Manual [Paperback]

Strange, perverted, childlike world view? Check. Odd, semi-autonomous animal of some kind? Check. Novel that combines seedy thrills, a sort of virulent prurience (such that you occasionally want to wash your hands as you're mid-flow) and writing akin to an acid-fried David Peace? Check, check check... That's right, ladies and gentlemen: Daren King appears to have done with his sabbatical writing children's books (although what parent is treating his children to bedtime stories featuring Smally's Party, Mouse Noses on Toast & Sensible Hare & The Case of the Carrots - aside from me, that is - bears some consideration) and he's back with his first novel since the Boxy an Star companion piece, Tom Boler.

Manual is both radical departure and more of the same (except, given that Daren King's 'more of the same' is unlike anyone else's 'same' on the planet, it's less begrudging and dismissive than it might otherwise appear). The opening (short) chapters introduce us to Patsy and our narrator Michael who work in the fetish industry - but, again, don't be misled by your own expectations of what that should constitute. Patsy and Michael visit with people, rarely do what they're asked to do and don't do anything much in the way of anything sexual. They dress up. They read The Times. They do nothing. They refuse to offer particular services.They steal perfumes. They hide passport-sized photographs about a client's house. They tie one client to his coffee table and then eat a packed lunch on the client's bed. You maybe (maybe) see by now the kinds of services they do offer... They also have an owl. Owl is a major character in Manual. I think Owl is a stuffed toy. That's certainly how he's introduced to us. But there are times when Owl feels sentient. Or imbued with sentience by Patsy, who obviously loves Owl a great deal.

The main thrust of Manual, however - if you'll forgive the crude pun - centres on the relationship between Edward (who is an older man, shacked up with a woman in her eighties) and Baby Girl (who is a young bit of stuff). Edward hires Patsy and Michael - for a 'job' at some point future hence - and gives them a place to live and responsibilities (primarily looking after Baby Girl) on a day to day basis. Proximity to both Edward (who is a high-flying city type) and Baby Girl (who, even though she's on the young side is obviously 'a bit of stuff') changes Michael somewhat (he develops a hankering for nice suits and tries out working proper jobs, his eyes wander in Baby Girl's direction instead of staying on Patsy) as the novel grinds - sorry - inexorably towards its climax - a climax that is both uncanny (in the Freudian sense) and bewildering (in that I'm not sure I get everything that went on...). Not that that matters overly. Daren King books (like Haruki Murakami books, albeit in extremely different ways) are all about the journey and not the destination. And, with Manual, King has provided another journey I'm thoroughly happy to have taken...

Manual is a novel that is great fun to read. This is a true thing to say about anything Daren King writes. Each of his books (to paraphrase Peely on The Fall) are different and the same. You might suspect you know what to expect but the Daren King book will always surprise and confound you in some way.

The story of a rather odd couple who escape the sad end of the fetish industry and - along with their stuffed owl - try to get on in the world, Manual is fun, idiosyncratic, and beautifully off-kilter. It's a truly refreshing read in a genre all of its own.
The tone - vaguely autistic - is brilliantly maintained.
The rhythm of the writing is top drawer.
It doesn't get quite as disturbing as I thought it would: in fact, it's actually quite a sweet book.
It'll only take about three hours to get through. Put aside all those wordy worthy novels and cookie cutter thrillers and treat yourself. Writers like Daren King need all the support they can get.

I liked this a lot, largely because its serious intent caught me unawares. My initial impression was of a book that was deliberately quirky - that its quirkiness was an end in itself. However, the story slowly knits itself together as it moves along. The characters which at first seem thinly drawn become rounded and dimensional, the moral aspect comes into focus, and you get a very real sense of a city (London, in this instance) which has lost its soul, to the extent that it contaminates everything it touches. You realise that the two central characters - fetishists for hire - are actually innocents at large. One, the enormous and mad Patsy, keeps her innocence. Not so her partner - the narrator Michael - who has one foot in the `real' world, or at least enough of an awareness of it to be seduced by the illusion of wealth and power, of `working in the City', which it offers. He want to be part of this world, and by trying to do so ends up making a Faustian pact with a wealthy businessman who needs his help seducing a fifteen-year-old girl. There are a host of minor characters and incidents, all vividly drawn, which somehow add to the story while existing independently of it. Even `Owl' who at first seems an irritating conceit, acquires a certain pathos. A subtle, mesmerising performance.