As some musicians have the gift of perfect pitch for musical notes, so Martin Amis observed that Elmore Leonard had the gift of perfect pitch for prose, a wonderfully smooth prose that continues page after page after page without the slightest hint of a rough edge, a smoothness and fluidity not even found in great writers such as Raymond Chandler or Henry James.
By my modest judgement, Ned Beauman also possesses a perfect pitch for prose, surely a prime reason why, in his Guardian Review of Glow, Edward Docx wrote its "worth taking a moment to celebrate Beauman's great originality and skill – as a maker of phrase, as a master of simile, as a scrupulous selector of words. Indeed, on a line-by-line basis, Beauman's intelligent aesthetic often provides pure revitalizing reading pleasure; he is playful, arresting, unnerving, opulent, rude and – above all – deliciously, startlingly, exuberantly fresh."
Master of simile, you say? Indubitably! Samples (two of many) of our young British author spicing the first chapter:
"The skyscrapers across the river and cramped together into one narrow band of the horizon's curve, a string of paper dolls, as marginal and unconvincing as one of those tourist board graphics where they cut and paste a dozen famous silhouettes into a greatest hits compilation."
"Someone's windscreen must have got knocked through outside Isaac's block of flats, because in the gutter there are diamonds of safety glass with which this morning's rain has mingled an alluvium of damp white blossom and a few fronds of synthetic wig hair caught on a chicken bone, like the shattered remains of a tribal fetish."
Glow is an intricately plodded International thriller that's, well, thrilling. Ned Beauman begins his turbocharged yarn thusly: we're at a small rave concert in London in the spring of 2010 when main character Raf, an appealing mix of hero, computer programmer, quick-witted slacker and Romeo wannabe, spots a gorgeous half-white, half-Asian gal with long black hair framing her distinctive facial features.
It's as if this boy meets girl scene serves as the firing of a starter's gun for a sprint - only here the dash covers fifteen days (exact times are noted within each day) in two hundred and some pages.
Twenty-two-year-old Raf has a medical condition known as non-24-hour sleep/wake syndrome - rather than the normal 24 hour cycle, Raf's cycle is about 25 hours. “It's like his brain is wearing a novelty watch.” Raf so wishes he could find something, anything, that will allow his to go to sleep and wake up like everyone else. Hey, could a new synthetic MDMA-like drug that's recently hit London, a drug called glow, be the answer?
And that half-white, half-Asian young lady mentioned above is a Burmese-American by the name of Cherish and her role in the unfolding drama can change at the drop of a pill or a pointing of a pistol. Keep an eye on this gal who came to London by way of Burma and Los Angeles.
A number of other players take their turn in the spotlight, including a couple of animals: 1) a bull terrier, Rose, who guards the transmitters for a pirate radio station when Raf isn't keeping her in his apartment or taking her for a walk; 2) red foxes of London that have a distinctive connection to the process of producing glow.
We have the opportunity to know more women and men in London during the two week cycle but here's the important point to underscore with this novel: many of the intriguing sections take place in other countries, Asia in particular, via characters sharing their detailed backstory with Raf. In this way, Ned Beauman proves himself a consummate storyteller.
Oh, yes, I noted Glow is an international thriller. One prime reason: the multinational corporation Lacebark recognizes more money can be made with glow than things like mining. How all this fits together makes for one spine-tingling, delightful read.
British author Ned Beauman, born in London in 1985
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