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A review by gorecki
Never Mind by Edward St Aubyn
4.0
As usual, being true to myself, I’m joining the St. Aubyn fan train after everyone else has already boarded it, read the books, reviewed them, shared them and probably also watched the series. After all, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t read my books years after their hype has gradually petered out.
On this occasion, though, I can understand the hype. I’ve only read Never Mind so far, the first book in the Patrick Melrose series, but I already see that St. Aubyn is master of saying a lot with just a few words. While the events in this first book all happen within a single day, the feeling you get after finishing it is that of a lifetime of built-up abuse, both emotional and physical, internalised trauma, snobbery, substance abuse and privilege. And yet, it doesn’t do it in the aggressively tear-jerking way so many other novels use, trying to push it all in your face and bully you into a state of misery and feeling sorry for the characters by dragging them through fifteen types of dirt. Probably that’s where this novel succeeded in winning me - its contained way of showing everything horrible within a shockingly dysfunctional family by using matter-of-fact, detached, and elegant writing lacking of self-pity.
Another part I really enjoyed was the switch of view point in the writing and how often characters “passed” the storyline to each other - Yvette walking towards the house notices David in the doorway and passes the story over to him until he notices Patrick running in the garden and hands it over to him, in this way both making the story feel like a live thread connecting all of them, but also emphasising how no matter what, they’re all connected by the invisible lines which will always keep them tied down to each other, dragging them all down.
On this occasion, though, I can understand the hype. I’ve only read Never Mind so far, the first book in the Patrick Melrose series, but I already see that St. Aubyn is master of saying a lot with just a few words. While the events in this first book all happen within a single day, the feeling you get after finishing it is that of a lifetime of built-up abuse, both emotional and physical, internalised trauma, snobbery, substance abuse and privilege. And yet, it doesn’t do it in the aggressively tear-jerking way so many other novels use, trying to push it all in your face and bully you into a state of misery and feeling sorry for the characters by dragging them through fifteen types of dirt. Probably that’s where this novel succeeded in winning me - its contained way of showing everything horrible within a shockingly dysfunctional family by using matter-of-fact, detached, and elegant writing lacking of self-pity.
Another part I really enjoyed was the switch of view point in the writing and how often characters “passed” the storyline to each other - Yvette walking towards the house notices David in the doorway and passes the story over to him until he notices Patrick running in the garden and hands it over to him, in this way both making the story feel like a live thread connecting all of them, but also emphasising how no matter what, they’re all connected by the invisible lines which will always keep them tied down to each other, dragging them all down.