I've been reading The Road Home by Michael Thomas Ford, his latest novel. Unlike what I feel has happened with Patrick Gale or Stephen McCauley, as he's got older, Michael Thomas Ford's works haven't become more melancholy. The cheerful aperçus of The Aerodynamics of Pork (Gale) and The Object of My Affections (McCauley) have been muted in their latest novels to the sadder, wiser insights of men who know that the joie de vivre of 18 or 25 doesn't last into your 50s and 60s. The Road Home on the other hand is filled with hope, with the belief that even older guys can find happiness. I get the feeling that Michael Ford is a very likable bloke. Somehow a writer's character is revealed in their writing.
I'll be doing a longer review of it for Wilde Oats. Meantime, I recommend it. Without being rainbow coalition or Enid Blyton, and without it being overdone, it's a lovely heart-warming story, deceptively simple and easy-going. Go forth and read.
But what I really wanted to say was that the cover of The Road Home was marvellous, and I decided to search out the artist. He's a bloke called Steve Walker, and I strongly recommend you visit his gallery. This painting makes me think of my previous post, about friends and loneliness and stubborn male perceptions about weakness and love and such (so what else is new?) Some of these old perennials are considered in The Road Home. The picture's called Dog Day Afternoon. Nice, huh?
[Update: Alas, Steve Walker died in early 2012. You can read his obituary here]
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