Given that I have never seen an Alfred Hitchcock film and I had no idea of the premise of his 1954 classic, Rear Window, I suspect that this novel was somewhat wasted on me, the more well-disguised hat tips to the man and his films undoubtedly were. For the uninitiated, Rear Window centres on a wheelchair-bound photographer who spies on his neighbours from his apartment window and becomes convinced that one of them has committed murder. Knowing this makes what follows in this overly lengthy four hundred page novel a little clearer, but sadly it doesn’t make it any less confusing to follow or any more rewarding to persevere with. Readers who stay the course will find themselves rewarded with a story eventually but I suspect that many will, on balance, decide it was not worth the effort given that it takes three-quarters of the book to emerge.
Lily Gullick and her husband, Aiden, live in a new-build flat in Riverview Apartments, a complex that is part of a massive regeneration project on the outskirts of Hackney, North London. As shiny new buildings complete with concierges and courtyard fountains take to the skies Lily is troubled by the social divide with the council estate directly opposite that is due for demolition and its residents to be rehoused. As the neighbourhood becomes increasingly gentrified, the ‘us’ and ‘them’ culture comes to Lily’s attention and she is keen to build bridges and transect the social divide. As a once keen birdwatcher she sits opposite Aiden in their apartment both engaged in their own projects, but soon Lily’s eyes aren’t so much drawn to the skies as drawn to her neighbours and through their windows! Swiftly bewitched by residents both from the estate and the surrounding new apartments, she quickly becomes obsessed with imagining their lives and inventing stories for them, complete with Hitchcock character names for each. However, when Lily tries to do the neighbourly thing and reaches out to Jean, an elderly battleaxe who has lived on the council estate her whole life, her meddling does not go unnoticed within the community. With a local student already missing from the council estate and shrewd Jean telling Lily that she sees “everything and everyone”, when she is found bludgeoned to death the next day Lily becomes convinced that Jean has been murdered and fixated on identifying the culprit.
With Aiden too busy to pay much attention and rarely lifting his head from his manuscript, Lily takes the investigation upon herself and her snooping is met with some very humorous encounters with a cast of quirky residents which prove both calamitous and highly dangerous. As it starts to seem that someone wants to nip her investigation in the bud Lily ups the ante and throws herself into establishing why someone could have been so intent on murdering Jean. Clearly Lily isn’t the only local who is conducting her original form of Neighbourhood Watch... Composed as a journal account to an unknown party with whom she is recently estranged and not ready to see face to face, the references to “Mum” and her mother’s mental health battles carry obvious heavy-handed allusions as to the likely recipient. Wanting a second opinion on everything that she is recording and hard evidence of her efforts, Lily mails these accounts weekly. As her preoccupation increases Lily withdraws from her colleagues at a job she loathes and her increasingly erratic behaviour attracts the interest of some dubious parties, not to mention the unwelcome attentions of the local police.
The central problem with this novel is the first person narrator, who takes unreliable to a whole different stratosphere and so for much of this novel (almost three-quarters of the way), readers do not know if any or even some aspects of her account are trustworthy. Given that our narrator is the central protagonist and pretty much everything that happens is seen and filtered though her eyes there is little respite from an individual with serious mental issues whom I found impossible to relate to. Evidently unbalanced, Lily ties herself up in knots with a lack of sleep and little external contact, making her an exasperating figure and her patchwork story even more questionable. Needless to say after three hundred pages spent wading through Lily’s discourse of drivel the reader is still none the wiser as to how much and which specific parts of her account are pure fiction and which contain an element of truth. It is only when the recipient of Lily’s account arrives on the scene that the reader is given the benefit of an independent adjudicator, whereby the unofficial investigations begin in earnest, thankfully with the support of a reliable accomplice!
I found the first person narrative was written in a somewhat staccato fashion, comprising of short, sharp sentences which conveyed little information. A prime case in point is, “That rumour. About that law.” which tells the readers next to nothing. I don’t know if this narrative style is supposed to be trendy or indicative of nerve jangling tension, but it definitely requires a little reading between the lines, not easy when it comes to working out what is going on in Lily’s mind! Filled with dark humour and contemporary analogies, the backdrop to the story serves as an unobtrusive take of gentrification, which Armstrong, to his credit, allows to pass without hammering home. I am all for intrigue but disappointingly this whole novel was just far too ambiguous for my liking and I feel that classifying The Watcher as a psychological thriller is stretching the very definition, given that the crime element in incidental and only comes to the fore in the final quarter of the book. My lasting impression of this story surrounds its focus on narrator Lily’s fragile mental health and the dangerous lengths that anxiety, delusions, paranoia and a lack of impulse control can drive a person to.
In short, The Watcher is three parts airy-fairy internal discourse to one part solid investigation! The last one hundred pages admittedly do make a concerted effort to build some mounting suspense, but unfortunately this reading ship had well and truly sailed by the time the tide turned!