Will
Freeman, thirty-six, does not want children as far as he knows,
and he can't understand why everyone keeps recommending them.
He lives in a fashionable, Lego-free flat in Islington, with jam-free
compact discs and lots of time on his hands thanks to the royalties
on an annually mortifying Christmas song his father wrote in 1938.
Will does, however, see the point of single mothers, especially
if they look like Julie Christie, which is how he gets involved
in a single parents' group and invents a two-year-old son whose
absence needs constant explanation.
Enter
Marcus, whose parents have split up and whose mother's tears over
the breakfast cereal are getting scary. Marcus's progress at his
new London school is not enhanced by the wrong clothes, the wrong
hair and an inherited preference for the music of Joni Mitchell.
In fact, the bullies are crucifying him. Since circumstances have
put Will in his path, and since Will at least knows how kids dress
and that Kurt Cobain didn't play for Manchester United, why shouldn't
Marcus make as much use of him as possible?
In
his second novel Nick Homby explores the connections people make
when the so-called ideal family model does not apply. As he did
with football in Fever Pitch and with record collections
in High Fidelity, he keeps his eye on the subject while
revealing much more - always cutting through received rubbish
with a singular sense of purpose. And in the process he connects
with a huge number of other people who find his view of the world
funny, wise and disarmingly entertaining.
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