So we now get to the
Booker Prize short-listed instalment of the Patrick Melrose novels,
and I find little to set this apart from the earlier books.
It begins by giving a
new born baby the internal monologue of a whining self-possessed
teenager and from there it doesn't get any better. It did manage to
instil a certain level of pity for Mary, the wife of Patrick, and I
guess that achieving an emotional response does perhaps put this
marginally ahead of the others.
The problem is that
Patrick (and indeed most of the rest of the characters) goes through
life with a chip on his shoulder because he feel life somehow owes
him something. This is despite the fact that in his reduced
circumstances he is still comfortably off, indeed would appear to
remain well within the bracket of wealth. The lost of a big house in
the south of France is clearly a disappointment but it is hardly the
equivalent to destitution. Perhaps all ills on Patrick's part are
supposed to be forgiven due to his abuse at the hands of his father,
but that does not explain the behaviour of the rest of them.
I remain puzzled but
the wide range of praise that it attached to these novels.
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