Ray Robinson (2)

An utterly enthralling and compelling novel that takes as its subject the long-term abduction of a young girl. It features the effects upon the girl, her family, her community and also the kidnapper. The remote settings offer a complete contrast, a remote island off the Canadian east coast and the isolation of the Arizona desert and covers a timespan of nine years from 1999 to 2008. There is little about the mechanics of the abduction, or of Zoe’s treatment, with most of the novel show more concentrating on the psychological consequences for those involved. This is Robinson’s great strength in that, in the main, he bypasses the physical descriptions of Zoe’s imprisonment and treatment and focuses on her mental state, how she manages to retain some of her previous life, while at the same time becoming attached to her abductor, Thurman. Then, when she regains her freedom, there is Robinson’s empathetic description of her struggle to readjust to society. This all adds up to a fascinating story. show less

Lily O’Connor’s neurology is a wild, untamed beast that knocks her on her face time and again. Afflicted with epilepsy, Lily knows the condition is more than the general public believes it be, and she determined to live as normal a life with the condition as possible. Saddled with a rough (and I mean rough) family (her mother is entirely to blame in causing the injury that led to her disorder, in an act too ghastly to mention,) Lily has learned to hide the hurt away, armed with a show more misanthropic wit. But the death of her beastly mother, grouped with the arrival of her gambler brother and the mystery of another sibling’s disappearance, shakes up Lily’s life in ways she never could have imagined and sends her on a quest for reconciliation on the dirty, chaotic streets of London.

So, apparently this is a movie now. It’s hard to picture how a film adaptation would work, to be honest. Electricity is a otherworldly experience, an journey through the senses shedding light on a condition no one would wish on themselves or their loved ones. How will a movie give us such an unyielding look into this woman’s mind? How will a movie explain how the seizures feel? But the miracle of this novel is that Lily O’Connor is so much more than her disability.

She’s tough, complicated, seriously flawed but fundamentally decent. The strength of Lily’s character ensures that Electricity will not a textbook slog through issues of disability and dignity. Also, I don’t think I’ve ever read so much onomatopoeia in one book. The book has an interesting feminine perspective on sexuality, as well as a heartbreaking take on sexual abuse (what if I didn’t fight back! What if I liked it?)

Lily believed she was in love with her mother’s boyfriend when she was about nine years old, and appreciated the attention in a time when she was all too often ignored and overlooked. But does that make it any better? Of course not. Sexual misconduct with a preteen is abuse whether or not the child thinks they enjoy it or not. In a way, Lily has to move past her own feelings and perceptions about the event just as much as she has to move past the abuse itself.

Lily is often a hard character to like. But you can’t hate her. You just can’t. She’s too vulnerable and damaged and real for that. However, the circumstances of her upbringing seemed a little too dire at times. That coupled with her truly horrific experience with men (only her wig-donning mentor, Al, emerges unscathed) makes Electricity a sometimes disturbing read. Lily is an often sexually ambiguous character; she reports to enjoy sex with men (although she can’t climax,) while her less-than-sisterly affections for her lesbian buddy Mel makes the reader wonder what side of the fence she’s really on.

The only parts of the book I felt were lacking were the sex scenes between Lily and her boyfriend, Dave. Here we are subjected to analogies such as “He licked my breasts like lollipops” that fall short on insight into a woman’s experience of sex. They were a little corny, to be frank. They didn’t quite fit in the otherwise smooth, flawless jigsaw puzzle that was this novel. Mostly, what stands out in Electricity was the close inside view of a misunderstood condition and Lily’s unique, dialect- and profanity-salted voice. Lyrical yet not tweedy, Electricity is a engrossing read. show less

"Ray Robinson's debut novel Electricity was one of the best things I read this year ... until I read his second novel The Man Without.

The Man Without has many similarities to Electricity and the language is equally direct. Right at the start of the novel, we see that the hero Antony is trying to sort himself out after a near suicide attempt. Antony also has a childhood of abuse, a father he never knew and a mother who doesn't appear to have had a maternal bone in her body. Now in his show more twenties, this has left him with some challenging emotions and dangerous sexual fantasies, we get the slightest hint of what's to come at the start of the second chapter:
""Wrapped in a silk kimono and twisting helix of smoke, he flicked through the new copy of Harper's until he found one: a model with a similar pair.""

Veils are gradually lifted until the full effects of Antony's problems are revealed. Prepare to be shocked, but this merely compels you to read on, and hope that he pulls through.

Contrasted against his own problems are those experienced in his job - as a Mental Health Carer. This is particularly expressed in his relationship with one patient, Kenneth - a former vicar suffering from total amnesia and personality change, and suffering from deteriorating relationships with his family that he can't remember. The exchanges between Antony and Kenneth are funny and touching, but reinforce the loss of family that is the central theme of the novel. What Antony the professional carer really needs a family to care for him ...

This novel was stunning - read it." show less

Lily has epilepsy, and her condition certainly co-stars with her in this brave novel of families lost and found.

Lily was abused as a child and grew up in care apart from her brothers. When her Mam dies, she refinds brother Barry, but he soon departs for pastures new on the poker circuit leaving her alone again, so she sets out for London in search of her other long lost brother Mikey. Along the way she makes a great friend in Mel, and end up falling for electrician Dave - neither are quite show more who they seem at first.

It's a brave chap who writes a female first person narrative, and even braver for giving us the full picture of what it's like to suffer a fit - and everyone except Lily panics at first. She just checks for sharp corners around her before it takes full control of her.
A fantastic and totally gripping first novel. show less