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Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice-cream Float Before He Stole My Ma by Hudson, Kerry (2012) Paperback
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First published July 5, 2012
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About the author
Kerry Hudson
25 books224 followersKerry Hudson was born in Aberdeen. Growing up in a succession of council estates, B&Bs and caravan parks provided her with a keen eye for idiosyncratic behaviour, material for life, and a love of travel.
Her first novel, TONY HOGAN BOUGHT ME AN ICE-CREAM FLOAT BEFORE HE STOLE MY MA, was published by Chatto & Windus in Summer 2012. It has since been shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award, Southbank Sky Arts Award, Green Carnation Prize, Polari Prize, Author's Club First Book Award and Saltire First Book Award. It was the winner of the Scottish Book Awards: Best First Novel.
Kerry’s second novel, THIRST, was developed with support from the National Lottery through an Arts Council England grant and will be published July 2014. She now lives, writes and works in East London.
Her first novel, TONY HOGAN BOUGHT ME AN ICE-CREAM FLOAT BEFORE HE STOLE MY MA, was published by Chatto & Windus in Summer 2012. It has since been shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award, Southbank Sky Arts Award, Green Carnation Prize, Polari Prize, Author's Club First Book Award and Saltire First Book Award. It was the winner of the Scottish Book Awards: Best First Novel.
Kerry’s second novel, THIRST, was developed with support from the National Lottery through an Arts Council England grant and will be published July 2014. She now lives, writes and works in East London.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 165 reviews
March 17, 2017
Mothers ruin
Their own little girls
Keep them dreaming
There's more to this world*
Here's a conversation children should never have to have:
'Leanne, does your da hurt your ma?'
'Just when there's no' enough booze. Or too much. That's what ma says.'
'But yeh stop him, don't yeh? From hitting yer ma?'
'I would. I'd kick him in the balls when he hits her, but she told me the hits hurt more if there's someone watching. And the bruises are bigger.'
There is no question that Iris loves her young daughter, Janie, but she has a funny way of showing it. Her poor choices have consequences as she ricochets from an abusive man right into the arms of a loser for whom she constantly uproots her family to follow all over the UK. Then there's the drugs and alcohol. I honestly felt like slapping her myself on occasion.
...she...drank a full bottle of vodka and fell into a disturbed, twitchy sleep.
Yeah, a role model, she's not.
And yet, there is a deep affection between Iris and Janie, and later, Janie's half-sister, Tiny. It's Iris and her girls against the world and perhaps this pitiful combination of abuse and neglect is just what they need to grow up strong and unafraid. When even Janie's school counselor turns out to be a dream killer, we learn that Iris is the only one who truly believes in her.
From the breezy title, I was expecting a lot of humor from this book but it turned out to be a rather harrowing read. Still, though I can't say I LOVED it, all the right buttons were punched. I never lost interest, it wound me up and stirred a variety of emotions. But, keep in mind - the ice creams floats are few and far between...
*Mother's Ruin by Kirsty MacColl and Pete Glenister
Their own little girls
Keep them dreaming
There's more to this world*
Here's a conversation children should never have to have:
'Leanne, does your da hurt your ma?'
'Just when there's no' enough booze. Or too much. That's what ma says.'
'But yeh stop him, don't yeh? From hitting yer ma?'
'I would. I'd kick him in the balls when he hits her, but she told me the hits hurt more if there's someone watching. And the bruises are bigger.'
There is no question that Iris loves her young daughter, Janie, but she has a funny way of showing it. Her poor choices have consequences as she ricochets from an abusive man right into the arms of a loser for whom she constantly uproots her family to follow all over the UK. Then there's the drugs and alcohol. I honestly felt like slapping her myself on occasion.
...she...drank a full bottle of vodka and fell into a disturbed, twitchy sleep.
Yeah, a role model, she's not.
And yet, there is a deep affection between Iris and Janie, and later, Janie's half-sister, Tiny. It's Iris and her girls against the world and perhaps this pitiful combination of abuse and neglect is just what they need to grow up strong and unafraid. When even Janie's school counselor turns out to be a dream killer, we learn that Iris is the only one who truly believes in her.
From the breezy title, I was expecting a lot of humor from this book but it turned out to be a rather harrowing read. Still, though I can't say I LOVED it, all the right buttons were punched. I never lost interest, it wound me up and stirred a variety of emotions. But, keep in mind - the ice creams floats are few and far between...
*Mother's Ruin by Kirsty MacColl and Pete Glenister
December 28, 2013
This is a really good book with a not-so-great-title (or cover.) I love coming of age stories and this one does not disappoint. Janie has a wonderful voice and the author is very brave with some of her point of view decisions. An infant narrating from a crib? But Kerry Hudson pulls it off.
I saw that some of the reviewers here found it grim. I will admit there is sorrow here, but it is tempered with real love and affection. I am eager to read whatever Kerry Hudson writes next.
I saw that some of the reviewers here found it grim. I will admit there is sorrow here, but it is tempered with real love and affection. I am eager to read whatever Kerry Hudson writes next.
November 19, 2019
“The family that cries together stays together. Aberdeen, as cold, hard and grey as you would expect from a town carved from granite.”
Hudson is a smart, funny and clever writer and having read her excellent “Lowborn” I can see that there is certainly a strong element of the semi-autobiographical about this novel, which just makes it all the more poignant and powerful. This is a dark and delightful piece of work, she works drama, tension and humour into the most hidden and unexpected of places which gives the narrative an added edge and at times makes for an uncomfortable yet memorable experience.
“Smiles lingered in the dark. Shared secrets, warmer than five blankets and a radiator.”
You know those books you come across where you can see and feel the writer’s love for language, Hudson luxuriates in some exquisite lines using language like dough, kneading it, pushing and pulling it into some glorious shapes producing some wonderful results.
“The best gift, for both of us, was a big colour telly with a remote control. Its colour and sound fell across the room in the evening and pushed away all the dark spaces like a rainbow.”
She grasps every nuance of lower working class life in 80s/early 90s Britain with a pulsing, three-dimensional clarity which had me laughing and cringing in nostalgic recognition. This is a novel which glows with some beautiful description. She grasps the details of childhood wonder and terror with equal authority and eloquence making this a book which veers between heart-warming and a heart breaking read.
September 14, 2012
'We were a glass family, she was a glass ma and I needed to wrap us up, handle her gently.'
The fragility of this family's existence is evident early on, and throughout this wonderful debut novel, which arrested my attention from the very first words, as little Janie Ryan first comes into the world. She joins the family of 'Ryan Women, with filthy tempers, filthy mouths and big bruised muscles for hearts.'
Janie recounts her very personal story to us throughout the whole novel, and this is certainly a warts and all account. She endures a very unsettled childhood, moving often from flats to B&Bs to tower blocks, and never staying in any one town very long, and her and her ma are always poor, scraping to make ends meet. Men come into her mother's and therefore Janie's life too, and leave more than one kind of scar behind when they disappear again.
The intensity of her life and the rough treatment she has witnessed is mirrored very effectively in the language used by the author to describe Janie's perceptions of nature and things around her: 'The wind pummelled angry fists against the windows and threw its weight against the walls and the oven burner jumped and sighed, like a scared girlfriend.' The images that these descriptions conjure up are harsh and violent, and therefore fitting interpretations by Janie of these aspects of the world that surround her, because these are things that she has heard and seen. Janie is often left to take on the role of looking after everyone, caring for her ma when she can't cope with the world anymore, and looking after herself as best she knows how.
I was delighted to read of Janie's joy as a little girl at discovering the library and a love of books, of pictures and of words, all available to her without cost.
'Running to sit at the little plastic chairs I felt the library's warm, still air push inside me to slow my thumping heart and the second-hand-shop smell snake up my nostrils, winding itself snug around my insides. When I opened the books, and I could open as many as I liked because it cost us nothing, the pictures lay on my eyes like oil on water and the dancing letters settled on my tongue with the smell and the taste of black-jack sweeties. While Ma bit at her lips, ripped at her cuticles and read old magazines, I was learning how stories could make me feel safe. '
I was amused by the humour that could be created even in the midst of yet another move to another temporary home. 'Ma said it wasn't a proper B&B, even though it was called the 'Pride of Shields B&B', but a halfway house, and when I asked halfway to what, she told me to 'shut it, smart-arse.'
Many of the references to the culture of the time as Janie was growing up really struck a chord with me, the trends like everyone wearing adidas gazelles, and remembering the character Zammo's addiction in Grange Hill. Unlike those for whom this was a plotline in a television show though, Janie has to cope with a close relative's similar addiction at first-hand, witnessing the desperate, tragic lows.
I was absorbed in this story; I was so hopeful for Janie when things started to go a bit better, then so worried for her when they took a turn for the worst again. Kerry Hudson has painted a convincing picture of Janie's life, one that I believed, and I was keen to turn the pages and discover her fate. I don't think a life like Janie's is one that is often depicted in fiction, or certainly not in the fiction I have generally come across. I think it is an important novel in this regard. It gives a voice to someone who is on the fringes of society, living a harsh brutal existence, but nevertheless growing and developing and somehow getting through each day and even sensing that there could be a better future out there - and that's a wonderful thought.
This is a frank account of a difficult childhood and adolescence, at times very sad, yet it is written with such honesty and grace and it is certainly not without optimism, humour and even joy. Janie is looking back at where she has been, what she has lived through, and then she is looking to the future, as the very last words in the book indicate. She is a resilient girl, now a young woman, and she has a good head on her shoulders despite, and perhaps because of, what she has learned about life thus far. As her ma says, 'you're smart enough tae take the good bits and leave the rest, Janie.'
The fragility of this family's existence is evident early on, and throughout this wonderful debut novel, which arrested my attention from the very first words, as little Janie Ryan first comes into the world. She joins the family of 'Ryan Women, with filthy tempers, filthy mouths and big bruised muscles for hearts.'
Janie recounts her very personal story to us throughout the whole novel, and this is certainly a warts and all account. She endures a very unsettled childhood, moving often from flats to B&Bs to tower blocks, and never staying in any one town very long, and her and her ma are always poor, scraping to make ends meet. Men come into her mother's and therefore Janie's life too, and leave more than one kind of scar behind when they disappear again.
The intensity of her life and the rough treatment she has witnessed is mirrored very effectively in the language used by the author to describe Janie's perceptions of nature and things around her: 'The wind pummelled angry fists against the windows and threw its weight against the walls and the oven burner jumped and sighed, like a scared girlfriend.' The images that these descriptions conjure up are harsh and violent, and therefore fitting interpretations by Janie of these aspects of the world that surround her, because these are things that she has heard and seen. Janie is often left to take on the role of looking after everyone, caring for her ma when she can't cope with the world anymore, and looking after herself as best she knows how.
I was delighted to read of Janie's joy as a little girl at discovering the library and a love of books, of pictures and of words, all available to her without cost.
'Running to sit at the little plastic chairs I felt the library's warm, still air push inside me to slow my thumping heart and the second-hand-shop smell snake up my nostrils, winding itself snug around my insides. When I opened the books, and I could open as many as I liked because it cost us nothing, the pictures lay on my eyes like oil on water and the dancing letters settled on my tongue with the smell and the taste of black-jack sweeties. While Ma bit at her lips, ripped at her cuticles and read old magazines, I was learning how stories could make me feel safe. '
I was amused by the humour that could be created even in the midst of yet another move to another temporary home. 'Ma said it wasn't a proper B&B, even though it was called the 'Pride of Shields B&B', but a halfway house, and when I asked halfway to what, she told me to 'shut it, smart-arse.'
Many of the references to the culture of the time as Janie was growing up really struck a chord with me, the trends like everyone wearing adidas gazelles, and remembering the character Zammo's addiction in Grange Hill. Unlike those for whom this was a plotline in a television show though, Janie has to cope with a close relative's similar addiction at first-hand, witnessing the desperate, tragic lows.
I was absorbed in this story; I was so hopeful for Janie when things started to go a bit better, then so worried for her when they took a turn for the worst again. Kerry Hudson has painted a convincing picture of Janie's life, one that I believed, and I was keen to turn the pages and discover her fate. I don't think a life like Janie's is one that is often depicted in fiction, or certainly not in the fiction I have generally come across. I think it is an important novel in this regard. It gives a voice to someone who is on the fringes of society, living a harsh brutal existence, but nevertheless growing and developing and somehow getting through each day and even sensing that there could be a better future out there - and that's a wonderful thought.
This is a frank account of a difficult childhood and adolescence, at times very sad, yet it is written with such honesty and grace and it is certainly not without optimism, humour and even joy. Janie is looking back at where she has been, what she has lived through, and then she is looking to the future, as the very last words in the book indicate. She is a resilient girl, now a young woman, and she has a good head on her shoulders despite, and perhaps because of, what she has learned about life thus far. As her ma says, 'you're smart enough tae take the good bits and leave the rest, Janie.'
January 23, 2014
Janie Ryan narrates 'Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice-Cream Float Before He Stole My Ma' from the moment of her birth, greeted by curse laden screaming, boozy breath and muttered recriminations. Her teenage mother lasts barely a week under her mothers roof before she drags Janie first to a refuge, then through a series of rundown council flats and B&B's in the worst areas of Scotland and briefly, England. Uncle's come and go, some stay only a night, others, like Tony Hogan, far too long. As a child, Janie takes comfort in her ragged collection of toys, full plates of hot chips, orange velour curtains and the occasional icecream, accepting her mother's days spent in bed, the violent altercations with a succession of men and moonlight flits as a normal part of everyday life. But as she grows into a teenager Janie becomes aware of her mother's failings, of the poverty and despair that blights their lives and of a desire to escape the cycle that ensnared her mother.
This is a novel driven by character rather than plot. Janie is an irresistible heroine who begins the story with a wide eyed innocence that far too soon develops into defeated cynicism. Bright and loved, as a child Janie shares her grim existence with the naivete of one who doesn't know any different. Hudson vividly portrays the world in which Janie lives - the dingy rooms, the barren council estates, the empty pantries and broken furniture overlaid with the ever present threat of violence and despair. And just as deftly, Hudson allows Janie, as she ages, to share her growing disillusionment - with her mother, with herself and the possibility anything could ever be any different. It seems there is no escape for Janie who seems destined to follow in her mother's footsteps.
Janie's journey is heavily influenced by her relationship with her mother, Iris, and Hudson skilfully captures the complicated dynamic between mother and daughter. Despite her mother's failings, Janie loves her and her mother in turn loves Janie. It is evident that Janie suffers because of Iris's depression, addictions and penchant for the wrong sort of man though Hudson neatly side steps judgement and blame, focusing instead on the bond between them.
Despite its often bleak and brutal narrative, Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice-Cream Float Before He Stole My Ma is told with empathy, humour and surprising heart. I found it funny, moving and heartbreaking in turn and I think you will too.
December 29, 2012
Seems like I'm in the minority in not enjoying this one. It was certainly a vivid (and from the limited experience I had in the early 90s with Scottish council estates and people living from dole check to dole check, very realistic) depiction of growing up in desparate poverty in Britain's very recent past, surrounded by alcoholism, drugs, violence, where employment isn't even seriously considered as an option and the "social" provides all the means of living, such as they are. But I found the book unrelentingly grim -- if the intent was to humanize Janie's teenage alcoholic depressive mum, or to show how social forces created these women, the book failed for me. It seemed rather an endless indictment of terrible parenting and terrible choices -- you are hoping that Janie and Tiny will be taken into care. When Janie gets bigger, the endless violent recriminations between mother and daughter are again, super realistic, but just draining to read -- there's no character growth or enlightenment, just more bad choices, more booze, more brutality.
The end of the novel bogs down in Janie's struggles to decide between the blondes and the goths, and the associated high school traumas. After the almost documentary like focus on Janie's horrific upbringing, this part feels frankly banal and stolen from another book about an unhappy high schooler.
And then the startling final chapters are truly moving and gut wrenching, but seem to be yet another book again.
In sum, a bumpy first novel effort. Hudson obviously has things to say, but one wonders if this wouldn't have worked better as memoir than as novel. There is no character growth or development, no plot as such, no insight into how this brutal subculture came to be, just a chronology of more bad things. I'm sure it wasn't Hudson's intent, but the book made me feel rather Republican (or Tory in this case) -- just wanting Jany's mom (and then Jany) to get her act together, take responsibility and make some decent choices. Not an enjoyable or even edifying read.
The end of the novel bogs down in Janie's struggles to decide between the blondes and the goths, and the associated high school traumas. After the almost documentary like focus on Janie's horrific upbringing, this part feels frankly banal and stolen from another book about an unhappy high schooler.
And then the startling final chapters are truly moving and gut wrenching, but seem to be yet another book again.
In sum, a bumpy first novel effort. Hudson obviously has things to say, but one wonders if this wouldn't have worked better as memoir than as novel. There is no character growth or development, no plot as such, no insight into how this brutal subculture came to be, just a chronology of more bad things. I'm sure it wasn't Hudson's intent, but the book made me feel rather Republican (or Tory in this case) -- just wanting Jany's mom (and then Jany) to get her act together, take responsibility and make some decent choices. Not an enjoyable or even edifying read.
January 25, 2014
Janie is born to a single mother who comes from a long line of tough fishmonger women, the Ryan women, to be exact. Her life is one of poverty, constant moves to estate flats in bad parts of town, welfare and an extremely dysfunctional family and depressed mother. At one point, her mother marries a ne'er do well alcoholic and bears a second child. He abandons the family a few short weeks later. Janie tries to help care for her baby sister, as well as her depressed mother.
it sounds like an extremely depressing story and would be much darker were it not for the Scottish sense of humor and constant hope that things will eventially work out. I rooted for the family throughout.
This is a terrific debut for Kerry Hudson, and I look forward to more from her.
This arc was provided to me by the publisher via NetGalley in return for an impartial review.
it sounds like an extremely depressing story and would be much darker were it not for the Scottish sense of humor and constant hope that things will eventially work out. I rooted for the family throughout.
This is a terrific debut for Kerry Hudson, and I look forward to more from her.
This arc was provided to me by the publisher via NetGalley in return for an impartial review.
December 7, 2017
Full disclosure: although we’ve never interacted, I am friends with the author on GR. Which made me kind of afraid to publicly post that I was reading this. What if I didn’t like it? What if I DNF’d it? I definitely don’t have Michiko Kakutani’s nerves of steel. I once left a very disorganized aerobics class in the middle of it and when the instructor asked me if everything was ok, I panicked and mumbled something about a sinus infection, scuttled to another part of the gym, and shame-ran on the treadmill.
I don’t need to lie about my sinuses this time though, as I ended up liking this quite a bit. But if you think from the title that this is a tale of whimsy and ice cream drinks, check out some synopses before reading.
This is the story of Janie Ryan, a charmingly foul-mouthed girl from Aberdeen, Scotland raised by her single mother, also a foul-mouthed girl from Aberdeen. Narrated by Janie beginning at her birth (this bit with an infant narrating could have been unbearably twee, but it works somehow), Janie tells the tale of her life up until she’s around 18.
Her mother loves Janie and her little sister deeply. There’s no doubt about that. But she’s also brutally poor in Thatcher’s UK, bouncing from shelters to council flats to sketchy bed and breakfasts (a lot of the UK’s quasi-homeless are forced to stay in these set-ups for months at a time.) Additionally, Janie’s ma has real shit taste in men. You know the type, and she’s drawn here with infuriating accuracy. She drags her family up, down, and across Great Britain either running from or to one of her boyfriends, giving them second chances that you know will fail spectacularly as soon as she says, “Janie, look who came to see us! It’s {deadbeat douchebag/abusive douchebag.}”
This writing in this book is so immediate and experiential, I felt like I was living everything along with Janie. I could smell things, see things so clearly from Hudson’s descriptions. I knew what it felt like to sit under an upturned box and pop bubble wrap or run down the hall and slam her door every time Janie came home and found her mother piss drunk with an ex.
I actually spent the better part of the book convinced I hated Janie’s mother: she keeps returning to bad relationships, she treats Janie like a friend when she’s pretty much begging for a parent, she and Janie say some truly horrible things to each other along the way. But then I got to the end and almost cried (ok, not almost) when she and Janie have a final heart to heart. I can’t believe how much it turned out that I loved this damn mercurial, frustrating woman.
It takes real skill to make a character so sneakily complex. I was sad the book was over because I didn’t want to let go of Janie or her Ma or Tiny or Beth. And that’s when what was a wavering three star read became four. The only thing I didn’t quite buy was
This was a finalist for the Guardian First Book Award in 2012 (The Yellow Birds was the winner.) I saw in the course of Googling about this book that the award was discontinued in 2015. Kind of a bummer.
I don’t need to lie about my sinuses this time though, as I ended up liking this quite a bit. But if you think from the title that this is a tale of whimsy and ice cream drinks, check out some synopses before reading.
This is the story of Janie Ryan, a charmingly foul-mouthed girl from Aberdeen, Scotland raised by her single mother, also a foul-mouthed girl from Aberdeen. Narrated by Janie beginning at her birth (this bit with an infant narrating could have been unbearably twee, but it works somehow), Janie tells the tale of her life up until she’s around 18.
Her mother loves Janie and her little sister deeply. There’s no doubt about that. But she’s also brutally poor in Thatcher’s UK, bouncing from shelters to council flats to sketchy bed and breakfasts (a lot of the UK’s quasi-homeless are forced to stay in these set-ups for months at a time.) Additionally, Janie’s ma has real shit taste in men. You know the type, and she’s drawn here with infuriating accuracy. She drags her family up, down, and across Great Britain either running from or to one of her boyfriends, giving them second chances that you know will fail spectacularly as soon as she says, “Janie, look who came to see us! It’s {deadbeat douchebag/abusive douchebag.}”
This writing in this book is so immediate and experiential, I felt like I was living everything along with Janie. I could smell things, see things so clearly from Hudson’s descriptions. I knew what it felt like to sit under an upturned box and pop bubble wrap or run down the hall and slam her door every time Janie came home and found her mother piss drunk with an ex.
I actually spent the better part of the book convinced I hated Janie’s mother: she keeps returning to bad relationships, she treats Janie like a friend when she’s pretty much begging for a parent, she and Janie say some truly horrible things to each other along the way. But then I got to the end and almost cried (ok, not almost) when she and Janie have a final heart to heart. I can’t believe how much it turned out that I loved this damn mercurial, frustrating woman.
It takes real skill to make a character so sneakily complex. I was sad the book was over because I didn’t want to let go of Janie or her Ma or Tiny or Beth. And that’s when what was a wavering three star read became four. The only thing I didn’t quite buy was
This was a finalist for the Guardian First Book Award in 2012 (The Yellow Birds was the winner.) I saw in the course of Googling about this book that the award was discontinued in 2015. Kind of a bummer.
September 5, 2013
Despite repeated temptations to give up on this book, I persisted. Unfortunately, what I thought or even hoped might happen to transform the story by the end did not.
As another reviewer noted, the writer brings this world vividly to life, and I have no doubt of its being a realistic world familiar to many -- but, like that of Trainspotting, it is not a world in which I would ever really want to be so immersed. There are strong, clear details and interesting imagery that surround the reader with seemingly endless bodily fluids and wounds and tumult.
Kerry Hudson often mentions and explores the Ryan women's temper, and the characters as well as their living situations are consistent only in their volatility. Hudson also has the Ryan women tell us and each other how much they love each other, but their actions rarely bear out any truth to that sentiment. They are all selfish and almost uniformly hateful toward each other and various other people.
The very last line of the book offers the slightest hint of hope and change, but it is far too little, too late. By then, I could not be persuaded to imagine that Janie would have any fate beyond repeating her mother's mistakes and re-colliding with the rest of her unstable family members until death did them part. The story does not ultimately quite reach any new destination; it is a slice of life in the gutter, from which no one can see the stars.
As a postscript, I would like to note that the eponymous character appears only a couple times in the story and has essentially no presence or effect for the second half of the book or so. Someone apparently decided it was a clever title regardless of its irrelevance to the overall plot (or lack thereof).
As another reviewer noted, the writer brings this world vividly to life, and I have no doubt of its being a realistic world familiar to many -- but, like that of Trainspotting, it is not a world in which I would ever really want to be so immersed. There are strong, clear details and interesting imagery that surround the reader with seemingly endless bodily fluids and wounds and tumult.
Kerry Hudson often mentions and explores the Ryan women's temper, and the characters as well as their living situations are consistent only in their volatility. Hudson also has the Ryan women tell us and each other how much they love each other, but their actions rarely bear out any truth to that sentiment. They are all selfish and almost uniformly hateful toward each other and various other people.
The very last line of the book offers the slightest hint of hope and change, but it is far too little, too late. By then, I could not be persuaded to imagine that Janie would have any fate beyond repeating her mother's mistakes and re-colliding with the rest of her unstable family members until death did them part. The story does not ultimately quite reach any new destination; it is a slice of life in the gutter, from which no one can see the stars.
As a postscript, I would like to note that the eponymous character appears only a couple times in the story and has essentially no presence or effect for the second half of the book or so. Someone apparently decided it was a clever title regardless of its irrelevance to the overall plot (or lack thereof).
July 21, 2012
Full review can be found here
Janie Ryan is born to a long line of Aberdeen fish wives and into a childhood of living in hostels, B&Bs and council estates. This book follows the trials and tribulations of growing up with a mother who, whilst always wanting to provide the best for her child, has poor taste in men and really does get close to hitting rock bottom all shown through the eyes of a child.
...Throughout most of the book I'd say that her innocence protects Janie from what could've been some devastating truths for a young girl. Eventually though the bitterness and awareness win out and the last third of the book is told through the eyes of an angry, teenage cynic who see's her mum as she really is and doesn't want to become her, despite the groups and habits she falls into.
On the surface this appears to be a tale of woe about a single mother being given all the short straws and the daughter having to suffer too. If you look deeper, however, it's a tale about the strength of a bond between a mother and her child, how it didn't matter how bad things got for her because she could handle it as long as she had her daughter with her and knew she was safe.
What makes this all the more interesting is that the 'About The Author' bit in the back of the book lets us know that Kerry Hudson is not writing this without any knowledge of her subject but has lived in council estates and B&Bs (and I really hope that's as far as her knowledge goes because some of it is heart wrenching) so you just know that she knows.
Janie Ryan is born to a long line of Aberdeen fish wives and into a childhood of living in hostels, B&Bs and council estates. This book follows the trials and tribulations of growing up with a mother who, whilst always wanting to provide the best for her child, has poor taste in men and really does get close to hitting rock bottom all shown through the eyes of a child.
...Throughout most of the book I'd say that her innocence protects Janie from what could've been some devastating truths for a young girl. Eventually though the bitterness and awareness win out and the last third of the book is told through the eyes of an angry, teenage cynic who see's her mum as she really is and doesn't want to become her, despite the groups and habits she falls into.
On the surface this appears to be a tale of woe about a single mother being given all the short straws and the daughter having to suffer too. If you look deeper, however, it's a tale about the strength of a bond between a mother and her child, how it didn't matter how bad things got for her because she could handle it as long as she had her daughter with her and knew she was safe.
What makes this all the more interesting is that the 'About The Author' bit in the back of the book lets us know that Kerry Hudson is not writing this without any knowledge of her subject but has lived in council estates and B&Bs (and I really hope that's as far as her knowledge goes because some of it is heart wrenching) so you just know that she knows.
February 6, 2014
I was attracted to the title, but have been burned by books with quirky titles. I bought it, but then got really nervous. The overly cute cover didn't help.
The quirky title and overly cute cover were slightly deceiving. The first hint came in the first line......
Get out, you cunting, shitting, little fucking fucker.
Oh, by the way, if you can't handle a bit of swearing this isn't a book for you.
The narrator is Janie Ryan, born in a bad part of Aberdeen to a young single mother. Her upbringing is truly awful - she is subjected to some terrible parenting. Her ma makes awful choices in life, and does so with a rotten attitude. This novel is incredibly depressing at times, and it's hard not to get frustrated when one regrettable decision follows another. But ultimately there's the hope that Janie can raise herself out the mess she's been dealt.
My head tells me that some of the writing was over the top, and I did occasionally roll my eyes. But it doesn't matter. I really did love it, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.
If you can handle a bit of grit with your novels, then give this a try.
The quirky title and overly cute cover were slightly deceiving. The first hint came in the first line......
Get out, you cunting, shitting, little fucking fucker.
Oh, by the way, if you can't handle a bit of swearing this isn't a book for you.
The narrator is Janie Ryan, born in a bad part of Aberdeen to a young single mother. Her upbringing is truly awful - she is subjected to some terrible parenting. Her ma makes awful choices in life, and does so with a rotten attitude. This novel is incredibly depressing at times, and it's hard not to get frustrated when one regrettable decision follows another. But ultimately there's the hope that Janie can raise herself out the mess she's been dealt.
My head tells me that some of the writing was over the top, and I did occasionally roll my eyes. But it doesn't matter. I really did love it, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.
If you can handle a bit of grit with your novels, then give this a try.
August 29, 2012
This is a cracking read. Told first-person from the moment of birth it takes you to some pretty dark corners of British life. It’s unflinching in its treatment of the subject matter – domestic abuse and extreme poverty among them – and the nicely-played vein of humour is never used as an easy exit.
It is beautifully written with finely observed detail throughout. The plot is understated and all the better for that – this is not a book that is seeking to throw you around for the hell of it but instead stays focused on its characters and their lives and they emerge all the more vivid as a result. Understated is not code for “dull” – the pages fly by and you get so caught up by the characters so quickly that by the end you have the rather perverse desire to remain in their grim world.
Tony Hogan the character is truly vile. “Tony Hogan” the book is a triumph. You’ll love it.
It is beautifully written with finely observed detail throughout. The plot is understated and all the better for that – this is not a book that is seeking to throw you around for the hell of it but instead stays focused on its characters and their lives and they emerge all the more vivid as a result. Understated is not code for “dull” – the pages fly by and you get so caught up by the characters so quickly that by the end you have the rather perverse desire to remain in their grim world.
Tony Hogan the character is truly vile. “Tony Hogan” the book is a triumph. You’ll love it.
January 10, 2013
I loved this beautifully written, sharply observed novel. Despite the mostly grim circumstances of the feisty heroine there was plenty of warmth and humour throughout. Janie is an original and engaging voice, easy to relate to in spite of everything, and it was interesting (and horrifying in parts) to read a story about people on the outskirts of society - the sort of people we perhaps turn away from in real life - feel uncomfortable being around.
The Yarmouth setting is well-observed, and the relationships - though flawed - are believable, especially between daughter and mum. You'll be rooting for Janie from the word go.
Tony Hogan is gritty and gripping, funny and moving, and I'd recommend it to anyone looking for something a bit different.
Some great references to 80s music too!
The Yarmouth setting is well-observed, and the relationships - though flawed - are believable, especially between daughter and mum. You'll be rooting for Janie from the word go.
Tony Hogan is gritty and gripping, funny and moving, and I'd recommend it to anyone looking for something a bit different.
Some great references to 80s music too!
October 29, 2012
"Kerry Hudson’s début novel, Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice Cream Float Before He Stole My Ma was recently announced on the long list for the Guardian First Book Award 2012.
A story loosely based on Hudson’s own childhood, growing up in various council estates and caravan parks, critics have praised her sharp eye for idiosyncrasy have proven united in their opinion that Hudson has created a cast of characters that it is impossible not to root for." (Excerpt from full review at For Books' Sake.)
A story loosely based on Hudson’s own childhood, growing up in various council estates and caravan parks, critics have praised her sharp eye for idiosyncrasy have proven united in their opinion that Hudson has created a cast of characters that it is impossible not to root for." (Excerpt from full review at For Books' Sake.)
March 12, 2014
This is definitely a book that makes you forget that the characters are only fiction. Part horror, part humor, and part humor/horror or horror/humor. It's kind of a mess, but the writing never is. I found it warm and moving, definitely worth a read.
April 17, 2014
A thunderstorm of a novel. Actually, more like a thunderstorm of a protagonist. Swooped in hard and fast with the first paragraph and held me thrilled, hostage, til the end of the book. I'm going to remember Janie like a best friend.
October 17, 2012
Hudson adds just enough comic relief to the heartbreak to ensure that you fall hard for her characters. What a beautifully written book.
March 4, 2019
Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice-cream Float Before He Stole My Ma opens, in a volley of swear words, with the birth of Janie Ryan, our heroine, and our narrator. Belief duly suspended, we follow Janie from one half-way house to the next council flat, as she grows up in a hand-to-mouth world of poverty and casual violence, which is nevertheless not deprived of love, even if it is of tough kind a lot of the time.
Even if, in my view, Hudson doesn’t get the level of language always quite right, particularly in the second half, the conceit of having a child telling her own story works on the whole. Together with the normalcy of habit (it is all she knows) imbuing Janie’s words, the narrative device provides a sense of detachment that keeps the book from becoming an unrelentingly grim tale. In fact the tone is generally light-hearted and the last page brings a definite note of hope.
This doesn’t mean there aren’t difficult scenes, sometimes made all the more punchy by the author’s deft use of the unsaid or the simply hinted. Hudson is also very good at voices, making the Scottish accents of the characters lift from the page and sing in the reader’s head. This contributes to the creation of a vivid depiction of the complicated and conflictual affection shared by Janie, her mother and her half-sister, beleaguered against the hostile world.
Six years after publication and at a time when austerity bites harder than ever, Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice-cream Float Before He Stole My Ma paints an empathetic insight in the lives of the not-quite destitute, where every day is a new struggle against external circumstances and inner weaknesses, and where the word “future” has little meaning. Or has it?
Even if, in my view, Hudson doesn’t get the level of language always quite right, particularly in the second half, the conceit of having a child telling her own story works on the whole. Together with the normalcy of habit (it is all she knows) imbuing Janie’s words, the narrative device provides a sense of detachment that keeps the book from becoming an unrelentingly grim tale. In fact the tone is generally light-hearted and the last page brings a definite note of hope.
This doesn’t mean there aren’t difficult scenes, sometimes made all the more punchy by the author’s deft use of the unsaid or the simply hinted. Hudson is also very good at voices, making the Scottish accents of the characters lift from the page and sing in the reader’s head. This contributes to the creation of a vivid depiction of the complicated and conflictual affection shared by Janie, her mother and her half-sister, beleaguered against the hostile world.
Six years after publication and at a time when austerity bites harder than ever, Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice-cream Float Before He Stole My Ma paints an empathetic insight in the lives of the not-quite destitute, where every day is a new struggle against external circumstances and inner weaknesses, and where the word “future” has little meaning. Or has it?
December 31, 2020
Funny, sad, warm, raw, clever, compelling, poetic, heart breakingly brilliant.
September 10, 2022
Found this on the 1/2 price shelf at my favorite book seller and thought it would be fairly light. Boy was I wrong. This is like a (very) dark Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I'm glad I read it, but dang.
August 2, 2024
Fa riflettere. Lo farò leggere a mia figlia quindicenne.
December 4, 2019
Una madre instabile e depressa, appartamenti sudici in palazzi fatiscenti di quartieri malfamati, la settimana scandita dal ritiro del sussidio ogni lunedì, patatine fritte e gelati per compensare un'infanzia tutt'altro che spensierata: una superficie porosa in cui la violenza e lo stordimento derivante dall'alcol e dalle droghe aprono vuoti sempre più grandi, come finestre affacciate sull'indifferente cielo scozzese.
Una storia dolorosa, sporca e puzzolente, raccontata con l'ironia di chi ha la scorza dura ed è abituato a ridere anche nelle giornate più nere. Commuove e fa bene al cuore.
Una storia dolorosa, sporca e puzzolente, raccontata con l'ironia di chi ha la scorza dura ed è abituato a ridere anche nelle giornate più nere. Commuove e fa bene al cuore.
March 7, 2025
Sad and funny at the same time but I couldn’t put it down.
February 3, 2014
See my full review here: http://booksaremyfavouriteandbest.wor...
“‘Get out, you c**ting, sh**ting, little fu**ing fu**er!’ were the first words I ever heard. The midwife, a shiny-faced woman who learned entirely new turns of phrase that night, smoothed Ma’s hair.’
Is that not the most impressive opening line you’ve read? It’s certainly memorable. And so begins Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice-Cream Float Before He Stole My Ma by Kerry Hudson.
It’s not just the opening line and the title that’s arresting about this story (incidentally, the title is the only thing I don’t like about this book – it’s too long to tweet). It’s a character-driven plot centred around Janie and her mother Iris, and their life in a succession of council flats, predominantly in Scotland. Regardless of where they are, the story is the same – there’s useless men, the dole queue, drink, drugs and violence to be had in any town. But loyalty and family bonds run deep and as you follow Janie’s rises and falls, you can’t help but become attached.
“…My eyes soaked in the our new neighbourhood. Graffiti and scorch-marks, echoes of small fires, decorated doorsteps. Golden Special Brew cans and crushed vodka bottles, bright as diamonds, collected in the gutters. Front gardens were filled with mouldy paddling pools and, occasionally, a rustburnished shell of a car. I had never seen anything so beautiful, so many colours, before in grey Aberdeen.”
You worry about Janie from the outset – her mother is battling depression, they’re virtually destitute and they find themselves in a string of abusive relationships. But here’s Hudson’s trick – Janie doesn’t worry about Janie because of course, Janie knows nothing different to the life she is living. And because Janie is such a compelling narrator, you’re okay with salad-cream sandwiches for dinner and a Mars Bar as a birthday present, just as Janie is.
As the experienced and worldly reader, you know how the story is likely to play out for Janie – a repeat of Iris’s ‘mistakes’, an incomplete education, the dole queue, drinking and drugs. And certainly Janie wavers – there’s plenty of wagging school, beer and cider, drugs, stealing and sex. But she’s not a hopeless character and although (thankfully) Hudson doesn’t go down the ‘against-all-odds-rises-above-it’ path, Janie nurses the desire for a bit more. A bit more education, a bit more time in the one town, a bit more joy for her mum. She’s not asking for much, she doesn’t expect anything and for those reasons, you stick by her.
Hudson writes so beautifully about things that are so ugly. Of Janie and Iris’s time at a women’s shelter she speaks of the comradarie between the women -
“Smiles lingered in the dark. Shared secrets, warmer than five blankets and a radiator.”
and
“We stayed at Grafton Hill for three weeks. In that time I saw tears fall into spaghetti-hoop dinners and spines jolt at the sound of drunken passers-by.”
This book is 99 Reasons Why meets Puberty Blues meets Trainspotting meets Angela’s Ashes meets Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?. I’m quite sure that no one will ever mention those books together in the same sentence again but they translate to a story about an ‘ordinary’ heroine, coming-of-age, all that is grim, fierce love for family and the solace that is found in books.
I received my copy of Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice-Cream Float Before He Stole My Ma from the publisher, Penguin Books, via Netgalley, in exchange for an honest review.
4/5 Memorable.
“‘Get out, you c**ting, sh**ting, little fu**ing fu**er!’ were the first words I ever heard. The midwife, a shiny-faced woman who learned entirely new turns of phrase that night, smoothed Ma’s hair.’
Is that not the most impressive opening line you’ve read? It’s certainly memorable. And so begins Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice-Cream Float Before He Stole My Ma by Kerry Hudson.
It’s not just the opening line and the title that’s arresting about this story (incidentally, the title is the only thing I don’t like about this book – it’s too long to tweet). It’s a character-driven plot centred around Janie and her mother Iris, and their life in a succession of council flats, predominantly in Scotland. Regardless of where they are, the story is the same – there’s useless men, the dole queue, drink, drugs and violence to be had in any town. But loyalty and family bonds run deep and as you follow Janie’s rises and falls, you can’t help but become attached.
“…My eyes soaked in the our new neighbourhood. Graffiti and scorch-marks, echoes of small fires, decorated doorsteps. Golden Special Brew cans and crushed vodka bottles, bright as diamonds, collected in the gutters. Front gardens were filled with mouldy paddling pools and, occasionally, a rustburnished shell of a car. I had never seen anything so beautiful, so many colours, before in grey Aberdeen.”
You worry about Janie from the outset – her mother is battling depression, they’re virtually destitute and they find themselves in a string of abusive relationships. But here’s Hudson’s trick – Janie doesn’t worry about Janie because of course, Janie knows nothing different to the life she is living. And because Janie is such a compelling narrator, you’re okay with salad-cream sandwiches for dinner and a Mars Bar as a birthday present, just as Janie is.
As the experienced and worldly reader, you know how the story is likely to play out for Janie – a repeat of Iris’s ‘mistakes’, an incomplete education, the dole queue, drinking and drugs. And certainly Janie wavers – there’s plenty of wagging school, beer and cider, drugs, stealing and sex. But she’s not a hopeless character and although (thankfully) Hudson doesn’t go down the ‘against-all-odds-rises-above-it’ path, Janie nurses the desire for a bit more. A bit more education, a bit more time in the one town, a bit more joy for her mum. She’s not asking for much, she doesn’t expect anything and for those reasons, you stick by her.
Hudson writes so beautifully about things that are so ugly. Of Janie and Iris’s time at a women’s shelter she speaks of the comradarie between the women -
“Smiles lingered in the dark. Shared secrets, warmer than five blankets and a radiator.”
and
“We stayed at Grafton Hill for three weeks. In that time I saw tears fall into spaghetti-hoop dinners and spines jolt at the sound of drunken passers-by.”
This book is 99 Reasons Why meets Puberty Blues meets Trainspotting meets Angela’s Ashes meets Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?. I’m quite sure that no one will ever mention those books together in the same sentence again but they translate to a story about an ‘ordinary’ heroine, coming-of-age, all that is grim, fierce love for family and the solace that is found in books.
I received my copy of Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice-Cream Float Before He Stole My Ma from the publisher, Penguin Books, via Netgalley, in exchange for an honest review.
4/5 Memorable.
April 18, 2021
Read this book. Listen to this book. These lives should be known about. It's hard reading. But that's why it's so important to read it. If it's hard to read it imagine living it. We must do better. People need hand ups as well as hand outs.
Read this book.
4.5⭐️ really.
Read this book.
4.5⭐️ really.
August 24, 2012
Tony Hogan begins with Janie’s birth and what the family think she might grow up to be. The reader is introduced to her extended family. Janie’s granny is not there to bring them home from the hospital – she’s gone out to play bingo – and when they get home, there’s a note left on Iris’ (her mother’s) bed:
“Well, my wee one, Granny wants us tae run out for some milk an’ twenty Benson & Hedges. Welcome fuckin’ home.”
It’s not long before Iris argues with her mother and leaves home. She goes to the Grafton Women’s Shelter and so begins the constant moving from place to place where she is either running from an abusive relationship or following a man – and trying to survive.
A young mother and haunted by depression, there are a succession of ‘uncles’ until Tony Hogan comes onto the scene. This abusive relationship eventually results in Janie being taken away by social services and an injunction against Tony. At the home for three weeks, the positive memories Janie has here are remembered by her for a long time. When Janie leaves the home, they move to a different estate ‘for families’. It’s after this that Iris and Janie leave for London, hoping to find Janie’s father. They end up in Canterbury in a couple of different B & B’s. There are a couple more moves until they end up in Great Yarmouth.
Tony Hogan is narrated in the first person, from Janie’s point of view. Although I found a baby narrating a bit strange, the author capture’s a child’s perspective really well and it’s a smooth transition to teen.
The reader is taken on a very poignant journey … there are no holds barred. We experience high rise flats and tenements and the culture that goes with it. We live through some very traumatic events all the way through the story. The squalor, the alcohol, the drugs, death, abuse, rape and moonlight flits from place to place. In Great Yarmouth (aged 14) it is here that Janie’s experiences are choices she makes. These choices are a reflection of how the past and present influences her and are debilitating. Janie sums up her family on page 162:
“We were a glass family, she was a glass ma and I needed to wrap us up, handle her gently.”
Even though Tony Hogan is quite a dark read, there is hope at the end for the one final choice we get to see Janie make in London. I would hope that Janie continues to make choices that see her reach her dreams … but I think her lack of trust in the universe and herself and her low expectations may well turn out to be choices that keep her running down the same old road. Maybe she will break the pattern …
If you are not offended by swearing and are ready to be taken out of your comfort zone, then you might want to consider adding Tony Hogan to your book shelf. If you’re unsure, then why not lend a copy from your library!
“Well, my wee one, Granny wants us tae run out for some milk an’ twenty Benson & Hedges. Welcome fuckin’ home.”
It’s not long before Iris argues with her mother and leaves home. She goes to the Grafton Women’s Shelter and so begins the constant moving from place to place where she is either running from an abusive relationship or following a man – and trying to survive.
A young mother and haunted by depression, there are a succession of ‘uncles’ until Tony Hogan comes onto the scene. This abusive relationship eventually results in Janie being taken away by social services and an injunction against Tony. At the home for three weeks, the positive memories Janie has here are remembered by her for a long time. When Janie leaves the home, they move to a different estate ‘for families’. It’s after this that Iris and Janie leave for London, hoping to find Janie’s father. They end up in Canterbury in a couple of different B & B’s. There are a couple more moves until they end up in Great Yarmouth.
Tony Hogan is narrated in the first person, from Janie’s point of view. Although I found a baby narrating a bit strange, the author capture’s a child’s perspective really well and it’s a smooth transition to teen.
The reader is taken on a very poignant journey … there are no holds barred. We experience high rise flats and tenements and the culture that goes with it. We live through some very traumatic events all the way through the story. The squalor, the alcohol, the drugs, death, abuse, rape and moonlight flits from place to place. In Great Yarmouth (aged 14) it is here that Janie’s experiences are choices she makes. These choices are a reflection of how the past and present influences her and are debilitating. Janie sums up her family on page 162:
“We were a glass family, she was a glass ma and I needed to wrap us up, handle her gently.”
Even though Tony Hogan is quite a dark read, there is hope at the end for the one final choice we get to see Janie make in London. I would hope that Janie continues to make choices that see her reach her dreams … but I think her lack of trust in the universe and herself and her low expectations may well turn out to be choices that keep her running down the same old road. Maybe she will break the pattern …
If you are not offended by swearing and are ready to be taken out of your comfort zone, then you might want to consider adding Tony Hogan to your book shelf. If you’re unsure, then why not lend a copy from your library!
August 9, 2016
A debut author, a child’s narrative voice, and the underbelly of society: the forgotten, the ignored, the have-nots are beautifully portrayed and described in this book. Any one of these elements could have brought the story into a confused muddle, or taken maudlin to the level of lecture and harangue, yet Kerry Hudson uses not inconsiderable skill to show moments of hope and great insight as we follow young Janie on her travels as she grows.
Born to a teenage mother and into a family of women who are determined to make their mark, often with fists flailing, Janie’s narration starts with pointed observation of the ‘what is’ in her world, and never really looks back. Hard drinking and drugging, the vagaries of the 80’s and the struggle for those living at the mercy of ‘the dole’, undereducated and underserved, her story is highlighted by two men who are recurring characters in her narration.
Her father, an absent American with a taste for young women and drink give Janie a cachet of exotic otherness that was unusual in her circumstance. The other, Tony Hogan, is a recurring and often darkly manipulative presence who appears as protector, briber and ultimately the downfall of any security or sense of place they believed they had found.
Throughout the story, Janie’s observations are pointed and very un-childlike: from her observations of the cruelty of others, to her own mother’s post-natal depression, she has seen too much for a child, yet it has given her a unique understanding of the world around her. From the drug and drink use and abuse by her family, to her mother’s own abuse at the hands of the men that wander through her life, one can’t help but wonder just how old she is, or if she is destined and cursed to repeat the same mistakes and be stuck without the options as her mother was.
This story brings the feel of Trainspotting, the hopelessness and search for escape, but Janie isn’t entirely hopeless. It is Janie and her mother against the world, not always out of necessity: her mother used the library as a place to stay as they waited for their shelter to open, introducing Janie to the hope and dreams contained within the books on the shelves. With the potential to be dark and tragic, while the story is sad, you cannot help but find Janie intriguing and admirable, with a sharp sense of who she is and where she exists on the ladder of society, and her determination to find more and better around every corner.
Solid crafting with a memorable voice that is at once childlike and all to adult, Kerry Hudson has provided a first-person narrative that is thought provoking and unique, even as it explores issues often dealt with by others.
I received an eArc copy from the publisher for purpose of honest review. I was not compensated for this review: all conclusions are my own responsibility.
Born to a teenage mother and into a family of women who are determined to make their mark, often with fists flailing, Janie’s narration starts with pointed observation of the ‘what is’ in her world, and never really looks back. Hard drinking and drugging, the vagaries of the 80’s and the struggle for those living at the mercy of ‘the dole’, undereducated and underserved, her story is highlighted by two men who are recurring characters in her narration.
Her father, an absent American with a taste for young women and drink give Janie a cachet of exotic otherness that was unusual in her circumstance. The other, Tony Hogan, is a recurring and often darkly manipulative presence who appears as protector, briber and ultimately the downfall of any security or sense of place they believed they had found.
Throughout the story, Janie’s observations are pointed and very un-childlike: from her observations of the cruelty of others, to her own mother’s post-natal depression, she has seen too much for a child, yet it has given her a unique understanding of the world around her. From the drug and drink use and abuse by her family, to her mother’s own abuse at the hands of the men that wander through her life, one can’t help but wonder just how old she is, or if she is destined and cursed to repeat the same mistakes and be stuck without the options as her mother was.
This story brings the feel of Trainspotting, the hopelessness and search for escape, but Janie isn’t entirely hopeless. It is Janie and her mother against the world, not always out of necessity: her mother used the library as a place to stay as they waited for their shelter to open, introducing Janie to the hope and dreams contained within the books on the shelves. With the potential to be dark and tragic, while the story is sad, you cannot help but find Janie intriguing and admirable, with a sharp sense of who she is and where she exists on the ladder of society, and her determination to find more and better around every corner.
Solid crafting with a memorable voice that is at once childlike and all to adult, Kerry Hudson has provided a first-person narrative that is thought provoking and unique, even as it explores issues often dealt with by others.
I received an eArc copy from the publisher for purpose of honest review. I was not compensated for this review: all conclusions are my own responsibility.
April 8, 2015
Dreadful, dreadful book. I'd give it a minus 5 if I could. Why anyone would choose to write a 'story' that's simply a banal and mostly tedious diary documenting the miserable life of a young girl from birth to sixteen beats me. The style of writing screams Creative Writing Course. Every other sentence is an attempt to describe something 'normal' in a way it's never been described before. Unfortunately the metaphors and similes are mostly wasted because the story is a dud.
The fact that the narrator is able to describe events with such clarity, even those that happened shortly after her birth - and in the voice of an adult - beggars belief. A four-month-old baby able to read graffiti, to remember entire conversations (even when she's not in the same room), to make smartass comments? I'm not seeing a great deal of logic here.
Worse still, nothing happens. The plot concerns a dysfunctional family moving from place to place - an endless cycle of dismal B+Bs (paid for by Social services) that seem to blend into each other. Most of the time Ma is drunk, boyfriend is drunk (or about to abandon the family) and our heroine sees fit to redord every banal detail from what they ate to what TV programmes they watched.
We're given a blow by blow history of her family's movements - Aberdeen, Airdrie, London (briefly), Canterbury, Coatbridge, some place in Yorkshire I forget, Great Yarmouth - each new address a virtual copy of the one they've just moved away from and peopled by the same group of forgetable and unlikeable people. It's about as far removed from authentic social commentary as Winnie the Pooh.
To make matters worse the narrator continues to speak in a precocious, smart-alec manner from the age of three to thirteen. I was left picturing a toddler in nappies trying to make funny like Wee Jimmy Kranky - horrendous reading. There's Mis-Lit ('woe is me' autobiographies) and there's this (an attempt no doubt to tweak the reader's heartstrings with tales of hardship and poverty and parental dysfunction).
The author claims to have suffered a tough upbringing. That's no excuse for such bad writing. One telling moment describes the heroine reading 'To Kill a Mockingbird' and empathising with Scout Finch. Unfortunately the author's attempt to give Janie an attitude and a voice like Scout fails miserably.
Most novels have characters you root for. This had none. Most novels describe a character's journey through life as a series of painful lessons learnt. This cast of characters repeat the same mistakes over and over and over ad nauseam. Most stories at least have a plot. A start, a middle and an end. Unfortunately this didn't. You probably get the picture by now - I hated it and resent every penny spent on buying the paperback edition.
The fact that the narrator is able to describe events with such clarity, even those that happened shortly after her birth - and in the voice of an adult - beggars belief. A four-month-old baby able to read graffiti, to remember entire conversations (even when she's not in the same room), to make smartass comments? I'm not seeing a great deal of logic here.
Worse still, nothing happens. The plot concerns a dysfunctional family moving from place to place - an endless cycle of dismal B+Bs (paid for by Social services) that seem to blend into each other. Most of the time Ma is drunk, boyfriend is drunk (or about to abandon the family) and our heroine sees fit to redord every banal detail from what they ate to what TV programmes they watched.
We're given a blow by blow history of her family's movements - Aberdeen, Airdrie, London (briefly), Canterbury, Coatbridge, some place in Yorkshire I forget, Great Yarmouth - each new address a virtual copy of the one they've just moved away from and peopled by the same group of forgetable and unlikeable people. It's about as far removed from authentic social commentary as Winnie the Pooh.
To make matters worse the narrator continues to speak in a precocious, smart-alec manner from the age of three to thirteen. I was left picturing a toddler in nappies trying to make funny like Wee Jimmy Kranky - horrendous reading. There's Mis-Lit ('woe is me' autobiographies) and there's this (an attempt no doubt to tweak the reader's heartstrings with tales of hardship and poverty and parental dysfunction).
The author claims to have suffered a tough upbringing. That's no excuse for such bad writing. One telling moment describes the heroine reading 'To Kill a Mockingbird' and empathising with Scout Finch. Unfortunately the author's attempt to give Janie an attitude and a voice like Scout fails miserably.
Most novels have characters you root for. This had none. Most novels describe a character's journey through life as a series of painful lessons learnt. This cast of characters repeat the same mistakes over and over and over ad nauseam. Most stories at least have a plot. A start, a middle and an end. Unfortunately this didn't. You probably get the picture by now - I hated it and resent every penny spent on buying the paperback edition.
January 15, 2014
A review copy was provided by Penguin in return for an honest review
Ill admit that it was the title that originally drew me to this book. It's gutsy but it fits the story so well. Nothing about the story is rose tinted. This is real life, and it ain't pretty.
When the first words you here in life are " Get out, you cunting, shitting, little fucking fucker!" you just know you're not going to have it easy. The world in not prepared for Janie and and Janie is not ready for the world but what it is what it is. You just gotta live with it.
Janies life is a cycle of poverty, abuse and eviction. She is dragged up rather than brought up with a string of unsuitable men whom Iris tries to pass off as father type figures. She is so desperate for some sort of male presence in life that she endures tirades of mental and physical abuse from the ice-cream float buying Tony Hogan.
For most of her young life her mother relies on state benefits. This leaves them at the mercy of bleak dingy social housing and an often empty fridge. Jobs were thin on the ground and as a result so were the basic necessities such as food and warmth. As Iris spirals in to a depression it's left to Janie to care for herself and her sister Tiny. The reader is always left hoping that things get better with each move. Each time they load their meagre belongings into some tin can car I could only hope that things were looking up .
However as Janie begins to grow it's clear that the events she has witnessed in her life have taken their tole on her. She becomes self destructive in an attempt to find her own way in life. Determined as she is not to end up like her ma, her drinking sees her fall into her own downward spiral.
On the outside the book may seem a little repetitive but this was an effective way to portray how poverty can lock you into a cycle of despair and self loathing.
It's a fantastic debut novel which will keep you rooting for Janie long after the last page. I'm looking forward to see what Kerry Hudson comes up with next.
November 14, 2012
Boasting one of the best (and longest) titles I’ve come across in ages, Kerry Hudson’s debut chronicles the childhood of one Janie Ryan. Born to a single mother in Aberdeen (her American father having long since disappeared from their lives), Janie is a battler from the start (‘fishwives to the marrow, [the Ryan Women] were always ready to fight and knew the places that would cut deepest,’ p. 1). Janie’s childhood is spent in a succession of B&Bs and run-down council properties; and her mother goes through a number of violent and destructive relationships – but Janie comes through it all.
Hudson has a great eye for detail, and this is what really makes the places and characters in her book live and breathe. She’s unflinching in depicting the harshness of Janie’s and her mother Iris’s lives; but there’s humour in there too – both in comic scenes such as that when the young Janie tries to warm up Iris’s coffee in the toaster; and in wryer undercurrents, as when Janie misunderstands what the ‘wee bags of flour’ are that her mother weighs out for other people. Hudson captures the ups and downs of life through this skilful control of tone.
I had an exchange with someone on Twitter about whether Tony Hogan was a grim book; she found it ‘unrelentingly’ so, but I said that it didn’t feel that way to me. On reflection, with everything that Janie goes through, it seems somewhat naïve not to call the book grim. I think what I really meant was that I didn’t find it bleak; that’s not just down to the good humour, but also Janie’s determination to move beyond her circumstances – and the narrative voice which acts as a constant reminder that she will eventually succeed. The road for Janie is rocky, and there’s nothing that can suddenly stop it from being so; but the story of how she travels it is engaging and compelling.
Hudson has a great eye for detail, and this is what really makes the places and characters in her book live and breathe. She’s unflinching in depicting the harshness of Janie’s and her mother Iris’s lives; but there’s humour in there too – both in comic scenes such as that when the young Janie tries to warm up Iris’s coffee in the toaster; and in wryer undercurrents, as when Janie misunderstands what the ‘wee bags of flour’ are that her mother weighs out for other people. Hudson captures the ups and downs of life through this skilful control of tone.
I had an exchange with someone on Twitter about whether Tony Hogan was a grim book; she found it ‘unrelentingly’ so, but I said that it didn’t feel that way to me. On reflection, with everything that Janie goes through, it seems somewhat naïve not to call the book grim. I think what I really meant was that I didn’t find it bleak; that’s not just down to the good humour, but also Janie’s determination to move beyond her circumstances – and the narrative voice which acts as a constant reminder that she will eventually succeed. The road for Janie is rocky, and there’s nothing that can suddenly stop it from being so; but the story of how she travels it is engaging and compelling.
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