Lost in a Good Book
Review in P45.net
By Damien DeBarra, September, 2002
For a link to P45.net click HERE
The birth of a cult?

With the tragic loss of Douglas Adams, many have despaired of ever being so simultaneously amused, educated and enthralled, writes Damien DeBarra. But now there's a new contender for the throne: Jasper Fforde.

"I was in love once... I was quite besotted, in my own sort of way. We used to plan heinous deeds together, and for our first anniversary we set fire to a large public building. We then sat on a nearby hill together to watch the fire light up the sky, the screams of the terrified citizens a symphony to our ears" - Acheron Hades, from 'Lost In A Good Book'

Trying to write a review of Jasper Fforde's new novel 'Lost In A Good Book' is an utter nightmare. In fact, I cannot think of a harder book to review. This is not because the book in question has an unpleasant subject matter, or because the dialogue is stilted or because the characters are two-dimensional. No. Nothing like that at all. In fact I am, in general, in love with this book.

The essential problem it that its plot is stupefyingly impossible to describe. Where to start? Well...

OK, I think I have it. 'Lost In A Good Book' (deep breath) concerns the ongoing adventures of the SpecOps detective Thursday Next (no, that's her name) who, fresh from planet-saving adventures in the previous Fforde novel 'The Eyre Affair' (referring to Jane Eyre), has now become a bit of a celebrity. What with her jumping in and out of great novels (no, I mean actually jumping into them), foiling the machinations of the nefarious uber-villain Acheron Hades, falling in love, looking after her pet dodo Pickwick (uh huh), oh, and rewriting the ending of 'Jane Eyre'. Wait, it gets better.

In her latest adventure, Next inadvertently ticks off somebody at the super-nasty Goliath corporation ("For all you'll ever need"), who then cheerfully erases her husband from history. With me so far? Good.

Next must now set off to re-integrate her now non-existent husband back into the fabric of the universe, outwit the nasties at Goliath, travel through time with her dimensional-hopping father, liaise with Miss Havisham (she of 'Great Expectations' fame), converse with the Cheshire Cat (yes, that one) and, of course save the planet from an unforeseen catastrophe which will end with all matter on planet Earth being transmogrified into a hideous pink goop. Naturally.
To continue, scroll on down...

Throw in a sub-plot involving a lost and now found Shakespeare play (the legendary 'Cardenio'), shifty Whig politicians, warring literary figures, woolly mammoth migrations, Neanderthal art (as in they painted it and hung it in a gallery) and you have the makings of one seriously fun read. Confused yet?

You bloody well should be.

As you may have guessed by now, the universe which Thursday Next inhabits is not quite right. Well, not by comparison to ours that is. It's a universe where woolly mammoths, dodos and even Neanderthals have been re-engineered. A world where the Crimean War never quite ended. A world where time travel is quite possible, and where there are portals into great novels, accessed simply by knowing how to read them properly. A world that is disquietingly close to George Orwell on acid.

I am getting a headache trying to summarise a plot that quite frankly defies any attempt to do so. Simply get your paws on a copy as soon as possible and read it. This book is a lot of fun. Not simply because of the multi-layered and self-referential plot strands (which are a hoot), but because Fforde is a great writer. The dialogue is witty, the gags are well paced and polished. His observations are cutting without being eccentric, and ironic without being sarcastic. The characterisation is a joy. The sheer eccentricity and manic, haphazard twisting and turning of the ever expanding plot is just plain wonderful.

In addition Fforde uses his other-dimensional world to make shrewd observations about our rather more prosaic world - much in the same way that Terry Prattchet has been using his Discworld to poke fun at the idiocy of the real planet Earth for many years. Most notable is the depiction of the ubiquitous Goliath corporation. It's Microsoft, Intel, General Electric, the CIA and Tesco rolled into one, effectively controlling everything that a citizen does, from the food consumed to the TV watched. This world, like ours, is one where people are not citizens, but merely consumers.

In one particularly funny scene, Next is interviewed for a highly rated TV show. The entire interview is overseen by an array of shifty, slimy company spin-doctors who interrupt at every available opportunity, censor her, rule things undiscussable and render the whole situation a medieval farce. Eventually she is left with nothing to discuss other than the finer points of how she likes her toast done. The odious mannerisms and farcical language of the Marketing types that Next has to deal with are expertly observed, and it's her complete refusal to play ball and be a "company man" that makes her so appealing. We can only assume that Jasper Fforde's previous career in the film industry dealing with the Louis Walshs and Don Simpsons of this world gave him plenty of experience in this type of thing.

To the ranks of the other great cult meta-fictional writers such as Flann O'Brien, Douglas Adams and Robert Rankin we should welcome Jasper Fforde...

© Damien DeBarra 2002