A story of Berlin, obsession and some unfortunate daddy issues
Isaac, the impressive debut novel from Curtis Garner, focuses less on the eponymous character and more on the enigmatic object of that character’s desire. Following the bruising loss of his virginity to a man who then vanishes, Isaac meets Harrison, an older man who works as a curator at an east London gallery. They’re both gay; Isaac is finishing his A-levels, and has not only writerly aspirations but deep-rooted daddy issues. An obsessive infatuation takes hold.
In the early stages of their relationship, Harrison is heckled on the street by homophobic builders. In return, he unzips his flies and proudly presents his genitals. Isaac admires that boldness, and reflects bitterly on his own tendency to do the opposite: to “shrink, to quieten, to edit himself”.
But instead of helping to expunge Isaac’s shame, Harrison taunts him for it. In one scene, hauntingly rendered by Garner, he shoves an inexperienced Isaac into a dark room in Berlin for sex. Afterwards, when the younger man complains, Harrison smacks him in the side of his head. As the relationship continues, Isaac grows more hangdog, losing weight and mental equilibrium alike. His best friend Cherish and mother Moya – the latter of whom recalls the alcoholic Agnes from Douglas Stuart’s novel Shuggie Bain – must prise him from his obsession.
This isn’t just a simple tale of innocence giving way to experience. Garner’s novel, bold and unflinching, asks how we project different identities onto those whom we love – or think we do. It’s no coincidence that Isaac grows close to the domineering Harrison just as his stepfather and his beloved English teacher recede from his life; the older man fulfils each vacant role. Perhaps, on the other hand, it’s also why Harrison’s character can feel slippery. Garner tries to frame him in sudden details: his long trench coat, or the clothes Isaac sniffs when alone. But until the end of the book, he remains too jumbled a compilation of Isaac’s fantasies.
Isaac will outgrow his projections and embark on student life in Manchester. And yet, at the end, there are signs of a new idol forming: this time his new flatmate, Karim. It’s an ominous but fitting ending for a tale about our failure to pay close attention to those we venerate. The cycle continues. It’s what humans do.
Isaac is published by Verve at £10.99. o order your copy for £9.99, call 0330 173 0523 or visit Telegraph Books