Getting a life reading : "Point Hill" by Paola Buonadonna

Though it is a rather fraught endeavour, it seems like I am starting to make a habit of writing about books by people I know. Julian Priestley, most recently with Putsch, but previously with The Making of a European President and indeed Europe's Parliament: People, Places, Politics, is one such. Another, likewise on a trajectory from non-fiction to the novel, is Paola Buonadonna, whose wonderful memoire, Leaving Azzurro Behind, featured here in June 2014. Attentive readers of this blog, insofar as they may exist, will though have noticed her name more often, as she often crops up as the (so far unfailingly reliable) source of book recommendations, the latest of which was in fact the subject of the last post, Life After Life. However, in matters literary as indeed in other matters, Paola walks the walk as well as talking the talk, which brings us neatly (?) to Point Hill, a novel I believe she originally wrote some years ago, but took the plunge and published earlier this year. 

Yes, trains come into it too somehow

Avowedly, Point Hill started out as "a warm, light, optimistic novel about a bunch of thirty-somethings looking for love, meaning and fulfilment and finding it." So says Paola on her blog (link at end). Well, in the end it is, still, "a novel about a bunch of thirty-somethings looking for love, meaning and fulfilment." Whatever it is that happened between the first draft, written in a pre-9/11 golden age when history had ended (with due allowances for ethnic cleansing in Yugoslavia, Rwanda et al) and Point Hill's published version, it clearly involved several upbeat adjectives falling by the wayside, and probably led to a altogether more nuanced piece of fiction than the original might have been. (Not that there's anything wrong with light and optimistic novels, let it be said.)

One key to this character-driven book is making sure you have a clear grip on who the characters are. I was somewhat remiss in this department early in the book, tending to mix up Andrea and Shireen, something definitely more my fault than the author's, as I was getting into something of a tangle at the time reading-wise, with too much on the go at once. Anyway, here's the pocket guide to the Point Hill cast: 

Andrea, the central character, a committed and actually rather good schoolteacher, but stuck living with both her bohemian mum and a sense of drift. She is looking for a new start, something which may, or may not, involve therapy, better clothes, laying off the fags, a home of her own, love, or maybe "just a good shag". 

Shireen, whose son Ben Andrea teaches, and whom she befriends after having noticed Ben having some problems at school. Shireen is brittle, competent, in control, with a good career, perfect home and a desirable husband. Too good to be true? Yep. 

Mark is Shireen's husband, good-looking and familiar to millions as Inspector Dalkeith in a hit TV show. A devoted dad to Ben, he simultaneously lives with an inner rage which continually threatens to wreck everything. Mark is working on an autobiography with a ghostwriter, Freddie. 

Rys is Shireen's brother. There is something about him - there is lots about him actually - that makes women want to, well, take him home. For the obvious, yes, but also to nurture, cosset and probably repair him. For he is damaged. A veteran of front line refugee charity work in the world's grimmest hotspots, he is a poster boy for his NGO, but lives with deep traumas his experiences have left him with. His wife, Monica, loves him but cannot understand him. 

Monica, Rys' wife, is beautiful. She is a wannabe actress and is having an affair with Mark (see above), something which could possibly be helpful with that acting career. But she's much better than that makes her sound. 

Lynn, finally, is a temp working in the NGO who is much more aware of her surroundings than her co-workers assume, and who, for a variety of reasons, gets very involved in the lives of those around her. 

So there you have the key dramatis personae, in a way, I hope, that gives a flavour of this book without spoiling anything. Suffice it to say, all need a change in their lives, and all seek some kind of reform, escape or redemption. 

Around these characters, and a few more, Paola (or should I, with deference to convention, say Buonadonna? ... I will in the Amazon version) weaves an intricate and engaging story, shaded with both darkness and light. We readily understand that happy endings, even clear outcomes, are not necessarily to be expected, but this is a page-turner nonetheless, as we wonder where the characters, about whom we come to care, perhaps in some cases unexpectedly, will take us next. The lives of these thirty-somethings (though to me they feel older, but perhaps I was a slow developer) move and shift in interesting ways, mostly against a backdrop of affluent south east London, plus a little bit of a nastily disintegrating Yugoslavia. 

Paola Buonadonna, suitably enough on location

Location is important in this novel. It's very title is a location in SE10 (I had assumed a fictitious one, but, as the miracle of Google maps now informs me, actually a real one). I had always noticed that Paola's writing of all sorts, and certainly no less here, is full of wonderfully incisive observation of a world she knows very well, but is still able to see with the eyes of the outsider. (Perhaps having the "eyes of an outsider" is a partial definition of a writer, come to think of it.) For instance, again and again, when reading Leaving Azzurro Behind, I stopped momentarily to enjoy the way she "nailed" some peculiarly British quirk, this being a knack I rediscover here transferred to the quirks and traits of her characters, still very much grounded in their SE10 world. 

So what's not to like? a well-told story, strong, interesting characters, a great sense of time and place and, yes, some real insight into the human condition. Paola is a writer to watch. I can't wait to see what she does next. 

See what Paola says about Point Hill herself here.