Lexa, Gabriel and Rae are unlikely friends. Let's call them sisters-in-arms. They meet in the oppressively masculine world of merchant banking in the 1980s, that polarised decade of strikes and deprivation, serious money and conspicuous consumption. Twenty-five years later, in the comfort zone of middle age, those awful yet exhilarating days are a distant memory. Lexa, Gabriel and Rae have other jobs, in another country. Then comes the banking crisis, and the return of a face from the past, and suddenly they're back in the game, and playing for higher stakes than ever...
Ajay Close is a Scottish-based dramatist and writer of literary fiction. Her novels explore the emotional flashpoints of place, politics and family. Her latest, What Doesn't Kill Us, is a fictional reworking of real events in 1970s Yorkshire.
The observations, of bankers and miners, friends and enemies that power this novel have been breathtakingly applied. I never fail to find Ajay Close's writing beautifully compelling and every novel of hers I've read demands almost immediate re-reading, so as to properly savour the writing having too-eagerly devoured the tale.
I certainly hadn't expected to leave it so long before re-reading, and had forgotten in the interim how dense and involving this is (as well as, in places, so unfathomable the behaviours of so many of the bankers)
I enjoyed this as I was the same age as the protagonists in the Eighties so the landscape felt recognisable. I also enjoyed the story but found some of the characters a bit thinly drawn and wasn't convinced by some of the actions of some of the characters or some of the sexual tension. I think Ajay Close writes well and there are enough descriptive pearls that outweigh any of the previous criticisms. I think she writes well about women and their friendships.
This brilliant novel set between the strikes of the eighties, and the contemporary world of finance and corporate intrigue did more for my understanding of the banking crisis than any news report ever did. As seen through women's eyes.
But unbearably sad, a snapshot of our lives, our generation, our hopes and dreams, the missed opportunities and the reality of what the world has become.