Review of Leo Robson’s “The Narrator”
In Leo Robson’s debut novel, “The Narrator,” we meet Johnny Fohel, an aimless young Londoner whose attachment to a book of essays and interviews by Susan Sontag becomes a significant heirloom, heavily marked by his late mother and estranged half-brother, Lawrence. Johnny frequently ponders the idea that reading Sontag—or other heavily annotated books from his past—might offer a window into his family’s dreams and secrets.
Among Sontag’s noted works is a 1968 piece defending Jean-Luc Godard, the French New Wave’s acclaimed and provocative filmmaker. If Johnny delves into this essay in hopes of uncovering familial ties, he finds a description of a novel similar to his own: Godard’s films present interconnected characters within a recognizable yet complex environment. The stories seem straightforward but often remain elusive, leaving actions unclear and their consequences uncertain.
Robson, an insightful critic previously featured in prominent publications, showcases a debut that resonates with the complexities he is well aware of. His critiques blend sharp arguments with a witty tone, making him an engaging literary voice. He has previously defended figures like Joyce Carol Oates and expressed skepticism about widely admired works, like those of Paul Murray.
Johnny’s older half-brother, Lawrence, acts as the novel’s central figure, portraying a mix of chaos and intellect.
Such a pedigree raises expectations, suggesting the novel could be seen as either risky or daring. Starting with readings from Sontag, whose critical voice never fully conformed to fiction norms, adds an interesting layer to the narrative. The characters wrestle with their engagement with literature, much like how Sontag described Godard’s works—they navigate complexities that stray from conventional themes and tidy resolutions. As the scenes unfold, they sometimes lead to unexpected, almost disjointed moments, creating a unique experience that defies typical storytelling.
There’s a distinctly French New Wave vibe here—not in Godard’s critiques of bourgeois society, but perhaps resembling the gentler storytelling style of François Truffaut or Éric Rohmer. Set amidst the backdrop of the 2012 Olympics in specific London neighborhoods, the novel feels almost geographical. Johnny is on a quest for love, though it’s uncertain how deeply that desire runs. His girlfriend, Chloe, barely makes an appearance, while Johnny reflects on his family’s past, particularly the Jewish roots that brought them to London during the war. Meanwhile, the charismatic instability of his half-brother Lawrence weaves a web of influence across the family dynamics.
In terms of plot, Johnny and Lawrence confront their estrangements, with Lawrence’s teenage son, Jasper, about to become a father himself. Johnny spends a considerable portion of the story trying to help Lawrence find a job while working with two fellow grad students at university, Harvey and Rory. The novel meanders somewhat, opting for character development instead of a rigid narrative arc, allowing readers to engage with genuine human experiences.
Robson crafts a narrative filled with peculiarities, marking his prose with striking specificity. While the conventions of traditional novels don’t dictate the pace, his approach creates a lifelike atmosphere that feels far from mere fiction. Ultimately, it’s a refreshingly whimsical book that leaves a lasting impression.
