Will Wiles

I like absurdist comedy so long as it isn’t too self-aware or too absurd. This book just walked the line. Occasionally it veered into trying too hard with acutely contrived phrases and drifting plot elements, but for the most part it was an amusing tale with a worsening series of events that tracks logically and inevitably to its conclusion. The way our unnamed narrator gets out of the whole thing is the lowest point and shows the least imagination which surprised me since Wiles managed to show more make house-sitting interesting. He also made a relatively boring guy interesting with his insights into Oskar’s character and his observations of his surroundings. The two mirrored each other pretty well in most every way. Oskar is named, but never seen or known. The flat-sitter is well seen and known, but never named. Where Oskar has tried to order every last detail of his life, flat-sitter has drifted on a tide of least effort. Flat-sitter has no idea what he might be capable of or eventually do, but by the evidence of his many notes, Oskar knows. Flat-sitter’s home city is known, named and described, Oskar’s is not. Overall it was enjoyable to read and I’m inclined to read Wiles’s next book, too. show less

I'm always impressed when I stumble upon a book that seems to have such a sparse plot that it can't possibly meet the requirements of a full novel and then proves me wrong. This story doesn't just spiral out of control; it faithfully logs each mistep. And you are so willing to pitch in and suspend any disbelief with a spade and fresh soil that you forget the thread that brought you there (oh, that's right--we were planting something). Painful and funny and tense. If he'd only used the show more coaster, like Oskar had said. Out, damn'd spot! show less

"PLEASE, YOU MUST TAKE CAREOF THE WOODEN FLOORS. They are French oak and cost me a great deal when I replaced the old floor, and they must be treated like the finest piece of furniture in the flat, apart from the piano of course."

How on earth do I review this book? I have no idea. I'll start writing and see what happens. Okay, so what I expected this book to be about was a guy, staying in his friend's flat, who descends into a Lucky Jim-esque spiral of chaos when he damages the wooden show more floors. Trying to put it right, getting into deeper and deeper mess, the whole thing turning into a farcical comedy, etc etc. And on some level, that is EXACTLY what the book delivered.

Our nameless protagonist is indeed staying in his anal-retentive musical-genius friend Oskar's European apartment. This apartment is perfect. Oskar's whole life has been about being perfect. The floors are expensive and perfect, the bookshelves are dust-free and perfect, his kitchen is shiny and perfect. Clearly Oskar likes to be in control - a fact that his housesitting friend finds demonstrated all too clearly when he starts discovering notes all over the house about the exact way to do everything and the importance of keeping the flat and its contents in pristine condition. Unfortunately, this friend is not terribly responsible and gets drunk a lot. It starts with a small ring of wine on the floor from the bottom of a glass... Where it ends, I won't say, but suffice to say that mayhem, accidents and escalating calamity are the order of the day.

And yet... this really isn't just a Wodehouse-esque humorous novel about a bumbling fool getting more and more out of his depth. That element of it veered for me between being very darkly, infectiously funny, and being a bit much. If that had been the only draw, this book might have had a much lower rating than I've given it. What made this book for me, offsetting the more ridiculous comedic moments, was the beautiful writing. It took a while to settle into it, and at the beginning I was actually quite frustrated by the over-description and slightly purple prose; one particular large paragraph about a pallet of tins of cat food almost tipped me over the edge into 'right, me and this book aren't going to get on', and I was on the verge of taking it back to the library unfinished.

Happily for me, I kept going, and in the end I grew to rather like the odd mixture of black humour, flights of description, philosophical musing, poetic little word plays and straightforward thought. This rather jumbled effect might not appeal to everybody, but once I'd settled into it I was really glad I'd persevered! I loved the little moments of crystal-clear observation, ringing with the kind of truth that makes for a great author or a brilliant comedian. As for the story itself... well, the themes were about as jumbled as the prose, to be honest. It was about order and entropy, friendship and responsibility, the clues someone's home can offer about their life and world view, the little moments that we can never take back, the experience of being away from home in a country with a completely different history... and yes, I even learned a tiny bit about treating damaged wooden floors. It's not a book I'd read again, but I'm glad I took a chance on it because it was very different to what I expected and I enjoyed the ride! show less

First review of the year! (But I finished it last Feb.)

This is the house that the everything-in-its-place Oskar built
These are the two cats that Oskar loves obsessively
This is the wooden floor that Oskar is anal about
This is the confetti of the endless, detailed, obsessive, anal, neat-freak notes that Oskar has left simply everywhere.

But Oskar is not there. He is in the US getting divorced.

A friend, not a close friend, is looking after this model apartment because it's a free place to stay show more whilst he tries to recharge his creative energies.

He's not a neat freak, couldn't care less about the cats, thinks a floor is just a floor, a piano just a piece of furniture for banging out tunes on and all these notes are kind of making him neurotic that he isn't looking after things just as Oskar wants and that Oskar might notice his lack of attention to detail.

Lack of attention is a euphemism. He fucks absolutely everything up and his attempts at cover-ups are as useless as they are hilarious.

Kind of not the house that Jack built, but the house that Jack mashed up, plank by plank.

It's a very funny book and wonderful for a gift or a plane ride. You'd have to be stone cold dead in your grave not to to get the banana peel effect. You know, you see it there, you watch someone walking along the road not paying any attention, you know they are going to step on it and slip and you are almost pissing yourself laughing at what's going to happen and are duly rewarded by a nice show of ass over tit and oh dear, shouldn't laugh, must go and help poor person, but hell, it was funny. The book is just like that. show less