Lee Rourke

Lee Rourke's use of repetition here is truly remarkable and at times poetic: the canal itself; the swans; the helicopters; the teenage gang; the office building—the way that he handles each of these images as they grow gradually more complex and intertwined throughout the novel allow the reader to see a governing structural shift from the narrator's passive relation to the outside world to a much more active one.

The Canal is a novel about boredom, and yet it is far from boring. In many ways, this is a chamber drama, and Rourke handles the claustrophobic narrative skillfully and even cinematically—all the more so as this is his first novel, meaning we have major talent on our hands here. The way that boredom is intertwined with so many things—love, terrorism, confession, violence—and is also the root cause of these things is explored with a deft eye toward social critique as well as an unrelenting view of how these external forces shape our own inner psychological states. The Canal is also very much concerned with how isolated modern life causes us to feel, how fractured and fragmented we all are, how subservient to technology and machines, and how this prevents us from forging deeper emotional bonds with others.… (més)

The narrator of Lee Rourke’s The Canal is bored. It’s not a problem. He finds boredom endlessly fascinating. So much so that he quits his job and sets out to pursue his boredom full time. And the best place for this research, apparently, is a bench adjoining the towpath along Regent’s Canal in London. This particular bench is located near the soundlessly clashing borders of two London boroughs, Hackney and Islington. It is a locale of derelict factories, council estates, youth gangs, and the encroaching transmogrification of the derelict into the highly productive (in the form of offices full of office workers with “snazzy” flat screen monitors) and the inordinately expensive (in the form of posh condos). Sitting on his bench day after day our narrator has a good view of the office workers and the local fauna – coots, Canada geese, and swans. And eventually someone sits down beside him, someone just as bored with everything as he is. And she’s good looking too. Boredom has its perks.

The writing here is very flat. The characters are two-dimensional. And for vast stretches, not a great deal happens. All of which fits well with the premise the narrator establishes at the outset. But it doesn’t really hold one’s attention. A touch boring. So I guess that counts as success.

About two-thirds of the way through my view of the novel changed significantly. I suddenly started thinking of it as much more like a graphic novel, specifically something by Daniel Clowes. If you are familiar with Clowes’ Wilson or his David Boring, then you will be well placed to catch what I think Lee Rourke is up to here. At least for me, thinking of it that way made the novel work much better.

Of course in such a flat, almost motionless, presentation, when action does suddenly emerge it almost cannot fail to come across as explosive, even melodramatic. Which can be a bit of a shock. But not to worry. Things settle down quickly enough and the boredom that the narrator set out with is firmly with him at the end.

It might not be for everyone, but Lee Rourke is undoubtedly a writer to keep tabs on.… (més)