A comedy of sexual manners that follows the interlocking affairs of four men: Robin Woodfield, an architect in his late forties living with his younger lover Justin (a would-be actor) in Dorset; Robin's 22-year-old son Danny, who lives for clubbing and casual sex; and shy Alex.
The Spell has found Alan Hollinghurst on the
Guardian's Fiction Prize shortlist, and with good reason. His first two novels were mischievous, escapist things, toying with the delights of colonial buggery (
The Swimming Pool Library) and underage Belgian boys (
The Folding Star). In
The Spell he's come of age, finally engaging with the issues of relationships, monogamy and aging that preoccupy the work of his peers.
Alex is an uptight 36-year-old Foreign Office man, who suddenly falls for Danny, the 22-year-old son of his ex- lover's new lover (are you following this?) The infatuation with Danny is as much an infatuation with the ectstasy- fuelled nightlife to which Danny introduces him, and it's hardly a surprise when the relationship fizzles. But Alex is forced into confronting his desires, and the novel ends leaving him unsure but at least taking stock and looking forward. The story veers wildly between an intoxicating London and a windswept, traditional Wessex, as if Hollinghurst can't yet reconcile true rural Englishness with the possibilities afforded by cosmopolitan queer London. But there's an honesty here that's welcome after the (admittedly arousing) archness of his earlier work, and a real sense of facing up to life's bigger questions. -- Alan Stewart