Us by David Nicholls

Regular readers of this blog are aware of my fascination with books set against the backdrop of holidays. There are, of course, reasons for this. People cast adrift from their usual surroundings will sometimes test the boundaries of their behaviour–in other words, they behave in ways they wouldn’t at home, and that can make for an interesting story. But there’s another facet to holiday books I enjoy–if you send a family with problems away on holiday together, chances are the pressures of a confined space and 24/7 intimacy will make the cracks in the family relationships blow wide open, and this is the scenario in the engaging novel Us from British author David Nicholls.

UsDouglas Petersen and his wife Connie have been married for almost 3 decades when she announces, without warning, that the “marriage has run its course” and that she “think[s] she wants to leave him.” 54-year-old Douglas, the narrator of the novel, is stunned at the news. He’d thought that the marriage was happy, but with their only son, Albie, about to leave for a three-year photography course, Connie argues that their son is the reason why they’re together.

“I try to imagine it, us alone here every evening without Albie. Because he’s maddening, I know, but he’s the reason why we’re here, still together…”

Was he the reason? The only reason?

“…and I’m terrified by the idea of him leaving home, Douglas.

I’m terrified by the thought of that … hole.”

What was the hole? Was I the hole?

“Why should there be a hole? There won’t be a hole.”

“Just the two of us, rattling around in this house …”

“We won’t rattle around! We’ll do things. We’ll be busy, we’ll work, we’ll do things together–we’ll, we’ll fill the hole.”

“I need a new start, some kind of change of scene.”

“You want to move house? We’ll move house.”

“It’s not about the house. It’s the idea of you and me in each other’s pockets forever more. It’s like … a Beckett play.”

I’d not seen a Beckett play, but presumed this was  a bad thing. “Is it really so … horrific to you, Connie, the thought of you and I being alone together? because I thought we had a good marriage…”

I loved that quote because it reveals so much about the marriage and the dynamics between Connie and Douglas. He’s the product of a very reserved conservative, undemonstrative home, while Connie grew up in a large noisy, supportive family. These two people are completely unalike, but their marriage worked–at least for a while, but there’s always been the sense–agreed upon by both spouses–that Douglas was ‘lucky’ to get someone like Connie. The quote also reveals that Connie is the power figure in the marriage; she calls the shots and Douglas scrambles to catch up. Not only has she declared that she thinks she wants to end the marriage, but she fully expects Douglas to participate, without any awkwardness and no demands, in the last family holiday before Albie leaves home. Given Albie’s interest in Art (Connie is a failed painter and now works in a museum), Connie has organized what she calls the modern equivalent of the Grand Tour to “prepare” Albie “for the adult world, like in the eighteenth century.”  This month-long holiday includes stops in Paris, Amsterdam, Venice, Padua, Verona, Florence and Rome.

Douglas’s first reaction to the news that Connie wants a separation is to cancel the holiday which he predicts will be like a “funeral cortege” with the imminent separation “hanging over” the marriage. Connie argues that it will “be fun,” and that Douglas should not be “melodramatic.” Albie isn’t thrilled by the holiday either and argues that “if it’s meant to be a great rite of passage and you’re both there, doesn’t that sort of defeat the object?”

Of course there were further sleepless nights, further tears and accusations in the lead-up to the trip, but I had no time for a nervous breakdown. Also, Albie was completing his ‘studies’ in art and photography, returning exhausted from screen-painting or glazing a jug, and so we were discreet, walking our dog, an ageing, flatulent Labrador called Mr Jones, some distance away from the house and hissing over his head in fields.

Common sense should tell these people to cancel the trip, but as you probably guessed, the Holiday from Hell begins…

The story goes back and forth in time with scenes of this miserable holiday contrasted with the history of Connie and Douglas’s life together. We see how Douglas, a shy man, almost 30 and a responsible scientist with no social life met Connie through Douglas’s wild and uninhibited sister, Karen. The fact that Karen (“Love was Karen’s alibi for all kinds of aggravating behaviour,“) can’t cook doesn’t stop her from throwing parties which include vile tuna casseroles, and it’s at one of these parties that Douglas meets Connie. We could say that Connie, who’s had a series of unreliable boyfriends in her checkered, exotic past, is out of Douglas’s league. She’s outgoing, drinks like a fish, and is ready to sample all the drugs passed her way–unlike Douglas who has no interest in drugs whatsoever. Douglas is a dud at parties and Karen says that “he had skipped youth and leapt straight into middle age.” The scenes at the party, when somehow Douglas finds himself competing for Connie against an aggressive hairy, circus performer are hilarious.

Jake, the trapeze artist was a man who stared death in the face, while most nights I stared television in the face. And this wasn’t just any circus, it was punk circus, part of the new wave of circus, where chainsaws were juggled and oil drums were set on fire then beaten incessantly. Circus was now sexy; dancing elephants had been replaced by nude contortionists, ultra violence and explained Jake, ‘a kind of anarchic, post-apocalyptic Mad Max aesthetic.’

As the story continues and Douglas relates the history of his marriage and the crises he and Connie faced, we also see how Douglas tries to keep up the pretense of a happy holiday amidst his laminated itineraries and Connie setting the rules about intimacy.

I loved this novel. Nicholls captured the dynamics of a dying marriage–a marriage which met the needs of one spouse while another felt stymied and bored. Nicholls also nails the subtle idea that one person in a family can so often be the low man on the totem pole, and, of course in this case, it’s Douglas. Many scenes underscore the intimacy between Connie and Albie which leave Douglas as an outsider (“Connie took to twisting her finger in the hair at the nape of his neck. They do this, Connie and Albie, grooming each other like primates“), and while Douglas is a conservative individual who lacks an ounce of spontaneity, this is how he was brought up. There’s another scene at a restaurant in which Albie and Connie shut Douglas out entirely and he becomes the butt of some rather malicious humour.

Due to its well-drawn characters who exist on opposite planes of values, Us may be the sort of novel to polarize readers. I had no sympathy for Connie and thought her a remarkably selfish human being who makes the dramatic announcement that the marriage is over and then expects Douglas to play Happy Families for four weeks for the course of an expensive holiday. Readers may also have a range of reactions to Albie’s behaviour. Douglas has moments of authoritarian fantasies, but there’s never any doubt that Connie is the one firmly in charge of the marriage, and one parent can afford to be lax as long as there’s someone else on the scene who tries to enforce some sort of reasonable behaviour. Nicholls also shows how we marry people knowing what they are, with no illusions, and then we rail at those very characteristics –at one point we learn, for example, that Connie makes snarky comments about Douglas reading nonfiction–“fascism-on-the-march” books as she calls them and not fiction which is her choice. The very characteristics that drew Connie to Douglas–stability, reliability, and security, are elements that Connie then rails against in her 50s.

My sympathy was with Douglas all the way, and for me both Connie and Albie behave atrociously  (Albie insists on taking his guitar on holiday and guess who gets to carry it around). The disastrous Holiday from Hell does have its good points as it becomes the impetus for self-realization for Douglas. Us is a brilliantly clever, witty, insightful examination of power dynamics in a marriage and in a family, but even beyond that Nicholls questions the attributes valued by our society–a society in which experience and risk-taking are valued over restraint. At one point, I was very concerned that Nicholls was leading me down the PC path to cliché, but I was spared… . Us, incidentally, made the longlist for the 2014 Booker prize, and this goes to prove once again, how I prefer the Booker Losers.

Incidentally, I’ve read a few articles recently that delved into the issue of post-50 divorces. One article stated that since the 90s, the divorce rate for people over 50 and older has doubled. I initially thought, to be honest, that that was a little weird. After all, haven’t people worked out their differences by then? I asked a divorce lawyer I know if she was seeing more post-50 divorces and she replied, ‘yes, absolutely.’ I asked why this is on the rise and she said that, in her experience, she’s seeing people who don’t want to live in retirement with the current spouse. She said she has female clients who come home and see the husband sitting on the couch watching TV and they say “I can’t take 20 years more of this.”

Review copy

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20 Comments

Filed under Fiction, Nicholls David

20 responses to “Us by David Nicholls

  1. I wasn’t even remotely interested in reading this book until I read your piece. I didn’t get on with this author’s previous novel One Day (which I ended up reading for my previous book group), but this new one sounds so much better. The quotes are great, sharp and spiky! Thanks for reviewing this.

  2. None of the Booker short list appealed, and I wasn’t even aware that this made the longlist until I finished it. This is the first book I’ve read by Nicholls. I have looked at One Day but thought it sounded a bit sappy. I hope you read it as I’d like to know if you have a different take on this. I ran the basic scenario (Connie’s announcement but still wanting the holiday) past people at work to see if they felt the same way I did. Also some of the stuff Albie does on holiday which Connie seems to think is ok..

    • I’ve added it to the list, Guy, but I’ll probably wait for the paperback as I tend to prefer them to h/bs. I really do like the sound of the premise and tone of this new one.

  3. Jonathan

    I’ve only seen the film of One Day and thought it was ok but this sounds really good. I’ll add it to my TBR pile and try to read it before a film is made of it.

  4. I’ve been told recently that One Day was far better than one would expect and not sappy. I assumed the samle like you but after having read your post I’m not surprised One Day is good too.
    This sounds absolutely excellent. I think Connie does sound rather dreadful. I can imagine that a marriage might not last forever but this sounds like it comes out of the blue.

  5. Great review Guy.

    Based upon your commentary alone I feel very bad for Douglas. I think that this book would actually frustrate me as a result.

  6. I had the same feeling about One Day and I’m still not convinced about this one. There’s something a bit too knowing for me about sentences like “Jake, the trapeze artist was a man who stared death in the face, while most nights I stared television in the face” – a bit like the setup of the patsy in a British sitcom. Still,you’ve left me wanting to know how it all turned out….
    As for the divorce after 30 years, I often ask my husband why he has so many faults while I have none.

  7. I really like the first quote. I’ll probably like the book too. Poor Douglas.

    PS: about your last paragraph, I’d say “throw away the TV before throwing away the husband” 🙂

    • I was concerned that the book would make Douglas a victim or too ‘wronged,’ or even (gag) make him see the error of his ways, but the right balance is achieved here, I think. I’m still chewing over how the author touches on the qualities admired by society (lack of inhibitions vs restraint).

  8. This sounds up my alley Guy. I love the voice of the narrator, and I’d like to read a book that “questions the attributes valued by our society–a society in which experience and risk-taking are valued over restraint” since I probably fall mostly in the latter group! I mean I’ve taken the odd risk – but usually pretty well calculated so perhaps not a risk at all!? Ha ha. It sounds like it could be cliched and obvious, but your suggestion that it isn’t reassures me. Still, it’s probably unlikely I’ll actually find the time to read this book.

  9. It sounds a little one sided, though Douglas does sound a bore. Still, he’s the same bore he ever was as you point out.

    Did you ever see the movie Blue Valentine? It follows a couple as they meet, intercut with scenes of their breakup five years later, and the cruelty of it is that it’s the traits they find attractive in each other that are precisely the ones they can’t live with long term.

    Chainsaw jugglers. I still see circus ads featuring these as if it’s somehow daring or exciting, when I no longer remember any other kind of circus juggler.

    • Yes I saw Blue Valentine.
      I wondered, at least initially, if Douglas was an unreliable narrator and that over time we’d see a whole new side of him which would explain why his wife wanted to hit the road. But no, what you see is what you get.

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