The History Man [Paperback]

A quarter of a century may have passed but Bradbury's work is still a brilliant - if now criminally neglected - portrait of the academic world. Set in a thinly disguised version of the University of East Anglia in Norwich in 1972 the novel depicts the life and activities of the popular but ultimately monstrous Sociology lecturer and Marxist poseur Howard Kirk. At times hilarious in its portrayal of the Kirks' thoroughly modern marriage and in detailing the appallingly tedious minutiae of office meetings the novel is at its most compelling in its portrayal of Kirk's ruthless thwarting of unfortunate and unfashionable Tory boy George Carmody 'the only student in the university with a trouser press' as Kirk cynically pigeonholes him. Although perhaps dated in its depiction of an academic world where talk of "reactionaries" and espousal of Marxism was far more commonplace than it is today, the novel nevertheless remains a powerful lesson as to the dangers of allowing one philosophy to overwhelmingly dominate in any environment (lecturer and student alike crudely dismiss all views not to their liking as "reactionary" or "fascist") and also of the dangers of the potential for abuse of power by individuals in everyday life. An enjoyable academic classic to rank alongside the best of Kingsley Amis or David Lodge.

Bradburys work was undoubtedly more relevant when it was written, and it must have been a daring attack on the radical side of student life when it came out. While now somewhat dated - some of the references have been obscured by time - this novel still possesses the power to attract and compel the reader.

The History Man is about Howard Kirk - a sociology lecturer at a modern university. The book mainly concentrates on Kirks life and relationships over a single term, but with many references to his past - especially his relationship to his wife. Kirk is a radical sociologist, daring everyone else to be radical, confronting their conformity and lecturing all he meets about challenging their social norms. As the book goes on, he is revealed as a twisted individual who believe his rhetoric only as it applies to others. He manipulates his way through the book, using every tool at his disposal (inclduing sex and politics) to ensure his position remains secure. And in that we see the main irony of the book - the so-called radical rebel desires nothing more than to remain comfortable in the social niche he has created for himself.

Bradburys style is an uncompromising one, with long paragraphs of text that do not help the comprehension of the novel. However, it is very readable and Kirks manipulations draw you through the book. It has the potential to be a very dry topic - but Bradbury's wry and ironic wit pervades the book making it a pleasant read.

As a former Sociology student in the 80's, Thatcher was Beelzebub, the revolution was waiting on the corner, the masses needed to be told to stop buying the Sun, then redeem their false consciousness at the Marxist newspaper stall and join the in crowd.

Meanwhile ensconsed in our nice cosy lectures, our thoughts and beliefs all irredemable we were battered to death with "Marxist" logic so we were on topic. Marx had written everything there was to know. We just needed to imbibe the new Bible. We also needed to stop pretending we could do music because the Beatles had existed and done everything possible. It was a safe sterile post hippy ersatz prole world.

My issue was not with Marx where initial sympathies lay, but we were crushed to death in alienated learning. Suppression of any form of discussion equated with the postcursor of Stalin's ghost. Discuss.

I wanted to read a novel unmasking these intellectual poseurs, a Samurai sword ripping at the gizzards so I could stomp on the entrails.

Instead I felt a little sympathy for the anti hero Kirk. The novel weaves its way with the drunken gait of Evelyn Waugh's Handful of Dust. The author waxes nostalgia over the golden days of Edwardia where gents clinked glasses, bestrode the lawns reciting Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron and Shelley (the previous revolutionaries and drug users)whilst clutching their Teddies. After having a game of polo and croquet they delivered their own hackneyed verse (John Betjeman).

The febrile ponderings gave us the Bloomsbury Set. As devoid of meaning as the sterile debates of Poulantzas versus Miliband about base and superstructure in the coming revolutionary age. Perhaps Poulantzas should have concentrated on carnality, will to power and lineage as Milliband did?

Howard Kirk is a shy silent grammar school boy who makes it to university through graft. He creates a sterile marriage with another grafter, then gains some lucky breaks. Transforming himself from a frigid northern virgin to Marxist prole hoary old man, hands firmly clinging to his students buttocks whilst entering them from the front. He enacts "wild" parties in his abandoned but lived-in pine stripped building. He transforms dereliction into Habitat state of the art.

Inviting all the freaks, conservatives and students, those who were on the bus, to party and revel in his Dionysian debauchery. It's all very safe in retrospect. This sent seismic shockwaves through society in the 70's with its sex, drugs, rock and roll in universities. I watched it on TV in the 70's and it looked great. The hippy dippy clothes needed to be shed but this is where the action was or so the advert beamed. Academic bullying was not a shock, I was already at school so I thought it was de rigeur.

Kirk supervises a student in his hands on way as the music pounds to the beat of his loins. Meanwhile guests drunk on power, drift into Cannabinoir worlds. Shocking in the 70's but as a veteran of these "happenings" its not very Dionysian at all, just people playing roles.

Kirk asks people to live out their desires, allowing him full entry. His marriage is bound in binary deceit, a tact appearing to work, as all around collapses into sterility and self harm.

Kirk ascend the academic ladder arguing for revolution. It does still happen. Big butch femmes use the same methods, but it is only a will to power as they believe Marxism is dead, feminism is the new creed for the academic bully. If Marxism becomes raised again this will become a new academic bandwagon with all the woodworm appearing to jump aboard.

Safely ensconsed in their make believe worlds, the drawbridge is raised and boiling tar showered onto all comers whilst waving a red flag of camaraderie. A cloak of deceit and adoption of current crazes leads to the only critique of the philosophy; the main thing wrong with socialism are the academic adherents.

Bradbury's writing is heavy and dense. A great deal of repetitive description missed by the editorial committee, eulogies of peacocks, the architect's name repeated ad nauseum. Condensed it would make a novelette as very little happens in terms of plot, a party unfolds, he has sex, he fails and bullies a student, he wants a fight with his department head, they invite a geneticist. Then it begins to shake and vibrate until we reach the end.

Bradbury has created a shaggy dog story pointing a sickly finger at academia whilst he should have been waving a shotgun. This is limp.

Bullying pervades acadamies wholesale. Those who believe they have a truth monopoly regularly crush those deemed superior and inferior to vent their childhood revenge. Marxism has no monopoly on bullying. Try business studies, Geography or Maths.

As a creed it does attract those who pretend they want freedom and then stomp on their adherents. A particularly nasty form of con.

The opposite of Kirk and Barabra, Kirk and Myra are conservative emotional wrecks. Existing without the fun the Kirks have. The book is not a one sided diatribe as the propagandists of the right extol. A sneaking admiration for the Kirk's is written throughout until the end when the window shatters.

Kirk has no creed other than himself. In this academic world it is all about using a vehicle for power. The standards of decency also hides the power drive. Interwined within however is the need to connect and these criss cross the political divisions. This is the true tension within the book, the solitary cold figure versus the warmth of connection.

This why he becomes a lonely depart mental professor whilst others still crunch stats. It is all about individual ascendancy, the climb on the shoulders of comrades.