Neil Bartlett (1) (1958–)

Well, this was disappointing. The book started promisingly enough; I'm keen on protagonists who are ineffectual, inconspicuous sorts seemingly doomed to unhappiness, and Bartlett began to portray one of them well. Moreover he held my interest in the account of the work of a furrier and his description of the old dark environs of the workshop was atmospheric. But by the time I'd got halfway through I was as annoyed as I was interested, and not long after that I found I wasn't reading closely. By the last 50 pages I was hurriedly skimming.

What particularly annoyed me was the tone of the novel. The omniscient narrator for some reason occasionally and abruptly slips into casual references to himself and the reader. The device seems a random choice too, distancing the reader from the protagonist and tevents rather than enhancing them or impressing them upon one. 'I think Mr F felt . . ', 'most of us have sometimes thought . . .' , 'you probably remember how . . . '. Just stop that,. Mr B.

Not only does Bartlett insist upon the reader's complicity with him, he tells when he's already shown, his use of repetition is fairly heavy-handed, and he inserts needless & sometimes uninteresting tidbits of London history, most hamfistedly when the story should be at its most taut. Moreover given the sort of novel it is or is striiving to be the book's much too long--again, much of its content seems unnecessary, blunting the impact of the story itself. I've read other novels, novellas even, with similar protagonists that were far more powerful in many fewer pages and I bet you have too. . Written without the intrusive chumminess but with more tightness and focus Skin Lane might have been a good book.… (more)

A dexterous collection of Queer stories which shift tone, momentum, era, energy. Each linked to a (mostly different) address, and always different character/s.

From the postscript it appears these stories have strong links to real people, who Bartlett has held up a mirror to capture their variety, similarity, humanity.

About the author, who may be less known in the US/Canada:

https://www.neil-bartlett.com/

Some publications have described this as a novel (as they fear short stories don't sell), it is not. I love short stories, but if I want a novel, I am disappointed if I find them.… (more)

I keep finding myself awed by Neil Bartlett's mastery over the ever-evolving narrative found in his work. "Mr Clive and Mr Page" is mysterious, tender, gripping and oddly playful; though, of course, despair is the emotion that haunts every page. It's dissected by the narrator and split unevenly between the two protagonists. Moreover, the emotion is heightened by the style Bartlett uses to carry out the procedure. It mimics the indistinctness of memory, as well as the fretful way in which we yearn to gather the scraps of a dream shortly after waking up. But as more and more time passes, logic begins to waver, and the more guarded the person recounting the dream seems. What an artistic achievement!… (more)

Looking at some of the less than flattering reviews, it's clear that some readers are searching for realism in a work that is not only idealistic, but tells a fairy tale of mythical proportions.

It seems futile to scour the pages for "truth" in a work that quotes Herman Melville's reflection on the verity of writing, "I never used to believe what I read, but only thought it very strange, and a good deal too strange to be altogether true; though I never thought the man who wrote the book meant to tell lies". It also seems exhausting to cling to a world built around the periphery of one's own "truth". Sadly, the fact that some readers engage in these activities means that they end up overlooking the meaty substance buried within Bartlett's prose.

Through its restless need to provoke, seduce, baffle and embolden, Bartlett's strong writing gives hope to the oppressed. This includes both the gay men within the story, who fear the symbolism of the knife poised to slash their faces open in the night, and those moving about the "real" world, filled with similar acts of loathing and violence.

In this respect, the novel possesses a remarkably positive tone, taking on the resonance of a near-deafening battle cry. This is incredibly rare for books that fall in the "gay literature" category. To be able to transcend the margins of the victim narrative, Bartlett employs numerous tropes. These serve to achieve a few things at once: thicken the structure of the central fairy tale, appeal to a collective consciousness and communicate with those, who are familiar with the inner-workings of the discussed scene. In doing so, these symbols manage not to stray far from the "real" gay world, which is often reduced to a realm of walking clichés by those, who aim to undercut its unique struggles and attributes.

Bartlett's work operates as a myth, and this key quality might make it a somewhat challenging read for those, who are used to the logic that rules novelisations, for example. This is also the crucial difference between fiction and literature. Those used to the subversive tools of the latter appreciate writing for its artistic value, and can spot the devices used to carve lyrical landscapes. It's along these planes that readers' perceptions are challenged.

The novel toys with our understanding of what is real and what must remain indefinite. It takes pleasure in storing its morals beneath images, hiding thick emotions between grappling hands and tear-stained cheeks. For all its surreal plot points and political endeavours, the story is incredibly tender and relatable, as evidenced by the characters' struggle to articulate the depths of their love.

Overall, "Ready to Catch Him Should He Fall" is a stupendous, thought-provoking novel that celebrates not only the elasticity of the mind, but the beauty of transitory feelings.… (more)