I holy-shit-loved David Benioff’s second book, City of Thieves, back when I read it in 2009, and I’ve been book-pushing it to friends ever since. (FYI, they’ve all loved it, too.) But I never got around to reading his first book until now (partly because it’s kind of hard to track down–also, I’ve never seen the film, which is apparently pretty great).
Ultimately, The 25th Hour was kind of a let down for me, but I say “kind of” because, a) it was really well-written, and b) really short. So even though I didn’t gel with most of the themes or characters, it was still enjoyable enough to stack it in the win column.
The basic premise is that the “main character” Monty (who isn’t really the main character) is about to go to jail for seven years. He has twenty-four hours left before he has to board the bus, and he’s going to spend it with his family and with his friends and girlfriend. But really, the book is as much about his two best friends and his girlfriend as it is about him. It’s definitely a character piece, and it’s definitely “lit-fic”, in the sense that there isn’t so much of a plot as there is a chance for these character to use their friend’s situation as a prism through which to examine their own lives and choices. But it’s not as obvious as that, either. It’s more subtle.
None of the characters except Naturelle (lord, that name) are really likable, but they are all interesting. And there are some really great passages:
“‘No matter what, it’s bye-bye Monty.’
‘What does that mean?’
Slattery raises his thumb. ‘If he runs, he’s gone. You’ll never see him again.’ He raises his index finger, the top joint crooked from wrestling days. ‘If he pulls the trigger, he’s gone. They’ll keep the casket closed.’ He raises his middle finger. ‘If they lock him away, he’s gone. You’ll never see him again.’
‘I’ll see him again,’ says Jakob. ‘I’ll see him when he gets out.’
The elevator doors open and Slattery steps inside. ‘I wouldn’t bet on it. You think you’re still going to be friends? You think you’ll kick back with a couple of beers and reminisce? Forget it, Jake. It’s over after tonight. You getting in?'”
And Benioff has a twisted sense of humor:
“‘When I was twelve I catch soldier raping my mother. I scream, I punch him, try to kick his balls. He takes knife and opens me up. My mother, she is trying to push me back in. My–how do you say, the coils–‘ Kostya twirls his fingers to indicate coils.
‘Intestines?’
‘My intestines come falling out. So she is pushing them back in. Very bad. But see–‘ Kostya beats his chest with his fist. ‘I survive. Big man, now. Later, I find out he was not raping my mother. So, okay, he wasn’t such a bad man. He drove me to hospital.’
‘After he cut you up?’
‘Yes, but he felt very bad. I scared him/ He comes back from Afghanistan. Things very bad there for Soviet soldiers. So yes, he cuts me up, but then he drives me to hospital and we become friends.'”
I shouldn’t have liked this at all, really. Books about white man identity problems don’t interest me, especially ones where the characters work out their issues through inappropriate sex or aggression. And there is some of that here, though it’s not the focus. But Benioff is just such a good writer. He made me care in spite of myself. And the last couple pages are a real gut punch. Ultimately, this is a book about living with the consequences of your own decisions, and that’s something that I can get behind.
[3.5 stars]