Man and Boy by Tony Parson
Harry Silver is a successful television producer about to turn 30. He is happily
married, has a four-year-old son and drives a convertible sports car. Then he
spends the night with a colleague from work and his life falls apart; his wife leaves
him and emigrates to Japan, he loses his job and he has to cope with being a single
parent. He also has to deal with the trauma of his father dying from cancer. While
coping with these stresses in his life, he meets another woman at a coffee shop, a
woman whom he has already met with her child, then they part. Harry finds a new
job and eventually moves on with his life. This is the final instalment of the trilogy
that began with the squillion-selling Man and Boy and continued with the merely
hugely bestselling Man and Wife. Ten
years after he first appeared, with his
doomed first marriage and his fierce love for his son Pat, Harry Silver, Parsons's
Everybloke hero, is enjoying life with his second wife, Cyd, the American with the
long legs and the City catering business, and their
thoroughly modern family of
kids and stepkids.
Pat is 15 now and having a few problems at school, where he's fallen foul of
some bullies and in love with the no-better-than-she-should-be school beauty.
Cyd's daughter Peggy, also 15, is wearing too-short skirts. Seven-year-old Joni
(Cyd and Harry's daughter) is having nightmares about the Weeping Angels on
Doctor Who. Harry's career in telly has become a job in radio (on A Clip Round
the Ear, a grumpy-old-man show quite implausibly on Radio 2). And he's
a bit
concerned about hitting 40. But that's about it, problem-wise, as the novel opens –
so Harry should really be bracing himself, hands over head and head between
knees, because he should know by now that the rest of this novel is going to
present him with relationship breakdowns, tug-of-love battles for his children, lots
of reasons to lament "the lousy modern world" ( T Parsons) and at least one fatal
cancer.
And so it proves. Harry's
first wife, Gina, returns from Japan, still bristling
after all these years and newly intent on luring Pat away from Harry and into the
little flat in Soho where she entertains her various lovers. Harry loses his job and
his marriage to Cyd runs into trouble, with Harry fearing that she's been lured back
by
her first husband, an impossibly handsome actor. The previous novels having
killed off Harry's parents, the cancer is provided by Ken, a wartime mate of Harry's
dad, who turns up out of the blue so that Harry can have a father-figure to worship
and a deathbed to visit.
But third time around, Harry's usual emotional predicaments have lost much
of their power. Harry's fear of losing Pat to Gina, for example, is now tempered by
Pat's growing independence, and his difficulties with Cyd are about as untraumatic
as marriage problems get. But the basic problem with all the bickering with Gina
and yearning for his boy and loyally staying by the deathbed in the oncology ward
is that Harry has done it all before, several times.
With the diminishing returns of a replaying storyline
and a series of truly
unconvincing crises – when Pat confronts his bully; when Harry rescues Ken's
Victoria Cross; when Ken collapses at the dog track – it would seem that "the
Harry Silver trilogy", as the publishers are calling it, is doomed to follow the
traditional downward curve from initial impact to last and least.
But no. It may lack the visceral emotional drama of Man and Boy; it may be
repetitive of predicament; but Men from the Boys turns out to be by far the best of
the trilogy and, indeed, by far the best book Parsons has written. That's not to say
that there are none of Parsons'
usual coincidences, abrupt melodramas and
statements of the bleeding obvious presented as aperçus and chopped up in short,
verbless sentences. Because there are lots of all of those. But there are also a clutch
of excellent scenes and many times when his plain, simple style works really well,
even stretching to some quiet and thoroughly successful flourishes.
Even more remarkably, the irritating, simple certainties
that sustained Harry
through his trials and tribulations in the previous novels – divorce is bad, the
wartime generation gave their all for this country – are properly challenged, as
when Ken reminds Harry that the second world war was actually full of maiming
and killing. Most amazingly of all, there are a scant four mentions of "the lousy
modern world" ( T Parsons) as it dawns on Harry that the diamond geezers of his
father's generation weren't enviably faultless, given the
emotional repression and
rampant kiddy-fiddling of the good old days.
Parsons's strengths have been his sincere, likeable hero and his decent bloke's
take on the emotional dramas of contemporary family life. Harry's decency and
likeability remain intact and, while Men from the Boys may have only just enough
emotional drama to scrape by, it more than makes up for that with its emerging
complexity and depth and the welcome new uncertainty of its hero.
Tony Parsons is at the Guardian Hay festival today. Harry Ritchie's The Third
Party is published by Hodder.