Our Fathers [Paperback]

The book raises a number of interlinked questions concerning the conflict between idealism and pragmatism, the conflict between the desire for change and the desire to preserve the past and the conflict between the generations. Building, of course, is frequently used, especially by the political Left, as a metaphor for effecting social or political change, in phrases such as "building the future" or "building a new society". Hugh sees himself as a builder in both the literal and the metaphorical senses of the word. His quarrel with Jamie's generation is that they are, both literally and metaphorically, demolishing what his generation built. In Hugh's eyes modern politicians, both Conservative and New Labour, are undoing the social reforms of the past.

There is no doubting the sincerity of Hugh's desire for social reform, rooted in his own impoverished Glaswegian childhood. Nevertheless, his plans to improve the world have proved less successful than he hoped. The buildings he constructed are unpopular with those who have to live in them and with the wider public who regard them as eyesores. At the end of his life, he finds himself under attack, accused of cutting corners and using cheap materials in his zeal to build as many housing units as quickly and as cheaply as possible. It always struck me that the attraction of the high-rise tower block to the planners, architects and housing officials of the third quarter of the twentieth century stemmed less from a sober calculation of its benefits and disadvantages than from an emotional commitment to "modernity" for its own sake. From their perspective, the main advantage of the tower-block was precisely that it was radically different from any form of housing that had preceded it. Today, it is the tower blocks themselves that look like outdated relics of a bygone age, far more than do conventional houses built during the same period. Nothing dates more quickly than yesterday's view of tomorrow.

As one might expect with a book dealing with the dying days of an old man, there is little in the way of dramatic action. Mr O'Hagan's main concern is with his characters'- especially Jamie's- thoughts and feelings. In some ways it struck me, despite its length of nearly three hundred pages, as being closer to a long short story than to a traditional novel. In places it can seem static, but overall there is, nevertheless, a sense of movement, as Jamie comes closer to reconciliation with his grandfather and a partial understanding of what the old man and his contemporaries were trying to achieve. There is also a sense that Jamie is moving closer to forgiving his own father, whom he meets again at Hugh's funeral.

The writing struck me as uneven. Mr O'Hagan has a good eye for the details of modern urban life, and conveys the beauty of the Scottish landscape in some of the finest passages in the book. On the other hand, some of the lengthy dialogues tended to drag, as did passages such as the description of Hugh's funeral. I was both fascinated and frustrated by the characters, especially the flawed idealist Hugh- frustrated in that I found myself wanting to know much more about his previous life than I was actually told. I wanted to know more about his childhood, his time as Glasgow's "Mr Housing" and his relationship with his own son Robert. I wanted to know why the son of an idealistic reformer should have become a cynical, drunken ne'er-do-well. (There is a hint, not fully developed, that Hugh was too preoccupied with political affairs to have much time for his family). If Mr O'Hagan is considering writing a sequel, there is certainly enough material here for a second novel.

Although this is not a great novel, it is both a readable and an interesting one, introducing an fascinating character and touching upon such major topics as religion (Hugh and his wife are devout Catholics), the decline of traditional Socialism, the clash between ideals and reality, the Scottish national identity, the relationship between the generations and the burden of inheritance.

O'Hagan hasn't written the greatest first novel ever written, in "Our Fathers." He has, however, written a sublimely adequate novel that should leave readers wondering what the author has in store. For a first novel, "Our Fathers," is, perhaps, technically unsurpassed. It's structure, language, and plot are all expertly presented and well recieved. O'Hagan's fault is in his commitment to his characters, all of whom seem superficially created. His is a great story, well told, with characters in whom we never really trust or believe.

Interestingly, the same could be said of early James Joyce, or even Ernest Hemingway. I would place O'Hagan's potential somewhere between the two of those giants; not quite as intelectually distancing as Joyce, not quite as forceful as Hemingway.

O'Hagan is, no doubt, a gifted writer. This book is fun to read, if only to imagine what it might precede in this genuinely talented writer's career.

Here's hoping he continues...