The Satsuma Complex review: Bob Mortimer fills his debut thriller with surreal jokes
So many comedians have published novels this year that I have begun to wonder whether writing one is an assignment in a yet-to-be-broadcast episode of Taskmaster. Most of them have confirmed the axiom that comics can’t write memorable fiction: even the novels of master funnymen such as Eric Morecambe and Les Dawson did not burnish their reputations.
So should we greet Bob Mortimer’s debut novel with a joyous “Eranu” or a mournful “Uvavu”, the noises of approbation and commiseration that will be stuck in the heads of anyone who saw Shooting Stars, his 1990s parody panel show with Vic Reeves?
Well, if what you want is a book that reads the way that Mortimer talks, there’s plenty to satisfy you here. If his name were missing from the title page, then riffs such as the narrator’s account of how he copes with anxiety – he imagines that he’s wearing “a magnificent pair of tan yellow clogs… made of a hard, almost translucent toffee”, while passers-by shout admiring comments such as, “Those clogs look more than sufficient, Gary!” – would make it easy to guess.
The narrator in question is Gary Thorn, a lowly legal assistant who finds himself in the frame when a private detective he’s been working with is murdered. The Hitchcockian plot of the ordinary bloke caught up in criminal events that he doesn’t quite know if he’s up to dealing with is played straight: you’ll find more surreal plots in the thrillers of Chris Brookmyre or Mick Herron. This solid foundation prevents the Mortimerish dialogue – “You smell nice. What is it you’re wearing?” “‘Electricity’ by Seb Longcoq. It’s on the banana-y side of road-works, don’t you think?” – from running beyond 300-odd pages.
As in his television work, Mortimer conveys an infectious joy in his own oddity, and, as his recent bestselling memoir And Away… showed, there’s a sweetness to his worldview that makes his writing gently poignant. And although I can’t imagine non-fans emerging anything other than baffled, those who are used to his brand of weirdness will find that the book works well as a thriller, too. Like Spike Milligan, the only vintage comic whose fiction is still read, Mortimer has managed to use a novel as a vehicle for his distinctive comedic voice.
The Satsuma Complex is published by Gallery at £16.99. To order your copy for £14.99 call 0844 871 1514 or visit Telegraph Books
