Customer Reviews

Time for Bed Hb

5 star:		(3)
4 star:		(0)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

This book marks the debut for a man better known in England for stand up comedy than literature, but whilst I rarely stopped laughing this is also a fantastic story.

The central character has a big problem with sleep, he can't get any! That he is also madly in love with his brothers wife, has a mentally deteriorating flat mate and a hate/hate relationship with his father is just half the brilliance of this storming book. The problems and excellent comic scenarios just keep flowing as you're drawn further into the eccentric and sordid world and mind of the sleepless hero. The characterisation is just superb and there are enough twists to make you think in between the laughing. One thing that I've never experienced in another book is the amazing empathy I felt for this guy who seems to have lived alongside me for most of my life, if not then this is the most accurate portrayal of the male mind this side of Nick Hornby (possibly even better).

All in all this is a laugh out loud funny book that also made me look deeply at myself (whilst still laughing), and with the story lines that eminate from within almost made me cry too. To top it off a genuinely satisfying ending that couldn't have been written better.

This book is one of the most entertaining ones I have ever red. I forced myself to stop reading it toward the end, so it wouldn't be over too fast.

Not only is the eccentric, outrages, insane behavior of the protagonist (an unemployed insomniac, in love with his brother's wife) tremendously funny, it also tells the truth about many issues the sensitive, out-of-the-ordinary individual of our times has to cope with. Though he is essentially obnoxious, rude and careless, one from the beginning sides with this young man. His apparently negative qualities are what keep him from spreading a pessimistic, resignative tone, however discouraged he seems at times. He knows to see the irony and, hence, the comedy of even the most desperate situation - a lesson we all should learn.

As absurd his surroundings and demenour may be, the book depicts a more accurate image of life than many others - for life is in itself nothing if not absurd.

For want of a good book, I had not read for a while, when a friend found this for me it was the end of early nights! I wish I too was an insomniac, therefore giving me more waking hours to read this book. It reminded me of "he died with a felafel in his hand". Probably the dry sense of humour. With or without sleep deprivation issues, I thouroughly recommend!

I saw reference to this in an excellent book by Gail Greene, Insomniac, and ordered it used. The rest that she didn't quote is not worth reading, unfortunately. A bit of British cleverness, but overall not enough to make it readable, and I am a die-hard Anglophile. I gave up after about 50 pages and put it in the donation bag.

Unsurprisingly this book reminded me of some of Ben Elton's early stuff - a stand-up comedian turning some of his observational comedy into a novel. However, here humour doesn't punctuate global conspiracies and an in-your-face political moral. Rather it's more of an everyday Hornby context - the demographic of the characters, the pop-culture references (the rave about Karen Carpenter could have come straight from `High Fidelity', likewise the soccer detail), the large space for introspective raves (at times rants), and the climax being more about self-awareness and personal growth than saving the world. Actually Baddiel owes a lot to Hornby - even down to the technique of throwing in a death about two thirds of the way through. Similarly he's articulate, funny and occasionally insightful. I wish that this could have set the tone for this review, but, like Stephen Fry's work, there's just too much offensive static to be able to enjoy the bursts of talented signal.

Where Hornby often shows charm and a refreshing discretion (his camera fades as a couple approaches the bedroom), Baddiel doesn't even appear vaguely aware of the existence of sensibilities that might baulk at several explicit passages. He talks about [a type of sex that amazon won't even let me write], for example, as blithely as he would about grocery shopping. He might contend that the plain description puts it in a more respectable category than porn - and it's not written to titillate. But it's beyond this: he's not just honestly discussing an adult topic, it's aggressively daring someone to take offence. There's even something of a trainspotter's obsession with detail. I don't know if it's mere wowserism to complain that I really don't want to know: is it inexcusable Victorian prudishness to ever suggest that there is such a thing as inappropriate content? Bad taste? Impropriety? I think I'd be just as entertained, for example, by a few rigorous and comprehensive pages on his toenail picking technique.

So casting aside the workable plot around a contemporary Jewish family, and his clever (though usually acerbic) rants and caricatures (the insufferable hippy-chick is a triumph), given the unfortunate ratio we're back to addressing the noise instead of the signal.

Much of his indiscretion (alright, crudity) reflects the strange place our contraception society has moved on sex - in some circles it's become utterly incidental to romance. Thus at one point his protagonist hesitates to offer the intimacy of a kiss to a woman he's been sleeping with (and at least Baddiel, almost surprisingly, notices the incongruity). It's a bizarre parallel to the prostitute myth (that they won't kiss their clients - cf. the execrable `Pretty Woman') - but matches the similar divide between intercourse and relationship. Society dictates that fornication is mandatory: celibacy is now as shameful as fornication used to be. There are rules about frequency: How long was it since you had a shower? Washed your clothes? Did some exercise? Called your mother? Put out the bins? Had sex? Washed your hair? There are moral imperatives about this sort of thing.

Yet while social mores demand that you have regular sex (and dental checkups), they simultaneously caution against relationships - particularly that ancient bogey, the committed (shudder) relationship. The unavoidable logical consequence is that sex happens first, relationship may or may not come later. I don't have to particularly know who you are to be having sex with you - what's most important is that I'm having sex - do you have to know somebody well to, say, work out at the gym with them? Intercourse is first a selfish pursuit. Now intimacy, that's an entirely different thing. In the search for intimacy, according to this value structure (absolutely the value structure of this book: for example, there's a sexual partner mentioned early in the book that we never even learn the name of. Why would we? Baddiel's character probably doesn't remember), sex will certainly be part of the process. Sex here has taken the place that dating - or even flirting - used to. Maybe in the past a person didn't really want to go through the process of getting out there at a dance or a club or a youth group, but did so to hopefully meet someone. Maybe they felt a bit uncomfortable going to a movie or out to dinner, but it was a necessary part of the process of working out whether this other person might be a long term prospect. Well, in Baddiel's circle you might still go out to dinner and a show, but know this: you'd better get your gear off well before you have a clear idea whether or not you actually are serious about this person.

Talk about a post-Christian novel. And for many post-Christian readers this review would be out of left field: what are these obscure values Baddiel's supposed to have offended? Likewise, for example, the complete absence of scintilla of conscience the character has about deliberately living on welfare in preference to taking available work: in some circles the reverse social gaff would be to mention that this is childishly inconsiderate.

I think I enjoy Baddiel through the filter of film or TV - and parts of this book are very Four Weddings and a Funeral/ Wimbledon etc. franchise - especially the cliché filmic end. I first came across him (I'm Australian) watching the hilarious `Fantasy Football' during what must have been, geez, the US or French world cup. We also got a few episodes of Baddiel and Skinner Unplanned, and a Parkinson interview, where they talked about Baddiel's own interview show (which I thought I'd enjoy more than Parkinson, but it never got out here). On this basis I got `Time for Bed', and while I can see it's the same guy, I got more than I wanted. Give me Baddiel with some primetime content restrictions. Despite all my carping he's got a lot to offer: could I trade some honesty for some charm?