Pages: 128 Pages
‘Beware the novelist . . . intimate and indiscreet . . . pompous, prophetic airs . . . here is the fact of fiction . . . an American tale where, naturally, evil conquers good, and none live happily ever after, for the complicated pangs of the empty experiences of flesh-and-blood human figures are the reason why nothing can ever be enough. To read a book is to let a root sink down. List of the lost is the reality of what is true battling against what is permitted to be true.’ Morrissey.
Penguin Books is delighted to announce the forthcoming publication of List of the Lost, Morrissey’s extraordinary novel, on 24 September.
I was really excited that Morrissey was releasing a book. I was excited for all the wrong reasons. I love The Smiths, I loved Morrissey’s autobiography, I love the myth of Morrissey. It hurts me to say this but Morrissey – the author of fiction – is awful. I don’t mean a little bit terrible, I mean this book – List of the Lost -brings awful to a whole new level.
I would love to be able to explain the plot of the story to you but unfortunately it got lost beneath the dirge of words used elsewhere. The narrative was so erratic I couldn’t find any understanding at all. The only parts that seemed to be clear happened to be when Morrissey broke free from character voice and inserted his own thoughts and opinions – believe me, it was blatant when this happened in the story. I think my issue with this is that as a performer and therefore (in a sense) a public figure, Morrissey has a platform to vent and rant to his heart’s content. He needn’t have interrupted his own story with his personal agenda.
Music wise, Morrissey is a lyrical god; as a novelist Morrissey leaves a lot to be desired.
List of the Lost by Morrissey is available now.