the whole story. It's more a story about how two very different people from utterly different backgrounds merge their lives and become better people together.

Merrow gives herself a real challenge with the character of Al. On the one hand, she wants him to be simple, even slow; she wants him to not *get* many of things that Larry and others say to him. It's the catalyst for many funny scenes and it's also the cornerstone for the lovely poignancy that runs through the whole book. However, she also wants Al to have a folksy sort of wisdom as well an artistic talent, and indeed comprehension of art, that is somehow innate. This is a tricky balancing act to pull off. If I'm honest, the fact that I just loved the story and characters enabled me to resolve this tension internally through a mixture of reader-edit and wilful blindness. However, it's possible other readers might struggle with this. That said, other readers might actually feel there's no tension here at all.

Many of things I liked about this novella are surprising in that they=low conflict (and I am out and proud about loving high conflict reads): Al and Larry's total acceptance of themselves as gay, the fact the H/H really like each other from day one, an early declaration of love, the fact that they don't hide their feelings, the fact that although Al thinks he "thick as pigshit" he never thinks he's not good enough for Larry. I think perhaps the lack of obvious conflict didn't matter to me because I didn't, well, need it. I got all the satisfaction I needed through just reading about the development of the relationship through Al's highly enjoyable POV, both seeing Larry through his eyes (perfect, Al thinks, but we get to see that Larry finds this view surprising) and indeed, seeing Al through Larry's eyes. Like in this scene where Al shows Larry a self-portrait:

"You don't want that," I said. "'S bad enough you got to look at the real thing."

"What? Al, what on earth are you talking about?"

I didn't say nothing. I mean, Larry's really clever, and we've been together for months. He must've noticed what an ugly mug I've got by now.

Larry stepped closer. He still had that funny smile on his face, but he looked a bit sad too. "You know what I like about this sketch? I like all of it, but the eyes are particularly good. You've got wonderfully expressive eyes and you've captured them beautifully here. There's the tiny furrow between your brows you always get when you're concentrating--just a suspicion of it, really. I don't suppose everyone would notice it.... And here, at the corner of your mouth--that bit quirks up when you're pleased about something. A sort of embryonic smile."

I shrugged. "Don't like my smile."

Then I wished I hadn't said it, 'cause Larry stopped smiling. "Let me guess--some idiot once told you it was sinister?"

I didn't say nothing, 'cause it was him what had said it. I think he remembered he'd said it. Sometimes Larry says stuff like it's a question when it's not really. I don't think he does it to be confusing on purpose. It's just the way clever people talk.

"Al, listen to me. You have a wonderful smile....."

There's something here about the Eye of the Beholder that was very satisfying to me.

There's also some interesting stuff in here about education - what it is and what it should be - and class. Larry's rant about how universities like Cambridge operate following the attempted suicide of a student is heartfelt, and there's an amusing sense of Those-Who-Can't-Do about a scene in which Larry decide to make tempera (paint) together:

When we finally got down to making the paints, Larry got kind of uptight when we was measuring out the water and stuff, 'cause he thought we had to do it exactly how the recipe said but I knew the texture wasn't right for what I wanted to do with it. So I just put in what I thought was right, and it worked a treat, and afterward Larry came and put his arms round me while I was painting with it.

"You know," he said, "you never cease to amaze me."

I didn't say nothing. I thought he'd tell me what he was on about if I waited.

"Here you are, a damning indictment of our education system, only one GCSE to your name, and you're mixing up tempera like a modern-day Michelangelo."

This story was £2.14! I consider that to be a great bargain - I've already read it twice and will do so again. If you pick it up, do come back and tell me what you make of Al, won't you?

I loved him.

On holidays and home

It's taken me a wee while to get back into the swing of things since getting back from Spain. We had a lovely time; a lovely relaxing time. I found myself reflecting on past holidays at different stages of my life. Childhood holidays; my first foray abroad when I was 18; holidays with Mr T sans children.

My parents didn't really do holidays. We did lots of day trips but only went away 3 times that I recall: 2 caravan trips to the north of Scotland and week in Butlins in Ayr. I've never even been so far afield as England with my parents! I felt faintly envious of school friends who went to Spain and Greece and Turkey - even Florida! - with their families. They were Holidaymakers; we just stayed at home.

I finally went abroad for the first time on an inter-railing trip round Europe with my new university friends when I was 18. Man, we did a lot on that trip. I think I had £350 on me for everything and no credit card. We did Paris, Chamonix, Nice, Rome, Florence, Venice, Athens, Berlin, Prague, Amsterdam. Maybe a couple of others.

Nice was the first place we hit that had palm trees. I remember being blown away by the extraordinary brightness of the Mediterranean sky and those trees and the heat and how beautiful everyone was. The sea, not icy like at home. It was so very strange. I wasn't even sure if I liked it. I didn't fit it, certainly, with my milk-bottle legs and boring one-piece swimming costume. But it was fascinating and later, when Mr T and I left university and got jobs, we visited many more of these hot, beachy places.

That feeling, though, of strangeness, stayed with me. When I breathed warm evening air, when I padded through tiled-floor, air-conditioned apartments, when I saw bright bougainvillea tumbling over white walls, I always thought how very other this was.

Until I had my boys that is. This year we went to an area of Spain Mr T and I last visited 14 years ago. I think I expected that same strangeness to assail me. But it didn't. At last, I felt like one of those Holidaymakers of my childhood imagination. Confident, familiar, knowing. Perhaps even a little blase.

Perhaps the world has shrunk. Or I have grown. Or perhaps I've forgotten my place in it. Perhaps my stunned 18 year old self was more acute. Or perhaps not. Or perhaps it's my boys.

Perhaps nowhere in the world can ever feel wholly unfamiliar and strange again, when they are with me. Because they are where my home is, and so I take Home with me now, when I go on holiday.

Soundtrack of my holiday