Member Review
Review by
Sarah M, Reviewer
Just Like You by Nick Hornby is a romantic comedy set against the backdrop of the 2016 EU referendum and perennial race relations. I love novels that combine big social issues with light comedy, so Just Like You is my literary sweet spot. In fact, in all honesty, I can best compare Hornby to Shakespeare on this front, and it's no coincidence that a production of 'As You Like It' features within the novel.
It may seem audacious for Hornby - a sixty-something white man - to write the perspective of a 22 year old black guy, but then the other narrative voice is a 42 year old white woman. Who does Hornby have least in common with? Who is he less entitled to portray as a fictitious character? Neither, or do the two together neutralise the audacity? As a middle-aged white woman, all I can say is that Hornby nails the voice of a plain speaking, fed-up-with-frivolity Head of English who has had her sanity tested by an alcoholic, drug addict ex-husband. With refreshingly scant physical description, I could picture Lucy perfectly. Joseph represents a life experience much further from my own but why shouldn't any author create this multi-layered, lovable character? I'd bet my bottom Euro that Nick Hornby culture-checked these scenes with young black friends (perhaps of his own sons) - I certainly felt I gained an authentic insight into a side of North London life that I don't otherwise have access to.
But away from the heavy stuff - reading this novel towards the end of a tense corona lockdown in the UK, I laughed like a relieved drain within the first few pages of Just Like You, and then at regular intervals throughout. The dialogue dances and the symbolism sings in sotto voce; the frustratingly unclean break from Europe reflected in Lucy and Joseph's unpredictable relationship as well as their wider cultural dissonance.
I was also impressed that Nick Hornby explores both sides of the Brexit debate: this novel isn't a Remainer's eulogy. The Leave argument is given fairly equal credence with voices represented that have been largely unheard in mainstream culture - the scaffolder, the northerner, the NHS nurse who believed the bus poster. Hornby doesn't abuse his platform by preaching from it; he makes room on it for diverse opinions.
Ultimately, I guess I didn't care that much about the final trajectory of Lucy and Joseph - they're not really the point of Just Like You. And if I have one quibble about this book it would be that more could be made of the societal hypocrisy that middle aged men regularly date women half their age, with few eyelids batted.
But I massively appreciated seeing the world from a different perspective; I enjoyed being plunged into a London I'm only half familiar with (to previous reviewers who don't believe Londoners queue outside a butcher's to spend £100 on meat - yeah, they really do) - and most of all, I luxuriated in laughing out loud, for two days solid, at a thoughtfully and skilfully written novel. I think this is exactly what the world needs right now.
It may seem audacious for Hornby - a sixty-something white man - to write the perspective of a 22 year old black guy, but then the other narrative voice is a 42 year old white woman. Who does Hornby have least in common with? Who is he less entitled to portray as a fictitious character? Neither, or do the two together neutralise the audacity? As a middle-aged white woman, all I can say is that Hornby nails the voice of a plain speaking, fed-up-with-frivolity Head of English who has had her sanity tested by an alcoholic, drug addict ex-husband. With refreshingly scant physical description, I could picture Lucy perfectly. Joseph represents a life experience much further from my own but why shouldn't any author create this multi-layered, lovable character? I'd bet my bottom Euro that Nick Hornby culture-checked these scenes with young black friends (perhaps of his own sons) - I certainly felt I gained an authentic insight into a side of North London life that I don't otherwise have access to.
But away from the heavy stuff - reading this novel towards the end of a tense corona lockdown in the UK, I laughed like a relieved drain within the first few pages of Just Like You, and then at regular intervals throughout. The dialogue dances and the symbolism sings in sotto voce; the frustratingly unclean break from Europe reflected in Lucy and Joseph's unpredictable relationship as well as their wider cultural dissonance.
I was also impressed that Nick Hornby explores both sides of the Brexit debate: this novel isn't a Remainer's eulogy. The Leave argument is given fairly equal credence with voices represented that have been largely unheard in mainstream culture - the scaffolder, the northerner, the NHS nurse who believed the bus poster. Hornby doesn't abuse his platform by preaching from it; he makes room on it for diverse opinions.
Ultimately, I guess I didn't care that much about the final trajectory of Lucy and Joseph - they're not really the point of Just Like You. And if I have one quibble about this book it would be that more could be made of the societal hypocrisy that middle aged men regularly date women half their age, with few eyelids batted.
But I massively appreciated seeing the world from a different perspective; I enjoyed being plunged into a London I'm only half familiar with (to previous reviewers who don't believe Londoners queue outside a butcher's to spend £100 on meat - yeah, they really do) - and most of all, I luxuriated in laughing out loud, for two days solid, at a thoughtfully and skilfully written novel. I think this is exactly what the world needs right now.
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