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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
A Real Struggle...., 18 Sep 2009
Customer review from the Amazon Vine™ Programme (What's this?)
In the promotional material for this novel it is likened to `The Secret History', which is why I ordered it; sadly it is something of a pale comparison.
Partly due to O' Brien's background as a poet, I was expecting beautiful imagery and flowing prose and was willing to forgive poor plotting and poor characterisation. Instead, the book lacks any kind of focus and at times slips into a very irritating `reviewing' style which is really jarring; an example is when the characters go and see `The Wickerman' (one of the details horn-shoed in so that we remember this is the 1970s.) The narrator tells us; `Although The Wicker Man has somehow ascended to the status of a neglected classic in recent years, in my view (apparently that of a minority) it remains what it always was, a piece of half-arsed crap full of unintended humour and bungled eroticism.' This isn't the only time we have to endure pompous rants which fail to move the plot along or offer any enlightenment about the motivations of the characters. The storyline, too, is predictable and has been written with much more skill by others.
One to miss.
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
Intractable and unfulfilling, 5 Aug 2009
Customer review from the Amazon Vine™ Programme (What's this?)
The stifling heat of the English summer of 1976 is a sympathetic backdrop for the melting pot of four newly-graduated friends who move together to a Shropshire village to decide on their futures. Martin, providing the commentary for the novel's events, is a self-doubting poet wannabe, having chosen to study the writings of fictional priest Thomas Exton, with whose anxieties and self-denial he identifies strongly. Caught up in an escalating feud between talented and inspired Jane and the driven but constantly sinning Alex, Martin frets over his own temptations and vulnerabilities while trying to maintain harmony within the ill-fitting group.
In Afterlife O'Brien betrays his poetic background all too often, wandering off into confused introspection for long tracts, and while this may be a literary device to highlight Martin's indecisive, drug-soaked thinking, it makes for agonising reading.
O'Brien's characterisations are a problem. The book's protagonists lack any real solidity and their relationships are jagged and inconsistent. Sometimes believable, sometimes improbable, their interactions are difficult to fathom and are often swamped by impenetrable, profane, arty debate. Even with the death of Jane, for whom Martin harbours a secret devotion, a true sense of devastation is absent, and she is not keenly missed by the reader either. However, the gradual fragmentation of the group as dangerous new characters are introduced as catalysts for the tragic outcome is at least interesting to observe. This, along with the claustrophobic village-setting that feels ever-more suffocating and volatile does something to assuage fears that the whole story is going nowhere.
It is difficult to get away from the feeling that Afterlife tries to be too clever for its own good. It attempts to be an intellectual, art house piece written from the point of view of a frustrated poet mired in academic and personal indecision. The effect of this, though, is to alienate the reader from what comes across as a pretentious exposition of academic over-confidence. There are brief sparks of clarity, but the lack of any definite structure or drama tends to make Afterlife an unsatisfying read.
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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Sex, Drugs and Tortured Souls, 24 Aug 2009
Customer review from the Amazon Vine™ Programme (What's this?)
We've all come across them at some point or another in our lives. That clique who think they're wasted on the rest of us mere mortals, who provide themselves with an excuse not to do anything useful with their existence because they're there to 'create', and who invariably end up destroying themselves with excess, lies and deception.
My experience of this was a certain group of graduate drama students who used to hang around my university like a bad smell, bumming smokes and drinks off the freshers in exchange for being allowed to bask in their formidable aura for an hour or two. Nobody knew why they were still there, what purpose they served, or how they existed without any means of gainful employment. And a lot of us just thought they were a gang of twits to be frank.
I was put painfully to mind of them whilst reading Sean O'Brien's book. His wasters are poets and artists rather than actors and playwrights, but the same hallmarks are all there. These characters are self involved, self loathing at the same time as being self promoting, and shameless about any and all of their exploits. 'Afterlife' is also shot through with the paranoia and fractured reality that result from some of the excess, namely acid, liberally consumed by the characters. O'Brien uses this to really good effect, and instead of excusing or playing down any of the behaviour, it just amplifies the sheer rotten waste of life that the four main characters especially have become.
Unfortunately as the book moves on this method begins to take it's toll on some of the plot and it is used as a bit of a tool to get out of telling the reader the whole story, or to even lead us to any fully formed conclusion. This sort of smacks a bit of laziness on behalf of O'Brien, but on the whole you can't really fault his style or his choice of words in key moments. He has some really wonderful one liners that hit the nail on the head and turns of phrase that are suitably pithy for these types of cads and layabouts.
I'm knocking off a star because the last couple of chapters are needless and dragging, and the story would have been better served to have ended it at the climax of the seventies rather than tagging on a 'present day' resolution, which also includes a rather unlikely continuation of the plot.
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