Stuart: A Life backwards
By Alexander Masters


ISBN 0007200374, Price £7.99 01/02/2006, Perennial / HarperCollins


A collective review, facilitated by Chris
with the help of (so far) James, Lisa, Saleem, Sean, & Shaun.

I could see why some of Oxford’s ‘Homeless’ might find this book irritating, perhaps even angry making. All the more reason I’d say, why it should be read by those whom it claims to describe. The book’s subject, lives, or should I say lived in Cambridge before his suicide in ??

It’s wednesday night and my regular session with the Gatehouse laptop ‘café’. The computers are busy but no one needs my assistance at that moment. James, one of Oxford’s ‘homeless' poets, plops himself down beside me for a chat (I’m not sure how he feels about the label ‘homeless poet’, hence the inverted commas.)

James knew all about Masters’ book. Initially he’d been a fan but after the serialisation on BBC Radio Four, he was beginning to find it a bit of a wind up.

‘It’s written for a particular, intellectual market ‘ was his opening gambit. I wonder who he has in mind – me perhaps or even the other ‘helpers’ at the Gatehouse? ‘Far too negative.’ he says. ‘Nihilistic?’ I interject. ‘Yes that too but mostly just negative’. He went on to tell me how many ‘homeless’ people are quite positive about what they are doing. Maybe it’s time to get rid of the word, ‘homeless’ it’s a bit of a trap, a stereotype. The ‘homeless’ are trapped by the word and trapped by the ‘homeless industry’. I’d heard similar views expressed by John Bird in the pages of the Big Issue, in his book and indeed at last year’s special lecture at the literary festival. Homeless industry – there’s some truth in that – work on this gatehouse literary project has definitely become part of my livelihood - there’s no way around it. But then again so what? And what’s the alternative? And indeed, the whole of this very issue is exposed, warts and all, in Masters’ book. But there again, that’s what you’d expect from a ‘smart alec’ journalist?

Maybe we need another word, maybe we need to start thinking of it more the way they do in Ireland – they have transients, travellers or something like that, but somehow it’s not such a fixation, just like being in transit from one state to another – and therefore in need of some temporary assistance.

I see James’s point but it’s a tricky one. On reflection I wondered whether this new word needed something of vibe ‘self-employed’ which does, as they say, cover a multitude of ‘sins.’ Personally I think the rot really set in after the 1980s, when proper jobs began to disappear, and a whole bunch of us became ‘self-employed’ or if you are very middle class, ‘freelance’. In the world of the ‘self-employed, there are winners, losers and those getting by OK. Afterall, we all do need to live simpler less wasteful lives – sooner or later. The writing is surely on the wall for the age of endless consuming?

Sunday night - back at the Gatehouse, this time armed with copies of the paperback and the enticement of a free copy for anyone who will read it and share their opinions. Déjà vu, walking round the tables with an earnest expression and piles of worthy books – don’t go there. I end up giving my own copy away to one of the computer club regulars. He reads the back cover blurb and likes what he sees. He tells me how a writer takes a risk when he tells such a story. Jimmie Boyle did that back in the 1970s and suffered for his ‘sins’. So respect for anyone who has the bottle to tell it like it is. And that really is respect from someone who undoubtedly has their own, equally interesting tale to tell and indeed the desire to do so, so watch this space.

Later:
It's a week or two since we got our first few copies of the book. Today another dozen arrived courtesy of the publisher. The author is speaking at the Oxford Sunday Times Literary festival in March, and will lead a reader's group before his lecture. So we will be well briefed! Opinions about the books are still quite mixed, but everyone is still reading, which tells you something I suppose. It's becoming a common refrain now, that all the reader feel that Stuart, who seems so articulate, should have been 'allowed' to tell his own story rather than being the subject for someone else's writing. Perhaps it is a tribute to Masters talents as writer that he is able to bring Stuart to life so convincingly that you want him to speak for himself. Only of course he can't - I don't think I'm giving away too much if I say the book ends with Stuart's suicide.

Well these minor faults aside, there is still something quite compelling about this book. Maybe it's those little touches - like now I know what those little brass studs are you see outside many london buildings. The bureaucrats equivalent of the 'line in the sand.' - Step over that and you're nicked! Or the secret life of multistorey carparks (maybe that should be the multistories) - places I tend to avoid if I can - especially the one in Oxford's Westgate centre - ever since a friend went off to fetch his car and came back with horror stories of shopping trollies hurled from the top floor! That these concrete monstrosities should have a secret life was a revelation to me - that 'rough-sleepers' might actually live there - or find some sort of sanctuary there when the weather is bad. Most of Oxford 'rough-sleepers' seem to camp out on the various meadows that encircle the town. It's what i'd do - I much rather camp in a wood than take my chances in the carpark or shop doorway.











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