I picked up "About a Boy," by Nick Hornby, and it feels like a Jane Austen novel.
There is a wickedness in Hornby's art. The story has a mid-thirties playboy attempting to pose as a single dad--because "dad" status can win dates for you. The guy "adopts" a smart little kid, who also has an agenda. The kid wants the guy to fall in love with his (the kid's) suicidal mom.
Both characters seem entirely real. The book is worth reading just for the greatness of the Planet Hollywood scene: The uncool little boy thinks that celebrities stop by this particular restaurant, in Leicester Square, "basically all the time, when they aren't needed on-set." The little boy eventually agrees to leave Planet Hollywood--but he can't help but notice that the "cool" restaurant that acts as a substitute....actually lacks impressive decor, "like a mounted display of Michael Keaton's mask, from BATMAN" ......
The uncool little boy runs into a tough girl, who tries to talk to him about Kurt Cobain. The boy hears "Kurt O'Bane," and somehow concludes that this is a great soccer star. (The boy listens only to Joni Mitchell, and maybe a little James Taylor.)
Everyone already loves Nick Hornby, but I just have to add to the chorus: This guy is a deep thinker with a light touch. He shows us kids who are brighter than adults, tragic situations that feel funny, ostensibly funny situations that feel sad. After his novel-writing spree, Hornby went on to create not one but three modern-classic screenplays: "An Education," "Wild," and "Brooklyn." This is impressive. Hornby hasn't abandoned literary fiction, but the newer books don't win raves the way "High Fidelity," "About a Boy," etc. would always win raves. Maybe this will change down the road.
I'm glad I have Hornby's company.
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