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A cool, dark, sexy nightdrive of a novel. . . . A new J.G. Ballard.”—Toby Litt
Jeremy Shepherd has relinquished his London life and moved back home. By day, he has a boring desk job, but Jeremy soon finds a way to break the monotony through illicit sex with strangers in public places. As the police close in, tensions rise.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
4 of 4 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
"Man isn't separable from his lifestyle: he is his lifestyle.",
By Michael Leonard "MikeonAlpha" (Silver Lake, Los Angeles, USA) - See all my reviews (VINE VOICE) (REAL NAME)
This review is from: The Isle of Dogs (Paperback)
This unusual and subversive story centers on those who seek their thrills by indulging in public sex acts, whether it be in car-parks or abandoned building sites, or even in country fields. Set in an England where CCT cameras watch their every move, these people furtively go on the hunt, aching for physical connection, the thrill of the chase just as exhilarating as the act itself. A self-confessed "dirty-minded soul," the thirty-nine-year-old Jeremy Shepherd is all too willing to participate in these kinky clandestine activities even as he gives up his fashionable, prestigious and lucrative publishing job in London. Beneath all of this glamour his he's suddenly unraveled, affected with a bizarre and frightening sensation of "acute self-consciousness."
Intent to downsize and to pursue his dream of simplicity and "feline self-containment," Jeremy returns to live with his ageing parents in a provincial Northern town that is full of sharp and ugly edges. Finding a low level dead-end job in the English civil service, Jeremy has suddenly discovered that he's existing essentially as a blank slate, his all-consuming sexual secrets a powerful metaphor for his need to somehow connect to those around him. Perhaps a vehicle for assuaging his boredom and the dullness of his life and instilling a form of stillness, a form of peace, Jeremy's penchant for subversive sex begins with text messages where strangers meet to act out their deepest fantasies while other shadowy figures watch from the sidelines, barely visible. Amidst the density of surveillance cameras so starts the hunt, which begins with a couple in a car, the light on means that they want to be watched; a man and a woman entwined in passion, playing their game of chess, the kind of game that tells Jeremy that he won't be leaving the car park empty handed. And then there's the stroking and the groaning, from inside and outside the car as the men who are watching them gradually trickle into the night. Jeremy never does see their faces. In this world sex is a trance that orgasm shakes him out of, all of the players indulging in a kind of "post-orgasmic clarity." As various other characters participate in this clandestine mischief - Tariq, a handsome, black-eyed born Iraqi, Marlon, ex-boy band star, with his handsome, mix-raced features, and the sexually veracious and stunningly beautiful Lucy P, Jeremy finds himself increasingly stripped of inhibition even as violence from the local yobs, the ever -present patrols from the police, and a simmering racism menace the outer edges of their game. Leaving nothing to the imagination, Davies exposes the dark side of a society where sex is cleared of cultural clutter and eventually laid bare. This is unique democracy, where the only goal is gratification, and where nirvana lies in the purity and the singleness of purpose. Jeremy's feelings, an absence of need and want, are certainly fuelled by his encounters. There's certainly so moral judgment here and a sense that nothing is amiss, yet, in the mix of moon glow and tungsten light, there's an immaturity and a sense of soulless that seems to constantly breathe in this man even as he remains a silent observer to all of the tawdry behavior he sees around him. As the story moves closer to its climax involving brutal bashing, the author unfurls his fascinating themes on the nature of rampant appetites and sexual attraction and also the messy compromises that we humans have to make between holding fast to our social obligations and the collateral damage of following our deepest, darkest desires. Ultimately, it's the outer manifestation of Jeremy's life, and the constant frustration of his inner urges that provides much of the thematic meat to this thought-provoking and controversial novel. Mike Leonard February 09.
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Woof, Woof,
By D. Mikels "It's always Happy Hour here" (Skunk Holler) - See all my reviews
This review is from: The Isle of Dogs (Paperback)
Leave it to the Brits to innovate in a nation where practically every square inch is monitored by surveillance (CCTV) cameras. But do you think such a hindrance is going to keep the outdoor swingers from getting their jollies? Fat chance. Secluded car parks (in dark corners the cameras do not find), old picnic parks, abandoned tennis clubs--in locales such as these the swingers congregate, the participants putting on a grand old show for those gleefully (and anonymously) watching. It's called "dogging", and is the basis for Daniel Davies's delightful, albeit twisted novel, THE ISLE OF DOGS.
Thirtysomething Jeremy Shepherd has it all: editor of a prestigious fashion magazine, upscale London flat, more women than he can count. Yet his life is strangely empty; all the glitz and glory is overrated, while his basic needs are modest--what he really seeks is anonymous and gratuitous pleasure, because he has a sex drive, in his words, like "jet fuel." Without looking back, he quits his job, sells his flat, moves in with his retired parents in the provinces, takes a low-end civil service job, and at night goes prowling as the persona known as The Shep to swingers along the "circuit." THE ISLE OF DOGS tells The Shep's sensational, often demented, story. He describes his trysts with total strangers whom he's met on the Internet, trysts surrounded by strangers (punters) who watch while pleasuring themselves. It's disturbing, yet when told in Davies's rational, unflappable style, it's also exceedingly funny. The Shep does have a close cadre of dogging pals whom he enjoys "hooking up" with, and as the novel progresses it's readily evident the doggers are having a bugger of a time finding locations not being watched by the police, or worse yet, by gangs of vigilante yobs who take matters into their own violent hands. The novel ends with such violence happening to The Shep (who takes it very much in his ho-hum, ambivalent stride), along with a last, unsuccessful gathering in the car park of the hospital itself, leading to an eye-opening epilogue that had me laughing despite myself with its two-word ending. Davies has written an engaging and clever novel about a man the reader ultimately stops caring about; the reader might not care, but will breeze through THE ISLE OF DOGS just the same. --D. Mikels, Author, The Reckoning
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Passable Window into Sexual Subculture,
By A. Ross (Washington, DC) - See all my reviews (VINE VOICE) (HALL OF FAME REVIEWER) (TOP 500 REVIEWER) (REAL NAME)
This review is from: The Isle of Dogs (Paperback)
Jeremy Shepherd is the carefully coiffed ambitious editor-in-chief of a glossy London fashion magazine. One day he has an existential crisis/nervous breakdown and comes to the realization that his work is totally meaningless, and, for that matter, so is his cosmopolitan semi-glamorous life. This leads him to the inexorable conclusion that he needs to radically reboot his life while taking Maslow's hierarchy of needs as his new model. He chucks his fancy job, sells his swish flat, gives away his designer clothes, and moves to back to the anonymous middle-English town he came from, to live with his parents. This is all part of his master plan to simplify his life so that he can concentrate on his primary need, which is lots of sex, preferably anonymous and with no attachments. Thus, the reader is plunged into an insider account of "dogging" -- the practice of outdoor sex with strangers.
This is fairly interesting -- as most insider accounts of subcultures are -- but little more than that. The book clearly tips its hat to its sexually transgressive fictional ancestors of JG Ballard's Crash, Michel Houllebecq's Whatever and Platform, Marie Darrieussecq's Pig Tales, Helen Walsh's Brass, et al (none of which I've read). However, it's hard to imagine anyone being that shocked by the swinger's lifestyle depicted here. This becomes a bit of a problem, since the story attempts to build a sense of menace revolving around the violent reaction of nameless/faceless local yobs to the "perverts" who meet at night in parking lots and country lanes. Davies tries hard to invoke larger ideas revolving around the surveillance society and the extent to which modern Westerners have become so self-aware that they are "performing" their lives, rather than living them. This might have felt fresh and interesting ten or fifteen years ago, but merely feels like reheated leftovers now. Eventually, this little travelogue into the sordid runs out of places to go and the story struggles to create tension as the cops crack down on the local sex gatherings. Events get rather rushed and the story wraps up in a somewhat unsatisfactory manner -- although the book's final two words contain a nicely done twist which is well worth sticking around for. On the whole, a passable diversion that provides a window into a strange subculture -- but that's about all.
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