Mark Haddon - A Spot Of Bother

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A Spot Of Bother: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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As he demonstrated in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, a canine murder mystery from the point of view of an autistic boy, former children's book author and illustrator Mark Haddon has a gift for reaching inside the inner world of characters whose minds should prove difficult to penetrate.
A Spot of Bother is Haddon's second novel aimed at adults, and again he writes his characters with great affection despite the fact that they're deeply flawed. Or, in the case of Bother's protagonist, George Hall, deeply insane.
The Halls are a family of people preoccupied with their own problems, largely centred around preparations for a backyard wedding. His daughter, Katie, is marrying a man no one, including Katie, thinks is good enough for her. Wife Jean is having an affair with one of George's former colleagues and struggling to plan the on-again, off-again wedding of her stubborn daughter. Son Jamie's reluctance to invite his boyfriend to Katie's wedding destroys that seemingly stable relationship.
Poor George finds his family falling apart and lacks the emotional tools to deal with the chaos head on. "Talking was, in George's opinion, overrated… The secret of contentment, George felt, lay in ignoring many things completely."
Newly retired George's own issues are an extreme example of the fretting the rest of his family – in fact, the rest of the world – exhibits. When he discovers a lesion on his hip, he leaps to the conclusion of cancer, and contemplates suicide. He gets caught up in the details of the how, discarding each method, including getting blind drunk and crashing the car – because what if he encountered another car?
"What if he killed them, paralyzed himself, and died of cancer in a wheelchair in prison?" George wonders.
The whimsical humour of the escalating hyperbole reveals a man who ponders the worst case scenario to an amusingly absurd degree. As the novel progresses, however, it becomes clear that this is no momentary flight of imagination or coping mechanism. George's insanity often escalates his worries beyond the point of reason.
The novel follows George's almost-logical reasoning. The spot could be more than eczema. The doctor didn't express himself with perfect certainty. He'd misdiagnosed Katie once. But George takes it several steps beyond reason.
Haddon doesn't inflict George with the cute insanity some fiction falls into, but the true-to-life confusion of being and dealing with someone who can seem no more odd than the average person on occasion, then lapses into genuine, over-the-top insanity.
A Spot of Bother is an often sweet, often heartbreaking story of a family falling apart and coming together. It's a deceptively funny, easy read with genuine poignancy. These compelling characters fumble their way through mental illness in the family the same way they fumble through their romantic relationships – sincerely, humorously, and ineptly.

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“Is this, like, an estate agent’s dream pad? Steel balcony? Island kitchen with granite work surface? Arne Jacobsen chairs?”

“Victorian terrace with a white sofa and a Habitat coffee table,” said Jamie. “And how do you know about Arne Jacobsen chairs?”

“I’ve been in some very nice houses in my time, thank you very much.”

“Business or pleasure?” asked Jamie.

“A little bit of both.”

“So, was that a yes, or are you keeping me in suspense?”

“Let’s catch a tube,” said Mike.

They watched their reflections in the black glass opposite as the carriage rumbled through Tufnell Park and Archway, their legs touching and the electricity flowing back and forth, other passengers getting on and off oblivious, Jamie aching to be held, yet wanting the journey to last for hours in case what came later didn’t match up to what he was picturing in his head.

Two Mormons got onto the train and sat in the two seats facing them. Black suits. Sensible haircuts. The little plastic name badges.

Mike leant close to Jamie’s ear and said, “I want to fuck your mouth.”

They were still laughing when they stumbled through the front door of the flat.

Mike pushed Jamie against the wall and kissed him. Jamie could feel Mike’s cock hard inside his jeans. He slid his hands inside Mike’s T-shirt and saw, through the living-room door, a tiny red light blinking.

“Hang on.”

“What?”

“Answerphone.”

Mike laughed. “Thirty seconds. Then I’m coming to get you.”

“There’s some beer in the fridge,” said Jamie. “Vodka and other stuff’s in the cupboard by the window.”

Mike detached himself. “Fancy a spliff?”

“Sure.”

Jamie went into the living room and pressed the button.

“Jamie. Hi. It’s Katie.” She was drunk. Or did she just sound drunk because Jamie was drunk? “Shit. You’re not in, are you. Shit.”

She wasn’t drunk. She was crying. Bloody hell.

“Anyway…today’s exciting news is that the wedding’s off. Because Ray doesn’t think we should get married.”

Was this good or bad? It was like seeing the adjacent train start to move. It made him feel a little wobbly.

“Oh, and we went home for the weekend and Dad’s in bed because he’s having a nervous breakdown. I mean a real one, like, with panic attacks and nightmares about dying and everything. And Mum’s thinking of leaving him for that bloke from the office.”

Jamie’s first thought was that Katie herself was having some kind of breakdown.

“So, I thought I’d better ring you because the way things have been going over the last few days you’ve probably been involved in some truly hideous road accident and the reason you’re not answering your phone is because you’re in hospital, or dead, or you’ve left the country or something…Give me a ring, OK?”

Beep.

Jamie sat for a moment, letting it sink in, or drift away, or whatever it was going to do. Then he stood up and made his way to the kitchen.

Mike was lighting a joint from the gas stove. He stood up, took a drag and held the smoke down with the obligatory startled expression. He looked a bit like Jamie felt.

Mike breathed out. “Want some?”

There was going to be some ghastly scene, wasn’t there. You drag someone halfway up the Northern Line for sex which doesn’t happen and suddenly you’ve got a disappointed and muscular stranger in the house who no longer has any reasons to be nice to you.

He wondered if Mike had ever stolen a car.

“What’s up?” asked Mike.

“Family trouble.”

“Big?”

“Yup,” said Jamie.

“Death?” Mike took a saucer off the draining board and laid the joint on the rim.

“No.” Jamie sat down. “Not unless my sister kills her fiancé. Or my father kills himself. Or my father kills my mother’s lover.”

Mike leaned down and took hold of Jamie’s arm. Jamie was right. They were surprisingly strong hands.

Mike eased Jamie to his feet. “In my professional opinion…you need something to take your mind off things.” Mike pulled him close. His cock was still hard.

For a brief second Jamie imagined Katie’s drunken prophecy coming true. An unseemly struggle. Jamie slipping and cracking his skull on the corner of the kitchen table.

He pulled away. “Hang on. This is not a good time.”

Mike put a hand around the back of Jamie’s neck. “Trust me. It’ll be good for you.”

Jamie pushed back against Mike’s hand but it didn’t give.

Then Mike’s eyes did the soft thing. “What are you going to do if I go away? Sit here and worry? It’s too late to ring anyone. Come on. A couple of minutes and you won’t be thinking about anything outside this room. I guarantee it.”

And again it was like the parachute jump. But even more so. The fog of alcohol cleared briefly and it occurred to Jamie that this was why Tony had left. Because Jamie always wanted to be in control. Because he was frightened of anything different or improper. And as the fog closed over again it seemed to Jamie that he had to have sex with this man to prove to Tony that he could change.

He let Mike pull him close.

They kissed again.

He put his hands around Mike’s back.

It was good to be held.

He could feel something thawing and cracking, something which had imprisoned him for far too long. Mike was right. He could let go, leave other people to sort out their own problems. For once in his life he could live in the moment.

Mike slid his hand down to Jamie’s crotch and Jamie felt his cock stiffen. Mike popped open the button and pushed down the top of his boxer shorts and wrapped Jamie’s cock in his hand.

“Feeling better?” asked Mike.

“Uh-huh.”

With his free hand, Mike offered Jamie the joint. They took a drag each and Mike put it back down on the saucer.

“Suck me,” said Mike.

And it was at this point that Mike’s eyes did something entirely different. He let go of Jamie’s cock and seemed to be staring at an object several miles behind Jamie’s head.

“Shit,” said Mike.

“What?” asked Jamie.

“My eyes.”

“What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“I can’t…” Mike shook his head. He was starting to sweat, little beads of perspiration standing out on his forehead, on his arms. “Shit. I can’t see anything properly.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t see anything properly.” Mike staggered sideways and slumped onto a chair.

Katie was right. It was just going to happen a different way. It was Mike who was going to have the seizure. An ambulance would come. He wouldn’t have a clue about Mike’s name or address…

Christ. The joint. Was it OK to bury a joint in the garden while someone was having a seizure? What if Mike choked on his tongue while Jamie was outside?

Mike doubled over. “I’ve gone blind. Jesus. My stomach.”

His stomach ?

“Those bloody prawns.”

“What?” asked Jamie, who was beginning to wonder, for the second time that evening, whether Mike had some kind of mental problem.

“It’s OK,” said Mike. “It’s happened before.”

“What has?”

“Get me a bowl.”

Jamie’s brain was so full he took a couple of seconds working out what kind of bowl Mike meant. By the time he’d worked it out, Mike had vomited onto the floor in front of his chair.

“Oh crap,” said Mike.

Jamie saw himself, standing in his own kitchen looking down at a big omelet of sick with his penis sticking over the waistband of his boxer shorts, and he suddenly felt very bad for having left the café before Ryan arrived, even if Ryan had a horrible rucksack and thinning hair, and he knew that this was his punishment. And being uptight and controlling was bad, obviously it was bad, but it was also good, too, because if he’d been a little more uptight and controlling this wouldn’t have happened.

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