September 11, 2009

Simon Crump: Neverland

Posted in Crump Simon at 8:00 am by John Self

Simon Crump’s book Neverland would probably have passed my (and many others’) notice but for two small matters. First, it was shortlisted for the Guardian ‘Not the Booker Prize Prize’ as a result of an enthusiastic voting campaign by Leeds United fans. Second, this book which offers us several fictional presentations of Michael Jackson was published, coincidentally, shortly after Jackson’s sudden death in June of this year. Indeed, Crump says that he finished writing the book a few hours before Jackson died.

Simon Crump: Neverland

I described Neverland simply as a ‘book’ above because it seems to straddle a line between novel and stories. The back cover refers to it as a “collection”, yet it clearly has unity of purpose and, to some extent, character – though the extent of that unity of character is not always clear. There are 72 ‘chapters’, many of which are stand-alone, flash fiction type stories, varying from a few lines to a few pages. Others are parts of longer narratives. One of these describes a very long conversation between Michael Jackson and Uri Geller, where Michael breaks biscuits in two (“his eyes grew a shade darker”) accompanied only by the “muted hum of the Frigidaire” as he fails time and again to get around to asking Uri a question, and mispronounces the word ‘electric’. It’s a series of running jokes, and like most running jokes, all the broken biscuits and muted hums become funnier the first few times, reach a plateau, and then become annoying.

The book is full of gags like this, that are either very silly or don’t quite work. This seems deliberate on Crump’s part. He cripples his jokes, just as Stewart Lee does when he drives a gag into the ground through overlong repetition, which in itself becomes funny, then not funny, then funny again. The fact that the joke is not funny is itself a joke. It might be taken as reflection of the mixture of horror and amusement that anyone watching Michael Jackson’s life over the last couple of decades will have experienced.

The dumb kid had written Par Avian on the envelope instead of Par Avion, so the letter had been delivered by bird and as a result was almost six months late.

The main narrative in the book, broken up through its entire length, is related by Lamar (“250 lbs of fine lookin hombre“), a former assistant to Elvis who falls asleep for 16 years after the King’s death, and wakes in 1993 to take up a post in Michael Jackson’s entourage. (“There’s Disney music coming out of the fiberglass rocks in the rosebeds…”) Here, Michael is still married to Lisa Marie Presley, and Crump passes up no opportunities to make the reader squirm with the grotesquerie of life in Neverland (“I made love to Lisa in my Mickey Mouse pyjamas … One day she’s going to give me a little boy of my own”). Michael is innocent, demanding, deluded.

There are other strong stories, the best of which is ‘Gold’, and where Michael appears as a Klondike prospector. Yet here, as with other stand-alone items, the connection with Michael Jackson seemed tenuous at best, and I couldn’t rid myself of the idea that these stories had been running around in Crump’s mind independent of the Neverland project, and that he simply named a character Michael in each one to corral it into the pen. But then Crump positively encourages such misreading – you can see the glint in his eye from here – by having the Michael in Lamar’s story speak in Wikipedia entries, or to have British pop culture references from Pulp to Cannon and Ball pepper the dialogue.

Yet as Crump wrote the book while Jackson was still alive, the predominant sense is of Michael as a figure of fun. There is no indication that the real Michael Jackson had considerable talent (if long since squandered), or any appeal to people who are not (as a group of fans in the book is described) “spasticated.” Now that he has – temporarily – been rehabilitated, the tone of the book may seem out of touch and out of time; or it may seem like a refreshing antidote to hushed and over-respectful biographies. And anyway, the book is not without its own peculiarly expressed sympathy.

Michael was born with gold in his mouth.

He left his mom without too much trouble. He shimmied out. The midwife held him in her white-gloved grip. She struck his face and a shining nugget plopped onto the soiled sheets of the birthing table. He sang and he danced. He bit off his cord. He slipped on a white glove of his own and signed a few autographs.

‘We love you Michael,’ they all said.

‘I love you more,’ he said back.

They called a priest. After all, a minute-old baby isn’t supposed to act that way.

‘Where is the gold?’ he cried. ‘Where is the gold??’

For a while there was gold, lots of it, and there were cartoons and songs and dance and lunar walking and Motown and I want you back.

We fixed him though. Then we fucked him. And we took it all.

Neverland seems like a work of conceptual art, reflecting what the reader brings to it; though the same point might be made of most books with a flash of originality to them. It is almost impossible to extract quotes from the book without misrepresenting its tone: funny, ridiculous, surreal, mesmerically repetitive. It is likely to madden as many people than it delights, and demands a fair amount of reader goodwill. Yet, as with Michael himself, I felt considerable affection for this mad, brilliant runt of the litter.

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19 Comments »

  1. Sam Jordison said,

    Great review! Really glad you enjoyed the book. (My Elvis Blackout is being re-released soon too… If you liked Neverland, you’ll love Elvis, etc)

    “We fixed him though. Then we fucked him. And we took it all.”

    A sharp-intake-of-breath line if ever there was one…

  2. John Self said,

    Thanks Sam. I do of course owe my discovery of this book to you – well, you and a few dozen Leeds fans.

    My review above, reading it again today, doesn’t seem to reflect how much I liked the book (though that liking has grown with time). Anyway: I did.

  3. Paulo said,

    Hi, John,

    I was reading about the book “Sweet hereafter”, by Russel Banks. It seems to be a very interesting novel, and I intend to order it. I checked your blog, but it sounds like you never wrote about Russel. Or you wrote and I didn´t find the post? Again, congrats for your wonderful blog.

  4. John Self said,

    Sorry Paulo, I have never written about Russell Banks on this blog (and have never read any of his books).

    I do remember a discussion about him somewhere recently, when KevinfromCanada was asking about him as he’s one of this year’s Giller Prize judges, but I’m afraid I can’t remember where. Perhaps Kevin, if he sees this, can recall?

  5. Banks is a judge in this year’s Giller Prize and Trevor Berrett at theMookseandtheGripes and I did have a discussion about him. Alas, I have never read one of his books, although I intend to soon. And unfortunately I have yet to find a review source that I can recommend. Sorry, Paulo, I wish I could help.

  6. deucekindred said,

    I’ve read Crump’s My Elvis Blackout (basically Elvis slips out of his mother’s womb and commits unspeakable acts) and My sentiments are exactly like yours John. It revolted me , it ran out of steam but it felt fresh and after reflecting on it. I liked it.

  7. John Self said,

    Thanks dk – I’ve now decided I liked Neverland so much that I’ve ordered copies of Crump’s backlist, Monkey’s Birthday and Twilight Time. I believe My Elvis Blackout is currently out of print but is being reissued by Old St Publishing (who publish Neverland) shortly.

  8. Lee Monks said,

    I read My Elvis Blackout over the weekend and I have to admit it’s one of the funniest, oddest things I’ve ever read. Wonderful stuff. Completely ridiculous but so engaging you barely notice.

  9. John Self said,

    That’s great news, Lee. I certainly intend to read that one, and Crump’s others, too. I hope to be offering some more coverage of him soon on the blog so stay tuned (actually don’t; feel free to visit other websites in the meantime).

  10. Lee Monks said,

    I will visit other websites, but only occasionally. Anyway, cheers for the Crump heads-up. I’d no idea about the chap and he is a genuinely unique comic voice. Yes, reminiscent of many others such as Welsh, Saunders et al but defintely has his own thing going there. It’s always impressive when someone can set-up an array of such madness and make it work: difficult indeed. It has to generate an enormous amount of goodwill to succeed but Crump has you onside from the word go, because he’s funny. Rare.

  11. [...] anger and resentment out of me by being very rude about other people.”  I recently reviewed Neverland: the Unreal Michael Jackson Story, Crump’s latest book.  Normally I feature interviews only with authors who have become firm [...]

  12. John Self said,

    Simon Crump has now begun a blog of his own, where he writes about writing about Emile Zola:

    http://zolaandme.wordpress.com/

  13. [...] Simon Crump: Neverland A book which at first seems ridiculous and laughable – and then seems ridiculous and laughable, but also clever and mesmerising.  Neverland is effective and affecting on the modern subject of celebrity, and its timing, published a few months after Michael Jackson’s death, was spookily apt.  ”For a while there was gold, lots of it, and there were cartoons and songs and dance and lunar walking and Motown and I want you back. We fixed him though. Then we fucked him. And we took it all.” [...]

  14. [...] in Crump Simon at 7:19 am by John Self After retrospectively loving Simon Crump’s Neverland last year, I bought his other three books and put them aside for a time when I fancied a reliable [...]

  15. jubakala said,

    One begins to feel himself old when his childhood idols start to past away in an increasing pace… R.I.P. Jacko, you were truly phenomenal!

    The Michael Jackson Discography Guy

  16. Julian Gough said,

    I should have commented on this review the first time round. Same as you, John, “…as with Michael himself, I felt considerable affection for this mad, brilliant runt of the litter.”

    It’s a very difficult book to describe. It gets its effects indirectly. You’re not quite laughing at the jokes, you’re laughing at the idea of yourself laughing at the jokes. Or you’re laughing at the hole where a joke should be. There’s a kind of cumulative meta-effect, from the repetitions of jokes, situations and phrases, that’s hypnotic, and attractive.

    It’s like crossing America in a car. You keep passing the same buildings (a McDonalds, a white clapboard church), but they have slightly different backgrounds each time. You feel you’re going in a circle, going in a circle. Eventually you realize you’re a thousand miles from home and it’s getting dark.

    I ended up liking Neverland very much indeed, but I still couldn’t tell you precisely why.

    The only recent book I can compare it too would be Momus’s The Book of Jokes. Which, given that you liked Neverland, you should review sometime. Similar frustrations, and pleasures, though much colder. (But The Book of Jokes’ last lines melt a million tons of accumulated ice.)

  17. samjordison said,

    That was a great review Julian. “a hole where the jokes should be” is just right – as are your comments on the cumulative effect. I must read The Book Of Jokes too.

  18. John Self said,

    Thanks Julian and Sam. I do, or did, have a copy of The Book of Jokes somewhere which Dalkey Archive sent me, but I hadn’t really considered reading it.

    I think my bemusement at Neverland shows in the review above, and if I reread it, or next time I read some Crump, I would expect to be a lot more unconditionally loving. (As indeed I was when I read Twilight Time after this.)

    I also interviewed Crump here, for anyone coming to this post fresh.

  19. [...] written about Simon Crump here before – even interviewed him – and I was keeping this, his [...]


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