Michael Frayn

Here is my Michael Frayn collection.
I admit that it is not large
but it is the beginning, middle and end of my obsession.

I picked up Spies from the table in the bookshop
where they display books on special offer.
Spies won the Whitbread award for Fiction in the year
that Michael Frayn's wife, Claire Tomalin,
won the Whitbread award for Biography and beat him to the overall prize.

I understood completely the torment of the mother,

the acrid smell of privet, the whispers and the retained guilt.

It is a haunting evocation of the transition from childhood

and I wanted to read more.

So I went back to the bookshop and bought
Towards the End of the Morning
which describes the now-vanished world of Fleet Street.
The smell of newsprint leaks out from the pages
and the energy of the writing makes me gasp.
It makes me laugh out loud and I love the title.

Headlong
What can I say about Headlong?
It was shortlisted for the Booker Prize.
I am therefore a failure because I CANNOT read it to the end.
I start off with good intentions and enjoy the characterisation.
But then I know where the plot is heading.
I have the feeling that I am running
towards the edge of a cliff with the main character.
The second time I tried to read it I was braver
and got even closer to the terrible drop
- practically teetering on the edge -
Then I slammed the book shut
and let the plot and all the characters fall over by themselves.

I should check the bookshop for more books by Michael Frayn.
I admire his craftmanship.
They say he is a modern day Chekhov.
But I am still feeling guilty about Headlong.