The book starts well, with a shocking incident followed by a style of writing that’s witty and quite funny. For a while. It grows steadily less amusing and more like a relentless barrage of hit-and-miss, sarcastic and sometimes really quite nasty gags as the story goes on. Merlin is fantastically realized: Lucy and her train of lovers less so.
Perhaps the first fifty per cent is entertaining, but then I grew ever more disenchanted. The wit is there – the author is clever, highly literate and has a good sense of humour in there somewhere. But humour can’t be at the expense of everything else in a novel, like believable conversations or showing what lies beneath. It felt brittle and shallow after a while.
Basically, the book needs more heart and less sex/sort-of-romance (the one-liners get in the way). Lucy determining she has to get a man this time round for her son’s sake is a weak excuse to drive a romance plot that doesn’t really work when the reader’s main engagement is with the progress of her disadvantaged child. The basic premise of a man being the only solution to a single woman's problems seems woefully sexist and old-fashioned. Personally, I’d have gathered physical photographic evidence of Merlin’s appalling treatment in the state schools and social milieu in which he is being constantly robbed and bullied, and threatened to publicly humiliate his MP grandfather with his heartless abandonment and neglect of his grandchild unless he coughed up funds for his education. Blackmailing/fact shaming affluent relatives would seem like a more productive method of helping my child than shagging random men, most of whom run a mile the minute they get to meet him anyway.
The depiction of the teaching profession grated. I started teaching in the mid-nineties and I would say that that was when autism and Asperger’s were being flagged up and just beginning to be understood in education. I had a profoundly autistic child in my class (1997-ish) but he spent much of the week in a special unit and came into class with full teaching (not teacher aide) support. Such units have become increasingly rare, and the places in them like gold dust. Especially given the “on the spectrum” epidemic we are experiencing now.
I still teach and have thirty years’ experience on different sides of the world. Over the past decade or so, it is more usual to have a child on the spectrum than not in your classroom.
Last year I had the privilege of observing a very young teacher in her first post manage a non-verbal autistic boy. He was a large Pasifika lad, far bigger and stronger than any other child in her class of five- to seven-year-olds. The teacher had a lovely quiet, calm manner and was deeply committed to all the children. She worked hard at forming a caring relationship with this child.
My role in this was to take the class – I had decided to retire, a decision I later rescinded (why leave the most important job in the world?) and worked for a while in the poorer areas of Wellington relief teaching. Her headteacher had found the funds to release her by employing a relieving teacher, so that she could foster her relationship with this boy enough to actually teach him. By and large, she succeeded. I am convinced few teachers could have done better. There are two takeaways from this:
• Her principal was concerned, active and sharp enough to rustle up funding, largely from within a stretched school budget, so that she could have regular time out from classroom teaching
• Her relieving teacher, by good luck, was a highly experienced and effective teacher so the rest of the class did not miss out
Novels like this seem a million miles away from the real world of education, to be honest.
So, the mother is at her wit’s end trying to manage her autistic child with a one on one adult:child ratio. But then she seems to think that a teacher with twenty-five plus other children to manage – some of whom will also be high needs – should manage and educate this autistic child and the rest of the class as well.
Teaching over the past many years has had a ridiculously low retention rate because teachers have to meet increasingly unrealistic expectations. The average age of a teacher now in New Zealand is somewhere in the fifties. Parents of able children, parents of ESOL children, parents of high needs and on the spectrum children, all have correctly high expectations – but the teacher, with a workload that is verging infinite, has the most modest support and if she can’t manage all these balls she’s trying to juggle – well, she’s just not good enough (btw I have a slightly cynical view of education ministries, teacher trainers, academics, politicians: those who can, teach; those who can’t, teach for five years and go into management, teacher training, research, basically anything else. Teaching is the hardest job. Why the twerps who haven’t been in front of a class for twenty years get paid the big bucks, is a screaming injustice). Those parents who excoriate the uselessness of teachers might want to reflect: how would you cope with your child plus three or four other extreme high needs kids (maybe also on the spectrum, maybe dyslexic, maybe withdrawn or acting out because they’re sexually abused or experiencing family violence, maybe with anxiety, or fetal alcohol syndrome – the list is literally almost endless, but you will have a proportion in every class you teach unless you’re in the private sector), plus twenty odd others who also need a rich, well-planned programme that aligns with their assessed needs, their progress and the curriculum?
The sad truth is, that politicians and governments have jumped on the ideology of mainstreaming all children because integration is better, with delight. In theory it’s great. In practice it’s been the excuse for a massive reduction in special school/special unit places, and high needs children being placed in mainstream with a teeny-tiny allocated pot of support funds. It's a decision rooted in economics. And then when it fails – when the child acts out or can’t cope – it’s the teacher’s fault for being inadequate.
Finally, I have worked with many principals over thirty years: they have been of wildly variable talent, but none of them have been the finger-steepling, snooty, uncaring, dismissive idiots this novel depicts. The headteachers in this novel seem to be from a different era. I don’t know, maybe they are. I grew up in an education system that seemed in many ways negative and grim compared to how things are now, maybe this is just decades out of date.
And the final straw with the novel: really, Lucy considers taking the ghastly Jeremy back? He ruined your baby’s childhood: he abandoned him with absolute, unforgivable selfishness and offered neither emotional nor financial support. Just organize routine access and insist on some overdue money in return like a sensible person for once. I mean, wanting private education fees paid but then screaming at her stuffy mother-in -law about hereditary autism and they need to check their side of the family bloodline? What on earth for? It changes absolutely nothing regarding Merlin’s actual needs right now. Keep the woman onside and put your son first. Which is not achieved by shagging polo players but by being hard-nosed about the money.