The Book Tower

This is a book I didn’t want to read. To be honest I found Nick Hornby’s last novel A Long Way Down somewhat weak, and this latest – Slam, an attempt at teen fiction – simply didn’t appeal at all. And to be really honest, I only considered picking it up after my wife had bought a copy through the half price offer with The Times. And I only started reading it because I found myself suddenly and inexplicably bookless. So it was a pleasant surprise to find Hornby back on top form with his best work since High Fidelity.

Slam is told in the familiar voice that’s characteristic of all Nick Hornby novels. Self-depreciating, very funny and observant, with comments on everyday life usually annoyingly obvious in the I wish I’d thought of that sense. The voice here is one of a fifteen year old boy, but Hornby only alters his style slightly to result in a minor variation on any of his previous narrators. The strength in the book lies in how Hornby takes a well tackled subject – teenage pregnancy – and makes it very witty, insightful and at times moving.

Ben is our teenager in question, obsessed with skateboarding and the hero of the pastime Tony Hawk (not to be confused with Tony Hawks by the way, who often appears on Radio 4 panel shows). The title of the book refers to accidents that befall the skateboarder, often prone to conflicts with concrete when their concentration slips. There’s a hint of loneliness in Ben’s life; he talks openly to the Tony Hawk poster in his room, and his mum feels compelled to drag him along to a party hoping he’ll find a nice girlfriend there. This is where things start to get complicated, a slam of gigantic proportions, and Hornby’s skill as a novelist means he can inject life into much used themes – divorced parents, class differences, adolescent woes – to make them fresh and interesting on the page. He also uses a very clever device – but I won’t spoil it for you – to allow his narrator small and sobering tastes of his immediate future. Slam is a growing up novel, a coming of age novel and story about coping with adulthood when it’s thrust upon you, and Hornby managed to keep me glued to the page throughout, quite an achievement as I was initially quite determined not to enjoy the book.

After a gradual decline into disappointment Nick Hornby has delivered the goods again, and Slam has reminded me just how good he is. It’s easy to forget; after Fever Pitch came a deluge of would-be Hornbys with their humourous tales of everyday British life. A particular type of novel – usually written by males born between the late 50s and early 70s – appeared everywhere and still continues to do so. But Hornby remains the master.