Kerry Hudson (2012) Tony Hogan Bought me an Ice Cream Float before he Stole my Ma.
Posted by celticman on Thu, 24 Jul 2014
It’s a catchy title that titillates. You know when you open the pages it won’t be like wading through text book squiggles of grey snails lining up to teach you something meaningful about the author’s life that you don’t want to know. It won’t try and regress you or teach you that God is on your side if you can just [well, fill in your own bit here].
To begin with Hudson’s book disappointed me. It has been described as autobiographical. Here, the narrator Janie, describes her birth: ‘“Get out, you cunting, shitting, little fucking fucker!” were he first words I heard.’ Janie’s Ma is prone to these sudden attacks of verbosity. Janie develops a similar foul mouth, ‘filthy temper’ and stubborn streak associated with the Ryan woman. Her little sister Tiny has a different Da, one that filled the familiar pattern of fucking, fucking it up and fucking off. Janie’s Da was an older married man in London. Sometimes Janie’s Ma made the decision to move on -- they, for example, went looking for Janie’s Da, described as an American -- and sometimes the decision was made for her. Tony Hogan pulled her earrings out of her ear with a yank, but he wasn’t an American. He was a low-level gangster and drug dealer her Ma had hooked up with. He took care of Ma so well she was hospitalised and Janie taken into care. Ma survives on Crisis Loans from the DHSS, Giro payments and Housing Association homes that fleas wouldn’t live in. Worse though was the slum landlords that rented out Bed and Breakfast, locked them out during the day and asked for extra in cash. Mrs Sheathes had a number of houses in Canterbury, such a pretty city, but it could have been anywhere, Aberdeen, even fucking Airdrie which was supposed to be Glasgow or Great Yarmouth, that wasn't so great. By this time Janie is pregnant, being viciously bullied at school and is threatening to follow directly into her mother’s footsteps of anywhere but here.
‘I stood up and she did too. I was an inch, maybe two, taller than her, even barefoot, but she got right into my face, pushing my head forward into the space between us so she was shouting into my mouth: “Do you know what I've done for you two? What I’ve been through? You’ve no idea! I sacrificed my whole life so you an’ Tiny could have a good start. So don’t call me a bad ma”’.
The reader does know what sacrifices Ma has made. The problem of the omniscient baby narrator grows long enough legs to support the narrative. And you’ve got to love Ma and Janie, Tiny and Findus Crispy Pancakes. Remember them?
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Comments
CM, it all sounds real and
CM, it all sounds real and readable. Trouble is there are so many autobiographies where the family is bumping along at the bottom. I want them to win a magic spaceship in a prize draw and fly though the air. World of dreams ...
with your 'Scottish'
with your 'Scottish' background elsie, you'll eat it up. Highly entertaining and some great writing. The real problem is those were the good old days when there were things like Crisis Loans (and not Food Banks) and the housing crisis is multiplied by 100.
Now I know which one you mean
Now I know which one you mean. Loved this. The opening line's nothing short of offensive and I hated Tony and mother with a passion at times, but it definitely stays with you. Particularly liked the way she draws personalities - Tony seems like a bloke I've known.
Tony is a bloke everybody
Tony is a bloke everybody knows (unfortunately).