To
call Rastus Reilly pointless is to do it an injustice,
a rather misleading tagline attached to the front
cover of this bizarre novel. Whilst true, it is
difficult to find a serious, or even creative point
to the book, by no means should it be simply ignored.
story
" Lucretia Faversham, eminent Boston
dowager, is on her last legs. She knows there is a
Secret of Eternal Youth, hidden from mankind for
centuries, but very real. Private eye, Jake Stalker
may be just the man to find it for her, but the path
to the Secret, is paved with terrible perils. Will
Jake be able to seize the Secret from the fearsome
Elder Gods? Or will he get drunk instead? Or maybe go
to the pictures? Or just hang around someplace? Who
the hell cares anyway? Just read the book. It's funny.
"
Back
jacket blurb
review
Its very difficult to describe the plot,
hence I simply use the blurb on the sleeve of the
book. But then, if I went into to much thought here,
I would undoubtedly reveal many of the plot twists,
and one would wonder what the point is in reading it
anyway.
I
approached Rastus with some caution. The blurb and
rather overlong subtitle might suggest a particular
type of author attitude, which conceited though might
be feared, I found none of.
Narrated in first person by Jake Stalker, the tale
opens in Boston 1936, in the quiet office of a
stereotyped private eye. Perpetually drunk, bimbo
girlfriend and pretty useless. From there, we are
introduced to the Favershams, their bizarre home (which
would out-strange the Adams Family any day), and the
archaeological quest for the Secret of Eternal Youth.
Along the way the team are hounded by two inept
master-criminals, indulge in copious deviant sexual
activities, get very very drunk, and have a fight
with some gods.
All
rather too much for the average palate.
There
is however, one way in which to describe the style of
the piece. And that is simply Spike Milligan. Rastus
harkens to Spike's wondrously eclectic and surreal
humour and writing style. Without the pitfalls of
some of Spike's recent works (in which the swearing
is excessive and often clumsy, and the set-pieces
tired and dated), Rastus is fresh life in a familiar
format.
Scenes sweep into one another without little thought
for rationality, and there is no reason why there
should be. His characters are defined with clarity,
and remain abstract enough for the reader to blend
everything together.
AS
the title suggests, the overall effect is very much (one
is meant to assume), like reading a novel whilst on
bad acid. It makes sense, just not very good sense.
Taking in Indiana Jones territory, alongside
Lovecraftian gods and spells, alongside a straight
New York gangster piece....
Rastus
is entertaining, and funny. Though not, for everyone.
Steve clearly has a flair for this kind of writing,
and providing critics aren't too harsh and try to
find an inner reason and meaning, we should see some
more of him.
If
you enjoy Milligan, Lovecraft, surreal anarchic
humour or simply fancy something a little different,
I recommend Rastus. Otherwise...
RJES
