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Coming of Age
Brit’s debut novel is more than fluff
by Molly Kincaid
Rather than sipping aged Cabernet and reciting poetry with gorgeous, sophisticated women like 18-year-old Brian Jackson thought he would do in university, the adorable, nerdy protagonist of David Nicholls’ A Question of Attraction awakens with a beery hangover and the vague recollection of ripping off sweaty articles of clothing while spastically dancing to the thumping bass of James Brown’s “Sex Machine.” Brian recalls leaping onto the dance floor next to the object of his drunken desire, thinking, “Dance! I will woo her through the medium of contemporary dance!” Needless to say, amidst his befuddled convulsions, very little wooing was done that night.
Through Brian, first-time author Nicholls sucks you into the paranoid inner-workings of the young character’s mind as he discovers repeatedly that college is quite the opposite of his lofty expectations. Growing up in with his widowed mother in Southend, a small port city in Southern England, Brian had always dreamed of attending University and becoming well-rounded, brilliant, and, consequently, pretentious. But, as will often transpire in the burgeoning genre of lad-lit (a response to chick lit), even the most academic intentions can get sidetracked in the pursuit of love.
Brian formally meets the un-wooed girl who witnessed his attempted mating dance, Alice, at a tryout to be on a British television game show University Challenge. He becomes fixated on making the team because he and his late father had watched it together when he was young. Brian and Alice both make the team, and he pursues her shamelessly for the majority of the book. Alice senses his acute desperation and proceeds to string him along mercilessly. Brian’s gal pal, Rebecca, adds to his misery by mocking his numerous romantic follies.
Although this goofy comedy is Nicholls’ first novel, the London-dweller has several notorious, witty television credits such as Cold Feet, which aired in America on Bravo. Therefore, it’s no surprise that A Question of Attraction possesses the typical foibles of a TV series, namely predictability. Although Brian seems to be a smitten-kitten over the aristocratic, radiant and carefree Alice, his incessant sexual-masked-as-malicious banter with the spunky and politically outspoken Rebecca foreshadows a romantic spark forming between the two.
This plight of choosing between two girls—Alice the enchanting infatuation, and Rebecca the witty ace-in-the-hole—may be more than cliché (and slightly reminiscent of his Brit-lit sis Bridget Jones). But Nicholls skillfully coerces a stroll down your own memory lane of amorous blunders, making it all but impossible to indulge.
As Brian wavers back and forth between the two love interests, chronic self-doubt plagues him. Nicholls’ stream-of-consciousness style illustrates the rants of insecurity that play out inside Brian’s head: “She tastes like brewing yeast and Golden Virginia and the scented oiliness of the lipstick. For my part, I can’t help worrying about the Vesta curry I had earlier. Should I pretend to need the toilet, and then brush my teeth? But then she’ll know I’ve brushed my teeth for her sake, and I don’t want to appear conventional. Is bad breath in some way unconventional? Probably not, but if I brush my teeth maybe she’ll think I want her to brush her teeth too, which I don’t really. In fact I quite like the tobacco taste, that feeling of smoking by proxy.”
Brian’s acclimation to life at the university does, of course, delve deeper than petty crushes and TV quiz shows. His father’s death hangs heavily on his daily conscience, as if he’s trying to fill the void by overachieving to “make him proud.” Brian’s guilt complex also springs from having to leave his mother alone while away at school. This guilt becomes evident in a surreal account of their visit to his father’s grave on Christmas night. His mother, drunk on Tia Maria and a large box of liqueur-filled chocolates, talks to the headstone hazily while Brian tries to distance himself by wishing he “was a long, long way away from here, lying still with someone in a warm bed, falling asleep.”
These flickering moments of tenderness temper the utter hilarity of Question of Attraction, and it’s Brian’s self-deprecating quips that make the throes of growing up more bearable.
July 8, 2004 • Vol. 14, No. 28
© 2004 Metro Pulse
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