At 641 pages, Caledonian Road (Faber and Faber 2024) by Andrew O’Hagan, is a doorstop of a book, a hefty, weighty read that tells multiple interconnected plot threads from the perspective of numerous characters. It is a book to be devoured for the beauty of the sentences, the complexity of the narrative and the gravitas of the themes.
It’s not a light read, but it is a very satisfying adventure; the author requires the reader to do some work, both in terms of following the convoluted details of plot and characters but also regarding his interrogation of themes and thought-provoking issues.
Set at the tail end of the worst of the pandemic, in May 2021 in London, the central character is Campbell Flynn, an art historian and celebrity who mixes with the upper elite as he struggles to define himself and his place as a middle-aged man. He experiments with ideas and writing and finds himself vilified as a result. His friendship blossoms with the much younger Milo Mangasha, an eclectic and somewhat mysterious and provocative student, who beguiles his teacher with unexpected and unorthodox thinking, while all the while undertaking a secret plan of his own.
There are so many crucial characters in this book that there is a list and description of about 60 individuals on the opening pages. At first, I found this intimidating, but in the end, I was glad of it, as they were listed in order of appearance in the story, and I was able to quickly flick back to the start to remind myself of who someone was when a new chapter began with a new character.
This book contains multitudes and it’s difficult to know how to begin to describe it. The story includes privilege; environmental activism; gang wars; immigrants; people-smuggling and human trafficking; drugs; the Royal family (and a thinly veiled Prince Andrew); art and history; scandals; actors, models and celebrities; literature and the publishing industry; big business tycoons; Russian money-laundering; rappers; sexual abuse and misogyny; a QC and an MP; oligarchs and nepotism; journalism and controversial columnists; fashion; heirs and heiresses of both new and old money; Tory peers, Lords and Dukes; and truck drivers. It is a true saga, a detailed insight into the lives of the rich, and the sometimes dodgy associations they court with controversial international connections.
Campbell Flynn and his wife Elizabeth, a therapist, live above a ‘sitting tenant’, an elderly lady who occupies the basement of their London home for a tightly controlled capped rent. She is the bane of Campbell’s life with her demands to be bought out for half a million pounds, her constant complaints about the deteriorating condition of her flat, yet her unwillingness to allow workmen in to fix anything, much preferring to annoy Campbell with her defiance and subtle power. The couple’s young adult children, Angus – a DJ of international renown, and Kenzie – a former model, form the crux of the younger set of the book – the up-and-coming entrepreneurs, those with art and fashion street cred, rappers, musicians, activists, IT experts, schemers; young people with big ideas, dangerous because of their poverty or more dangerous because they have too much money.
Scandals, criminal activities, literary and art controversies and social action against climate change and big business rorts are the backdrop for very intimate and personal struggles by these characters with their own senses of self-identity, self-worth, ambition, desires, relationships, family loyalties and individual pursuits of happiness.
Contemporary and compelling, Caledonian Road explores current and very topical issues in well-crafted, beautiful language. O’Hagan’s command of the complex plot and huge cast is surprisingly well done – in another author’s hands, it could have become a very complicated mess. But he holds the reins steady and if you are willing to go with him, you will be rewarded with a fascinating story expertly told.
There are so many brilliant phrases, but one that stood out to me from near the beginning was this (as Campbell reflects on his new friendship with Milo, and their perhaps shared ‘natural resistance to rules’ and a ‘wish to know art’): ‘The young man had edges and they often glinted on the blade of his charm.’ The book is full of clever witticisms, deft description and characterisation, sardonic wit, humour, irony, authentic dialogue and pressing issues. O’Hagan is a seriously impressive writer if you are prepared for a complex but enlivening story.
Oh, and the final page is sublime – an unexpected and poignant resolution, so tender and generous and satisfying.