Urban and the sudden colossal time suck, or: Twock* me, Richard Armitage

Richard Armitage as Chop, behind the scenes photo from production of Urban and the Shed Crew, posted March 21, 2014. Source: Urban and the Shed Crew on FB.

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My used copy of the book arrived from the UK yesterday.

I thought this was going to be what I call a “car book” — one of the titles that lie on the passenger seat of my car. I use them in waiting rooms, in restaurants, and so on, essentially for killing time in public places. Car books are things I want to read, that have engrossing narratives that make me want to pick up the thread the next I have an opportunity, but are usually not things I feel I just have to read immediately — and thus not worth carrying in my bookbag.

I also didn’t want to “spoil myself” for the movie and thought I’d read just the beginning to get a feel for it.

Cough. Nothing doing.

As I said, I got the book yesterday. After work, I went to the Vietnamese place (my digestion is still wonky, and pho is still the most soothing option) and they finally had to toss me out — I’d read 70 pp with dinner and couldn’t make myself stop. I went to my café, and chatted with some friends, and then decided to get a beer (probably not great for digestion, but it is carbonated). Took the book into the bar with me. Just like my digestion, my alcohol tolerance is way lame — one Orkney Skull Splitter made up my entire consumption — and they had to toss me out at close after another 50 pp. Got up this morning, checked my work email (nothing), and sat down to prepare my lectures for tomorrow when I realized that Urban Grimshaw and the Shed Crew had evaded its passenger seat assignment and was in my bag on top of my notes.

Mistake.

Oh, well, 185 pp later, at least I have finished the book, which was — although I don’t want to misuse the word, given that I now know a lot more about heroin use than I did twenty-four hours ago — absolutely addictive.

The book jacket, quoting the Observer, calls it “another City of God, this time for Britain rather than Brazil.” That’s not far wrong, although the violence isn’t depicted in such graphic terms and the drug usage is even more constant and revolting; it’s the story of a tiny civilization coming to terms with its position within the punishing constraints of modernity. The narrator, Chop, is an in-between figure, an exceptionally clear-eyed one who is honest and vulnerable with regard to his allegiances to his working-class past, the culture he comes from, his own weaknesses, and his capacity to come to terms with the problems he sees all around him and change things. What’s interesting to me is that although the style of the work is hardly literary, I found that images, exchanges, and plot elements lingered in my mind well after reading. And I end the reading with an uneasy feeling about Chop, liking him as much as I am left unable to identify with a protagonist in the way I’d most like to.

I don’t want to say a lot about the plot for those who haven’t read it, but I can completely see why Richard Armitage would want to be involved in this project. Inter alia, et me count the ways:

• character who is neither a hero nor a villain, but rather in-between and inherently complex — it is hard to sympathize with Chop but also hard not to sympathize with him
• northern England (people who “say it like it is”); gritty background and very different from anything Armitage has done so far
• no handsomeness required (in fact, I’m guessing they have to make him uglier to play this role)
• tons of moral ambiguities in the decisions the character has to make (especially in light of his internal conflict about his own position as role model)
• fascinating and openly political aspects and implications of the work
• Chop’s relationship to culture / role as mediator of culture to the kids he mentors (Chop’s role as appropriator of high culture seems parallel to me to certain aspects of Armitage’s own — i.e., the utilitarian aspects of it and the enjoyment without analysis)
• the “lost boys” / Peter Pan aspect of it — Chop’s conflictedly nostalgic identification with boys who will never grow up
• indeed, I’m guessing a few overlaps between what I can deduce about Armitage’s own personality and Chop’s straight-on view of the world, especially the improvisational aspects of it, and the predominance of his perceptive mode of processing as opposed to the evaluative side. Chop is a truly open, and thus ambiguous, observer of the world around him
• outcome of the book: creativity as a consequence of life experience balanced against Chop’s utter failure to change much of anything
• narration of drug use is straight on (neither the comedic aspects of Trainspotting nor the stylishness moments of Sid and Nancy)
• professionally speaking, a role like this was central to / decisive for the career of Armitage’s much-admired Gary Oldman (Sid and Nancy — I’m indebted to Obscura for reminding me of this) — this piece seems unlikely to get the same exposure as that did (or as Ewan MacGregor got from Trainspotting), but it will involve similar challenges of characterization

I don’t know what the scriptwriters will make out of it — but right now, I can hardly wait. The book does, however, start with a water scene involving a sewer. Honestly, Mr. Armitage.

OK. Gotta get back to revising lectures.

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Other thoughts I’ve read about this: Guylty and Herba (German).

ETA: if you wrote a review of the book, would you leave your link in the comments? I’d read at least one other one that I’ve lost track of.

*twock = steal a car for joyriding and then possibly set it on fire afterwards

~ by Servetus on April 2, 2014.