Review: The Rendon Boy to the Grave is Gone
I read Eleanor Berry's novel with great interest and enjoyment. She has an unusually individual authorial voice and a mordant wit which frequently had me chuckling and several times roaring with laughter. I particularly enjoyed Ephraim's precociously eloquent put-down of Samuel Richardson's Clarissa. Some aspects of the novel put me in mind of women writers such as Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath. The unbated abrasiveness of many of the character interactions reminds me of Dostoyevsky, while the no-punches-pulled grim humour suggests comparison with John Kennedy Toole's 'A Confederacy of Dunces'. Maybe a dash of Joe Orton.
Eleanor Berry's treatment of sex, militant atheism and the very blackness of some of the comedy might be a bit taxing for conservative sensibilities to adjust to, possibly even to understand. At the same time, I also believe 'The Rendon Boy' is a book which literally cries out to be read. It is more than vividly imagined, almost dangerously erotic and executed with unusual passion and courage.
Eleanor Berry will be a household name, one day. Her manipulation of the written word is arresting, and rare indeed.
E.B. launching The Rendon Boy at the Groucho Club.
Far Right: E. B.'s friend and Agent, Mr William Hurndell
