The Long Room
Francesca Kay
Faber
The titular room of Francesca Kay’s third novel refers not to the Old Library of Trinity College, but to a ministerial office in early 1980s London. The protagonist, Stephen, works there as a ‘listener’, taking notes on bugged home conversations of suspected terrorists and double agents: a kind of spying far removed from Bond-style adventure. Stephen is socially inept, has few friends, and longs more than anything to be loved. The narrative – written with a fussy dullness that echoes the tedium of Stephen’s job – traces his obsession with Helen, the wife of one of his case studies. Stephen’s desire to hear her voice – and to hang around outside her house – become increasingly difficult to hide from his superiors at the shadowy Institute, where bland camaraderie between co-workers belies suspicion as to exactly who is watching whom.
Isolated, stalkerish males are hardly fresh characters in fiction, and Kay fails to compensate for this cliché in her depiction of Stephen’s inner life. Trite observations, awkwardly worded sentences and unnecessary literary references further impede a novel that lacks the emotional insight or humour to make up for its pedestrian storyline. Indeed, one key scene at Orford Ness must rank among the least climactic climaxes in recent fiction. The result is a thriller without thrills, ultimately more David Brent than George Smiley.
Words: Stephen Cox
