Review: “Caledonian Road”

It’s a heavy book. Not just in weight but in literary posturing.

Andrew O’Hagan’s novel is about, well, it’s about a lot of things. About London. About money. About class. About art. About politics. About despair.

About the past and how it sways and colours the present. How it swerves into the future. 

About being a successful academic and art critic in a time when the accumulation of wealth and prestige rules triumphant. A time when greed and stupidity are seen as virtues. When corruption becomes accepted with a wink and a nod and a shy smile.

The prose moves. Sharp. Cutting. Like a sharp blade through the soft underbelly of social performance. Campbell Flynn, the high-minded protagonist, walks through London’s streets and London’s lives. Rich. Poor. Connected. Disconnected.

O’Hagan knows how to slice open a moment. Expose its soft, quivering innards. There are more than a few hot, contemporary truths. The kind that makes you wince and laugh in the same breath.

The novel reads like a sociology textbook that’s had one too many martinis. Clever. Drunk on its own intelligence. Stumbling between angry insights and grim pretensions.

If you enjoy watching societal mechanics disassemble themselves with surgical precision. If you like your satire served chilled with a twist, this book’s for you.