Auntie Doris’s Book Club #4 “Perfect” by Rachel Joyce.

imageKiddies eh? They always get the wrong end of the stick about things and end up getting themselves into a ruddy tizz. Like when my nephew Michael was a kiddie, he heard that one day the Sun would grow so big that it would engulf the Earth, and the whole planet and everything on it would be frazzled to a crisp. He didn’t realise that this wouldn’t happen until billions of years in the future, he thought it was coming in the next few weeks.
At that time there were adverts for the Sun paper outside every newsagents which just showed a bright orange circle with “THE SUN” written inside it. He thought it was a warning, and he usually burst into tears or something. He always was ruddy soft in the head.
Any Road, this “Perfect” book is a bit like that. It’s about this little lad who gets it into his head that something goes seriously wrong with the world as a result of two leap seconds being added to the year 1972.
They really did add those seconds, and I can understand how that might upset a more thoughtful kiddie. It doesn’t seem natural.Everyone knows that it is wrong to mess with the fabric of time. That’s how you end up with dinosaurs wrecking Tokyo or Elvis Presley having carnal relations with his own mother, or stuff like that.
This particular kiddy thinks that the consequences are a bit more personal though. He reckons that messing with the fabric of time has caused his mother to run over a little lass, and become an alcoholic, and get into arguments with his dad, and get into no end of bother with one thing and another.
The poor little beggar gets it into his head that it is somehow all his fault, and as his home life falls apart, he can’t seem to do anything but make it worse.
It’s a ruddy good read if you like stories about kiddies in the 1970s, with a dash of mental illness and a bit of mystery. And there’s plenty of twists and turns in the plot to keep you interested and guessing. Half of the chapters are set in these days an’all, with a modern perspective on events in the past and their consequences.
This Rachel Joyce has wrote another popular book an’all. About a bloke who goes for a walk and just keeps walking. I haven’t finished that one yet though. I was daft enough to lend it to my sister Pearl after I had only read a couple of chapters, and she passed it on to our Madge who thinks she might have left it on the bus. So I reckon I’m going to have to end up getting another copy. I’m not worried though, because there’s usually one in the Cancer Research Shop every few weeks of about £1.49. So I’ll just bide my time and wait for that.

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