Midnight All Day by Hanuf Kureishi

You know, when I was at Uni, I wrote my dissertation on Kureishi. I fell in love with The Buddha of Suburbia', instantly. I found The Black Album a really important piece of writing as well. That was it, I began reading everything of Kureishi's that I could get my hands on. I still think his essay The Rainbow Sign is something for which he should receive far more notice than he has. My Son the Fanatic is probably more topical at this present time than it was when he wrote it. But, I have to admit, I find nowadays that there seems to be something lacking from his current works: I think it's a sense of the joy of life. I often miss that sense of the boundless enthusiasm of life, of youth. Instead, it's been replaced by a coolly detached maturity and an often depressing lack of hope. To illustrate my point, read the short story 'In a Blue Time'. There's lots of other examples to choose from. Don't get me wrong, I still read whatever I can find by Kureishi, but not with the same sense of pleasure, of expectation. Am I alone in this? Does anyone out there feel the same?

Sorry, Ralph, I didn't mean to kill the thread. It wus only me own wery 'umble opinion.

whoa, now we're talking, Ralph! i've just finished Intimacy, which was a master-class of an essay on love. the restless, hungry soul, the soul addicted to high-pleasure physical states as a means of staving off boredom/depression is examined with great agility and detachment. here we actually have a complicated human being under the microscope. now life becomes interesting. now there are things to be said about life. The Buddha of Suburbia was sublime - exactly what a novel should be, full of passion and depth - the kind of thing you race through the first time, and then reread and reread, finding new stuff in it all the time. Kureishi's characters are curious and bold and articulate - always 'on' for life, always hungry for it. The Black Album had a great start, an amazing first 80 pages, but loses direction a bit - Kureishi cannot navigate through the 80's in the same way that he could the 70's. his weakness is that, as someone with a flair and passion for writing about youth, he can't keep his hands off it, and yet his age precludes him from seeing modern youth with the same clarity of vision that he could 70's youth. one of the best writers this country's got without a doubt though.

his film-related work is also superb. Intimacy (the film) was unbelievable - relentlessly demanding, super-intense, and an acute depiction of the speed and force of London life. best depiction of London i've seen in fact. in Intimacy's London, people go into wine bars and can't hear a word the other person's saying due to the volume the music's being played at, as opposed to how it's portrayed in cosy sit-coms where people whisper intimately at each other for hours. the film captures the 'frazzledness' of London-dwellers, and how alone they all are. his best film for me though was My Son the Fanatic - not stocked in your Blockbusters, of course, though i see Nutty Professor 3 is available in ample copies. hopefully they'll show it on the television again. anyway, will buy Midnight All Day as soon as i've finished the short story of his i'm reading at the moment - Strangers when we Meet - the title of which is also the title of a great, great, great David Bowie song.

Chant Why did I know of all people that you would like this writer? I am glad that you do of course and just add to my building respect of you. 'Strangers When We Meet' actually opens 'Midnight All Day and is as you know cloyingly honest. ‘Intimacy’ touched the cold nerves in me. Brilliantly nauseating. A great writer and an excellent point made about 'The Black Album'. Kureishi is indeed a generation out of step in this book, but may have worked in his favour on this occasion, especially in the depiction of the female teacher. 'Panic in Detroit’ is my fave Bowie song by the way. Ralph

cool, Ralph. i'm feeling really sad now. we're the only two people in the Kureishi 'lounge'. last time i went downstairs, my housemates were watching Stars in their Eyes. usually, the TV's permanently set to channel 5, but they've made an exception tonight. i'm glad you like Hanif Kurieishi too.

sorry to intrude upon this private moment. I just wondered if we might hear the sound of abc wedding belles from this curious sect who appear to only have stars in their eyes for one another. I'm Glad, * You like Hanna (if bi-kurious) is she?* xxx

oh, Colin. you can come and hold hands with us in the Kureishi lounge if you want to.

I've never tried him, but just as Justyn's recommendation set me onto Tom Wolfe I'm prepared to give him a go. I think what put me off was Buddha of Suburbia on television, which although I didn't watch it just looked very dull and a bit (god my memory is awful today - like that woman who always writes about villages and vicarages, Joanna something) - but with blokes and cities.

Got to say, if the rest of his work is anything like the first story in the collection, I'm hooked. Fifty pages just gulped down. Don't agree with Ralph's description as 'cloyingly honest' - I don't think I could ever use cloying as a positive word, but it is certainly honest and a style that was impressively both close-up and distant at the same time, a technique I've seen Calvino and Murakami use, but not many British writers. Bloody great, looking forward to my next lunch hour now, so I can read some more. I'm reading Carter Beats the Devil at home, in between you lot.

Glad you like him Andrew. Ralph

Right, finished now. At the risk of starting another lit-crit debacle, I did have some views. Firstly, let me say that the book was clearly written by someone very much on their game and by someone with real craft and skill, probably one of the most technically accomplished works I've read, by an author who nails character down absolutely and with sparse precision. Four Blue Chairs was close to being the story I've enjoyed most since Ray Carver's "Fat". I've been in that position of carrying something stupid and awkward and felt like losing control and watching my wife think steadily less of me. Such a simple premise, but one carried through with gusto, style and charm. Having said that, I came away feeling that the writer had a world view that was more than a little bleak. Let me explain - in the whole book the one sentence of unrestrained humanity was this :- 'Then he said "I talk to you when you're not here. I talk to you through the floor." "And I hear you, " said Alan. ' Elsewhere, all human relationships seemed to be based on this idea, that all someone else is to you is your expectations of them, what they offer you and what you expect, and that even then, invariably you are let down and what was once tender turns to inability to relate or intense cruelty. Now, I deal with a lot of people intent on ripping each other to pieces emotionally, and that's true of their relationship with each other for a time, but I've not experienced another human quite so jaded and inward. The other thing that I felt come through the book and perhaps brought most sharply into focus in the story between the professional and amateur writer (containing the wonderful moment of 'she looked at me, but through me, reducing me to paragraphs and sentences she would later use'), was that where Carver and Steinbeck inspire me and imply about writing 'yes, this is hard, and you'll probably never get there, but you have to try, there's a nobility and human worth in the effort', I found Kureishi to be excluding me, almost saying 'this is a club, and you belong outside it. Writing is like the Met Bar and there are people who go in and get comfortable and photographed and people outside who gawp. Gawp all you like, you'll never be a writer'. I've never had a feeling that strong from a writer before - I read Steinbeck and Murakami and think 'I could never do that, but I have to keep at it, just in case' - I'm inspired to write. I read this book and felt like never writing again. (A passing feeling, I have to announce, at the risk of disappointing many). I would certainly read more Kureishi, there was a brisk energy about the way he set words to work that as a reader you have to admire and as a writer you nearly have to applaud, and I have a feeling that this was not the most representative of his work, but I did want to toss my feelings into the ring for debate from the fanclub.

interesting thoughts, Andrew. haven't read Midnight All Day, but have read most of the other stuff, including Intimacy and Other Stories, which includes some 'Shorts' (but no 'pants'!) also present in M.A.D. (hm, this hasn't started well!) i like jaded, complicated inwardness. in fact, that's practically what i'm looking for, when i select books to read. and, in those kind of books, the little human gestures, and the way they're phrased, become all the more powerful when they break into the text. "Elsewhere, all human relationships seemed to be based on this idea, that all someone else is to you is your expectations of them, what they offer you and what you expect, and that even then, invariably you are let down and what was once tender turns to inability to relate or intense cruelty." inability to relate is certainly a very strong theme in all his work. and when love is the only thing that matters in life, when it is the only thing that stops you throwing yourself under a train, as it is in Kureishi's recent stuff, then, naturally relationship expectations ARE going to be very high, and the backlash that arises from failure correspondingly intense. "I found Kureishi to be excluding me, almost saying 'this is a club, and you belong outside it." odd. i guess i never consider myself an aspirational writer when i'm reading. i'm never subconsciously marking up a pro's work thinking 'can i do this?'

Perhaps because he seemed to be a writers writer - there is one piece in particular about an aspirational writer being badly crushed by a professional writer- the aspirational writer is one admired by other aspirational writers - the whole sympathy of the piece seemed to me to be with the professional and condemning the aspirational for trying without the gift. Novels I don't read with a writer's eye, but I always have a bit of a look when it is short stories.

Andrew Good discussion as usual The story about the two writers is called 'Sucking Stones' and is a very reactionary tale. The cunning professional writer has it all while the amateur has only aspirations and a nagging mother. It’s a cruel story that made me take a sharp intake of breath several times. I was left with the notion that if we are compelled to write we will under any circumstances. 'Four Blue Chairs' was perfect and heartbreaking it made me cry and go for a long walk it had such an effect on me. We are all so fragile. 'A Meeting, at Last' is again very moving and at times frightening with a neat twist. The final line, 'Driving away, he watched Eric in the mirror getting smaller and smaller.' is fantastic in the context of the story. There is very little joy in his writing only near truths. I hated 'Intimacy' with conviction because I hated the bereft lives that the characters led. He is a great writer because he can really make the reader see and feel. Ralph