Dickensian—in the ‘long book, even longer cast of characters’ meaning, rather than ‘jolly Christmases’ or even ‘failing NHS hospitals’. I frequently found myself flipping back to the list of characters page. It’s a bold, grand book with some richly developed individuals, inasmuch as everyone gives you one, two or a hundred reasons to dislike them. Even more challenging is the cringeworthy middle-class white man take on drill-adjacent dialogue which was outdated upon being written and massively more so in the couple of years since. I like this book’s ambition, and I recommend reading it, if only for the juxtaposition between what O’Hagan gets right—most of it—and what falls obviously, frustratingly, occasionally embarrassingly short.
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