Alright, i've just finished the
book. I
admit, I saw the film, then had to read the book. They're both very good. The quick no-
spoilers summary might be that it's about a man called Rob Fleming who breaks up with his girlfriend Laura, and how he deals with the
separation, and all of his other separations. Rob owns a
record shop called
Championship Vinyl, inhabited by two
music snobs named
Dick and
Barry. The
story is a personal
history of Rob. After all, nearly the first thing he does when
Laura leaves him is to
reorganise his
record collection in
autobiographical order. This is an
excellent, in the sense that it
excels, book.
The first sentence actually reads,
My desert-island, all-time, top five most memorable split-ups, in chronological order:
- Alison Ashworth
- Penny Hardwick
- Jackie Allen
- Charlie Nicholson
- Sarah Kendrew
Notes on differences between the book and the film:
- John Cusack is actually fairly close to the description of Rob Fleming, the central character.
- Most of the women he interacts with are different in appearance from their descriptions in the book, but that just emphasises that it's really not a story about how you look.
- This one's really obvious. The novel is set in London. The film puts the story in Chicago. It works. Both places. Very well.
- There are embellishments to the story for the film which are good (the skater kids), and there are things which were left out or modified for the film, too.
- There are some phenomenally good passages. This is a book which it is a joy to read. It can also be painful. I don't think i've been as much of an arse as Rob Fleming is, but it can still make me wince.
Alright, another fave quote:
``Have you got any soul?'' a woman asks the next afternoon. That depends, I feel like saying; some days yes, some days no. A few days ago I was right out; now I've got loads, too much, more than I can handle. I wish I could spread it a bit more evenly, I want to tell her, get a better balance, but I can't seem to get it sorted. I can see she wouldn't be interested in my internal stock control problems though, so I simply point to where I keep the soul I have, right by the exit, just next to the blues.
Nick Hornby, High Fidelity, Riverhead Books, New York, 1996. Page 75.