Art Imitates Life

I’m writing this post purely to sing the praises of one of my favourite writers, because once again his work has deeply affected me and I’m sad that everyone questions who he is whenever I mention him. His name is Dan Rhodes, and he’s written two short story collections and five novels, all of which have been works of largely undiscovered genius. I’ve just finished his latest, This is Life, and it’s made me want to do whatever I can to increase his readership, because the man deserves so much more recognition than he’s already managed to achieve.

His style might not be for everyone, he deals with dark, outlandish and often far-fetched subject matter and characters, and I suspect he would have the ‘Marmite’ effect on a lot of readers, inspiring only extreme love or hate with no in-between. But he also possesses such unique voice and imagination that I would find it impossible to compare him to any other author, and an incredible ability to move you from laugh-out-loud hilarity to heart-wrenching poignancy, sometimes within a single sentence. He may be weird, but it seems I’m exactly the kind of weirdo he appeals to, and reading his books comforts me that there are others out there who think like I do.

In case you’re intrigued about his previous work, which I hope you are, his short fiction consists of Anthropology: a collection of 101, 101-word stories, and Don’t tell me the truth about love: a selection of bizarre, bitter, barmy and beautiful accounts of romance. His novels are The Little White Car: the story of the Fiat Uno seen in the Paris tunnel at the time of Princess Diana’s death that’s probably closer to the truth than any conspiracy theory; Timoleon Vieta come Home: which is like a subversive and heartbreaking take on The Littlest Hobo; Gold: a tale of love, loneliness and strange villagers, and Little Hands Clapping: a macabre tale of a museum that has become a suicide hotspot, and the caretaker’s unusual method of dealing with it.

The newly released This is Life is Rhodes’ longest and probably most accessible novel to date. It is another Parisian story about a girl and her irresistible best friend, two controversial art projects driven by the same misguided reason, and a very unfortunate baby. But most of all, like all of his books, it is about humanity, life and love, viewed from a different perspective. Critics have commented on its unexpected lightness and optimism and the fact that most of its characters are given happy endings, even suggesting that he has taken this approach to gain popularity, and going so far as to describe it as chick-lit. But I think they may have missed the point of his previous books, and possibly this one too. Despite its life-affirming whimsy, it still has plenty of moments of murkiness, misfortune, black humour, and pulling the rug out from under the reader just as they’ve got comfy on it. To me, Rhodes’ writing has always been about the contrast of likeable and despicable characters; of light and dark, and how one inevitably leads to the other. Because that’s what life is like, and exactly what makes it so beautiful, profound, fragile and unpredictable an experience.

So whether you’ve read his previous books and loved them, if they haven’t been for you, or even if you’ve never heard of Dan Rhodes until today, I recommend This is Life to everyone as a quirky look at what it means to be alive. It will carry you along with all its arbitrary twists and turns, just like the real thing. And personally, I’d like to thank the author for renewing my faith in love at a time when I wasn’t convinced any man would ever be able to do so again, which is a remarkable achievement in itself. Give him a try and see what he can do for you.

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