Exploring Gunk: Saba Sams’ Latest Novel
To be chosen for Grant’s Best of Young British Novelists before her debut was even released speaks volumes. Saba Sams had already made a name for herself with her short story collection, Send Nudes, which featured a standout story, “Blue 4eva,” that won the 2022 BBC National Short Story Award. Now, she’s back with her novel Gunk, set in a grotty nightclub run by the protagonist, Jules, who’s now in her 30s. The cover, featuring a fried egg, hints at the chaotic yet relatable hangover breakfasts that accompany nights out, while also touching on deeper themes like infertility and unplanned motherhood.
At the core of Gunk is an unflattering love triangle involving Jules, her reckless ex-husband Leon—a failed DJ immersed in a life of excess—and the intriguing young woman, Nim. When Nim encounters Jules and Leon at the club, she’s drawn to their vibe, captivated by their personalities and the sense of escape they offer. Flashbacks reveal that Nim has a baby she abandoned, leaving Jules trying to care for an infant, feeling profoundly disconnected: “By the smell, the taste, I knew I wasn’t his mother.” The narrative focuses on how Jules navigates this strange situation.
Jules and Leon’s relationship is a classic struggle. Leon epitomizes the charming but dishonest guy every girl seems to encounter. He often bemoans his unfulfilled life while indulging in cocaine-fueled conversations with young women. One girl, inquisitive, turns to Jules and asks if Leon’s heartache still matters after four years of marriage. “It’s complicated,” Jules replies, illustrating the sharp wit and insightful humor that characterized Sams’ earlier work.
Sams recognizes that the true storytellers in the club scene are not the affluent patrons but the bar staff and bouncers.
With vivid imagery, Sams paints a grim picture of the nightclub, from the foul smell of skunk and bubblegum vape to the makeshift bathrooms in the smoking area, evoking memories for anyone who’s worked late nights in hospitality. It’s refreshing to read about characters who don’t carry the weight of elite education. Jules remarks on Nim’s carefree nature, contrasting it with the burdens other students seem to place on themselves.
Sams’ writing style reminds me of another author whose debut tackled a similar atmosphere—dive bars and the lives revolving around them. Both embrace the transient experiences of bartenders and their worlds, but there’s a dry humor that shines through. Jules reflects on Leon’s mother’s sabotage of his Christmases, humorously musing about how, “If it wasn’t for all Tesco, I might have been in Paris.”
However, Gunk feels more like a polished effort, lacking some of the quirks and humor that made Send Nudes so engaging. At times, the character development feels reminiscent of short stories rather than a cohesive narrative. I found myself yearning for a deeper dive into Jules’ longing for motherhood. While it’s common for authors to tell rather than show their narratives, some elements of Jules and Leon’s backstory seem to dilute the emotional weight of the present storyline. We know she craves motherhood, but we don’t deeply feel her struggle.
Yet, Jules’ hesitance to admit her needs is a vital part of her journey, and Sams is undeniably skilled. There are moments of brilliance, like her description of Nim’s fetus, which she likens to a continuous, muscular sensation—a testament to her evocative writing style. Sams has a talent for connecting labor and birth with visceral language, albeit with occasional clichés.
At its core, Gunk delivers a poignant message regarding the limitations of the traditional family structure and offers alternatives with compassion. It’s a significant theme, and while Sams’ narrative holds back at times, one can’t help but anticipate even more daring explorations from her in the future.
Gunk by Saba Sams is published by Bloomsbury (£16.99). For those interested, copies are available for order.
