Guardian Review
Anna Burns is either nuts - or quite something! In Little Constructions , her second novel, she tackles murder, rape, incest, child molestation, Kalashnikovs and something very like the IRA with indefatigable irony. She gets across her disgust for senseless, needless violence of the Bush/Blair/Northern Irish or merely familial kind, while being pretty damn funny about it at the same time. "There are no differences between men and women. No differences. Except one. Men want to know what sort of gun it is. Women just want the gun." From the very beginning you know you're in good, if slightly scary, hands. Burns is raring for a fight, and her startling energy might just bring feminism, and even women, back into fashion. Tom is the unlikely owner of a gunshop, a fellow traumatised by being mugged some years ago by, embarrassingly, three children. The story revolves around him and Jetty, a woman with whom he has a one- night stand, during which they argue and he tells her she snores. As a result of this remark, they have nothing to do with each other for the next seven years. Which leaves Jetty with a lot of time to work on her four Achilles heels - she sees a therapist three times a week but says nothing, just glaring in mute outrage, at great expense. Burns, in contrast, dares to say anything. The writing is energetic, convoluted and courageous. It has a gutsy nervousness that matches the subject matter, as if there is no way to write about violence and violation other than with comedy, digression, wordplay and other peculiarities. Her logic, verging on the insane, pinpoints the complexity of being human, citing dreams, thought processes, memories, "idjitness", hypochondria, fear of gods and ghosts, and many mock-psychobabblish syndromes. With little unity of time, the novel ranges over at least 25 years and is mainly concerned with one family, the Does, who all have practically the same name: not just the inevitable John Doe but Johnjoe, Judas, JesseJudges, Jetty, Jotty, Janet, Julie and JanineJuliaJoshuatine Doe, making it nigh impossible to keep track of who's who. It's a bit like watching clothes in a tumble dryer and pretending they're people: certain ones keep flopping back into view, and all of them seem to want to kill each other. Every word matters and the oddities are a joy. "'Don't open a shop if you can't crack a smile' is a saying the Irish-Chinese have," Burns writes helpfully. But her idiosyncratic and conversational tone doesn't stop her making powerful points, as in her discussion of the unfortunate differences between women and gunshops: "if only we could get our erections and total sexual, emotional, spiritual and intellectual satisfactions from guns, bullets, postage stamps and such-like controllable essences. Wouldn't that be easy? . . . Why can't women be gunshops? . . . How much safer, how much simpler, how much more predictable going into them then, might be." The narrator often amusingly intrudes, thanking the reader for sticking with it, or despising the reader's clothes sense, or apologising for various authorial indecencies. It sounds chatty, but is always insightful: "She went out with twenty-two men because they had boastful complexes when in public, which became self-hating complexes later on when it was them on their own. Does this seem like a lot of men to you? It seems like a lot of men to me." It seems like a lot of men to me too. Lucy Ellmann's latest novel is Doctors and Nurses (Bloomsbury). To order Little Constructions for pounds 13.99 with free UK p&p call Guardian book service on 0870 836 0875 or go to guardian.co.uk/ bookshop Caption: article-ellmanburns.1 With little unity of time, the novel ranges over at least 25 years and is mainly concerned with one family, the Does, who all have practically the same name: not just the inevitable John Doe but Johnjoe, Judas, JesseJudges, Jetty, Jotty, Janet, Julie and JanineJuliaJoshuatine Doe, making it nigh impossible to keep track of who's who. It's a bit like watching clothes in a tumble dryer and pretending they're people: certain ones keep flopping back into view, and all of them seem to want to kill each other. Every word matters and the oddities are a joy. "'Don't open a shop if you can't crack a smile' is a saying the Irish-Chinese have," [Anna Burns] writes helpfully. But her idiosyncratic and conversational tone doesn't stop her making powerful points, as in her discussion of the unfortunate differences between women and gunshops: "if only we could get our erections and total sexual, emotional, spiritual and intellectual satisfactions from guns, bullets, postage stamps and such-like controllable essences. Wouldn't that be easy? . . . Why can't women be gunshops? . . . How much safer, how much simpler, how much more predictable going into them then, might be." - Lucy Ellmann.