Train Man

You know sometimes a book needs to read to the end. I can understand why others have bailed out early and given poor reviews.
The start of the book is very dark and morose. Indeed it is a reflection of the state of mind of the central character, Michael. He is reduced to train man perhaps because of his purpose in catching a train to Crewe and his epitaph.
He is not in a good place but despite it all he has some empathy for others and his weaknesses in his relationships. It is quite chilling as he talks about his preparations to kill himself, visualises the act while being unable to control other thoughts. Ideas of self-worth and broken dreams, strained relationships and hints of an unhealthy sex life and possible abuse asa child. After a while other characters making different journeys are introduced that demonstrate alternative reasons for travel but also a burden of circumstances and opportunity.
This is a book that you have to persevere with to gain any benefit and reap the reward of fine writing and social comment.
It presents a number of issues incredibly well in such a left field way they hit home as your attention was elsewhere. It shows the problems associated with train travel and the difficulty of starting up a conversation with a random fellow traveller.
It is a story that pans out to share great sadness and deep joy. Moments of tearfulness and spontaneous laughter. The depravity of some people and the breadth and depth of human endurance. How a person can think that suicide is their only choice left and how talking sometimes is all that is needed. We are presented with a cross-section of society and in time we see these as well drawn characters. The writing is not that of an Alan Bennett but it resonates with me like some of his works or other playwrights. The words are most important aspect of this story.
I loved the constant harkening back to earlier thoughts and the references to early situations or glimpses into Michael’s life. I loved his honesty, especially when he faced up to the fraud he believes he has become.
It is a telling insight into a troubled psyche with as much uncertainty as there is clarity; where darkness threatens to conceal any speck of light or hint of a new day.
I loved they piece as a whole, the sense of a journey it allowed me to share and the range of emotions that were drawn from me.

‘But that’s who I am – that’s me. That’s why I had nowhere to go, and why… I was going nowhere.’

Michael MacMillan is a 56-year old man who arrives at his local train station to make an important journey. Armed with a juice carton filled with whisky, and with a bank card safely stored inside one of his shoes for identification, he is setting off for an important rendezvous with a particular train at Crewe – the one he intends to walk out in front of to end his life. With three failed relationships behind him, a series of disastrous jobs that have resulted in disciplinary investigations, and a whole pile of financial problems, what has he got left to live for?

Maria is a 30-something Filipino who has three jobs, a husband in the UAE, and six children back home being looked after by her mother. She is taking a precious couple of days to travel to climb Higher Lee Ridge, recommended to her by one of her patients in the hospice where she works.

Ayesha is travelling back to the family home carrying her brother’s guitar, which is to be given to a friend of the family. Her brother Kristin died three years ago, aged just thirteen.

Morris is a street hustler, a sixteen-year old kid turning tricks for cash and desperate. His contacts send him from one place to another and he ends up being beaten up and left without any money to travel home.

Andrew Mulligan’s novel takes these characters and weaves a story of connections and random meetings that, in its way, is a rail trip across contemporary Britain. Along the way we meet others who interact, however briefly, with one or more of these four. As Michael’s back story slowly reveals itself, we get a picture of a very damaged man, whose inability to commit to relationships and responsibility stem from childhood trauma. This is a story of trying to find redemption in the darkest places, of the simple random acts of kindness that bond us together as humans, and the pleasure – indeed the need – to just speak to a stranger. Michael’s journey gets ever more complicated, as he misses connections and gets further and further from his goal. There is a certain amount of black humour as his trip becomes something of a journey out of Dante or Bunyan, and he is prone to drifting in and out of memories as his life plays itself out along the way. He sees figures from his childhood where they are not, he imagines possible conversations that he could have with the people he meets, and he slowly gets more and more sozzled as he works his way through his whisky.

This is a slow-burner, but it is a journey worth making, and as the various different strands of the book join together you get a sense of just how connected we all are, somehow. The ‘themes’ are not shoved in your face, but as we slowly get to learn more about Michael, he turns from being a rather pathetic figure into a sympathetic, emotionally raw character. As he and Maria climb the ascent of Higher Lee Ridge together, he is forced to confront his demons amidst the rain and wind of a storm. OK, that’s a bit clichéd, and the ending is perhaps tied up a little too neatly, but this is a book with a generous heart and a simple message to all of us: talk to strangers on the train or the bus, carry out some random act of kindness, because you never know what effect it might have. Heart-warming and genuine, I definitely recommend this.

(With thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for an ARC of this title.)