‘The scene looped in his head. He resisted at first, then let go until it became the background to his insomnia. He thought that maybe through constant remembrance he could remove himself from the situation, like it would be a clip from an old movie.
No such luck.’
Roy wakes up with a hangover. It’s not just any hangover either. It’s probably the best described one I’ve come across.
All he wants is to lie still and let the pain wash over him until it becomes reduced to the constant hum of discomfort, only his girlfriend isn’t going to let him do that. Instead she’s going to kick him out onto the streets. We can’t be sure why she’s doing this, but can be pretty confident he deserves it. We can also be pretty certain that this is about as good as it’s going to get for Roy, for it’s unlikely good fortune is ever going to shine upon him.
The only person he has left to turn to is Banksy. Banksy’s another waster. A dope sucking, computer game addicted drug pedlar who’s too lazy to do any deals. He’s so low, he’s even going to charge his only buddy rent to let him sleep on the couch.
Off they go to a nightclub. It’s thirsty work and Roy hits the drink in the same hard way he has to every day to keep functioning. And bad things happen.
This is a wonderful story, told with skill and the confidence to be uncompromising at every turn.
Roy’s no angel. In fact, Rhatigan throws so much of the man’s crap at you that he should be utterly despised. Thing is, I kind of like him. It’s difficult not to be sympathetic to a guy who just wants to get through life with a drink in his hand and with a few smokes without hurting anyone along the way. His daily battle with the mundane routines of his job at the Bullseye store is brilliantly told and I doubt there’s anyone out there who had done a crappy job or one they’re stuck with who won’t recognise his pain and won’t blame him from wanting to escape in any way he can.
The twists and turns of Roy’s life as it circles the plughole are hypnotising. There’s no way he can avoid that gravitational force pulling him downwards, but it’s great watching him try.
A cop named Walsh adds a good deal to this story. He’s a fantastic creation and if there was a new detective I wanted to read more about, this guy would be the one. He wouldn’t play things by the book and there wouldn’t be a cliché in sight.
Race To The Bottom (US) is another Chris Rhatigan book to treasure. It’s scary how good the guy’s writing is and how it improves by notches with each new work. It’s also difficult to imagine the kind of aces he’ll be pulling from his sleeve in years to come. How wonderful it is to have such fiction to look forward to. More please.