Chris Petit's prose has an oddly hypnotic quality so that even when not much is happening it seems suffused in its own particularity. The setting to this story is Kilburn, which probably says something to those who live there, but might as well be any area of lost London: "O'Grady, a big man once," is how he is introduced and one senses the double negative of a man who once had physical heft as well as status, now reduced, and indeed, O'Grady is reduced, in ambition, in meaning, in ability. "Been away in America", is just a metaphor for prison. But O'Grady is owed and his indefatigable companion Shaughnessy is going to help him recover what is due. Shaughnessy is keener on the game than O'Grady, who would rather just leave it be. But Shaughnessy can't abide a lack of justice - that which comes by his own endeavour especially, and he pursues O'Grady and wraps him in a plot to recover money from those who have it. O'Grady is half in love with ease and would rather take a job serving and odd-jobbing in his sister's hotel - a bed and breakfast place, sniffing after Kathleen, the waitress, spending his days visiting his mother in her care home where they sit, she resolutely not speaking, him waiting for something, absolution, perhaps?
This has the feeling of an anti-adventure - slow-moving, gray, puzzling days, the level of intrigue rising almost accidentally. But it is also abrasive and ironic in the intensity of its lack of movement. It becomes more and more like a dreadful dream, bound to end with the sound of approaching sirens.
I know much of what I say above sounds tortuous, and some of it is, but at the same time one keeps reading, you know? It becomes a need and then, much to one's surprise, a pleasure.