"London and the South-East": David Szalay's bleak, brilliant but divisive debut

Seven of us gathered at Hanami, returning indoors after a lovely summer of Book Club meetings in the gardens. Our latest read was London and the South-East by David Szalay, whose more recent novel Flesh won the 2025 Booker Prize.

Nigel introduced the book, having first read it shortly after publication some twenty years ago. He recalled enjoying it enormously, not least because it explored a world he recognised: youngish men working, drinking and commuting in London and the South-East. Rereading it, however, he was struck by how depressing it was, although he still found it compulsively readable, darkly funny and brilliantly observed.

The novel follows Paul Rainey, an advertising salesman whose life is slowly unravelling. Much of the action takes place in pubs — Carmel likened it to reading a bad pub guide, with one extraordinary passage listing pub after pub. Nigel recalled commuter trains with bars open at seven in the morning, and passengers already knocking back drinks. It was a world that several of us remembered, and we discussed how working from home has transformed the once rigid separation between office and domestic life.

Opinions were divided. Some couldn't put the book down, while others found it difficult to spend so much time in the company of such unpleasant people. The story improved considerably once Paul lost his job and embarked on a series of unlikely occupations, including gardening, grave-digging and street sweeping, though there is also a growing sense of dread as in accompanying Paul on his downward spiral.

We spent some time discussing the extraordinary world of advertising sales, where dubious publications, cold calling and relentless targets were the order of the day. Several members had worked in telesales, market research or advertising and recognised the atmosphere all too well, including the soul-destroying business of trying to persuade people to buy something they didn't want. Perhaps this helped explain Paul's character: his work had gradually destroyed something in him.

Everyone admired Szalay's dialogue, particularly the way characters evade questions or fail to engage with one another. His writing is unsentimental – flat, almost – yet capable of moments of extraordinary tenderness and humour. We particularly enjoyed the visit to Heather's family, including her father identifying aircraft by the sound of their engines. Paul's quiet relationship with Oliver over the snooker table offered another rare glimpse of warmth.

Was Paul simply weak and passive, or had his environment made him what he was? When offered the possibility of changing his life, why did he return to what he knew? Perhaps, we considered, most people do exactly that: familiarity and financial security are powerful forces, even when they make us miserable.

By the end, we had described the novel as black social comedy, bleak realism and even dystopian. Some of us would never have finished it without Book Club (I’ll admit, I couldn’t finish it at all!), while others found it utterly absorbing. But perhaps the strength of our reactions was itself a tribute to Szalay's writing. His characters may not be likeable, but they are intensely believable.