Sometimes described as a satire and as "the first credit crunch novel," which, frankly, would never have lured me into reading it, Get Me Out of Here is much more like an adult version of Patrick McCabe's novel of psychological horror, The Butcher Boy, than it is a broad picture of the London business world. The book focuses almost exclusively on Matt Freeman, an overly-driven yuppie with all the stereotypical hang-ups about appearances, brand names, personal connections, and the toys of success. As first person narrator, Matt conveys every thought that enters his head, every twisted bit of false logic, every sensation, every hope for the future, and every self-deluded justification for the crimes he commits--and he commits a lot of them. We know his personal friends, all his lovers, and his neighborhood. He is individualized--a young man whose problems are so extreme that he cannot be considered "typical," even among psychopaths.
Matt's problems started well before the country's current economic problems, and we never know exactly when or why. He is single, having had several intense relationships, one of which almost led to the altar, but he is totally ego-driven, unable to share or participate in any relationship as an adult. Still, he is running his own financial business and says he has included North Korea, Iran, and Kuwait in his business plans. When his current girlfriend tells him he is "nothing but a leech," he reacts with brilliant irony and mordant wit: "I wasn't going to inform her that actually leeches had numerous beneficial uses, especially when it came to bloodletting." Within the first forty pages, Matt Freeman has already committed a murder, though "it's not his fault."
Author Henry Sutton is clearly having fun as he creates this character and then lets him wreak havoc on those around him. Matt is so wild and (literally) crazy, that readers will be reading about his actions with horror at the same time that they are chuckling because he is so twisted. His need to be important is so great that he misreads even ordinary comments, taking everything as a personal insult, and, unfortunately, often feeling the need for serious redress. As his already limited hold on reality crumbles further, he becomes ever more imaginative in finding ways to stay ahead of the pack (including the police). The body count rises and keeps rising, as does the reader's involvement and appreciation of the author's cleverness.
Sutton's lively prose often includes unique descriptions of arcane subjects, such as Matt's personal "television-free zone," the smells of Kentucky Fried Chicken vs. Burger King when eaten by passengers on the Tube (KFC is more "pungent"), and the dental hygiene of the North Koreans. ("For some reason I couldn't imagine the North Koreans flossing their teeth with regularity or passion.") Though he does, occasionally, draw parallels to world-wide economic situations during the novel, Matt is so out of touch with reality that it is difficult to see ways in which these domestic or international crises are responsible for his problems. Sutton often tells the story obliquely, creating "ah-ha" moments for the reader who has figured out what has happened by examining Matt's comments and realized what he does NOT say. And he also tantalizes the reader by leaving much unresolved at the end. After all, Matt, the narrator, does not know what will happen, either. One of my favorites for the year. Mary Whipple
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