Martin John

by Anakana Schofield

Martin John is not keen on P words. He isolates P words from the newspapers into long lists. For you, so you know he's kept busy, so you don't have to worry he might be beside you or following you or thinking about your body parts. So you don't have to worry about what else he has been thinking about.

From Ananaka Schofield, the brilliant and unconventional author of Malarky, comes a dark and uncomfortable novel circuiting through the minds, motivations, and preoccupations of a character many women have experienced, but few up until now, have understood quite so well. The result confirms Schofield as one of the bravest and most innovative authors at work in English today.

Anakana Schofield is an Irish-born writer, who won the Amazon.ca First Novel Award and the Debut-Litzer Prize for Fiction in 2013 for her debut novel Malarky.

Genres: Fiction, Canada, Ireland, Literary Fiction, Novels, Irish Literature, Canadian Literature

320 pages, Paperback

First published September 15, 2015

About the author

Anakana Schofield is an Irish-Canadian writer of fiction, essays, and literary criticism. Her second novel Martin John was shortlisted for the Giller Prize, the Goldsmiths Prize, the Ethel Wilson Fiction Prize and more.. Her debut novel Malarky won the 2012 Amazon.ca First Novel and the Debut Litzer Prize for Fiction in the US and was nominated for the Ethel Wilson Fiction Prize. Malarky was selected for the highly competitive Barnes & Noble program Discover Great New Writers and named on 16 different Best Book of 2012 lists.

Reviews

[Hugh · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is not a comfortable read but it is a memorable one, and I can understand why it was shortlisted for last year's Goldsmiths Prize, a prize that rewards innovative literature. Martin John is a serial sexual offender with only a tenuous grip on reality, and the book is a reflection of this confusion, full of repetition and typographical trickery, with plenty of pages that just contain a few words. I don't really feel qualified to write a more detailed review of this one.

[Krista · Rating 5 out of 5]

Inadequate: The inadequate molester is the sex offender who least resembles social and behavioural norms. He is characterized as a social misfit, an isolate, who appears unusual or eccentric. He may be mentally ill and prefers non-threatening sexual partners.

Martin John, the novel, is an uncomfortable and fractured look inside the mind of a deeply disturbed man. With only a sentence or two on each of the first few pages, I initially wondered to myself, What kind of self-important post-modern trickery am I to suffer through here?, but I was wrong to be wary: What follows is a work of genius that could only have been written this way; it's not trickery but necessity. Probably my favourite read of the year.

Martin John, the man, is trying to avoid doing it (it's pointed out that it is never defined, but we do see examples), and in order to keep himself in check, Martin John does his Circuits – both at tube stations and at work (check his card!) – he maintains a painfully full bladder, keeps track of the letter P in the news*a*ers, monitors and memorialises the Eurovision Song Contest in towering stacks of news*a*ers and videocassettes, honours the Arrangement to visit Noanie on Wednesdays, calls his mother, and blaguards about Beirut (oh, the golden-shod!). Despite his efforts, there will always be Meddlers, and when Baldy Conscience moves in upstairs, Martin John can recognise that the Meddlers have become organised (I just recently learned about Gang Stalking, and I can only imagine what would happen to Martin John if he had access to the internet and its positive feedback loop of fellow paranoiacs). When he backslides and winds up in custody, who is Martin John to call but his mam?

What are you doing in that place? What has you in there at all? Tell me what is happening, Martin John? And the only rabble that would come back from him down the line was that old religious rabble. A rabble she didn’t raise him to, she’d insist.

I didn’t raise you to be saying this. Put that phone down right now. Phone me back when you’ve sense to make. But as soon as he’d go to replace the receiver she’d shriek at him in a vocal register akin to a buzzard’s.

If you dare put down this phone on me Martin John as God is my judge I won’t be forgiven for what I’ll do. Come here to me and heed my words and if you don’t I’ll tell those fellas to lock you up. D’ya hear now?

He heard, he never failed to hear, the bellow of incarceration and he was certain the paper, the walks, the guarding, every miserable minute of it was preferable to incarceration.

As the reader is placed inside the mind of such a mentally disturbed character, I was prone to sympathise with the urgency of his compulsions, but as Martin John does some truly terrible things (in the present and in flashback), this book becomes about other issues: about the impotence of mental health facilities; the complacency of first responders; the failure of the family as an institution. Responsibility for Martin John gets kicked down the block, and as he has no real support systems or self-control, there's an inevitability to everything that happens. And yet, even the semi-omniscient narrator doesn't know what's going to happen, even as she breaks the fourth wall in describing mam's efforts (she who has compulsions of her own involving notes and teapots):

Martin John needed no details of her work. Only that she must go out now for a while but would be back soon enough. He was dangerous when he got information. Any small bit could set him off. It had, she reasoned, taken years to restrain him safely in the Chair. She was only doing what the doctors and those in authority refused to do. She was only doing what needed to be done with bad men. Bad men aren't good for us, she thought, resigned, the way you're probably thinking about how long this is taking to read or how uncomfortable that chair is. Say it. Say it now. It's uncomfortable. Time to shift the cushions behind your back.

Everything in the writing of this book is handled with a deft touch – the disjointedness reflects a muddled brain, there is often humour in the tragic, and although we want to understand Martin John, his actions are ultimately beyond understanding; what happened in the dentist office is monstrous and those chickens deserve to come home to roost. When I reached the last page, I flipped back to the front – to reread the opening pages with only a sentence or two on each – and I thought to myself, Aha, it couldn't have been done any other way. This is a stand out work that expands the limits of literature – this is why we read – and I hope that author Anakana Schofield continues to push at those limits.

[Peter Boyle · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was surprised to read some reviews describing this book as a comedy. Though it contains a number of hilarious scenes, to me it is primarily a sad and disturbing portrait of a vastly troubled mind. But whatever about the categorization of the book, Martin John Gaffney is a character that will not be forgotten in a hurry.

It is immediately apparent that Martin John is not the full shilling. He is obsessed with Eurovision and his house is jam-packed with VHS tapes and old newspapers relating to the contest. He likes to tell people about his time in Beirut, even though he has never been there. On Wednesdays, he reluctantly visits his Aunt Noanie and asks her if he can watch Teletext for the duration of his stay. And he regularly phones his mother back home in Mayo, who warns him to stay off the buses and Tube, or else it will happen.

The lurid details of it are gradually revealed over the course of story. We learn that Martin John is a sexual deviant who had to leave Ireland for his own safety. His mantras, rules and obsessions are all methods of distraction, to keep him from falling into old habits. But he can't resist his compulsions and manages to convince himself of his innocuity: "Harm was done. But he liked it. It was hard to credit that harm could be done when you liked it."

The book unfolds in a fragmented fashion, to reflect the turbulent state of Martin John's brain. Some pages only contain a couple of sentences, others are awash with paranoid and deluded theories. This makes for a challenging read but it is an incredibly effective method of depicting an addled mind. It's difficult to feel sympathy for such a wicked individual (even though he is unintentionally funny at times), and many readers will be repulsed by his actions. But it is also fascinating to discover what makes this miscreant tick. Anakana Schofield has created a monster in Martin John, and his story is told in fearless, thrilling style.

[Daisy · Rating 5 out of 5]

A phenomenal book. Audacious in the subject matter and in its structure which confounds the reader’s feelings about the eponymous character. Initially MJ is a sympathetic character, forced from his native Ireland to a London by ‘that thing’ and repeatedly told by his mother to work only nights, to never go on the tube, to stay indoors in the day. We pity him as we accompany him in his narrow existence that is lonely and repetitive punctuated only by his weekly meeting with his aunt.

We slowly realise that this is a chap not firing on all cerebral cylinders. He has various rituals that must be completed, he collects words beginning with a particular letter from the newspaper. We forgive his anti-social behaviour on this account even when it strays into dubious ‘dirty old man’ territory. Is he a pervert or someone that needs help? Schofield does a good job of keeping us questioning, ramping up the ante as his behaviour becomes less forgivable in proportion to his paranoid imaginings.

By the end of the book some truly horrific things have been done to and by Martin; everyone emerges as both victim and perpetrator and the lack of support for the vulnerable in society (again both Martin and his victims) plays a huge part in the events that take place. I will end by throwing in this – the book is very, very funny. Schofield has managed to take mental illness, molestation and flashing and make you laugh aloud even at those things that are verboten.

I loved this book for its originality and the way it allows the reader to have conflicted thoughts about Martin. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

[Doug · Rating 2 out of 5]

Not really sure what to make of this; its nomination for the Goldsmiths Prize (for innovation in literature) makes sense, as the style is fairly unique - but innovative does not necessarily equate to excellence, and in this case I was more bored than shocked (perhaps becoming numb to sexual predation due to the incessant media attention to such in the current US election), and wasn't even much interested in this exceedingly repetitive story of a public exhibitionist/masturbator.

The prose is purposely flat and circular, but at times it somewhat reminded me of those Dick & Jane primary school readers: "See Martin John. See Martin John take out his Johnson. Take out your Johnson, Martin John, take it out." etc., and the withholding of what is actually going on I found more annoying than intriguing. Others have vaunted its 'dark humor', but I think I chuckled once in the entire 323 pages. Mainly I wanted it to be over - and go take a hot bath! But due to the extraordinary amount of 'white space' and blank pages, I was able to get through it in a few hours, so at least it wasn't a lengthy or difficult read.

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 4 out of 5]

Martin John starts with the rather striking opening page:

"Index

1. Martin John has made mistakes.
2. Check my card.
3. Rain will fall.
4. Harm was done
5. It put me in the Chair."

These 5 "refrains", as well as the disjointed narrative style, will recur throughout the novel.

Shortlisted for the 2015 Giller Prize in Canada (and the choice of the Shadow Jury), the 2016 Goldsmiths Prize, Martin John certainly fulfils the remit of the latter, fiction at its most innovative and novel, and most recently the 2017 Republic of Consciousness Prize ("hardcore literary fiction and gorgeous prose" - another big tick).

Martin John Gaffney (to give him his full name, which is revealed at one point) is not exactly your typical subject for a novel. He is a sex pest, a serial public masturbator and sometimes worse, and a deeply mentally disturbed individual. It's to Schofield's credit that she doesn't shy from her subject and give us an insight into the workings of his mind.

Martin John actually appeared as a minor character in Schofield's debut novel Malarky. He retains from that novel an odd side obsession he has with Beirut, a place he has never visited and doesn't even seem to really know much about, except he is convinced he has, which actually sits a little uneasily in this novel without knowing the context.

Martin John is clearly a mentally disturbed individual generally. He is fixated on his refrains (the list that opens the novel) and his circuits (obsessive walks - first as a security guard, later around Euston station: the epigraph fittingly is from Robert Walser). Two pages of the novel read simply first:

"WHAT THEY KNOW

Martin John has refrains"

And after a blank page the next reads;

"WHAT THEY DON'T KNOW

Refrains can give way to circuits"

Martin John worries about Meddlers, loves newspapers compulsively (crosswords and the female columnists with whom he imagines a dialogue: "It mattered before the 'difficult' time and it matters today. The stability of it, the regularity, the newspaper women sustain him"), has a pathological (or 'athological as he would prefer it) aversion for the letter "P' ("He never buys a newspaper if he notices a headline has petrol in it. Or pervert. He's not keen on P words.") and an obsession with the Eurovision song contest:

"Was the Eurovision fuss a fuss or a situation?
He's not sure.
It was a fuss and a situation.
A fussy interrupted situation.

He should not have done it and he knew better, but every week the compulsion of the Eurovision came around. Those two weeks he took holidays from work or pulled sickies. He'd eat, breathe and definitely not sleep for his pet The Eurovision Song Contest. He journeyed each day of those annual two weeks to a particular newsagent's, where the man Mr Patel told him to 'take your time, take your time' going through the newspapers because he knows Martin John'll end up buying them all - nearly 10 quid each day for a week in paper sales.
[...]
The Eurovision pullout special issue [of the Daily Express] was what unhorsed Martin John and the man with his fingers on it. The ordinary Jim Smith of Clapham, who was never in these parts, only that he was calling to his mother and bringing the paper to her. And when it was something for his mother he'd fight to the last and he socked Martin John as Martin John silently stamped on his foot and tried to rip the paper from his hands."

Martin John clearly has a mutually troubled relationship with his despairing and rather hapless mother, who lives in Ireland, and whose thoughts also intrude on the narration. She has sent him from Ireland, where he was regularly beaten by the brothers of his victims, to London where she hopes he can perhaps escape what he does, but in vain. She is both aware of his misdeeds but also blind to them.

And at one point we also get an insight into the impact of one of his earliest victims, a girl he attacked in a dentist's waiting room.

"Today, a 32 year old mum with two kids, she was still living in it", still haunted by what he did 20 years earlier:

"Whenever she is nervous for her children, she remembers.
She remembers when she is nervous for her children. Never let's them alone. Calculates each and every situation for potential. The presentation of a smidgen of possibility never evades her.
[...]
Every person she comes into contact with she must assess for danger. This is how she remembers it. Within the cracks of possibility she remembers."

There is also one brief nod to the background - I may have read too much into the line "It was a time when people didn't see stuff. That was the time it was." but this felt like a reference to the scandals involving priests and the generally attitude to allegations of sexual misconduct 20-30 years ago.

In one sense the novel doesn't progress, it merely travels in circuits, like Martin John's own thoughts and life. That is both a strength and a weakness of the novel - it's is if the author isn't quite clear where she is heading and Schofield herself has admitted in an interview:

"When you write like this, the interesting thing is that your destination is never your departure point. You may not even ever get to your destination, and many writers have to face that. It's very brave to do that. I think that readers are extraordinarily smart and I have such faith in them. "
(http://www.cbc.ca/books/2015/10/anaka...)

Another unsettling part of the novel is that it never clear who exactly is narrating - Martin John, his mother, or perhaps a psychologist working on his case? Increasingly, the reader themselves is drawn into the narrative and made complicit as a voyuer, when the narrator addresses us directly "this hasn't been an easy book for any of us."

There is also a lot of black humour in the novel, which lightens the otherwise dark subject
Indeed, the reader also finds themselves both laughing at times but also feeling disgust for finding humour in the subject matter.

Overall, a troubling novel, by no means perfect, but exactly the sort of writing that the Goldsmiths Prize is so successful in promoting.

[Amanda · Rating 4 out of 5]

Martin John takes you deep inside the head of a very sick man who has done bad things. It is an uncomfortable read at times but so very well done. This is one of those books where my own reactions to it surprised me that doesn't happen a lot and I'm always happy when it does because it gives me many things to think about.

[Blair · Rating 3 out of 5]

Anyone who's read even the briefest synopsis of Martin John will not be expecting pleasant subject matter, but I wasn't expecting the style to be equally offputting. Probing the obsessive, repetitive, yet disjointed thoughts of Martin John – whose main interests include Eurovision, walking circuits around Euston station, and exposing himself to women in public – it is arrhythmic, feeling designed to disrupt and frustrate. It is itself circuitous and, at the same time, fractured (as Martin John's circuits and routines are continually interrupted by 'Meddlers'). It's often unclear who the narrative is referring to in using 'he', 'she', 'they', or even 'I'; there is also an occasional, disturbing 'we' that drags the reader into an unwilling alliance with Martin John.

The story is as choppy as the manner of its telling. There's a sense of escalation as it goes on: partly due to Martin John's increasing paranoia about 'Baldy Conscience', his lodger and nemesis, who he believes to be responsible for anything that upsets the balance of his life; partly because of the heightening audacity of his infractions. Yet the sequence of events is withheld – another method of frustration – so we learn about Martin John's return to his Mam in Ireland, and her abusive method of dealing with him, before we learn what causes this.

I'm sure I was supposed to feel uncomfortable reading Martin John. I just didn't feel the discomfort was worth it – that it led anywhere worth going. It's excellent in its own way, but never something I could love.

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[Paul Bryant · Rating 3 out of 5]

Pleasantly nasty, queasy and sickening, verging on bitter comedy, this one gives us the clockwork-toy roundandround impaired thinking of an Irish sex offender called Martin John who likes to flash his tackle and fondle the lower limbs of the opposite sex when possible and nuns not excluded but appears never to have entertained the idea of rape or indeed murder, so that’s a mercy. MJ is barely hanging on to a job in London as a guard in some office block, he does the night shift. He has three or four overpowering obsessions which turn up on every page, such as the guy who lives upstairs who’s gonna get him, or his dear old Ma back in County Mayo who shouts for the love of God I’ve enough of it Martin, stop it with all this Beirut this and Beirut that, why you’ve never been out of the country in your born life. Our author likes to hint at his offences then reveal a little bit more, then more, like tugging the top layer of wallpaper away to find some obscene graffiti underneath.

Plenty of short stories, some other novels and movies have led us down these dark interior pathways but connoisseurs of the diseased mind will find this to be a pungent addition to the genre.

[Steven Langdon · Rating 4 out of 5]

Martin John is certainly not an easy subject for a novel -- a sexual aggressor who pushes himself on women and masturbates in public. So it is an act of bravery and creative imagination for author Anakana Schofield to inhabit his mind and heart and body for 322 shattering pages in this powerful book. The novel has been short-listed for Canada's 2015 Giller Prize (for the best work of fiction during the year) and deservedly so.

Labelled "an avant-garde showcase" in the Globe and Mail, "Martin John" is written in a jagged stuttering format that reflects the deformed perspectives of its principle character -- some pages with just two or three lines, some paragraphs BOLDLY IN CAPITALS, and some sentences stark and ungrammatical: "17 words with the letter P today." Yet there is an underlying cadence to the ungainly phrasing, a growing momentum of disarray and disaster as Martin John tries to control himself, to divert himself and then finally to flee from himself.

As a novel, this is above all a cry for empathy and a plea for better treatment for those who are mentally ill. And it is also a fine experiment in writing, where presentation and structure give a new force to the words on a page.

For me, the message of empathy came through particularly strongly, conveying the agonizing in Martin John's mind with surprising conviction, as the man deals with his mother's aggressive treatment of him, his difficult challenges in the working world and his driving sexual needs. And on balance, the unusual formatting of the book helps build this framework of personal disruption and social imbalance.

I was particularly impressed with the overall presentation of the book by Biblioasis, the amazing Windsor independent publisher that also produced "Arvida," another of the Giller nominees. This is a huge accomplishment by the folks in my old political home city!

Reading "Martin John" is not a comfortable way to spend your time. But the book is a real contribution to understanding mental illness, and a dramatically creative addition to Canadian literature.

[Neil · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a rather disturbing book. The subject matter is disturbing: a mentally troubled sex pest who has a habit of "revealing" himself in public (and much worse) and his, it seems, equally mad mother. Possibly more disturbing is the black humour throughout the book that leaves us laughing at something and then feeling guilty for finding it amusing. The writing style is also unsettling: it is often hard to work out who the narrator is - it could be the titular Martin John, it could be his mother, it could be someone making notes on Martin John's case. There again it could be none of these. At one point, the book states "this hasn't been an easy book for any of us."

What is clear is that we spend a lot of time inside Martin John's head. And that is a pretty mixed up place to be. He copes with things by doing "circuits" and the book has the same feel. It loops around gradually building up a picture of some unfortunate events in which "harm was done". It's unsettling and often uncomfortable. Many times, it is very funny.

This is not a book to read if you want a comfortable story with a beginning, middle and end. It is on the shortlist for the Goldsmiths Prize which seeks to reward innovation in literature and, from that perspective, I think it scores highly. I have certainly never read anything quite like it.

[Vicki · Rating 5 out of 5]

"It's time to bust out the Lord." Anakana Schofield's bracing, hypnotic book is called Martin John, but indelible Mary is my new favourite literary heroine.

[William Koon · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is about as good an experimental novel with a special needs London masturbator as one would want. The question is does one want an experimental novel with a special needs London masturbator? Warning: contains material about hoarding of Eurovision video tapes.

[Roger Brunyate · Rating 4 out of 5]

P is for Pervert

...and pedophile, and police, and psycho, and perilous, and parliament, and prison. Martin John Gaffney does not like P words, and if he sees them in a news *aper headline he has to calm himself down by doing circuits, walking fast around whatever space he is in. Euston Station, say (but never *addington). Of course, they are after him, the Meddlers, the people who will not leave him alone. Organized he just knows by Baldy Conscience, the man who has rented his upstairs flat in South London, who is out to Bring Him Down. And then there is his Mam, back home in Galway, whispering in his mind… for the love of God Martin John, into bed by 9 Martin John, if you're not in the way of trouble you'll not meet it Martin John.

The novel is wildly original, starting with the index, which has no relation to the layout of the book at all, but represents Martin John's obsessive refrains:
1. Martin John has made mistakes.
2. Check my card.
3. Rain will fall.
4. Harm was done.
5. IT put me in the chair.
Some of the pages (at least in the Kindle edition) consist of only a line or two; others are set out like blank verse; others, outwardly normal, switch freely between Martin John's own voice and a third-person narrative that is every bit as deranged. The chapters, more or less, are divided by graphics like the London tube system, no doubt representing the Northern Line from his squat in Kennington up through his favorite station Euston, then change for Hatfield where he has to go for weekly visits to his Aunty Noanie. They bear headings beginning either "What they know" and "What they don't know."

What the reader doesn't know is rather extensive. We get hints early on of some business with a girl that Martin John denies. Then maybe other things. Scandal, local gossip. His Mam has had to send him to England, where he holds down a job, more or less, as a cross between a security guard and a janitor. But there are lapses, that get him warned off with a caution, or committed to hospital. There is almost no story, which stretches the sustaining power of even such anarchic invention to its limits and frankly beyond. But we do slowly get to see Martin John in clearer focus, seeing the extent of his exploits as a flasher, hearing about his tactile fascination with women's legs, realizing something of the time-span and scale of the whole story. And, just as his Mam had sent him to England originally to be free of the scandal, so events build to a climax at the end that force her to take him back again, finding different means to keep him out of trouble.

If the book wasn't so sad and so creepily true, it could be very funny. But you laugh at your peril.

[Jean-marcel · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is probably the most harrowing of all the Giller nominees. It's not for the faint of heart or those who don't occasionally appreciate being discomfited by literature.

At first I was a little worried when I started this. The format is strange, the paragraphs representative of sharp, jagged thoughts spiraling off into all sorts of odd directions and rattling around and around like marbles in a shaking tin can. The effect is initially disorienting, but it didn't take me long to fall into the rhythm of martin John's thoughts, which really is what the narrative feels like. it's a dark and chaotic place, to be sure, but there are refrains...rules, list, and circuits that help the man himself to keep it in some sort of order.

It doesn't take long for the issue of Martin John's nature as a sexual predator to be spelled out quite clearly. This stuff will probably make most readers squirm. It's uncomfortable for sure, being inside the head of such a person, but there is an unexpected amount of pathos, I think, without in any way suggesting that Martin John's actions are sanctionable. If anything, his mother is revealed to be the most monstrous thing in Martin John's life. Or maybe it's the system that failed him: Being in and out of hospitals and pumped with drugs by people who just don't have the time or inclination to understand the nature of his sociopathy, or the nature of Martin John the man himself. There is some commentary on Thatcher's Britain here, but having spoken extensively with a few people who have gone through the psychiatric system and institutions in more recent times, I'm just cynical enough to believe that not much has really changed.

Toward the end of the novel, some unexpected humour emerges, as there is a "stand-off" in an underground station and some sardonic commentary is delivered about unruly urban crowds, not to mention a brief digression as a crazy religious woman takes it upon herself to save Martin John so she can catch her train. The slight hint of lightheartedness is welcome.

This book is shorter than it looks, since the formatting is so odd and full of blank space. Nevertheless, it's not going to be an easy read for everyone. You'll need a strong stomach for the dentist scene, and the monstrosity of Martin John's mother is something you may not really be able to come to good terms with. I found the work very powerful though, and the cadence of the mental rhythms depicted strangely, against all odds, rather inviting.

[Neil · Rating 1 out of 5]

Yikes, sure as heck not my cup of tea. The first 75 pages failed miserably in enticing any further wilful suffering. Moving on.

[beentsy · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was like a loose end of yarn on a sweater. You pull it and the string just gets longer and longer and the sweater just keeps unravelling until you're left with a pile of tangled string. You're not sure what's real and what's just a figment of a character's imagination. Your face hurts from being scrunched up in reaction to the things you're reading. It was bloody hard work. I can't imagine how hard it was to write.

There's a line in this book, "That's aggressive, but you see this hasn't been an easy book for any of us."

Yes. That.

[Louise · Rating 4 out of 5]

Being inside the head of a sexual predator is a scary place to be and that is exactly where this book takes you. What starts off as an odd jumble of words and sentences leads to the cacophonous thoughts of Martin John.

[Dessa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Intriguing and difficult and a little horrifying. Masterfully done.
Could it take the Giller? Quite possibly.

[Robert · Rating 4 out of 5]

Martin John is not the easiest book to describe. First of all, most of the book takes place within his point of view, which consists of short sentences, use of repetition, non chronological events , uses stock phrases to describe serious matters and his nicknames. It is a jumble.

After a few pages the reader discovers that Martin John is mentally ill. He exposes himself in public areas, tries to touch women, sends pornography to his mother and loves it when his bladder is full. On the gentler side he is obsessed with Eurovision, hates the letter ‘P’ and follows a strict time table.

I have only given a small sample of Martin John’s antics, there is more but the pleasure of the book is discovering these details and then seeing them reoccur. Why did Martin John move from Ireland to London? Who is the Baldy Conscience? What’s the importance of circuits?

Although the book is uneasy reading, it is also an absorbing one. I like it when an author lets the reader piece things together and with Schofield’s unique way of presenting Martin John’s worldview makes this novel an original read. I have read quite a few excellent books about mental illness but this one is one of the most startling. I also liked the fact that Schofield shifts the POV to one of his victims and that helps unveil a lot of things about the titular character.

Martin John is a one of a kind novel, the type that stays with you for quite a while. It’s also a quietly shocking novel, which is a rarity.

[Magdelanye]

There are simply things we won't know. It's how it is. As it is in life must it be unto the page. There's the known and the unknown. In the middle is where we wander and wonder. p34

Strong writing and clever formatting carry this unpalatable tale to its disturbing climax.
A strong stomache is needed to read it.
This is one of those books that you can't wait to finish, yet you must finish, if only to make sure there are no loose ends lying about and that nothing remains in you, like curiosity or images or a need for closure. You know its not going to get better and if you continue reading, you brace yourself for it to get worse. What I didnt expect was to feel a flicker of empathy. Martin John is merely a product of the society that twisted him.

What could he control? He could control language.... p181
Is he honestly depressed or just raving? Is there any difference? p261

My tactic for this book was to read fast in short bursts and have other books I could go to when I absolutely couldnt stand MJ. The prison book club was a real comforter.

Heaven help me, at first all my sympathy was for Mam.
Best not say more here about Mam.

For all its nasty journey into a paranoid and narrow mind, this is an important social commentary.

[Rebecca Rosenblum · Rating 5 out of 5]

There is a stunning book--I have never seen anything else like it. The fractured point-of-view and timeline are not po-mo stunts, they are in service of a fractured character who I don't think could be as completely understood any other way. By forcing the reader to follow Martin John's experiences without a stable narrative lines or context cues, Schofield force us to live a tiny bit of his destabilized, uncertain, terrifying life. The book is very funny in parts, because life is, but also by turns grim, scary, and nauseating, because life is also those things. You need to read it when you're feeling strong, but I think you do need to read it--it's that good. Also lots of wonderful details about London public transit, newspapers, and security guards. I cannot say enough good things about this book, but nor can I write an articulate review of it. It's that good.

Second read: September 2017, for a project I'm working on, but my initial assessment stands up. Still a deeply brilliant book.

[Jonathan Pool · Rating 4 out of 5]

Anakana Schofield didn't go for the easy option with Martin John, her second novel.
It's one thing to write a novel in an innovative style; it's even braver to choose subject matter featuring mental illness and extreme anti social behaviour.
Try promoting that combination to occasional readers, and/or if you want to achieve any level of sales of the book.
I thought both the literary devices used, and the treatment of a difficult, largely unspoken of, subject, was well done.
Children are taught about 'dirty old men' at about the same time as the 'birds and the bees' and Martin John is a novel that addresses a subject referred to largely euphemistically, head on.

As a Goldsmith contender I think this book has every chance of success. Could it win this year's prize? Absolutely, yes.
It's a book to stimulate the voracious reader; the reader actively looking for new styles, and uncharted subject matter.

[WndyJW · Rating 4 out of 5]

I rated it four stars because it deserves at least four stars. If my rating reflected my enjoyment it would be 3 stars. Martin John is a stream of consciousness book that moves from the mind of Martin John, a mentally ill man who not only masturbates in public and exposes himself to women, but also touches women, (for some reason all of the reviews mention his public indecency, but don't mention that he does assault women) to the mind of his also slightly off mother, and an omnipotent narrator who directly challenges the reader. The book is challenging and asks important questions about standard of care for mentally ill people. I can't say I felt empathy for Martin John or his mother, but one does see that Martin John is really suffering from compulsions he does not understand.

[Jocelyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

Remarkable fiction by a talented writer. Anakana Schofield takes her readers on a compassionate and crazy ride through the mind of her mentally troubled main character, Martin John Caffney, and his long suffering Irish mother. At times I found this book almost too disturbing to read and needed to take it in small doses. But the author’s colourful and descriptive language and her innovative style of conveying this deeply neurotic material keeps this story compelling. Oh, and the telling is certainly not without lively humour. Very well done.

[MacKenzie Hamon · Rating 5 out of 5]

Well I guess I have to read Fifteen Dogs next, because after finishing this book I am completely at a loss for how it didn't win the Giller Prize. This is an incredibly timely, relevant book that sheds light on the serious problems we as a society face in dealing with mental illness. Anakana Schofield is a genius.

[Christine Hayton · Rating 1 out of 5]

This is a DNF - the experimental writing style proved very difficult to read. Combine that with the distasteful characters, and obscure plot and development, and you have a book I found impossible to enjoy. Some readers may find it interesting both in content and style, but it was not to my taste at all.

[Penny (Literary Hoarders) · Rating 3 out of 5]

One of the strangest books I've ever read.

[Yvonne · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is such a well written book and the pacing makes it almost impossible to put down. But Martin John is not a sympathetic character. In fact he's quite vile which makes it hard to like the book.

[Jafar · Rating 1 out of 5]

Another one of those novels that are intentionally written to be weird and unreadable to compensate for the lack of substance or to give the appearance of originality.