The Fit [Paperback]

The Fit, the novel Hensher published in 2004, had a hard act to follow, coming on the heels of the sumptuously rich The Mulberry Empire. Perhaps, knowing that the earlier novel couldn't be trumped, Hensher made it as different as possible. While The Mulberry Empire deals with true historical events, and obviously involved intricate research into the era, The Fit could almost be said to be trivial in its concerns. The language, too is very different. In place of the considered prose, majestic poise and evocative detail is an almost staccato simplicity with short, easily accessible sentences.

Part of the ordinariness of the prose is down to the narrator, John, an eccentric individual whose wife Janet has just left him. From the start, John's voice is not only conversational but also a little odd. He seems incapable of perceiving things that most other people would, particularly in relation to people's feelings. This and the literal minded way he fails to understand common phrases like 'you are a dark horse' (despite being intelligent) suggest that Hensher may be trying to convey a man with mild autism, perhaps Asperger's syndrome. The simple language may even be an echo of Mark Haddon's in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time. Yet whether or not John does suffer from any biological cause for his lack of emotional insight is never specified, and the flashbacks suggest that he was able to be perfectly responsive and sensitive to his wife years before.

The plot itself is pretty trite - John's wife leaves and John tries to get on with life, unsure of whether or not she will return. In the meantime, he develops an unusually long-lasting bout of hiccups and encounters several oddballs who provide varying degrees of entertainment. Some of these are truly amusing: the German tourist speaks exactly as German tourists speak; Mrs Grainger the old lady is comical in her stubborn, sour ways. But other characters are half formed - for example Suzie, the waif who crops up twice and whose generosity seems unfeasibly motiveless.

Other characters seem to be there purely for entertainment value and are therefore exaggerated beyond parody, for example Wasia, the obnoxious photographer, and her grungy misfit friends.

Mr Tredinnick, a busybody friend of John's parents, has too much in common with the Harry Enfield interfering father-in-law for comfort, always announcing 'you don't want to do that.' John thinks 'Mr Tredinnick was always telling me about my wants.' It would have made for a funny character if it wasn't slightly - and probably completely unconsciously -plagiaristic.

Some of the gentle humour at the beginning of the book seems so slight as to be almost insubstantial, for instance the bracketed aside here:

'Every five years, a pair of yokels come along with a chainsaw and give the trees a savage GI trim... (What do they do in the intervals, the chainsaw yokels? Sit around drinking tea, probably.)'

PG Wodehouse and William Boyd did/do slight, observational whimsical humour so well that John's witterings and musings seem somewhat limp and fatuous in comparison. In other parts, John's language seems purposefully obtuse with no obvious explanation, eg:

'My hair was upright and raucous'

Raucous?

And there are several unanswered questions that spring to mind. Why, for example, is John so irresistible to women? However gorgeous his looks and immaculate his style may be, women tend (please excuse stereotyping) to go for personality/GSOH rather than just looks.

Yet there are parts that are genuinely funny and clever. Janet's encounter with a woman dressed in a 'carnival assortment' of clothes ends with Janet saying goodbye 'politely in her black suit like a hilltop monastery observing the departure of a funfair from its environs.' A check-in assistant in the departure lounge of an airport's reaction to a stroppy client throwing a tantrum is described thus:

'The fey ticket clerk looked up sardonically from underneath a noticeably unsuccessful exercise in blond streaks, like a child who knows exactly where in the flower bed he has buried his father's wallet and is waiting for the God-almighty posturing to blow itself out.'

It is reported that Hensher wrote The Fit in a month - reports vary as to whether it was because his partner was so incensed by the time taken on The Mulberry Empire or whether it was a bet, or both. If this is true, it's a shame Hensher didn't polish the book up more. There are even some glaring mistakes - 'a Sloaney blonde woman with sleek dark hair' for example. Or is this intentional, another example of John's mild and harmless bizarreness?

Comparison with The Mulberry Empire and also with The Northern Clemency (which, imo, dealt with the everyday in a far more engrossing way) have made this review sound harsher than it would otherwise be. It's not a bad book by any means, but if you're wanting to try a Hensher, don't let this be the first.

***00 1/2

The cut of his ever-present suits? His relationship with his wife? His fit of hiccupping? I still don't know. This is one of those books which, and Hensher is one of those writers who, has nothing much to say but says it beautifully and at length. Frankly, this is a book about a couple who split up and then get back together. There's no amazing plot twist, no earth-shattering revelation or profound thought, it just does exactly what it says on the tin. It is funny at times, it is moving at times, but it just isn't very memorable.

This is a lovely comedy of a novel with an interesting and clear structure and absolutely hilarious moments. At times I cried with laughter. But there is a sweet poignancy underneath the story of the hapless hero's romp. Simply uplifting.