Recunosc, nu agreez petrecerile. Puțini organizatori casnici de petreceri au parchet insensibil pe podea, așa că sufăr de angoasa descălțatului la intrare. Nu că mi-ar puți prea tare picioarele, e oarecum suportabil atâta vreme cât nu-i vine cuiva ideea să-mi sugă vreun degețel. Dar e iritant să-ți strici aspectul de roacheriță în bocanci cu bot de fier și să rămâi în șosete colorate cu degete, sau în șosete desperecheate sau încălțate din cauză de emoții pe dos. Așa că eu mă deplasez mai mult la concertele în locuri publice unde încălțămintea e obligatorie. Despre petreceri am învățat însă cam tot ce trebuia să știu din cartea lui Malcolm Bradbury, Omul Istoriei. Și nu despre orice fel de petreceri, aici e vorba despre happening-uri unde amfitrionul se joacă de-a persoana-zeu aranjând mobilierul ca să creeze „zone de sanctitate”. „Ajustează luminile, potrivește abajururile, trage în jos obloanele, deschide ușile. Este o regulă importantă ca, în asemenea cazuri, să existe cât mai puține locuri interzise și casa să fie un întreg teatru de acțiune”. Howard Kirk este un profesor de sociologie în geacă de piele, curvar și manipulator. Ca student, se remarca prin degetele îngălbenite de nicotină și timiditate. Cum-necum, s-a însurat cu țâțoasa Barbara și au plodit doi copii care au crescut spunându-le părinților pe numele mic. La universitate se dă radical de stânga, la studente și colege profesoare, iar acasă dă petreceri unde vin hippioți cu bărbi de cristoși, cadre didactice, casnice, studenți, vânzători, fete fără sutien, fete cu câini, femei cu copii în coșulețe, actori, vicari, argentinieni. Se fumează iarbă, se bea vin și se face sex. Discuțiile pot începe cu întrebarea „Ce anticoncepțional folosești?” sau “Cine e Hegel?”. Toată libertatea asta provoacă însă niște constrângeri ridicol de amuzante. Ajungi să nu mai știi cum să te adresezi unei femei însărcinate pe care vrei s-o poftești să ia loc în autobuz. Ca doctorul Macintosh care alege, din cauza climatului radical al anilor 70, să-i spună pur și simplu “Vă rog să mă scuzați, persoană, dar n-ați prefera să luați loc?”. Chestie care tot se lovește de reproșul Melissei Todoroff, că ar fi condescendent din partea doctorului iar femeia ar trebui să stea în picioare ca toată lumea. E o carte frumoasă și ploioasă, dintr-o perioadă adolescentină a istoriei, cu toată vârsta ei. Mie așa-mi par a fi anii ăia 70, puberi și acneici, plini de hormoni și pasiune. Și de îndemnuri geniale, precum cel al Barbarei care se plimba cu tava de brânzeturi printre oaspeți spunând “Mâncați. Este un gest sociabil.”.
We are in the Seventies, a time where the sexual revolution is fully embedded and every ‘advanced’ marriage condones affairs and swinging. (After all, it adds to the spice and happiness of the union, and all right-minded people understand that monogamy is heavy.) The setting is a red brick English University, one that is freshly designed by the finest Finnish architect and is packed full with buildings named after eminent philosophers. Our protagonist is Howard Kirk, a Zapata moustachioed, right-on, radical Sociology lecturer – who no longer has any bourgeois sexual hang-ups and is constantly railing against the liberal reactionary forces. ‘Fascist’ is another commonly thrown insult from his arsenal. Except that Dr Kirk might not be as cool as he – and his cronies – would like to believe. In fact it becomes clear that he is deeply selfish, truly intolerant of the opinions of others and motivated solely by his own desires. Fortunately, the loose mores of the world he inhabits means that he can get away with that, whilst still looking like a right-on and with it, all round good guy.Although it’s only thirty-six years old, reading this book is like entering a time warp. The characters, situations, moral judgements and values are all as far removed from us now in 2011 as the worlds of Austen and Dickens. My own experience of British universities might be a tad dated, but it wasn’t like that then and I doubt it’s reverted now we’re in the Twenty-First century. That being said, it’s a wonderfully conjured world that really gives you a sense of time and place. It is also an incredibly witty read, with many great lines and comic situations. However, at points 'The History Man' is a hard novel to get through. The author is obviously out to eviscerate Kirk and his ilk, and the book does that admirably, but it’s still a long time to spend with a deeply unpleasant, self-satisfied character – even if we are supposed to come away hating him.If you have a desire for fine witty writing, lava lamps and an expose of how the sexual revolution could be exploited, this is definitely a recommended read.
Do You like book The History Man (1994)?
Nothing seems more distant than the recent past, and the orange-curtained, brown-sofa'd, Afghan-coated 70s that forms the setting for this book appears impossibly alien today. It starts off as a gentle satire of 60s and 70s radicalism, the right-on Marxist/Freudian/Reichian posturing of the Kirks an easy target, particularly so from the perspective of today (almost 50 years later). But things soon get a lot darker, with the realisation that right-on, liberal Howard is actually a monster, a charming sociopath whose single-minded pursuit of his own gratification leaves a strew of damaged characters in its wake. It's also a biting satire of conformity, as the staff and students espousing personal freedom and societal revolution are shown to have done nothing more than cast off one oppressive ideology in favour of another. Great style of writing too - the disengaged, emotionally blank prose mirroring Howard's emotional detachment.
—Lars Williams
The History Man is the story of the activist couple the Kirks. The book starts from the premise that, like history, a true reactionary's path cannot changed by whichever contemporary events. The Kirks, Howard and Barbara, live in the 1970s in Britain, Howard as a young professor of sociology, Barbara as a house-wife, and find their true call in political activism; their political credo is change, fueled with young student minds and promiscuous social exploration. The writing style is interesting: there is almost no descriptive passage or even passive tense, and most of the book is action despite a focus on political rhetoric. On the negative sides, most of the characters in this story, including Barbara, remain coarsely defined, and the plot is rather thin. Overall, an interesting topic but a wordy book.
—Michael Scott
Why did Bradbury let the speech in this book run on from one person to the next without using line breaks? I don't understand the benefit to the reader (or to him?). It made for such unnecessarily difficult reading. People have complained at spending so much time with such unlikeable characters and Howard Kirk is very disagreeable, but I didn't mind that; unlikeable often makes for interesting. I did feel though that the female characters who got to say more than a few moany lines about being exploited, all sounded the same, and why they would all want to sleep with someone like Kirk I have no idea, unless they were actually the same person. Still, as a period piece, reading about how English universities functioned in the 1970s and how much lecturers could get away with (which was basically everything) was interesting.
—Claire
