The inciting incident for debut author Newman’s raucous first novel is a simple mix-up of the Royal Mail. Natwest, a once-precocious English teen and aspiring art critic, has aged into a pretentious young adult finally headed off to university. The morning before departing his small town for the big city, Natwest anxiously awaits the arrival of a discreet package of particular length and girth, only to inadvertently swap parcels at the post office with his mother’s employer, dentist Dr. Richard Hung (pun very much intended). As Natwest attempts to recoup his item, his path intersects with a number of seemingly minor characters whose roles gradually assume greater importance: Mrs. Pandey, a former teacher who fostered young Natwest’s potential; Joan, a widower across the street who’s getting back into the dating scene; and Mishaal, a local imam enduring an unhappy marriage. Newman expertly threads together the minor events and small mishaps of the characters’ lives in a convincing recreation of the inescapable social overlap that often defines life in a small town. Underlying it all is a preoccupation with beauty and the value of art. Natwest obsessively sees references everywhere: His mother in an orange nighty recalls “Leighton’s Flaming June”; the stares of disapproving neighbor boys “pierced him like the arrows in a St. Sebastian picture.” More than motifs, artistic legacies are also the source of much of the book’s humor—at one point, Natwest imagines Geoff Dyer attending his funeral. Newman works in more profound interactions as well. Reconnecting on a park bench, Natwest and former mentor Mrs. Pandey debate the artistic merits of a nail salon mural painted in the style of Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam, the outstretched fingers on each figure sporting pink nail polish: It’s Žižekian, it’s Jungian, it’s Pop Art in situ, “Warhol’s soup cans, restored to the Asda aisle.” In seeking to balance intelligent prose, insightful commentary, and compelling characters, Newman delivers.
Share
Print
