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Two novels about a passion for vinyl

14/7/2017

5 Comments

 
The digital revolution has massively changed the way we listen to music, yet vinyl has been revitalised in some quarters in recent years. Perhaps it’s no surprise that contemporary novelists should review their record collections in search of new ways of exploring the human condition. But two published within three months of each other? That’s quite a coincidence. Read on to see how these established British authors have addressed the topic in very different ways.

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The Forensic Records Society by Magnus Mills

I climbed into bed and lay dwelling on the situation we’d got ourselves into. Was it really beyond human capacity, I pondered, to create a society which didn’t ultimately disintegrate through internal strife? Or collapse under the weight of its own laws? Or suffer damaging rivalries with other societies? Because there was no question that all these fates awaited us if we carried on as we were.
 
If you want to get underneath the sometimes counterintuitive ways we behave in groups, sign up for a course on group dynamics based on psychoanalytic theory. But don’t expect a lecture. Not only are you unlikely to need a notebook, your “leader” will probably have very little to say. But if you persist with the uncomfortable task of “studying the group processes as they emerge in the here and now”, you stand to learn a great deal about the way
unconscious processes impact on social interactions. If you can’t, or don’t want to, do that, the latest novel from king of deadpan humour, Magnus Mills, might well be the next best thing.
 
The unnamed narrator and his friend, James, are passionate about vinyl. In a little used room in their local pub, they establish a weekly meeting of like-minded individuals to listen forensically to a selection of records. With strict rules about starting exactly on time, and listening without comment or judgement, this society of geekish men proves moderately successful. But no group is ever completely static. When a latecomer is refused entry, he establishes a rival Confessional Records Society meeting in the same room on a different night, and the stage is set for intergroup fantasies and suspicions. But even without this external threat, the Forensic Records Society’s boundaries have already been breached with the arrival of Alice to provide a bar service in the room and Keith bringing LPs instead of singles. Yet almost from the start there have been anomalies, with comments from Chris, brief as they are, tolerated more than from any other member.
 
The information sheet from publisher Bloomsbury (who provided my review copy) suggests the book would appeal to vinyl fans, but I think it’s easier to enjoy the absurdity if, as a reader, you’re not all that interested in the records (of which I recognised less than half). It’s amusing how seriously the group takes itself, and how these buttoned-up men use the titles of the records they choose to voice their descent. Yet, as in the excerpt I’ve quoted at the beginning, the parallels with the wider social system, particularly contemporary British politics with its backtracking, splits and mergers, is all too apparent. As with the psychoanalytic groups I mentioned in the introduction, the simplicity and clarity of the task the society has set itself, and the outlawing of the ordinary chitchat that oils the wheels of other interactions, makes the intra- and intergroup struggles more apparent. You don’t need to be a music lover to recognise the conflicts of leadership and followership, envy and the twin fears of exclusion and loss of the separate self.
 
This is Magnus Mills’ ninth novel, but only the second of his I’ve read. Although I wasn’t impressed with his third novel, The Scheme for Full Employment, written in a similar style with little character development, it was many years ago and I imagine we’ve both changed since then so, after a heads up from a Guardian review, I thought I’d give this one a try. I’m very glad I did.

The Music Shop by Rachel Joyce

It’s 1988 and CDs are becoming the new way of listening to recorded music, but Frank’s eccentric music shop is dedicated to vinyl. He won’t even stock cassettes. In shambling Unity Street, in an unloved corner of the city, Frank is less a tradesman than a therapist or social worker, prescribing his customers not the music they want but the music they need. The world is welcome in Frank’s shop, never mind whether they’ve the money to buy. Just don’t ask him about what he wants; like many who find meaning in their lives through helping others, Frank is estranged from his own vulnerabilities and needs.
 
The only child of a bohemian heiress, lying on the floor together listening to records was
the nearest Frank ever came to love. Peg taught him about the pictures painted by melody and the power of the pause between the notes, but he might have been happier had she knitted him a jumper or cooked him a hot meal. Since her death, and ultimate betrayal, he’s eschewed relationships more intimate than those that take place in the shop.
 
Frank’s life is safe, if stagnant, until a mysterious woman in a pea-green coat and eyes as black as vinyl faints outside his shop. Ilse Brauchmann is another wounded soul with the magic touch, in her case for fixing machinery. The two are immediately drawn to each other, but far too scared of the risks of getting close. So Ilse asks Frank to teach her about music and he, reluctantly, agrees.
 
Rachel Joyce’s debut, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, was an international bestseller. I came to her work
through her follow-up, The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy, about which I had mixed feelings, relishing the denouement but not connecting with the humour and finding the overall tone a little light for my tastes. Although excited to spot the epigraph from Donald Winnicott in The Music Shop, and a finale that encompasses the Hallelujah chorus from The Messiah, my verdict on her fifth book is similarly lukewarm (though not so cold and bitter as a one-star). Thanks to publishers Doubleday for my advance proof copy.
 
For more on the romance of record shops, read my short story
In Search of Mr Right. There’s also a scene involving a mother and son connecting through music in my second novel, Underneath.
 
For more on unconscious processes, this time in relation to writing fiction, I’m delighted that my guest post
The creative unconscious is now live on the fabulous website Women Writers, Women’s Books.
 

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Thanks for reading. I'd love to know what you think. If you've enjoyed this post, you might like to sign up via the sidebar for regular email updates and/or my quarterly Newsletter.
5 Comments
Charli Mills
15/7/2017 01:49:00 pm

I had read elsewhere about the resurgence of vinyl and how records were making a comeback in sales. Good to know there's stories about it, too. Interesting, in the first book how that dynamic of exclusion from a group drives competition, as if the act of exclusion creates a negative reaction. I like how you are publishing short stories to promote your books, too. That's a good strategy.

Reply
Annecdotist
19/7/2017 05:40:47 pm

I suppose if we are excluded from something it evokes all kinds of fantasies about the wonderful things we are missing out on, and hence the drive to do something better.
I’m not sure that I’m publishing short stories in order to promote my novels, more that these two types of writing coexist. Although I haven’t been many new stories this year – In Search of Mr Right is one of my early ones.
It would be nice if people reading my short stories for free on websites were then drawn to my longer fiction. But unfortunately the only time I’m aware of that happening the reader who’d loved my short story was very disappointed in Underneath!

Reply
Norah Colvin link
20/7/2017 12:23:46 pm

Hi Anne,
These two books sounds a little lighter and more appealing to me than a few of the darker and more complex ones you've been reviewing, but the best read I've had all day has to be your short story "In Search of Mr Right". I love it! Predictably satisfying. :)
I do remember the mother and son music scene from Underneath. I love the way you can pull a scene from one of your books to match almost every situation. What great stories they are.
I also enjoyed reading "The creative unconscious" on "Women Writers". I'd missed it there, so it was good to catch up. I found it interesting when you contemplated connections made between an author's and a reader's unconscious.
I read your short stories before your novels, and I have been disappointed in neither!

Reply
Annecdotist
20/7/2017 06:39:45 pm

Thanks for reading that story, Norah. I’m glad I remembered to include it. Not sure I can match a scene from my writing to all my reviews, but I suppose it shows that I’m often reading about the kind of things that also interest me as a writer. Thanks also for reading my piece on The Creative Unconscious – I suppose that connection from author to reader is similar to what we can find when we feel a connection with certain people we meet in person without necessarily knowing why.
Thanks so much for connecting with me and for your continuing support for my writing.

Reply
Norah Colvin link
25/7/2017 12:34:58 pm

The pleasure is mine, Anne.




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