Wanneer Rupert Thomson op een warme, zonnige dag in juli 1964 terugkeert van school krijgt hij te horen dat zijn moeder plotseling is overleden. Twintig jaar later wordt Thomson verteld dat zijn vader, die een chronische longkwaal had opgelopen in de Tweede Wereldoorlog, in het ziekenhuis is gestorven. Met zijn twee broers trekt hij in het huis van hun vader om samen hun verlies te verwerken en de erfenis te regelen. De tijd die ze daar doorbrengen leidt tot een breuk tussen Thomson en zijn jongste broer, een breuk waarover meer dan twintig jaar niet gesproken zal worden.
Rupert Thomson, (born November 5, 1955) is an English writer. He is the author of thirteen critically acclaimed novels and an award-winning memoir. He has lived in many cities around the world, including Athens, Berlin, New York, Sydney, Los Angeles, Amsterdam, and Rome. In 2010, after several years in Barcelona, he moved back to London. He has contributed to the Financial Times, the Guardian, the London Review of Books, Granta, and the Independent.
It strikes me that 'close to the bone' is a most efficient phrase for summing up Thomson's appeal as a writer. He cuts deep and hews as close to the truth as he can get. And never more so than here, when it would have been so easy to selectively edit the past and deliver a version that suited him. Who knows, maybe he did? But I doubt it. It just doesn't seem like something he would do.
And in getting close to the bone, he releases truths -- unburdens himself of them by homing in and digging them out. The prose style is less poetic than his novels, but no less enveloping; the themes, however, are more or less the same. People who can't trust their own senses, who struggle to get to the heart of their own existence. This time, it's Thomson himself -- and his brothers, and the mess of people in their wake -- that I feel for.
Rupert Thomson has a talent for dramatisation, he manages to describe and poetically tell the simplest of scenes and conversations in a unique way. I liked his writing style and I found the story quite intriguing considering the odd characters and events in this book. I did read this for my Uni course it's not something I would normally pick up and read but I enjoyed it despite that. I think it could have been cut down a little bit too but it was a good read.
Such a moving book, I was bowled over with sadness at how it evokes the weight and the unfortunate awkwardness of grief.
I was also blown away by the author's art, how to not just document his memories but to do it in such a literary way, as if he is fundamentally a novelist even as he navigates reality.
This Party's Got To Stop shares the cool, spare prose of Thomson's novels, but also their sense of unease and at times almost hallucinatory clarity. Thomson turns this on an examination of parts of his life, and the lives of his siblings, in this memoir.
It's not an autobiography. The book starts with the death of his mother when Thomson was young, but then jumps forward years to the death of his father. Thomson returns from Berlin to the family house in Eastbourne, and ends up living in the house with his two brothers for months, drinking, falling out, coming to terms with their father's death, drinking, smashing up furniture with an axe, working their way through his medicine cabinet, and making arrangements for the house and everything in it.
Although the book is centred around two deaths - and, because it was sudden and young, the death of his mother runs through the book more profoundly than the death of his father - it's not a constantly grim read. Thomson explores grief with his usual attentive and precise understanding, but there's a lot of laughter to be had in his equally precise dissection of the craziness at the heart of so many family relationships, and of the odd relations that populate every family tree.
In the aftermath of his father's death, Thomson and his brother Ralph fall out, and don't speak for over twenty years. The last part of the book sees Thomson getting back in touch, and visiting his brother in Shanghai. There are no neat, all-wrapped up endings in Thomson's books - he's not that kind of writer - and the same is true with This Party's Got To Stop - but the reunion with his brother wraps around Thomson's searching (with no particular thing to really find) for his mother in a way that colours everything that you have read to that point.
Thomson writes that at the time he wanted to follow Tobias Wolff's advice: "Catch yourself in the act of being human." He did, in a way that few writers can.
Lucid and incisive in its observations, with a perfectly judged momentum driving its prose, and sections which land on just the right emotional/revelatory notes... Skilful writing.
The pale shadow of Rupert's mother's death hovers beneath the surface of this haunting and real memoir.
"When I think of my childhood in this house, it is always early afternoon, the part of the day when time seemed to slow down, to swirl and then disperse, like ink in water. I step away from the door, then come to a halt. I am standing in the place where I last heard - or thought I heard - my mother's voice."
The memoir begins with the death of Rupert's father many years later when he is 28. Rupert returns to England to meet with his brothers and spends the following months, visiting relatives, hoping to piece together information about the mother he lost before he was really able to remember her, participate in the selling of the family home and re-engaging with his two brothers.
Fractures and fault lines begin to appear between Rupert and his brother Ralph. The memoir is partly an examination of what happens in the aftermath of loss, but more than this it is an arresting exploration of what it means to struggle with the early loss of a parent and come to terms with a complex maternal inheritance while trying to tie together the pieces of a life fractured by departures and loss.
I loved the book immensely and found it very very moving.
There's something about the British public school system (that's private boarding schools, to clarify for non-UK readers) that leaves a lot of its old lags feral and damaged. I've been in cinemas where the sound didn't work, but I went and found somebody and got it sorted. You know, as a grown-up would. The Thomson twins suffer through the whole movie (Ziggy Stardust) and then piss on the cinema floor.
"There's a world of men out there who'd never think of ripping a phone out of the wall.” (Blue Jasmine). Well, quite.
Realizing he needs an ending, Thomson contrives to make it seem like he just happens to go out to Shanghai for a reunion with his third brother. (When somebody moves to the other side of the planet to avoid you, that's a statement.) But the book gets wrapped up in a way that seems satisfying, even if we know it's just an authorial necessity. That's the Richard Curtis moment in what I hoped would be darker and truer -- if, for example, Thomson had let Alexander Masters write his story for him.
This Party's Got to Stop is a memoir by Rupert Thomson which reads almost like a novel. In 1964 the author returned home to find that his mum had suddenly dropped dead whilst playing tennis. Twenty years later Thomson receives a phone call telling him that his father has died alone in hospital. The book details the impact these moments have upon the lives of Thomson and his two brothers. It's a compelling narrative, covering the fragility of familial bonds and the manner in which memory protects us from trauma. There is a rather melancholy tone (understandably so) but it's also peppered with funny moments and at times it's both haunting and heartbreaking. I had a great time reading this. Recommended.
It’s not often I get through a book of normal length in a day but what with Storm Ciara rattling the windows and a compulsively readable book like this then the pages seemed to turn themselves. Rupert Thomson’s memoir of a family story that has been both tragic and strange is a gripping and vividly described tale, with a mysterious fraternal estrangement at its heart, a mystery that is never fully resolved. Family life can be a very strange thing as This Party’s Got to Stop amply demonstrates.
A fascinating memoir centred around the death of a father and the relationships of his three sons. As the family story unfolds and time goes by, misunderstandings and assumptions are uncovered along with the unreliability of memory. I was intrigued from start to finish and the author's fearless frankness was extraordinary. Quite beautiful.
Overall I enjoyed the book. Liked the very evocative descriptive prose but found the timeline necessarily complicated. At times almost too honest. Generally a goodread.
3,75* Vreemde leeservaring. Ik vind deze man zeer goed schrijven. Toch kreeg ik nergens voeling met de personages, die nochtans diepgaand worden beschreven. Een zeldzaam, frustrerend gevoel...
An unflinchingly honest memoir, dealing with grief and family estrangement. When his father dies, author Rupert Thomson flies back from his bohemian life in Berlin and moves back into his old family home with his two brothers while they sort out the estate. Thomson jumps from the highly charged emotions of raw, current loss, to the deep, ingrained long-term effects of the death of their mother, which happened when they were young children. He pulls no punches in his observations of his own character and his family relationships, and at times I felt as if I was intruding. But there are flashes of comedy and wit as well as melancholy, and it proves to be a thoughtful and fascinating read.
Rupert Thomson has an incredible talent in the craft of writing. He describes scenes - people - action - moments in creative, unique ways that conjure lucid images in your mind as you read. It was a pleasure to read just for the experience of marveling at this skill.
However, beyond the craft, the novel felt like it lacked a sense of cohesive direction. Each chapter seems jump into a different location and different time without a lot of clarity. The chapters could almost stand alone as short stories, and are only thinly linked by a thematic purpose.
By the end of the book I had mostly made sense of all the pieces I'd been given and appreciated the story; but the process of reading was only made enjoyable by Rupert's wonderful ability with words.
Parts of this well written memoir were so intimate I felt that we shouldn't be reading it-it was too personal and emotive. Having said that there are also wonderfully funny episodes that will stay with me and made me laugh out loud eg when they have large smokey bonfires its actually a helicopter thats crashed.. and this happens frequently! It is a very vivid portrayal of a family dealing with death in their own way.
The book was a reflective memoir of the period around the author's father's death. It examines the relationship that the writer had with his adult brothers at the time. I enjoyed the book but I felt a little dissatisfied with the ending. I understand that this was a reflective memoir but I was wanting a little more from travelling through this experience with the writer.
Engaging, funny, poignant - an investigation by Thomson into the forces that shaped his childhood years, and the repercussions that have played out among his family for decades. As a great fan of his fiction, this was a doubly interesting insight into some of the themes he explores in his brilliant novels.