Joseph O'Neill (1) (1964–)

The protagonist of Joseph O’Neill’s novel would prefer not to be known by his given name, X. The trouble is that it’s hard to know him any other way. Despite first-person narration, X is inscrutable. And a bit odd. Or at least complicated. He’s got a mixed heritage that renders him one of those few Americans who speak fluent French. His long-term relationship with Jenn has come to an end. His role in a mid-town Manhattan law firm is tenuous (whereas Jen is already a Partner there). show more He rather suspects people are talking about him. And like his father, whose career consisted in gradually discovering that he was unsuited to whatever employ he was current set, X concludes that it is time to leave town. Fortunately an acquaintance named Eddie offers him a perfect out — employment in Dubai.

Dubai, as it were, is made for X. It is very much a recent invention, arising like a mirage out of the desert. Its basic functions are all carried out by foreigners, some, like X, ex-pats in lucrative employ, but most merely foreign workers shipped in to take on all the menial tasks. It is a curiously untethered state. And it mirrors, to some extent, the weightlessness that X experiences when he goes scuba diving. It is not, however, conducive to self-exploration or positive action. And so X seems to flutter in and out of existence, as he asserts and immediately doubts himself, qualifies his terms and then immediately qualifies his qualification.

The challenge for the reader is that X’s untethered history and reasoning make his actions and declarations equally unexpected and unexceptional. You feel as though he might say or do virtually anything, and then when he does, it fails to set any pattern for what might come next. That makes for an uneasy read. I found myself wondering — since all of this is clearly deliberate — what exactly O’Neill was striving for. I didn’t reach any satisfactory insight into that. And so this remains either a brilliantly executed or fatally flawed novel. You’ll have to decide for yourself.

Gently recommended for its sheer wilfulness, yet with caution. show less

This guy can’t stop writing about cricket! And the fothermucker dissed baseball at one point. Instead of Netherland it should be called “Cricketland”. Or “About Cricket”. Or “Cricket, Cricket, and more Cricket”. Or “Everything You Never Wanted to Know About Cricket”.

And the back of the book says absolutely nothing about cricket. Not one word. There should be a disclaimer: “Warning: this guy loves to write about cricket. If you do not like cricket or if cricket offends show more you in any way, step away from this book immediately”.

Random paragraph from page 48:

In the world of men’s cricket, I surprised myself. Aged thirty-four, troubled increasingly by backache, I found I could still fling the ball into the wicket-keeper’s gloves with a flat throw from forty yards, could still stand under a skyer and hold the catch, could still run up and bowl outswingers at a medium pace. I could also still hit a cricket ball; but the flame of rolling leather, caught up in long weeds, almost always was quickly put out. The bliss of batting was denied to me.

ARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am off to purchase a cricket bat just so I can beat the shit out of this book with it. show less

“Perhaps the relevant truth—and it’s one whose existence was apparent to my wife, and I’m sure to much of the world, long before it became apparent to me—is that we all find ourselves in temporal currents and that unless you’re paying attention you’ll discover, often too late, that an undertow of weeks or of years has pulled you deep into trouble.”

Hans van den Brock, originally from the Netherlands, is living alone in New York City in 2006. He is estranged from his wife show more Rachel who has returned to their former home in England with their young son due to the experience of living in NYC on and just after 9/11. Hans is a cricketer, and he finds there is a cricket playing community in NYC. He joins people from the West Indies and the Indian sub-continent playing cricket in a local park. He meets cricket referee Chuck Ramkissoon, a charismatic Trinidadian. Chuck is a man of many talents, dreams, and schemes. He is passionate about bringing the sport of cricket to the US and wants to raise funds to build a regulation cricket pitch. The storyline follows two relationships – the developing friendship between Hans and Chuck, and the marital troubles between Hans and Rachel.

Themes include the variety of immigrant experiences, pursuit of the “American Dream,” identity, alienation, loneliness, and dealing with sadness and loss. The writing is stellar. The plot involves the death of Chuck Ramkissoon by nefarious means (revealed in the opening pages). The storyline is full of flashbacks, storytelling, and digressions that provide a more complete picture of the characters’ lives. For me, the title is a dual representation of Hans’ place of origin and Chuck’s interactions with the “underworld” of NYC, which Chuck navigates as part of his foray into gambling. I particularly enjoyed the multicultural environment of NYC, and the references to cricket (which I have recently discovered). Anyone who has been to NYC will recognize buildings, landmarks, street names, and the general milieu. I do not think this will be a book for everyone, but I found myself glued to it. show less

“Perhaps the relevant truth is that we all find ourselves in temporal currents and that unless you're paying attention you'll discover, often too late, that an undertow of weeks or of years has pulled you deep into trouble.”

Set in New York shortly after the 9/11 bombings this novel is in part immigrants chasing the American dream but also about re-building one's life after traumatic events.

The narrator, Dutchman Hans van den Broek, finds himself marooned when his wife and young son show more leave to live in England as his marriages disintegrates. Hans has a high powered job which keeps him occupied on week days but at the weekend he is at a loss as to what to do with his life until he joins a local cricket club which rekindles memories of a happier childhood in Holland.

Umpiring one of the games is Chuck Ramkissoon, a shady but charming Trinidadian businessman whose dream is to build a major international cricket stadium in Brooklyn. Under the cover of teaching him to drive Chuck allows Hans to chauffeur him around town as Chuck runs a numbers racket. The two form an unlikely friendship. Chuck’s innate optimism and force of purpose come to represent a lifeline to Hans if he is brave enough to grasp. However, it is not without possible cost as Chuck's driving ambition seems to mean that he is willing to do almost anything to make his dream come true. When Chuck's murdered body turns up in a New York river Hans is forced to re-evaluate their relationship.

The plot of this novel thus runs on two tracks. In the first it is about a couple of blokes living in Manhattan and enjoying the game of cricket. However, as Hans marriage fails he is forced to re-evaluate his take on family, identity and self-worth.

O’Neill’s prose is well thought out and written scattered with closely observed and powerful emotions which seem to be well in touch with the technical age we live in now as Hans goes “flying on Google’s satellite function,” searching for his son's bedroom window thousands of miles away. It is also full of cricketing terms but this shouldn't really deter non-fans of the sport. Overall an interesting read but in truth one that failed to grab me fully. show less