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In every face I meet
A novel set in London in 1990 about a nightmare day for a bored marketing man. Justin Cartwright is also the author of "Masai Dreaming".
240 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1995
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203 people want to read
About the author
Justin Cartwright
49 books48 followersJustin Cartwright (born 1945) is a British novelist.
He was born in South Africa, where his father was the editor of the Rand Daily Mail newspaper, and was educated there, in the United States and at Trinity College, Oxford. Cartwright has worked in advertising and has directed documentaries, films and television commercials. He managed election broadcasts, first for the Liberal Party and then the SDP-Liberal Alliance during the 1979, 1983 and 1987 British general elections. For his work on election broadcasts, Cartwright was appointed an MBE.
Cartwright had a wife, Penny, and two sons.
He was born in South Africa, where his father was the editor of the Rand Daily Mail newspaper, and was educated there, in the United States and at Trinity College, Oxford. Cartwright has worked in advertising and has directed documentaries, films and television commercials. He managed election broadcasts, first for the Liberal Party and then the SDP-Liberal Alliance during the 1979, 1983 and 1987 British general elections. For his work on election broadcasts, Cartwright was appointed an MBE.
Cartwright had a wife, Penny, and two sons.
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
December 1, 2020
Julian Capper, a self-important food and travel writer, is looking forward to serving as a juror in a murder trial, a process that will give him new insight into the world and just maybe relaunch his career.
However, that opening chapter is something of what the real subject of the novel, the rugby-loving Anthony Northleach, would have regarded as a dummy pass.
For the rest of the book concerns the events of one momentous day nine months earlier when Anthony is promoted, his friend Mike sacked, and together they spend a lunchtime o’booze, and much of the evening too, before the disaster that lands Anthony in court.
That cataclysm is a long time in coming, but along the way we meet a string of varied and recognisable characters: Mike, the inveterate and impractical dreamer; the corporate-speak executives who seem to do nothing very much in a business that does not very much, apart from Basil, the kindly company secretary; and with a glance too at the lecturer who ‘imagines he’s from a Woody Allen film in New York, but .. teaches in Guildford.’
The women are particularly well-drawn, Anthony’s tolerant, suburban wife Geraldine, who measures life by the age of their son, and the meek, drug addict prostitute Chanelle, with her modest ambitions for such a life, and eyes that ‘look sort of bruised from the inside.’
Political associations and memories of a Swaziland childhood flitter by in Anthony’s consciousness, but sometimes Cartwright tries rather too hard for effect with refracted metaphors that don’t quite fit. Tirami su ‘a coffin lined with silk.’ ?
The book's title is from William Blake’s London: ‘.. in every face I meet, Marks of weakness, marks of woe.’ It is a pretty dismal view of the post-Thatcher city by the South-Africa-born Cartwright, and his depiction of the abused Chanelle seems horribly true.
The book works pretty well as a bleak, sometimes funny crime novel. Its greatest failing is in its attempt to be something more.
Anthony, seeking meaning beyond his purposeless career, loves the certainty of sport, but I could not believe for a minute that he was a man who would turn to the conversations of Swedenborg with angels, or be prepared to fly at a moment’s notice to South Africa to witness the release of Nelson Mandela in order to find the answer to life, the universe and everything.
However, that opening chapter is something of what the real subject of the novel, the rugby-loving Anthony Northleach, would have regarded as a dummy pass.
For the rest of the book concerns the events of one momentous day nine months earlier when Anthony is promoted, his friend Mike sacked, and together they spend a lunchtime o’booze, and much of the evening too, before the disaster that lands Anthony in court.
That cataclysm is a long time in coming, but along the way we meet a string of varied and recognisable characters: Mike, the inveterate and impractical dreamer; the corporate-speak executives who seem to do nothing very much in a business that does not very much, apart from Basil, the kindly company secretary; and with a glance too at the lecturer who ‘imagines he’s from a Woody Allen film in New York, but .. teaches in Guildford.’
The women are particularly well-drawn, Anthony’s tolerant, suburban wife Geraldine, who measures life by the age of their son, and the meek, drug addict prostitute Chanelle, with her modest ambitions for such a life, and eyes that ‘look sort of bruised from the inside.’
Political associations and memories of a Swaziland childhood flitter by in Anthony’s consciousness, but sometimes Cartwright tries rather too hard for effect with refracted metaphors that don’t quite fit. Tirami su ‘a coffin lined with silk.’ ?
The book's title is from William Blake’s London: ‘.. in every face I meet, Marks of weakness, marks of woe.’ It is a pretty dismal view of the post-Thatcher city by the South-Africa-born Cartwright, and his depiction of the abused Chanelle seems horribly true.
The book works pretty well as a bleak, sometimes funny crime novel. Its greatest failing is in its attempt to be something more.
Anthony, seeking meaning beyond his purposeless career, loves the certainty of sport, but I could not believe for a minute that he was a man who would turn to the conversations of Swedenborg with angels, or be prepared to fly at a moment’s notice to South Africa to witness the release of Nelson Mandela in order to find the answer to life, the universe and everything.
April 22, 2013
Great book about London at the turn of the eighties, a real period piece brilliantly evocative of the state of a city and nation after 11 years boom to bust of conservative government. A book ironically I read in the week of Mrs Thatcher funeral.
Really hit the spot for me as someone who lived through it, might not be as funny/tragic if you weren’t there.
Really hit the spot for me as someone who lived through it, might not be as funny/tragic if you weren’t there.
July 9, 2025
A novel about Anthony Northleach and one turbulent, comic and traumatic day in his life. Anthony is married to Geraldine, and they have a nine year old son, Fergus. They live in London in the 1980s. The story is told via the inner monologues of Anthony, Geraldine and Chanelle. The day begins in the morning at the office. He meets his old best friend, Michael Frame, who has just been sacked and is in the throes of splitting up with his wife. During the first half of the novel we learn a lot about Anthony state of mind, his relationship with his wife and his son, his past. Anthony has high esteem for Nelson Mandela and wants to fly to South Africa when Nelson Mandela is released from his 27 years in prison. A second story thread is with Chanelle, a prostitute and her boyfriend / pimp, Jason. Chanelle is a drug addict and we learn of her inner struggles and what she hopes for. She has a baby that is being cared for by Chanelle’s mother. From here, in the second half of the novel, plot momentum picks up. I particularly enjoyed reading the last quarter of the novel where the story becomes unpredictable.
This book was shortlisted for the 1995 Booker Prize.
This book was shortlisted for the 1995 Booker Prize.
December 1, 2019
A fierce critique on the mess that was London, post-Thatcher. Told via three interweaving inner monologues, I'm not quite sure what Cartwright was trying to say here. Maybe what he is trying to convey is how confusing it all is, in which case, he succeeded.
I guess it's a book about the end of promise, and the illusionary nature of redemption. There a quite a few works on that theme, but I get more out of the ones where the cast of characters are a little more likable.
I guess it's a book about the end of promise, and the illusionary nature of redemption. There a quite a few works on that theme, but I get more out of the ones where the cast of characters are a little more likable.
January 18, 2018
I absolutely loved the first 100 pages or so. The story of the main character, Anthony, creeps along one might say glacially in that we have progressed only till about lunch time on the one day through which the main story unfolds. But ... the writing is so sharp: keen observations, atmospheric evocation of London at the end of the Thatcher regime, very witty and quite reflective as Anthony in middle-age (41) contends with his dissatisfaction concerning his own life and England too. All the promise, all the hope, slipping sideways. Against this backdrop, he is exultant about the imminent release of Nelson Mandela in S. Africa, because Anthony lived in Swaziland as a boy and has maintained his connection to the land and its people.
All very promising. Especially since we know from the opening (what amounts to a prologue) that there is going to be a murder trial nine months later. I was gripped.
I lost a bit of that delight and edginess when we meet Chanelle, a young prostitute in very difficult circumstances. As much as we've had a chance to know Anthony and he feels like a flesh and blood conflicted character, despite the author's fine writing, I just couldn't help feeling Chanelle and her boyfriend were stock characters. I say this despite the fact their backgrounds seemed very realistic and their actions too, made some sense in that context.
Anyhow, we know Anthony and Chanelle are going to meet up, and the result will be a murder trial. And at this point the tension should ramp up ... but it doesn't. At least not for me. There's an extended scene with Mike, Anthony's best friend. A scene relevant because Mike plays an important role, but it just seems long. We get Anthony's wife popping by for a couple of short chapters starting maybe 2/3 of the way through. Why? I couldn't really tell you. Then we get the repeated references to various women's breasts. Now I certainly get how some men are fixated on women's breasts. And I'm a fan of women's breasts. But when every female character that populates the novel seemingly gets her breasts appraised it just gets wearisome. Oh, and there's one Jewish character. And Anthony, who's a pretty sophisticated guy, can't seem to separate out that Jewishness of the character -- never pejoratively, and if anything favourably, but still. It's 1990 London and a professional office: so what is remarkable about someone being Jewish that Anthony can't seem to forget ?
Then there's the trial. I like trials. But this felt like a dry bit of theatre, a device to tie up the story. The character through whose eyes we see the trial turns out -- how shall I put this? -- pretty much irrelevant.
So after an immensely enjoyable first half with sparkling writing, I ended up disappointed.
I would also add that in my edition I spotted three typos along with some seeming non-sequiturs that could have used editing (and I'm not including the non-sequiturs that seemed intentional as stream of consciousness while Anthony's mind has taken flight).
All very promising. Especially since we know from the opening (what amounts to a prologue) that there is going to be a murder trial nine months later. I was gripped.
I lost a bit of that delight and edginess when we meet Chanelle, a young prostitute in very difficult circumstances. As much as we've had a chance to know Anthony and he feels like a flesh and blood conflicted character, despite the author's fine writing, I just couldn't help feeling Chanelle and her boyfriend were stock characters. I say this despite the fact their backgrounds seemed very realistic and their actions too, made some sense in that context.
Anyhow, we know Anthony and Chanelle are going to meet up, and the result will be a murder trial. And at this point the tension should ramp up ... but it doesn't. At least not for me. There's an extended scene with Mike, Anthony's best friend. A scene relevant because Mike plays an important role, but it just seems long. We get Anthony's wife popping by for a couple of short chapters starting maybe 2/3 of the way through. Why? I couldn't really tell you. Then we get the repeated references to various women's breasts. Now I certainly get how some men are fixated on women's breasts. And I'm a fan of women's breasts. But when every female character that populates the novel seemingly gets her breasts appraised it just gets wearisome. Oh, and there's one Jewish character. And Anthony, who's a pretty sophisticated guy, can't seem to separate out that Jewishness of the character -- never pejoratively, and if anything favourably, but still. It's 1990 London and a professional office: so what is remarkable about someone being Jewish that Anthony can't seem to forget ?
Then there's the trial. I like trials. But this felt like a dry bit of theatre, a device to tie up the story. The character through whose eyes we see the trial turns out -- how shall I put this? -- pretty much irrelevant.
So after an immensely enjoyable first half with sparkling writing, I ended up disappointed.
I would also add that in my edition I spotted three typos along with some seeming non-sequiturs that could have used editing (and I'm not including the non-sequiturs that seemed intentional as stream of consciousness while Anthony's mind has taken flight).
February 26, 2021
While the main protagonist, Anthony Northleach, is the main focus of this book, the story is bookended by the observations of a jurist and freelance writer, Julian Capper. (Is it just a coincidence that he shares the same initials as the author, Justin Cartwright, I wonder?) We readers follow Northleach through one day in his life, as he travels to work, exchanges niceties with his dedicated secretary and navigates distractedly through a meeting. After learning that he has been made a director of the company: apparently not such a welcome prize, he takes time out to go drinking. He reminisces about a woman with whom he once had an affair and worries about his friend, Mike, who works in the same company but has just been fired. Throughout the day his thoughts skip loosely from thoughts of his wife and son, his friend and people whose paths he crosses. Interlaced in these reminiscences his mind returns to his recurring preoccupations with Swedenborg theory and the imminent release of Nelson Mandela. Anthony Northleach is not exactly a model husband, worker or friend but he manages a passable facsimile of same and is easy to identify with. Contrast comes in the story of Carole Smith (aka Chanelle), a street prostitute with a drug habit and a self-serving pimp for a boyfriend. Chanelle is an unreliable narrator; we can see how she is being manipulated by her boyfriend and right from the first instalment of her point of view we know that things are unlikely to end well for her. There is also the sense that sooner or later Anthony Northleach's trajectory is going to intersect that of Chanelle's. When it finally happens, towards the end of the book, the many small problems in Northleach's day are slammed into perspective. What happens to Northleach is then told from the point of view of Julian Capper. The ending is unexpected but it is believable and is, in my opinion, a satisfying resolution.
I found 'In Every Face I Meet' to be completely absorbing and recommend it to those who like stream of consciousness writing.
I found 'In Every Face I Meet' to be completely absorbing and recommend it to those who like stream of consciousness writing.
September 17, 2018
I loved the book. Cartwright has the ability to write brilliantly about unfair things happening to decent people. Not good people, but people trying to live in some form of social normalcy as dictated by the world today.
The book kept me reading at an anxious pace because right at the beginning we're told someone's been killed. Now I didn't know and couldn't guess until the very last few chapters what was going to happen.
There's Antony, ex-rugby player and now corporate, just made director. He is amazed at the futility of his role and organization and the self importance of people all around him. He bears through life often counting expenses and the unreasonable high nature of it. I've read about poverty and richness. But this book, perhaps, is the first where I read about the actual impact of a meal, the money spent. Let's go home and have coffee and dessert; the price here is obnoxiously high. How anxiousness cuts out the true enjoyment. The book is peppered with everyday things like these and is beautiful. The narrative when talking about Antony is full of bewilderment and a sense of doom and is heavy.
Then is the other main character, Chanele. Or Carol. Or Laverne. She goes through names in the same existence she lives; a drug addict who does what it takes to keep her habit alive. And her sick son who's looked after by her mother. The narrative changes to simple but sad and hopeless and is overall light.
I don't want to give the whole thing away. It's a really good book that's not about what it seems or begins to seem.
The book kept me reading at an anxious pace because right at the beginning we're told someone's been killed. Now I didn't know and couldn't guess until the very last few chapters what was going to happen.
There's Antony, ex-rugby player and now corporate, just made director. He is amazed at the futility of his role and organization and the self importance of people all around him. He bears through life often counting expenses and the unreasonable high nature of it. I've read about poverty and richness. But this book, perhaps, is the first where I read about the actual impact of a meal, the money spent. Let's go home and have coffee and dessert; the price here is obnoxiously high. How anxiousness cuts out the true enjoyment. The book is peppered with everyday things like these and is beautiful. The narrative when talking about Antony is full of bewilderment and a sense of doom and is heavy.
Then is the other main character, Chanele. Or Carol. Or Laverne. She goes through names in the same existence she lives; a drug addict who does what it takes to keep her habit alive. And her sick son who's looked after by her mother. The narrative changes to simple but sad and hopeless and is overall light.
I don't want to give the whole thing away. It's a really good book that's not about what it seems or begins to seem.
August 12, 2022
A robbery gone wrong, a trial, and the lead-up to the events that brought together a put-upon prostitute, her pimp and two rugby-loving men facing varying degrees of failure in their lives.
Justin Cartwright died a few years back. He was a South African who nevertheless nailed 'the condition of Britain' in the 80s and 90s in an uncannily accurate way: yuppies, Thatcherites, a global network that was already going wrong as soon as it was lauded.
I don't think I've read a bad book of his. This one? It goes on a bit long sometimes. I think it would have made a great novella, but still have no hesitation in recommending it.
Justin Cartwright died a few years back. He was a South African who nevertheless nailed 'the condition of Britain' in the 80s and 90s in an uncannily accurate way: yuppies, Thatcherites, a global network that was already going wrong as soon as it was lauded.
I don't think I've read a bad book of his. This one? It goes on a bit long sometimes. I think it would have made a great novella, but still have no hesitation in recommending it.
December 24, 2024
I’m not sure how to feel about this. It is a brilliantly written portrait of the complexities of deeply flawed individuals and their bizarre loyalties and principles, with an ending which pulls the rug from under you. It is certainly not a pleasant read, as there is tons of misogyny (which may or may not be entirely deliberate) but certainly one that keeps you thinking long after the final page.
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October 30, 2024TBC
August 14, 2009
This is a day in the life of Anthony Northleach, but framed by a trial. Anthony was born in Swaziland, and is excitedly waiting for the release of Nelson Mandela from prison. He believes Nelson will provide the world with some kind of revelation, and decides on the spur of the moment to book tickets to South Africa to witness this, without telling his wife. In fact there are quite a few things he doesn't tell his wife about. This story is also interwoven with that of a young prostitute, and it all ties in nicely at the end. It's well written, mildly funny in parts, but I was glad to finish so I can start on something. I didn't enjoy it as much as another one by him, with an equally forgettable title.
November 7, 2014
I had to order this book from the U.K. as it is currently out of print in both Canada and the U.S. I enjoyed it enormously. The main character's meditations on life and the world around him are in the same vein as Richard Ford's character Frank Bascombe, (or, for that matter, of John Updike's Harry "Rabbit" Angstrom). The traumatic incident, towards the end of the novel, where the two formerly disparate storylines merged were reminiscent of one of Ian McEwan's later novels. Having been written in the 1990s the back is somewhat dated in it's references to rap CD's. music videos, etc. But this did not affect my enjoyment of the novel to any degree.
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August 25, 2016Parallel stories of Anthony, who loses his job and decides to go to South Africa for Mandela's release, and the young prostitute whose boyfriend/pimp has a plan to blackmail/rob people who try to help her when she feigns distress. The characters' lives meet with tragic circumstances. Anthony isn't very likeable although he has lots of interesting observations about life, rugby, South Africa and his marriage, so a few interesting quotes and compelling passages. I was more invested in the young prostitute and her tragic son, who was left in the care of his hopeless grandmother.
August 25, 2015
Nothing particularly special, the last chapter seems to indulge in a bit of bleeding heart leftie bashing.
Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews