In peak Covid-time, Jay is homeless, living in his car, trying to earn a few dollars delivering groceries, all while suffering from a severe case of post-Covid for which he can’t seek treatment because he has no insurance. He drives out to a remote rich-person house set in its own extensive grounds, and as he hands over the groceries, he collapses. The woman of the house, Alice, recognises him and gives him a bed in the barn, but keeps his presence secret from her husband, Rob. For once upon a time, fifteen years or so ago in London, Alice and Jay had been lovers and Rob had been Jay’s best friend. That was back when they were all studying art – Jay and Rob with a view to becoming artists, and Alice hoping to become an art expert. Now Rob is hugely successful, turning out commercial feel-good art that pleases the great unwashed, while Alice has become his support and manager, subsuming her own life under his. And Jay, once hailed as having great potential as an installation artist, has been missing from the art scene for years and has reached rock bottom in his life.

It appears that Kunzru has intended his last three books as a kind of loose trilogy. White Tears looked at blues music and cultural appropriation, while Red Pill gave us poetry and political ideologies taken to extremes. This one takes modern art and uses it to look at how the purity of art is corrupted by capitalism. It also throws in Covid, drugs and, of course, racism. I guess its success may well depend on how seriously the reader can take the idea of modern art, especially installations, as being art at all. I find most modern art laughable and art critics who treat a pile of bricks, an unmade bed or a cow in formaldehyde seriously as suffering from something much worse than Covid – a combination of mass delusion and pretension. And my opinion of most ‘installations’ is even lower. So clearly I’m not the right reader for this book!

As all Kunzru’s books are, however, it is beautifully written, and the characterisation is great, even if drug-addled pretentious arty types aren’t exactly people I want to spend much time with, even in fiction. There’s a coming-of-age aspect to it, as we see the three characters in the earlier timeframe, young and full of hope and ambition, and then see how their lives have turned out – not as any of them expected, and none of them, rich or poor, feeling satisfied with their lot. (My feeling was that perhaps they could get real jobs doing something useful, and then, even if they still felt unfulfilled, they’d have less time on their hands to angst about it.) And there are occasional hints – or was I just indulging in wishful thinking? – that Kunzru too felt that at least some modern art invokes mockery more than reverence.

The race aspect feels unsubstantial and a little clichéd. Jay is mixed race – white mother who didn’t really know his father well, so although Jay knows he’s half-black, he doesn’t know anything about his black heritage. There are passing mentions of contemporary race questions in the US, such as George Floyd and the resulting demonstrations, but it all feels a bit by the book – I didn’t feel Kunzru was saying anything particularly new or insightful on this well-covered subject.

I felt his depiction of the Covid-time was actually one of the strongest features of the book. He gives some great descriptions of the spookily empty streets, and highlights the different Covid experiences of those well enough off to shelter at home, while the poor or those in essential jobs had to take their chances. Jay’s lack of treatment is specifically American – most rich western countries provide essential health care regardless of income or even citizenship status – but it still serves to make the point that money helps in this, as in all other parts of life. Kunzru also shows how, again specifically in the US although to a lesser degree elsewhere, mask-wearing and social distancing became kinds of social markers, politicised, class-based and divisive, so that evidence as to their effectiveness or otherwise got lost in the heat of battle.

I didn’t love this as much as I’ve loved some of Kunzru’s books, but that was largely because of the modern art aspect. I still found it very readable, though – Kunzru’s writing is always a pleasure, and his intelligence can make even an unfavourite subject interesting. I hadn’t thought of them as a trilogy until this one came out, and would like to re-read them together one day to look more deeply at the themes that run through them all. It’s obvious now that the red, white and blue in the titles refer to the US flag and that together they form a commentary on modern America – the divisions in its society along the lines of politics, race and wealth, seen through the lens of art and literature. Read as one three-volume novel, they might even be seen as an attempt at the Great American Novel. I’m not sure they achieve that status, but they’re certainly interesting.

"Blue Ruin" by Hari Kunzru is a compelling and thought-provoking novel that delves into the complexities of modern life with sharp insight and lyrical prose. Kunzru masterfully weaves a narrative that explores themes of identity, displacement, and the consequences of past actions. The characters are richly developed, each struggling with their own demons and navigating a world where nothing is as simple as it seems. The novel's atmosphere is haunting, with Kunzru's evocative descriptions drawing readers deep into the story’s tension and beauty. "Blue Ruin" is a powerful read, offering a nuanced exploration of the human condition that lingers long after the final page.

While its politics were somewhat predictable, and borderline cliche, the writing was rich and clever and this novel had a profoundly moral understanding of the world.

I think Hari Kunzru is one of the best and brightest UK writers working today, such a talent! This book is well written and very clever but also felt like a bit of a plod to me (maybe I'm just tired of pandemic-era novels) and I didn't like any of the characters (which I know is one of the lamest critiques to EVER make about a book - I get so mad when my mom says this to me lol!). I read another review that compared this to Ottessa Moshfegh's 'Death in Her Hands' which I think is very apt. Thanks to Netgalley and the publishers for the ARC.

Set during peak Covid, Blue Ruin follows the ailing Jay, who stumbles across his ex girlfriend whilst delivering groceries to a house in the middle of no where. Not only that, she is still with the egotistical ex best friend she left him for 20 years ago, and they’re currently isolating with a group of friends from the art world - collectively trying to navigate their relationships, art and the wider uncertainty of the pandemic.

Whilst you’d think chaos ensues (and it does) the book also offers a deeper and more reflective perspective on male friendship, relationships in your 20s and how they evolve, the idealism of youth and how we change, art, what is considered art and the process of making it - the messiness, problems, contradictions and commercialisation of what is supposed to be a freedom of expression.

It’s also about the evolution of Jay as he seeks to overcome the baggage of his past (and himself).

This was a great character driven read and I’m so grateful to the publisher for the early arc.

Blue Ruin by Hari Kunzru is thematically and stylistically in line with his previous ouvre. very intellectual, rather navel-gazey, low key insufferable...

A fantastically structured exploration of art, talent, love and depression which has an impressive two timeline structure and a great atmosphere of the art world in London in the 1990s. Even the Covid setting is well handled. Another highly enjoyable novel from Hari Kunzru

To me Blue Ruin is about hard questions surrounding art: what is art; how do we define art and its beauty, how do we quantify it, is it moral to use art as currency? Is there any morality left in the art trading market, manipulating art for various means and political battles...

All this rises from the stories of Jay and his friend/nemesis Rob; both linked by their connection to Alice! I found many of the scene in the first part stereotypical: your cliche young artist, struggling to find a niche while drugging himself out of his mind. And then the pandemic ...at least that was used just as a literary plot device, so it did not grate as much...

What I did find fascinating, and also agree with to an extent, was Jay's protest against the hyper commercialisation of art and the use of art as a means of protest for vacuous causes. Also riveting to witness in motion the fine line between legality and illegality and how easy it can be to slip into anonymity!

So, as I've said, I cannot say I've enjoyed the story itself, but the essence of Blue Ruin does provide food for thought!

The narrator of this novel is Jay. He is temporarily homeless and living in the car he uses for delivering groceries. This pandemic times and he is still recovering from a bout of Covid.

He delivers to huge house set in vast grounds and recognises Alice. He has not seen since Alice since they were partners twenty years ago. He is wearing a dirty mask ( detail that set me against him in my thoughts) but she recognises him and invites him to live in a barn on the property, hidden from her current partner, Rob and the agent Marshal and his girlfriend.

Touch of paranoia to keep him hidden as the others are isolating. But tensions ratchet up as he is discovered and threatened.

There is a lot of pseudo discussion about ‘Art’ and the modern art scene which I did not enjoy. I also had a problem connecting with any of the unlikeable characters. Or the extremely rich art collectors.

The writing is strong and Kunzru’s craft kept me reading beyond my interest in the story.

I read a copy provided by NetGalley and the publishers.

I can’t believe I’ve never read Hari Kunzru before when he’s such a well known author but wow, I’m going to investigate his back catalogue after this. Despite the pandemic setting which both is and isn’t that central to the whole story, I absolutely loved this profound, witty and beautifully written novel about time, love, art, privilege and much more. It’s incredibly thought-provoking with deeply involving characterisation and some classic set pieces. Everyone in this novel is realistically messed up in their own way, and the same probably goes for most people reading it. For me this is literary fiction at its finest.

Another pandemic book but one that is thought provoking.

The book shifts between now, Upper State NY at the height of the pandemic, and then London art school. The description of the art world and performance art was interesting - when is art actually art and when is it just taking the Mickey?

Thanks to NetGalley for the ARC.

This is a claustrophobic and moving novel set in the early days of the Covid pandemic, when a chance encounter reunites Jay, a lost artist, with Alice, a woman he left behind along with the rest of his life twenty years before.

Alice is living with Rob, who was Jay's best friend back in the art school days, and the tension between the three of them is real and immediate, with the added complexities of adult life chasing them down and providing a harsh comparison to the heady days of their youth in London.

Nostalgia and bittersweet memories clash with the needs of the present, and the portrait Kunzru paints of a lost world and an unsatisfactory present is beautifully done.

This was a very reflective read, with most of the first half of the book being a flashback to the relationship between Jay and Alice and where it all went wrong. I found the relationship deeply touching and extremely realistic for two art students in the UK. The actual art aspect itself was a fascinating insight into how the process can be more important than the art itself, and about defining what art is, or what can be classed as art. Each character introduced was just as fascinating as the last and although I didn't like them, I did feel for them all in one way or another. I would have loved to know more about Nicole as she seemed like a really interesting and complex character, but I understand that in Jay's world, only Alice, art and survival really mattered to him. Overall a really great book set in a really tough time that added a further layer of tension and uncertainty to the situation

Enjoyable characters and themes. The book gets more interesting in the last part, however the prior pacing and the self-indulgent characters navigating life, the pandemic, the power relations and begrudging each other and their own self was a good fit too. Once you get to the half of the book, it becomes more interesting and if you enjoy characters with flaws, the detailed exploration of their inner thoughts and the arts scene, this book can be finished in one or two sittings with great pleasure. I appreciate the writing style too. It is not tiring, but still literary.

This is my fifth Hari Kunzru novel – I have read four of his previous six novels: “The Impressionist”, “Transmission”, and his latest two “White Tears” and “Red Pill” (note despite the titles I do not in any sense see that the latter form some form of trilogy with this novel although a fourth coloured novel would make a great clue for a literary fiction version of the NYT Connections game).

In my review of “Red Pill”, I described Kunzru as an admirably visionary novelist full of a myriad of thought-provoking ideas (particularly around technology and its interaction with the future of humanity) who sees and explores common links between disparate themes, but typically does not entirely manage to coalesce them successfully into a fully coherent novel.

Here by contrast we have a novel much more bounded in both its scope (its setting during the early stages of the pandemic and its cast of five people thrown together by circumstance and serendipity – or possibly design) and in its themes (modern art and its interactions with wealth and privilege).

In fact if there is a precedent for the novel in any of Kunzru’s previous writing it is I would say in his novella “Memory Palace” with its accompanying V&A art installation exhibition – perhaps speaking to Kunzru’s interest in modern, performance based art, which he gives free narrative rein in this novel.

The set up of the novel is simple – the first party, mid-forties narrator Jay, temporarily homeless and living in the car he uses for his hand-to-mouth gig-economy existence, is delivering groceries to a house set in huge and luxurious grounds, and – even behind a mask – immediately recognises the recipient as Alice, who he has not seen since they were in a relationship in the up and coming East London art scene some twenty years previously.

Concerned at his health – he is still recovering from Covid – she persuades him to stay in a remote barn on the property – which she tells him she is staying in with Rob (the art school friend-rival who she left Jay for and to whom Jay is astonished to hear she is still married), Marshal the gallerist of Rob (now a very successful and sought after artist) and Marshal’s girlfriend.

As Jay waits in the barn – initially in secret – he retells the story of his own time in London during and post art college and his interactions then with Alice and Rob: Alice – with a family wealth from her Vietnamese mother - seemingly modelled (as Jay himself says) on the girl in “Common People”; Rob from a similar working class background to the mixed race Jay, but more willing to fit in with the developing art-world culture as money starts to flood in to it – whereas Jay increasingly rejects the idea of art being for sale or even consumption or even as something than can be separated off from the artist’s life and identity.

Initially Jay’s presence is a secret from the others – not least as they have only been given access to the property as its rich doomster owner (Marshal’s backer) has bunkered down in New Zealand – but when the armed and armour clad Marshal, paranoid about Covid and convinced it’s the opening biological salvo in a Sino-American war apprehends and almost shoots Jay – his presence comes into the open: both leading to increased tension between Alice and Rob (who cannot believe that Jay’s presence is an accident – as a slightly unreliable narrator we never really know this for sure ourselves) but fascination on Marshal’s behalf as Jay is it turns out notorious in artistic circles having increasingly moved into the area of politically-motivated individual performance art before suddenly disappearing without trace and long assumed dead.

From there we learn more also of Rob’s artistic struggles, in particular a conflicted relationship with a notorious artist whose work gives the book its title and in the way that one artist overwrites and appropriates another’s work gives perhaps a metaphor for the Rob/Jay dynamic. We also see how Jay’s very fuguer style life (he eventually namechecks Albert [Dadas] but rather delightfully for me the originally inspiration, while unnamed, is the opening of “The Rise and Fall of Reginald Perrin” – I did not get where I am today by missing 70s sitcom references).

If I had an issue with this book it’s the subject matter and cast – the modern art scene both in its underground/art college/edgy London collective/drug taking part and its high end exhibition/ultra rich collectors part is of best of no interest to me. And while its both inevitable and commendable for novels to address lockdown and the early pandemic stages – this will I suspect prove the least relatable literary pandemic novel most readers will encounter due to the extreme circumstances in which the five are living.

I would also say that while much more coherent than his previous works it was far less intellectually thrilling – although I did find it an interesting tale, with some very strong writing, and the way in which Kunzru traces the arc of Jay’s increasingly all-of-his-life-encompassing performative art pieces is clever.

This is the first book I've read by Hari Kunzru and it definitely won't be the last. I'm not a huge fan of novels set during the pandemic but here it worked well as a framing device and lent itself well to producing a claustrophobic atmosphere. A very skilfully written and carefully paced exploration of art, immigration, race and power.

Many thanks to the author, publisher and Netgalley for providing an ARC of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

A deep dive into the lives of artists and the lengths they go to achieve their goals. Through circumstances created off their own actions, three main characters lives are explored when their passion for art takes their lives in directions they didn’t anticipate. Set during covid with frequent flashbacks, this is a gripping story that keeps you hooked right through to the end.

I've been a Hari Kunzru fan for a while now. For me, he's one of the best - if not THE BEST - British novelist. A master stylist that writes about the world, and the things that matter. I started with Transmission maybe 15+ years ago, Gods Without Men sort of worked for me but some parts were way stronger than others. White Tears was utterly compelling and weird, but it was Red Pill that really kicked things up a notch.

This is the follow up, and it doesn't disappoint. While some might feel the subject matter is comparatively slight compared to the dread and paranoia of Red Pill, this book still has important stuff to say about art, commerce, and the inherent tension between them. It's also just a great story with richly drawn characters, none of them particularly likeable, but I was all the way invested from the first page.

I'm sure there's an element of bias in my review, because Blue Ruin dips into areas where I have a personal connection to the subject matter. The creep of gentrification into East London, the French/Vietnamese/Paris angle, the focus on the business side of the modern art world. It's all stuff I have firsthand experience with, or at least a keen interest in.

The writing is as cool and crisp as ever. From quotidian details like the "fatbellied bottles of Orangina" and "a TV show about teenagers with superpowers" (Heroes, I think? Not sure if the timings match up) which help to sketch the world out in lived-in strokes, to caustic zingers like "an AR-15 or something similar, one of those sinister mass=shooter weapons that are marketed to American men like motorcycles or small batch whiskey, signifiers of rugged individualism." I could quote endlessly from Blue Ruin.

Some reviewers have seen it as a COVID book, and while it does take place in the heights of 2020's madness and makes reference to key events that year, that feels circumstantial. It's just when the story happens, and it provides scaffolding for the plot in some ways, but I don't think Blue Ruin is supposed to be a pandemic polemic.

More than anything, this book captures the inherent strangeness and violence of our times, reporting from the trenches like a battle-hardened journalist with the precision of a surgeon. There hasn't been a British writer quite like JG Ballard - and I doubt there ever will be - but Hari Kunzru comes closest.

Thanks to Simon & Schuster for the ARC.

I like Hari Kunzru so instantly requested Blue Ruin (2024) when I saw it on Netgalley

It’s a taut, well told, non linear tale centred around the absurd excesses of the art world and the stark contrast with the precariousness of the gig economy.

Two rising artists in 1990s London follow very different career trajectories. Years later they unexpectedly reunite during the Pandemic in a gated estate outside New York for a final reckoning.

Themes that struck me: artistic integrity vs the need to generate money; undocumented workers in the US; art as investment; the pandemic; the paranoia of the wealthy; privilege; delusion; and mental breakdown

Nervy paranoia saturates this imaginative and compelling story. I loved Blue Ruin and was engrossed from beginning to end.

Blue Ruin opens in 2020, just months after much of the world went into lockdown including a renowned British artist and his wife, holed up on a wealthy collector's New York country estate together with their gallerist. Jay’s been sleeping in his car, living hand to mouth, delivering groceries. When he pulls up outside a palatial house, he’s astonished to see the woman he once loved who walked out on him for his best friend back in the ’90s when they were art students in London. When he collapses at Alice’s feet, she hides him in an outbuilding. Things come to a head when Rob discovers his gallerist’s scheme to rescue them from financial ruin, leading to a dramatic climax.
Kunzru’s novel is a witty, absorbing exploration of the ‘90s Britart phenomenon when anything produced by the likes of Damien Hirst and co fetched exorbitant prices. He captures the paranoia of the early pandemic days vividly – disinfection of vegetables, code words to be given before a delivery’s accepted – taken to extremes by Marshal, the New York City gallerist patrolling the estate, tooled up ready to shoot intruders. Themes of social inequality and racism are lightly woven through Jay’s narrative which shifts between the present and the '90s. There’s no neat ending, although Jay does bring one phase of his life to a finish; it’s almost as if the whole experience has been a covid fever dream including the slightly implausible coincidence which begins the novel. An enjoyable read, packed with erudite knowledge of the art world.