Powder Monkey Book

Karen Sainsbury's first novel begins with the discovery of an aunt who's died of a "giant hiccup"; this surreal, funny, unsettling device sets the tone for the whole of Powder Monkey, a fine and accomplished comedy. The scene is Somerset. The "heroes" are Keith, Tam and Cameron, teenage sons of a blunt, brusque, sheepfarming Dad and a Mam who "hates anything to do with nature" and who is so self-absorbed she absentmindedly cooks her blouse with the frozen peas. Bad enough, but then things take a turn for the worse: gypsies brawl outside the local and the police are injured by all the clothes-pegs used as missiles, then Mam gets a job retraining in the ex-Soviet Bloc. Struck by the sense of the world passing him by, a rather slow, boring, rain-sodden world at that, Keith carpes his diem and decides to use his skills as an amateur moon-photographer to get a place on a Bristol University astro-microbiology course. He fails. Then he decides to try again. He fails again. If this sounds boring, it shouldn't--Sainsbury's sly, slanted voice keeps things lively, funny, involving and poignant. The only time Sainsbury's prose slightly fails her is when she shifts the winsome plot to the city. Luckily she doesn't do that very much: as the boys try to lever themselves out of the "green tomb" of the West Country, and the parents try to save themselves from the consequences of this, Powder Monkey turns into a jolly, mad, dippy, gratifyingly comedic romp through the post-industrial English countryside--with all its lager louts, light pollution, sheep massacres and loved-up clubbers driving dangerously home. Think Cold Comfort Farm, but on E. --Sean ThomasRead More