If I were to meet you at a party and say, ‘Hey, there's this great book ...' you might draw closer and say, ‘Ah, interesting stranger, tell me more.'
‘Well,' I'd say, ‘it's in verse ...' and as my eyes grew more intense in the fervour of proselytizing, yours would glaze with the first pricklings of desperation; you might lick your lips nervously and glance around for rescue.
'It's set in Roman London, AD211,' I'd breeze on, pretending not to notice.
By now, panic gripping you, you would be feeling the nasty sensation of one who is well and truly trapped.
But trust me. I understand, dear reader, truly I do. I'm never to be found, willingly, within fifteen feet of a beret and just the word ‘poetry' can make me twitch. However this novel really is very different, truly worthy of the word ‘unique' and one of my favourite books in recent years.
It concerns young Zuleika, feisty daughter of Sudanese immigrants done well, who is married off to a brutal, rich and absent Roman. While the fat cat's away (on business or philandering), the bored mouse will play. But when Septimus Severus, the Emperor himself, swings by, and gives Zuleika ‘A Look' with his desert eyes, then things get both interesting and dangerous and, yes, events are set in motion which can only end in tragedy.
I found it impossible not to be captivated by Zuleika, or dragged along by her story, and as a character she enchants, one of many in the novel neatly and succinctly drawn. She is too sassy to be a Great Vulnerable heroine, but she lives and breathes and convinces utterly. No whining, although armed with ample grievance for playing the victim, nor is she merely daffy chick lit heroine dumped in a different century, despite being supplied with that classic duo of soul mates; the gayboy/loose cannon girlfriend, with whom she drowns her sorrows.
The novel, for it is a novel despite the unusual presentation, is refreshing both in content and style and it is all but impossible not to be sucked in. The verse is loose and zingy; it is immensely readable, both powerful and tender, funny and outrageous, bloodthirsty and absurd. The poetry allows for fantastic use of pithy, vivid language, and is no mere gimmick since Evaristo's superb handling means the tempo changes fluidly according to the mood, and the story sings out. Perhaps due to the verse, pace and structure, rather than in spite of them: being told in so few words, there is no room for duff padding.
The historical background rings true, too, with thought-provoking points to be made about such very early immigration, as well as ‘Home Alone' young wives. Perhaps there's a self-conscious modern reference too many, maybe it goes an ‘innit' too far, but really the anachronism enforces its modern zip and brings pace and texture.
It is in turns touching, life-enhancing and shocking - for instance there's a breathtaking gladiator scene which pops your eyes out, while intimations of married life with an unimaginative brute makes one wince with cross-legged outrage.
Please, don't wriggle from me and my zeal; I have no albatross lurking in my past, just a wish to share my love of a rewarding, vivid and unique book.
