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Books : Fiction : Contemporary Fiction: 1970 Onwards : Authors A-Z : C : Connolly, Joseph
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Joseph Connolly's Summer Things is the ultimate clever English farce. Genteel Chanel-wearing Elizabeth loves nothing better than orchestrating the lives of her friends and neighbours and is given ample opportunity to do so when she goes on holiday to a smart English seaside resort with her man-mad sister Melody and her neighbours, Brian (DIY fanatic and obsessive collector of manhole covers) and clucky, baby- crazy Dotty. Estate-agent-husband Howard has his own private reasons for wanting to stay at home, while seventeen-year-old daughter Katie is off to Chicago on an illicit vacation with an older man.In Summer Things Connolly blends to perfection that sort of smutty, innuendo-driven humour that the British are so good at with sharp social satire, exposing the lies frequently embedded in the very foundations of cosy middle-class married life and laying bare the secret tragedies hiding within the rib-cages of even the most ludicrous of his characters. Within this captivating web of deception, lie some truly unexpected twists. --Anna Davis
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Joseph Connolly's Summer Things is the ultimate clever English farce. Genteel Chanel-wearing Elizabeth loves nothing better than orchestrating the lives of her friends and neighbours and is given ample opportunity to do so when she goes on holiday to a smart English seaside resort with her man-mad sister Melody and her neighbours, Brian (DIY fanatic and obsessive collector of manhole covers) and clucky, baby- crazy Dotty. Estate-agent-husband Howard has his own private reasons for wanting to stay at home, while seventeen-year-old daughter Katie is off to Chicago on an illicit vacation with an older man.In Summer Things Connolly blends to perfection that sort of smutty, innuendo-driven humour that the British are so good at with sharp social satire, exposing the lies frequently embedded in the very foundations of cosy middle-class married life and laying bare the secret tragedies hiding within the rib-cages of even the most ludicrous of his characters. Within this captivating web of deception, lie some truly unexpected twists. --Anna Davis
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S.O.S. serves as a welcome introduction to the fiction of Joseph Connolly, also a noted biographer. As the New York-bound SS Transylvania proceeds serenely across the Atlantic, those on board find themselves thrown from pillar to post, battered physically and emotionally. Only the most pig-headed disembark unscathed. Literate and witty, displaying a common touch while eschewing gratuitous vulgarity, this La Ronde for the 21st century beguiles and surprises, often both at once. A sense of pervading doom grows as the unlikely but inter-related couplings accumulate and multiply. The myriad surprises are revealed deftly. That protagonist David has a problem saying no in the pub is clear from the first line; that his wife Nicole has a problem in the casino is not. David's discovery that Nicole's new close friend Patty is his own older, even closer friend Trish is enhanced by the brevity with which it is described. There is a Joycean tint to the stream-of-consciousness narrative style, with an overlay of Henry Miller's grown-up eroticism and a strong suggestion of Evelyn Waugh's melancholic "orphans of the storm" passage in Brideshead Revisited. Rather more disturbing is the hint of Michael Dobbs as David finds himself in bed with the nubile and keen-to-experiment daughter of his new-found drinking chum Dwight (Oh Daddy, darling; just cherish me, won't you!). The constant shifting of perspective between major and minor players gives a 360 degree picture of life, or what passes for life, on the SS Transylvania. As the ship pitches and rolls, Connolly is sure-footed in capturing the voice of the despairing Englishman, arguably less so in depicting members of alien species, including Americans and all women. As the Transylvania approaches dock, the ending is rushed, even arbitrary, suggesting that it is indeed better to travel hopefully than arrive. The SOS metaphor is perhaps overplayed here, and, it must be said, not entirely accurately. There is little or no evidence that any souls have been saved, but then maybe the definition of "soul" has changed in the new millennium. --Brian Bollen
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The critical fanfare that has greeted Joseph Connolly's books has been sustained and enthusiastic. His brilliant comic flair, exuberant plotting and fluent characterisation has marked out his work as something very unusual in these days of by-the-numbers novels. And The Works is as funny and enjoyable a book as any he has produced.The "works" of the title is an abandoned printing house by the Thames. It is the legacy that falls to Lucas Cage after the death of his father (an event that makes Lucas more than happy--he is not a man for false sentiment). As Lucas begins to reinvigorate the printing house, he gathers around him some special and unusual talents--mostly eccentric--whom he christens "the family". This group is as widely disparate (and wildly entertaining for the reader) as one could imagine. The most significant recruit is Jamie Dear, who abandons a dead marriage and a dead-end career to work with Lucas. Needless to say, all does not go smoothly, and the intermingling of personalities soon has surprising (and sometimes disastrous) results.
As the above might suggest, there is more than a hint of the self-destructive communities in Iris Murdoch's novels here, but the spirit of PG Wodehouse is also hovering around the edges (Connolly wrote a much acclaimed biography of that writer). But, influences aside, The Works is a very individual piece: much more Joseph Connolly than homage to earlier writers. This is a mordant black farce of the first order. --Barry Forshaw
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