st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
<!– /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:”"; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} –>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:”";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-ansi-language:#0400;
mso-fareast-language:#0400;
mso-bidi-language:#0400;}
A Review of Rose Tremain’s ‘The Road Home’ – Orange Broadband Prize for Fiction winner ‘08
The Road Home is the story of one man’s attempt to better his life and the life of those he loves. We meet Lev, a father and recent widower, in a cramped coach en route from Eastern Europe to London. Sitting next to him is Lydia, a character whom Lev later comes to reject physically but to whom he turns whenever he finds himself in distress. Once he arrives he learns that his friend Rudi, who assured him twenty pounds would last a week in the city, was sorely mistaken and spends his first few nights in a B&B and the yard of a basement flat. Lev is harassed by the police, mugged by youths, left by a younger woman and temporarily disowned by his family and friends in his native country.
After a short spell as a leaflet distributor Lev eventually begins working as a pot-man in an upmarket restaurant where, through the steam and grease of the kitchen he observes the hyper efficient chef, GK Ashe. Lev is sacked after starting an affair with red headed Sophie, a younger woman with celebrity friends. Although devastated by his dismissal, Lev has been covertly learning how to cook; a passion for which he realises may give himself and his loved ones a future.
Obviously this book is about outsiders. Most the characters find themselves outside the pale. Ahmed, a kebab shop owner whom Lev delivers leaflets for when he first arrives, agonises over the recent affect of the terrorist attacks on his business: ‘British people – young and old – look at me like I’m going to poison them…I just wanna stand here and weep’. Then there is Christy, one of the strongest characters in the novel. He is a wiry, Irish alcoholic divorcee who like Lev has been separated from his child. Although a white, English speaking man he empathises with his Eastern European friend: ‘life’s a feckin’ football match to the Brits now. They didn’t used to be like this, but now they are. If you can’t get your ball in the back of the net you’re no one.’
What is so striking in the narrative are the moments of tenderness and friendship that exist in an otherwise vast city of loneliness and marginalisation. Lydia, Lev’s coach companion helps him translate the job adverts and finds him both work and a room. Lev is a thoughtful gentle man, he helps Christy clean the house for the arrival of the latter’s new girlfriend. He cooks them a meal in the hope of making a good impression for Christy. He encourages Christy to fight for access to his daughter and agrees to chaperone them with Sophie, securing a custody visit from Christy’s ex-wife. Lev also befriends a lonely old woman at a care home where he works as a chef. He visits her on her deathbed when he realises her children have probably abandoned her.
However, there is another side to Lev. After their break up, Sophie calls round to the house he shares with Christy. Lev sleeps in the untouched bedroom of Christy’s daughter. Here, among the soft toys and doll houses Lev almost rapes Sophie on the floor, both of their mouths bleeding. Again when confronted with a play containing incestuous rape Lev explodes: ‘Crazy, maybe. But I’m not sick, like this play. At home I have a daughter, Maya, I love this daughter’ to which the famous Howie Preece indignantly replies: ‘Who cares?’ said Preece. ‘That’s so not relevant. Who cares if you’ve got a daughter? This is art. This is cutting edge.’ Lev doesn’t understand how such things can be considered art. He is appalled by the play, but more so by celebrity, celebration of the obscene for the sake of its obscenity. The novel has a satisfying conclusion. Lev raises enough money to return to his village, which in the name of progress is destined to become a reservoir by the building of a massive dam. He realises his Great Idea opening a restaurant in New Baryn, with himself at the helm. He hopes to change the lives of the city’s inhabitant through good food but more poignantly by allowing them the unknown luxuries of choice and experience.
The novel is in contrast to her earlier, historical fiction (as they’ve been deemed). It can’t be doubted that most British people have an opinion on immigration, whether legal, economic or otherwise and often, with the assistance of the tabloids, migrants become dehumanised locust devouring native resources. The Road Home is an example of the pride and work-ethic that many of those from outside Britain possess in their struggle for, as in Lev’s case, consistent electricity and a meal of more than sausage and boiled eggs. The penetrating scene’s of the novel are where this struggle meets the inflated decadence of celebrity London, criminal London and sexual London. Lev asks himself whether the West is any better than his remote Eastern village.
Rose Tremain’s novel shoulders past the familiar war cries of ‘they take our jobs’, ‘they take our houses’ and leaves the inexorable realisation that we are all on a journey somewhere, all dreaming of something whether its in our own or another’s country.
Steven Partridge
