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The Canal Paperback – June 15, 2010
| Lee Rourke (Author) Find all the books, read about the author, and more. See search results for this author |
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In a deeply compelling debut novel, Lee Rourke—a British underground sensation for his story collection Everyday—tells the tale of a man who finds his life so boring it frightens him. So he quits his job to spend some time sitting on a bench beside a quiet canal in a placid London neighborhood, watching the swans in the water and the people in the glass-fronted offices across the way while he collects himself.
However his solace is soon interupted when a jittery young woman begins to show up and sit beside him every day. Although she won't even tell him her name, she slowly begins to tell him a chilling story about a terrible act she committed, something for which she just can't forgive herself—and which seems to have involved one of the men they can see working in the building across the canal.
Torn by fear and pity, the man becomes more immersed in her tale, and finds that boredom has, indeed, brought him to the most terrifying place he's ever been.
- Print length199 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherMelville House
- Publication dateJune 15, 2010
- Dimensions5.49 x 0.58 x 7.44 inches
- ISBN-101935554018
- ISBN-13978-1935554011
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Editorial Reviews
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Review
"A story assembled from everyday objects, unassumingly and quietly, that stuns and horrifies by increments... The Canal may look, at first glance, like a love story, but it harnesses the power of a parable."
—John Wray, author of Lowboy
"Leading light of the self-styled Off-Beat Generation, Rourke stakes his claim as heir apparent to greats such as Ballard, Joyce or Houellebecq."
—The Guardian
"Is it possible to find meaning in boredom? Lee Rourke believes that there is meaning in this most maligned of moods. Finding it just takes time—a boring enterprise to be sure, but as Rourke's antihero discovers, a liberating one." —The Wall Street Journal
“You have to salute Rourke - he has written a novel about boredom and how it saturates modernity, which is a ballsy thing to do. But The Canal also takes in urban renewal, technology and violence as it questions the manner in which we live our lives in the 21st century. In a particularly affecting scene, Rourke describes a funeral and the way the guests behave as though they are actors playing roles. Authenticity may be in recession, but novels like this help us to recover our sense of it. If you fancy a cerebral summer read then make it The Canal. For a book about urban ennui it's one hell of a page-turner.” —GQ (UK)
“The narrator’s true spiritual ancestor then may be Proust’s Marcel, a man who knew exactly what to do with boredom. Instead of sentimentalizing childhood snacks, however, this narrator sentimentalizes ugly, bewildering, and homely moments, and does a lovely job of it….Even though nothing much happens in The Canal, Rourke pulls off a neat trick: a dull stretch of urban neglect and a dull, ordinary life are transformed into beautiful creatures. The muck dredged from the canal and the muck dredged from the narrator’s memory are evidence of sad, strange urban histories full of longing, repression, and compulsion. The Canal is an interesting and provocative debut—but readers who disagree that boredom is a good thing, be warned.” —The Rumpus
"[A] thoughtful, occasionally disturbing and curiously affecting debut novel.... While unreservedly a novel of discourse and digression, The Canal also understands that tension and intrigue are just as important as literary devices. It's this careful balance that makes for a refreshing, memorable and powerful novel – and one that confirms Rourke as a writer of exceptional promise."
—Stuart Evers, The Independent (UK)
"Achingly thought-provoking and beautiful... It feels right-up-to-the-minute and urgent."
—3:AM Magazine
"A strange explosion of a book."
—HTML Giant
"Clear prose and some of the best dialog I've read in years. A wonderful book that is partially about trying to escape boredom, becomes a meditation on life and what is meaningful and meaningless and how those things can be frighteningly both. I'm glad I read this book."
—Shane Jones, author of Light Boxes
About the Author
Product details
- Publisher : Melville House (June 15, 2010)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 199 pages
- ISBN-10 : 1935554018
- ISBN-13 : 978-1935554011
- Item Weight : 6.6 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.49 x 0.58 x 7.44 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #5,026,512 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #1,550 in British & Irish Humor & Satire
- #6,339 in Self-Help & Psychology Humor
- #21,674 in Fiction Satire
- Customer Reviews:
About the author

Lee Rourke is the author of the short-story collection ‘Everyday’, the novel ‘The Canal’ (winner of the Guardian's Not The Booker Prize 2010) and the poetry collection ‘Varroa Destructor’. He is Writer-in-Residence at Kingston University, where he is an MFA lecturer in creative writing and critical theory. He lives by the sea. Follow him on Twitter: @leerourke
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Top reviews from the United States
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If you stop to consider anything long enough, even boredom, you should be able to find interesting connections lurking beneath the otherwise banal surface. «When you stare into the abyss the abyss stares back at you,» or whatever it was that Nietzsche said. Thing is, Rourke gives up staring into the canal after the first few pages. Stuff happens in the book & he loses sight of the initial boring premise. Which perhaps is the point--if you embrace boredom, stuff will happen. Boredom is only boredom if you are afraid of being bored. And boredom is in the eyes of the beholder. This claim that the novel is about boredom allows Rourke to deflect all criticism because he could just say that was his intent. Yes, it's a novel. It says so on the cover. I don't understand why sometimes novels need to declare themselves as such--is it to keep people from confusing it for something else? The book is published by Melville House, known to me primarily as Tao Lin's publisher. And I guess there's some similarities with Tao, as well as with Shane Jones, who blurbed the book. The book was short-listed for The Guardian's Not the Booker Prize, which is no surprise considering Rourke writes for The Guardian.
It's the kind of book you'd expect a book critic to write. He's obviously well-read & connected & able to draw on a lot of writer's before him. Besides the comparison to Beckett, at first i felt like it was being set up like Crime & Punishment. And there's the obvious nod to Tom McCarthy, though to compare the two belittles McCarthy. The stark dialogue reminded me a bit of David Mamet or Harold Pinter, though Rourke does this annoying thing where he'll just have a character repeat the same thing over & over (at one point a woman asks him "Do you like the canal then?" 14 times in a row--i can't imagine that happening in real life or on stage without someone slapping her after 3 or 4). The Guardian blurb on the back of the book (am i the only one who notices these blatant conflict of interests?) says: «Leading light of the self-styled Off-Beat generation, Rourke stakes his claim as heir apparent to greats such as Ballard, Joyce or Houellebecq.» Joyce, Houellebecq? Whitey, please. Maybe that's what he ... er ... i mean ... 'The Guardian,' means by 'self-styled'--Rourke is trying to style himself after these fine folks. Ballard, yeah, sure you can see where he tries to mimic Ballard with some success. In fact, there's a part where his female love interest runs over a stranger in her car in a just-for-the-hell-of-it Ballardian way (with a Camus twist). The object of his desire also has a fetish for suicide bombers. «Those extraordinary young men. I often dream about them, their brown skin. I speak to them in my dreams, I caress them in my dreams, I fantasize about them during the day,» she says. Ballard & others can get away with writing about sick anti-social things, but when Rourke tries to mimic him, it comes off as forced & not believable (not to mention racist). It's like how some comedians can go on a warped racist rant on stage because they are confident in their delivery or they are somehow justified & don't question themselves. It's not a talent everyone is born with.
..
But there are other ways to view this novel that are potentially interesting.
For example: The Canal is a very boring novel about boredom. And that's perfect, isn't it? You are forced, by reading the book, to experience the very sensation the protagonist meditates upon so dully (Here is a typical yawner: "It is obvious to me now that most acts of violence are caused by those who are truly bored. And as our world becomes increasingly boring, as the future progresses into a quagmire of nothingness, our world will become increasingly more violent.").
The Canal might be about boredom as receptiveness, as a passive acceptance of chance and chance events. A few other reviews have commented on the fact that, though the book purports to be about boredom, soon after it starts things start happening. But these events never hook the characters into an actual story; there is repetition, but no development. Characters remain like icebergs, submerged and isolated. The narrator, in particular, is determined to be bored, which also means unengaged.
But Rourke also uses his premise as an excuse. He portrays the narrator as an excruciatingly shallow personality who acts without discernable motivation. Much of the book revolves around his obsession with a woman to whom he's only marginally attracted. His attraction persists despite the fact that he finds her character repulsive, and despite her rebuffs he approaches her in increasingly aggressive, creepy, ultimately frightening ways. Why? Because he's bored and boredom leads to violence? Because she's there?
OK, sure, he's an avatar of boredom - hallucinatory, violent, complacent. But what about the other characters? The woman? The street gang? All of the characters may as well be robots running the same program. None of them are even slightly human.
The only times I felt connected to the book were the few moments when random strangers would pop on stage to shout at the narrator: What are you doing! Go away! And I knew that if I were a character in the novel, I'd be one of those people.
Those momentary intrusions suggest that the author has at least a modicum of self-awareness. But even if The Canal was occasionally interesting, I wouldn't call it good. I mean, really. Can any book be good when it fetishizes a woman who mixes blood into her paintings and then declares unironically: "I paint because I will one day die. Because I want to die. Because I hate myself. Each time I destroy one of my paintings I am destroying a part of myself. I am a cliché and I like it that way."?
I don't think so.
Note: I received a free electronic copy of The Canal from Edelweiss, in exchange for an honest review.
Top reviews from other countries
It was interesting to start off with then got totally bored as it was the same day in day out about this man sitting by the canal
I really don't understand why it got rated highly. Very boring read.
