Pretend I'm Dead

This was a strange sort of attraction at first sight (the title alone is so intriguing) negotiated down by reluctance to engage with a 24 year old protagonist. Yes, I know, I’m an ageist, but can you blame me? This generation has been just all sorts of unattractive. Although I’m very glad to have finally decided to follow my initial instinct and check this book out, because a. it’s pretty terrific and b. it’s set judging by cultural clues in the mid 90s, entirely different, far more tolerable generation. Also weirdly aimless and existential, but in much more agreeable way. And, despite her young years, the protagonist here is actually the real deal, someone who can carry an entire story by her idiosyncratic self. In fact, she’s a singular literary creation, stumbling through life to a very distinct and distinctly irregular beat, ghosts of her past shaping the shapeless contours of her present in a subtle and compelling way. Not an easy book to describe, not particularly action driven, definitely more of a personal journey (discovery just sounds too new agey) sort of thing, about a young woman and a variegated cast of supporting characters in her life. But it’s just so good, so well done, so original, darkly humorous in a perfectly understated manner, quirky in the best possible way, such an original perspective. Not often can someone so unrelatable be so completely engaging and for this major kudos to the author, it’s quite an accomplishment, particularly for a debut. Strikingly odd, immensely readable and definitely memorable book. Brief at only 208 pages and such a quick read, I actually didn’t want it to end, but it was lovely while it lasted. Thanks Netgalley.

Pretend I’m Dead is a really unusual, psychedelic gem of a novel. Mona is a twenty-something volunteer in a needle exchange programme. Her dad, Mickey, is a deadbeat and the only stability she has in her life is the sole-trader house cleaner she works for. Mona has a brain but no particular drive. She works hard, but without direction. When she tells people she is a cleaner, they assume she must have something else she is working towards - white girls don’t clean houses.

The novel follows Mona over a couple of years, focusing in turn on four relationships and how they change the direction of her life.

First up, there’s Mr Disgusting, a middle aged junkie to whom Mona supplies needles. She begins a friendship because why not? Apart from the junk, he’s a decent guy. He tells Mona to move from her Massachusetts dead end to Taos, some kind of hippy Mecca in New Mexico. So off she goes, with the remaining three sections focusing in turn on her relationship with her neighbours Nigel and Shiori (English and Japanese); then a rather sick businessman called Henry who seems to have lost his inhibitions, and finally a psychic called Betty.

Each of the relationships allows Mona to grow in unexpected directions. And always, behind everything, there is the fractured relationship Mona has with her father.

What makes the novel is Mona’s charm. She is utterly guileless, but not stupid. She is aware of people’s failings and deviousness; she simply chooses not to get involved. As a cleaner, she sees people’s secrets. She could use them for good or for evil, but mostly she just dwells on them in a brain that seems to be perpetually half-tripping. She has a strong personal morality and will happily do things that are against her best interests if she thinks they are the right things to do, yet her morality is unlikely to coincide with those of 90% of the population. She looks at the world with a mixture of astonishment and resignation.

And for the lack of direction, she dreams. Idle dreams, not always nice dreams - a bit like Jenny in the Threepenny Opera - where something will change and she will be the lynchpin around which the action revolves.

There’s quirkiness too. Mona likes photography, taking selfies in compromising positions in clients houses. Just to mix things up a little.

Looking back on this, it all sounds a bit whimsical. It really isn’t. It is gritty, it is real, it is funny and it is sad. If it were a film, it would be Amelie.

When you read this book, you'll realise you are not unique...there are others with the same twisted humour as you. Jen Beagin has written a counter-culture gem; a women's whip-smart riposte to Bukowski bravado. It's almost too good to share but like Mona; 'I'm actually a fan of creepy honesty'.

This book is Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine on acid. Odd, funny, and doesn't go on longer than it needs to - a bit like my reviews. Just excellent!

This was an amazing debut. Engrossing and original story.

A dark, messed up book full of black humour and an unforgettable main character. This is one of my favourites of the year so far. Think Palahniuk, Coupland and pitch black cult fiction.