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The Forensic Records Society
I remained convinced that my original theory was correct: there were some records that were never heard on planet Earth unless I (or James) happened to be playing them.
Two men with a passion for vinyl create a society for the appreciation of records. Their aim is simple: to elevate the art of listening by doing so in forensic detail. The society enjoys moderate success in the back room of their local pub, The Half Moon, with other enthusiasts drawn to the initial promise of the weekly gathering.
However, as the club gains popularity, its founders' uncompromising dogma results in a schism--and soon a counter group forms. Then the arrival of a young woman called Alice further fractures the unity of the vulnerable society. As rifts are forged and gulfs widen, Magnus Mills, the master of comic deadpan, humorously examines the surreal nature of ordinary lives.
The best novel yet from award-winning, Booker Prize shortlisted Magnus Mills--a hilarious and surreal exploration of power, fanaticism, and really, really good records.
Two men with a passion for vinyl create a society for the appreciation of records. Their aim is simple: to elevate the art of listening by doing so in forensic detail. The society enjoys moderate success in the back room of their local pub, The Half Moon, with other enthusiasts drawn to the initial promise of the weekly gathering.
However, as the club gains popularity, its founders' uncompromising dogma results in a schism--and soon a counter group forms. Then the arrival of a young woman called Alice further fractures the unity of the vulnerable society. As rifts are forged and gulfs widen, Magnus Mills, the master of comic deadpan, humorously examines the surreal nature of ordinary lives.
The best novel yet from award-winning, Booker Prize shortlisted Magnus Mills--a hilarious and surreal exploration of power, fanaticism, and really, really good records.
192 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2017
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 164 reviews
May 31, 2017
No comments or judgements (or even quotations).
August 23, 2019
A few guys decide to form a society to listen to records properly. They think music should not be treated superficially. They want to be forensic. But this only consists of turning up at a pub on a Monday evening at 9 and playing records to each other in silence. The rule is that after each record is played there can be no judgements or comments made so as not to alienate anyone. So far so weird and geeky.
This novel takes place in a parallel universe. Although songs such as “My Heart will Go On” are named, cds are never mentioned, never mind mp3s. When they talk about records they mean 7 inch vinyl singles. Also, although titles of songs are always noted (and a fine selection they are) no one ever mentions artists or bands or guitar players, nothing, just the title. Occasionally a guy quotes from the lyrics but this is frowned upon and eventually disallowed.
Then, rival societies sprout up in the same pub – the Confessional Records Society, where you confess your emotional attachment to a particular record, and the Perceptive Records Society where you bring your records and you are allowed talk about the records themselves. The societies try to poach members from each other.
This is all presented to us in a deadpan monotone. There are lots of little jokes for old pop fans that I imagine will mystify some younger readers.
So really, this whole records society nonsense is some kind of elaborate allegory. Either it’s about the early Christian Church, or the Protestant schism of the 16th century, or it’s about the early years of the Communist party and its fissiparous ways. You can read it every which way.
I was liking it a lot and nodding geekily along (oho, “Happenings Ten Years Time Ago”! Good choice!) when it seemed that Magnus Mills ran out of ideas and could not figure out an ending. The last page of this novel is like when someone knocked the turntable and the needle skittered over the surface of the record and all you heard was a very nasty SQUAWRRRRKKKKKKKK!!!
This novel takes place in a parallel universe. Although songs such as “My Heart will Go On” are named, cds are never mentioned, never mind mp3s. When they talk about records they mean 7 inch vinyl singles. Also, although titles of songs are always noted (and a fine selection they are) no one ever mentions artists or bands or guitar players, nothing, just the title. Occasionally a guy quotes from the lyrics but this is frowned upon and eventually disallowed.
Then, rival societies sprout up in the same pub – the Confessional Records Society, where you confess your emotional attachment to a particular record, and the Perceptive Records Society where you bring your records and you are allowed talk about the records themselves. The societies try to poach members from each other.
This is all presented to us in a deadpan monotone. There are lots of little jokes for old pop fans that I imagine will mystify some younger readers.
So really, this whole records society nonsense is some kind of elaborate allegory. Either it’s about the early Christian Church, or the Protestant schism of the 16th century, or it’s about the early years of the Communist party and its fissiparous ways. You can read it every which way.
I was liking it a lot and nodding geekily along (oho, “Happenings Ten Years Time Ago”! Good choice!) when it seemed that Magnus Mills ran out of ideas and could not figure out an ending. The last page of this novel is like when someone knocked the turntable and the needle skittered over the surface of the record and all you heard was a very nasty SQUAWRRRRKKKKKKKK!!!
November 14, 2017
"There's a unique sound preserved in each and every groove, and that's why records are so important"
A brilliant little book that takes a a very humorous look at organized groups. It begins with two men who are both seriously obsessed with music on vinyl records. Specifically rock 'n roll recordings on vinyl, known as singles (45 rpm). They seek others like themselves, and form a 'forensic society' record listening club for vinyl fanatics. The leader, James, decides to hold the meeting in the back room of the local pub. Drinks & music - what could be better?!
The rules are that everyone is allowed to bring 3 records to the meeting, but James turns into a bit of a dictator and among his strict rules are that there will be no commentary or discussion before or after any of the music so that no one feels judged about their tastes. Huh?
According to James, the term 'forensic' is an old Latin word for 'in open court' ......well there was definitely nothing open about this club....
"Was it really beyond human capacity to create a society which didn’t ultimately disintegrate through internal strife?" "Or collapse under the weight of its own laws?"
...and of course that's where it gets very amusing as members form splinter groups, and another counter-club forms (same pub, next night), organized by a man who was barred from the first forensic's meeting because he was late.
Add in a female bartender (no females in the club), who is posted to the back room bar, well this is ironic, deadpan humour at its best. I love that the author named all of the songs that the group listens to. Some songs were familiar but Magnus Mills introduced me to some excellent, new 'to me' songs. The songs that i wasn’t familiar with, i looked up on YouTube & listened to them before continuing with the story. It made for a terrific interactive experience. The music coupled with the pub atmosphere reminded me of my university days, the absolute best of times.
On a larger scale, this book gives an astute insight into all organizations, whether it be government, workplaces or social clubs.
4.5 Stars!
A brilliant little book that takes a a very humorous look at organized groups. It begins with two men who are both seriously obsessed with music on vinyl records. Specifically rock 'n roll recordings on vinyl, known as singles (45 rpm). They seek others like themselves, and form a 'forensic society' record listening club for vinyl fanatics. The leader, James, decides to hold the meeting in the back room of the local pub. Drinks & music - what could be better?!
The rules are that everyone is allowed to bring 3 records to the meeting, but James turns into a bit of a dictator and among his strict rules are that there will be no commentary or discussion before or after any of the music so that no one feels judged about their tastes. Huh?
According to James, the term 'forensic' is an old Latin word for 'in open court' ......well there was definitely nothing open about this club....
"Was it really beyond human capacity to create a society which didn’t ultimately disintegrate through internal strife?" "Or collapse under the weight of its own laws?"
...and of course that's where it gets very amusing as members form splinter groups, and another counter-club forms (same pub, next night), organized by a man who was barred from the first forensic's meeting because he was late.
Add in a female bartender (no females in the club), who is posted to the back room bar, well this is ironic, deadpan humour at its best. I love that the author named all of the songs that the group listens to. Some songs were familiar but Magnus Mills introduced me to some excellent, new 'to me' songs. The songs that i wasn’t familiar with, i looked up on YouTube & listened to them before continuing with the story. It made for a terrific interactive experience. The music coupled with the pub atmosphere reminded me of my university days, the absolute best of times.
On a larger scale, this book gives an astute insight into all organizations, whether it be government, workplaces or social clubs.
4.5 Stars!
February 28, 2017
Magnus Mills writes short, quirky books about ordinary people in rule-bound situations. In this case, we have a number of blokes – all with blokey names: Dave, Peter, Kevin, Keith, Barry, Mike, etc. – who form a club in the backroom of their regular pub, The Half Moon, where they listen to each others’ records. And that’s all they do, listen. They mustn’t comment or judge. As the weeks go on, the rules get added to – a new rule every time someone tries to do anything that slightly deviates from the norm.
And understandably, the rules don’t please everyone and rival record clubs are formed, each meeting on a different night of the week, but always in the backroom of The Half Moon. This does not amuse the true believers in the original Forensic Records Society who set out on missions of subterfuge, espionage and ultimately diplomacy.
Like other Magnus Mills novls, this is a stripped down work. There is little superfluous detail; there is minimal scene setting and no depth of characterisation, no backstory and not a great deal of logic underpinning the basic premise of the story. Instead, it is a parody of officious bureaucracy with the occasional side-foray into punishment, personal freedom and the nature of social compliance.
There are occasional points of intrigue – the mysteriously disappearing hours whilst the society meets; the mysterious record with the white label; and what, precisely, goes on in the Confessions hosted by a rival group. These are not explained and this will not surprise Magnus Mills fans. Oddity is expected and simply accepted.
There is some humour derived from how seriously the participants take their records when many of them (those the reader will have heard of) and really quite average. And there is humour derived from these sad little men with sad little lives whose sole interest seems to be an obsolete form of musical recording. But it is quiet humour – nothing terribly sidesplitting.
This is a short read, not dazzlingly different from other Magnus Mills novels, but a welcome addition to the canon.
And understandably, the rules don’t please everyone and rival record clubs are formed, each meeting on a different night of the week, but always in the backroom of The Half Moon. This does not amuse the true believers in the original Forensic Records Society who set out on missions of subterfuge, espionage and ultimately diplomacy.
Like other Magnus Mills novls, this is a stripped down work. There is little superfluous detail; there is minimal scene setting and no depth of characterisation, no backstory and not a great deal of logic underpinning the basic premise of the story. Instead, it is a parody of officious bureaucracy with the occasional side-foray into punishment, personal freedom and the nature of social compliance.
There are occasional points of intrigue – the mysteriously disappearing hours whilst the society meets; the mysterious record with the white label; and what, precisely, goes on in the Confessions hosted by a rival group. These are not explained and this will not surprise Magnus Mills fans. Oddity is expected and simply accepted.
There is some humour derived from how seriously the participants take their records when many of them (those the reader will have heard of) and really quite average. And there is humour derived from these sad little men with sad little lives whose sole interest seems to be an obsolete form of musical recording. But it is quiet humour – nothing terribly sidesplitting.
This is a short read, not dazzlingly different from other Magnus Mills novels, but a welcome addition to the canon.
April 16, 2017
The first Magnus Mills I've read, and a bit of a mind-bending experience for me – though everything I've heard suggests the low-key surrealism of The Forensic Records Society is in line with the mood of the author's previous novels. It's about a small group of men, regulars at the Half Moon pub, who form the titular society. They meet once a week to listen to records. Listening is all they do: as founder James will reiterate with an increasing note of hysteria, 'comments and judgements are not allowed'. However, it's not long before some of the members lose patience with James's stringent rules, and splinter groups begin to form.
Much of the story is so mundane that it's practically soporific: it dwells on small details; very little changes as the plot progresses; some scenes and lines are repeated. It's difficult to tell the characters apart – no physical descriptions or ages are given, and the names seem interchangeable (Keith, Barry, Kevin, etc). The resulting impression is of life boiled down to a particular (masculine, British) essence: a pub, a pint, a record. But it is illuminated by sparks of humour and hints of fantasy. The characters' hyper-specific obsession with listening to music in a certain way is inherently funny because it's so finicky, but they are always too endearing to come off as parodies. The universe of the story is quietly intriguing, with the mysterious speeding-up of time whenever the society meets, the powerful effect of Alice's song, and the mass confessions in the town hall. It is down-to-earth and dreamlike all at once.
Is the ending, then, designed simply as a rebuke to the narrative's gentleness, a violent, jarring intrusion for its own sake? Does The Forensic Records Society set out to lull the reader into a pleasantly languid state, then jerk them out of it? (In one of those weird readalike coincidences, it has similarities to Hari Kunzru's White Tears in this respect, as well as the fact that both stories centre on music and contain elements of magical realism.) Beyond this possible interpretation, I must say that I didn't understand the last couple of paragraphs. But perhaps this peculiarity is typical of the author's work. I enjoyed The Forensic Records Society enough that I may well read more and find out for myself...
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Much of the story is so mundane that it's practically soporific: it dwells on small details; very little changes as the plot progresses; some scenes and lines are repeated. It's difficult to tell the characters apart – no physical descriptions or ages are given, and the names seem interchangeable (Keith, Barry, Kevin, etc). The resulting impression is of life boiled down to a particular (masculine, British) essence: a pub, a pint, a record. But it is illuminated by sparks of humour and hints of fantasy. The characters' hyper-specific obsession with listening to music in a certain way is inherently funny because it's so finicky, but they are always too endearing to come off as parodies. The universe of the story is quietly intriguing, with the mysterious speeding-up of time whenever the society meets, the powerful effect of Alice's song, and the mass confessions in the town hall. It is down-to-earth and dreamlike all at once.
Is the ending, then, designed simply as a rebuke to the narrative's gentleness, a violent, jarring intrusion for its own sake? Does The Forensic Records Society set out to lull the reader into a pleasantly languid state, then jerk them out of it? (In one of those weird readalike coincidences, it has similarities to Hari Kunzru's White Tears in this respect, as well as the fact that both stories centre on music and contain elements of magical realism.) Beyond this possible interpretation, I must say that I didn't understand the last couple of paragraphs. But perhaps this peculiarity is typical of the author's work. I enjoyed The Forensic Records Society enough that I may well read more and find out for myself...
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October 20, 2024
Recently finished The Restraint of Beasts by Magnus Mills and loved it, a really easygoing writing style, the ordinary made bizarre, shades of Ken Loach and Raymond Carver.
The Forensic Records Society was equally bizarre but a lot more playful as a couple of men form a weekly group in the back of a local pub to listen to records without judgement or comment.
What starts as a few hours of enjoyment each week soon turns into madness as mysterious splinter groups are formed, each laying different rules, and the commitment of the original group is tested.
The beauty of Magnus Mills is in his simplicity. He captures the weirdness of everyday life, the nuances in human behaviour, the fact that we're all unique in our own way. This reminded me of Bob Mortimer in many ways. Daft, strange, hysterical. Ideal for music snobs.
The Forensic Records Society was equally bizarre but a lot more playful as a couple of men form a weekly group in the back of a local pub to listen to records without judgement or comment.
What starts as a few hours of enjoyment each week soon turns into madness as mysterious splinter groups are formed, each laying different rules, and the commitment of the original group is tested.
The beauty of Magnus Mills is in his simplicity. He captures the weirdness of everyday life, the nuances in human behaviour, the fact that we're all unique in our own way. This reminded me of Bob Mortimer in many ways. Daft, strange, hysterical. Ideal for music snobs.
December 15, 2016
I'm a fan of Magnus Mills's quirky, humorous and slightly surreal fiction. This one is about the eponymous society, who meet up in the back room of a pub each week in order to listen to records. The leader, James, is very strict - no latecomers are allowed in, each person gets to bring and play 3 records each, all vinyl singles, and no one is allowed to make any comments or judgements about them. But these strict rules scare some members away and other record clubs start springing up.
I loved this, partly because I'm a huge music fan, and I liked the way that Mills satirises the snobbery and sometimes bizarre ways in which different people listen to music, and the different things they get out of it. I also liked the way many songs were name-checked, but no bands or artists names were ever mentioned. Short and sweet, you can read this one in a few hours, and it's published in April - in time for Record Store Day!
I loved this, partly because I'm a huge music fan, and I liked the way that Mills satirises the snobbery and sometimes bizarre ways in which different people listen to music, and the different things they get out of it. I also liked the way many songs were name-checked, but no bands or artists names were ever mentioned. Short and sweet, you can read this one in a few hours, and it's published in April - in time for Record Store Day!
December 23, 2018
Another gentle, observant fable from Magnus Mills, this one with a fantastic cover design. As with basically all his books, I was unable to stop myself trying to identify the allegory. This is a compulsion, despite what seems like carefully calculated ambiguity in each novel. Here, the narrative concerns a group of men listening to records in a pub and I wondered if they were analogising theological disputes. Mills has a distinctive style, marked by the humour of subtle social awkwardness. His narrators are always rather shy and uncertain men, baffled by women and usually influenced by more strident male friends. His characters always take trivial, often wholly absurd matters extremely seriously. There are mildly fantastical elements, in this case concerning time, and the ending is always ambiguous. Although ‘mild’ is definitely a word I associate with Mills, his stories sometimes have a sting in the tail. I prefer those that do, notably Explorers of the New Century and The Restraint of Beasts. ‘The Forensic Records Society’ doesn’t really, but I did like the repeated motifs (e.g. ‘We knew exactly what he meant’) and the milieu of music obsessives. The descriptions of records real and mythical were very pleasing.
November 26, 2017
I personally would blow up the pub, killing every single characters inside, and feel not an ounce of remorse.
July 1, 2017
Another wonderful Magnus Mills. I can't get enough of him.
I too was perturbed by the ending. My only guess is that he wanted it to end as abruptly as a vinyl record, as the needle reaches the last groove.
I too was perturbed by the ending. My only guess is that he wanted it to end as abruptly as a vinyl record, as the needle reaches the last groove.
March 18, 2017
This is a very odd book indeed. I hadn't read any Magnus Mills before and was looking forward to it, but in the end I was left bemused.
The story is narrated by an unnamed man who, with his friend James starts up a society in the back room of a pub, in which they simply listen "forensically" to records, with "no judgements and no comments." Internal tensions and rival societies arise, and the exercise of power and fanatical purism are (I think) satirised.
It's readable enough, but I really couldn't make out what the point of it was. Also, be aware that there are a huge number of musical references; some are to songs by name (but the artist is never given) and some just by lines like "what's all that about leaving a cake out in the rain?" (That's MacArthur Park, written by Jimmy Webb, just in case you didn't know.) I'm by no means an encyclopaedic geek, but I do know quite a lot about the music of the last 60 years and a significant proportion of the songs were unknown to me. If you're not musically knowledgeable, this might be a real problem when reading.
Things happen, but in an almost dreamlike detachment (we learn nothing whatever about any of the characters other than their approach to music and the Society), there are lots of slight weirdnesses, only some of which I could see the point of, and the ending is so bizarre that I wondered whether I'd received a faulty download. (I don't think I had.) I find it hard to rate the book; it's well written but very odd and, to me anyway, ultimately rather inconsequential.
(I received an ARC via Netgalley.)
The story is narrated by an unnamed man who, with his friend James starts up a society in the back room of a pub, in which they simply listen "forensically" to records, with "no judgements and no comments." Internal tensions and rival societies arise, and the exercise of power and fanatical purism are (I think) satirised.
It's readable enough, but I really couldn't make out what the point of it was. Also, be aware that there are a huge number of musical references; some are to songs by name (but the artist is never given) and some just by lines like "what's all that about leaving a cake out in the rain?" (That's MacArthur Park, written by Jimmy Webb, just in case you didn't know.) I'm by no means an encyclopaedic geek, but I do know quite a lot about the music of the last 60 years and a significant proportion of the songs were unknown to me. If you're not musically knowledgeable, this might be a real problem when reading.
Things happen, but in an almost dreamlike detachment (we learn nothing whatever about any of the characters other than their approach to music and the Society), there are lots of slight weirdnesses, only some of which I could see the point of, and the ending is so bizarre that I wondered whether I'd received a faulty download. (I don't think I had.) I find it hard to rate the book; it's well written but very odd and, to me anyway, ultimately rather inconsequential.
(I received an ARC via Netgalley.)
May 7, 2017
What is the optimum number of pages for a book? 150? 289?350?500+?
Do you keep your books in alphabetical order?
Do you have a special section for female authors?
Do you have any rituals regarding reading?
Do you judge them? or quietly keep your ideas to yourself?
These and other ideas elating to records are raised in this enigmatic book. The titles of the songs mentioned in the book resonate with me. If you like to be able to pick out salient facts in order to build up information about the characters (age etc), then this is the book for you. Minimalist and specific and under the 200 page threshold. Also, beautifully packaged
Do you keep your books in alphabetical order?
Do you have a special section for female authors?
Do you have any rituals regarding reading?
Do you judge them? or quietly keep your ideas to yourself?
These and other ideas elating to records are raised in this enigmatic book. The titles of the songs mentioned in the book resonate with me. If you like to be able to pick out salient facts in order to build up information about the characters (age etc), then this is the book for you. Minimalist and specific and under the 200 page threshold. Also, beautifully packaged
July 15, 2017
A book I bought for its cover, which should have warned me that it was going to be too clever. The tale (about a group of nerdy neurotic guys forming competing music-listening societies at a local pub) is told by its most clueless member, always watching and drawing conclusions from events he can't quite understand, which means that the reader is usually one confused step behind him. Mills is obviously having some fun with aficionados, decorating his flatlined parable with esoterica. It's easy to spot some of the jokes, even if you're not sure what they're about, including a trio of random footnotes that refer to… well, who knows?
Someone will, just as someone will identify the overheard conversation at the very end of the book and illuminate insights that escape me. I was amused but wouldn't have wished it a page longer. At its best it reminded me of Gerard Reve's The Evenings, also about feckless lads who have nothing to do but talk.
Someone will, just as someone will identify the overheard conversation at the very end of the book and illuminate insights that escape me. I was amused but wouldn't have wished it a page longer. At its best it reminded me of Gerard Reve's The Evenings, also about feckless lads who have nothing to do but talk.
April 12, 2017
Was it really beyond human capacity, I pondered, to create a society which didn’t ultimately disintegrate through internal strife? Or collapse under the weight of its own laws? Or suffer damaging rivalries with other societies
For Mills this is a deliberate return to the real world after the departures into more of a fantasy world of A Cruel Bird Came to the Nest and Looked In and The Field of the Cloth of Gold.
But this is very much the world which typifies all of his novels. That is a working-class male (one could say “bloke”) dominated world, operating according to some form of conventions and restrictions, where seemingly trivial matters assume great, almost existential, importance. A world which is explicitly informed by his experiences as a bus driver and most typified in Maintenance Of Headway.
Again here Mills draws on his own experiences, both from drinking at his regular pub and from his own collection of vinyl singles to create his story – two friends who enjoy listening in silence (and without comment or criticism) to vinyl singles decide to set up a club of like minded individuals in the back room of their local pub. The narrators friend James names and leads the Forensic Records Society and in this case it is largely James and the other members that impose the conventions and restrictions, only to find rival record groups and splinter groups forming in reaction to the constraints – first a Confessional group which turns into a quasi-cult and then various schisms from the Forensic group, all complicated by the barmaid Alice and her own recording career.
As always with Mills a quietly humorous and enjoyable novel – although the reader’s appreciation in this case would be greatly increased by knowledge of the records played and the lyrics quoted from them.
April 18, 2018
Pleasingly for Mills followers this is another humorous and compelling novel. It would be wrong to say typical though as it's impossible to know what to expect with Mills, some of his novels are very dark also.
An an unnamed setting and and unknown period, though a guess would be the 1980s, two men with a shared love of vinyl decide to form a society. The purpose is solely to listen to the records played. Rules are strict. Latecomers are not allowed entrance. No comments on the records played are allowed.
Record collectors such as this pair were common in the 60s, 70s and 80s. I was almost one myself for some of my teenage years. For such people nothing else in life seems important, and Mills reflects that with no mention of work, or family, just a dedication to the music.
The society meets every Monday at 8 pm in the local pub but it isn't long until its existence is threatened almost in a Pythonesque way at times; several societies doing in effect the same thing, and one new member sitting in for a while before he realises he should be in the Film Quiz society.
There could be so many quotable lines lines, but I will leave just a couple. Indeed, the pages on songs with brackets in the title is one of the funniest in the book.
'I'm playing all my records with bracketed titles.'
"Keep Searching (We'll Follow The Sun)"
"(If Paradise Was) Half As Nice"
"What Does It Take (to Win Your Love)"
'Sounds like an absorbing pastime' I remarked.
And:
'What's he talking about?' He demanded at length. 'What's all this about leaving a cake out in the rain?'
'Don't ask me,' I replied. 'It's one of the great unsolved mysteries.'
Privately it occurred to me that Mike ought to take his enquiries to the Perceptive Records Society. I realised, however, that it would be churlish to voice my inner thoughts.
I welcome the chance to discuss the ending though, should anyone be equally surprised by it.
Could it be that Mills decided that 192 is the optimum number of pages for a book? And wanted to make that point?
An an unnamed setting and and unknown period, though a guess would be the 1980s, two men with a shared love of vinyl decide to form a society. The purpose is solely to listen to the records played. Rules are strict. Latecomers are not allowed entrance. No comments on the records played are allowed.
Record collectors such as this pair were common in the 60s, 70s and 80s. I was almost one myself for some of my teenage years. For such people nothing else in life seems important, and Mills reflects that with no mention of work, or family, just a dedication to the music.
The society meets every Monday at 8 pm in the local pub but it isn't long until its existence is threatened almost in a Pythonesque way at times; several societies doing in effect the same thing, and one new member sitting in for a while before he realises he should be in the Film Quiz society.
There could be so many quotable lines lines, but I will leave just a couple. Indeed, the pages on songs with brackets in the title is one of the funniest in the book.
'I'm playing all my records with bracketed titles.'
"Keep Searching (We'll Follow The Sun)"
"(If Paradise Was) Half As Nice"
"What Does It Take (to Win Your Love)"
'Sounds like an absorbing pastime' I remarked.
And:
'What's he talking about?' He demanded at length. 'What's all this about leaving a cake out in the rain?'
'Don't ask me,' I replied. 'It's one of the great unsolved mysteries.'
Privately it occurred to me that Mike ought to take his enquiries to the Perceptive Records Society. I realised, however, that it would be churlish to voice my inner thoughts.
I welcome the chance to discuss the ending though, should anyone be equally surprised by it.
Could it be that Mills decided that 192 is the optimum number of pages for a book? And wanted to make that point?
August 24, 2017
The diminutive size of this book (6.25" x 6.25") may rightfully reflect the narrowness of its audience appeal. Consider me among the few. Hilarious in that very quiet, English way, and particularly hilarious if you're a vinyl enthusiast. Allegorical as any other Magnus Mills novel, but with an especially frustrating ending. Even still, I'm beginning to think he's one of my favorite novelists.
March 5, 2018
Magnus Mills back to his best. Loved this. Slowly and darkly funny. An enigmatic ending I'm still trying to figure out.
To quote Toby Litt - "The Forensic Records Society is like Animal Farm but with blokes for pigs, and much better songs."
To quote Toby Litt - "The Forensic Records Society is like Animal Farm but with blokes for pigs, and much better songs."
June 5, 2017
Can someone please explain the ending??
March 27, 2018
I’ve long been an admirer of Magnus Mills’ deadpan humour and this latest example doesn’t disappoint. Bells will ring in the heads of anyone who has ever been a member of a special interest (hobby) society, especially the type of club with almost exclusively male membership and a blokey pub atmosphere like this Forensic Records Society. What starts as a group of like-minded enthusiasts, aspiring to a kind of purity in their listening to vinyl records, descends into squabbles over what is or isn’t the right way to do things, into jealousies and exclusions, and conspiracy theories. The introduction of the evangelical Phillip and his success in attracting female devotees is a stroke of genius, leading to an unexpected and slightly creepy conclusion. Some witty and entertaining juxtaposition of record titles throughout kept me entertained. Highly recommended for fans of quirky noir fiction.
With thanks to Bloomsbury via NetGalley for the opportunity of an ARC.
With thanks to Bloomsbury via NetGalley for the opportunity of an ARC.
November 19, 2018
This is an imaginative and satirical take on an activity that should be completely benign and harmless. Denizens of an English pub, all deeply serious, are record collectors. When I say serious I might also use “obsessed” to describe them. Records are their life, there is no mention of activities such as employment from any of them. Their’s is a world of bedrooms (to play records) and the local pub (to talk about records). In the spirit of a world consumed by social media they decide to form a club, the Forensic Records Society, where invited members will each in turn play a favorite song. This performance will not, as per society rules, invite any comments, By not inviting reflection and comment the society will remain “forensic.” Their choice of this word initially invites some confusion. Here are James and the narrator asking the bartender at their local pub if they could use the back room for their meetings:
Each member can only bring three songs. What results is an often hilarious and satirical look at people in groups, especially people in groups with rules. James keeps making decisions, making more rules until there’s a revolt and, as might be expected, a splinter group emerges, The Forsenic Records Confessional Society wherein members confess all their feeling about the music they’ve chosen to play. Author Magnus Mills was unknown to me but on the basis of The Forsenic Records Society I’ll be on the lookout for more.
“What are you two scheming about?” he demanded.
“Well”, said James, “we were wondering if the back room would be available on Monday evenings?”
“Might be”, said George. “Depends what for.”
“We were thinking of starting a forensic records society.”
“Oh yes?” George leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “˜Police work, is it?”
“Of course not,” I said. “We mean records to listen to.”
“Music?”
“Yes.”ave
“There’s a dartboard in the corner,” said George. “Isn’t that enough entertainment?”
Each member can only bring three songs. What results is an often hilarious and satirical look at people in groups, especially people in groups with rules. James keeps making decisions, making more rules until there’s a revolt and, as might be expected, a splinter group emerges, The Forsenic Records Confessional Society wherein members confess all their feeling about the music they’ve chosen to play. Author Magnus Mills was unknown to me but on the basis of The Forsenic Records Society I’ll be on the lookout for more.
September 5, 2018
2.5 actually....Enjoyed the topic, references and setting but not the blank, dull characters and pointless asides.
December 20, 2018
Mills’s books usually come with a good dose of understated brilliance and low-level, quirky conflict. And this one was certainly no different. Moreover this formula generally translates into simplistic genius (The Scheme for Full Employment or The Restraint of Beasts) or absolute disappointment (The Field of the Cloth of Gold or Explorers of the New Century). Unfortunately this last novel slots in with the latter group.
November 26, 2017
Beim Guardian gibt es eine Rezension, der ich eigentlich nichts hinzuzufügen habe: https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...
September 29, 2020
I really enjoyed this book but admit that the ending left me perplexed. I just didn't get it at all. However, a bit of research on the web revealed the following enlightening - to me, at least - nuggets:
The quote at the very end of the book is from the long version of Jimi Hendrix's 'Voodoo Child' (on the 'Electric Ladyland' album). The song is referenced in the book and the length piques Keith's interest. I'm more familiar with the much shorter 'Slight Return' version of the song.
As for where the narrator wakes up on the final page, another individual wondered if he had spent the night at Keith's, since Keith had expressed an interest in the song (Voodoo Child) and, when the narrator woke up, someone was playing the song in a neighbouring room. Seems plausible.
After all, the new barmaid, Sandy, flirts with the narrator and tells him that he "needed reconstructing, or converting, or something along those lines".
Thoughts?
The quote at the very end of the book is from the long version of Jimi Hendrix's 'Voodoo Child' (on the 'Electric Ladyland' album). The song is referenced in the book and the length piques Keith's interest. I'm more familiar with the much shorter 'Slight Return' version of the song.
As for where the narrator wakes up on the final page, another individual wondered if he had spent the night at Keith's, since Keith had expressed an interest in the song (Voodoo Child) and, when the narrator woke up, someone was playing the song in a neighbouring room. Seems plausible.
After all, the new barmaid, Sandy, flirts with the narrator and tells him that he "needed reconstructing, or converting, or something along those lines".
Thoughts?
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 10, 2017
This was my 1st Magnus Mills book and I am going to bump it up to 2.5 half stars. I liked it but didn't love it. There were times I enjoyed it and times I felt not much was really happening and just kind of went on. It does deal with record listening and music which I love whole -heartedly, being a musician, but I can't say I fell in love with it. I think it was interesting how groups form and disband and become other groups that are ever-changing unto themselves. It certainly was quite intriguing how certain people and groups listen to music and what they are looking for in it, and what they get out of it. I wish the book dealt with a bit more of this than the societal aspects it more strongly portrayed.Good read though and I thank my good friend, Alex Donnely for letting me read it!
December 28, 2017
Continuing a late run of great novels that I read in 2017, the latest by Magnus Mills didn't let me down. As usual, it's presented as dry as the remnants of a centuries old riverbed in the desert. Underneath the straightforward tale of the all-male record collector's club though (surprise, surprise), there's a philosophical exploration of the social forces that drive everything from tribalism to fundamentalism to revolutions.
Loved it.
Loved it.
December 28, 2018
The third worst book I've read this year. Basically this is a thin joke that wears extremely thin by the end. It's obviously meant to be allegorical and one bit of blurb on the cover compares it to Animal Farm - however there is simply no real comparison with Orwell's book. It is too easy to take the mick out of record collectors/train spotters/bird watchers/etc and....and what? Waste of time and money.
September 27, 2022
Another close-to-masterpiece gem from Mills, as we are made to wonder how human society can ever hope to function successfully if a few blokes can't listen to a few records together without falling out.
Read
August 10, 2017I read The Forensic Records Society by Magnus Mills in one sitting. It revolves around vinyl nerds picking their favorite songs—sounds like a perfect day to me. —Andrew (https://www.bookish.com/articles/curr...)
October 17, 2021
Another genius addition to the MM lexicon. This time, he uses the catalyst of vinyl elitist culture (of all things) to weave his typical parable of working class citizens finding high drama in the seemingly mundane and showing the reader that the resulting splintering factions are ultimately just the same. As a music nerd, I was way into the clever forensic adventures each song and lyric mention opened up, whether it was looking for relevant lines that enriched the story or just looking up/listening to some great stuff I’d not heard before. Kudos for this beautiful added layer. Earlier in the year, I started with Mill’s first novel and have been making my way through them chronologically. He has never disappointed and I’ve already ordered the next one. I’m just saying that so that a. If you read this and like it, know that it’s all superb b. If you’ve read his other stuff and like it, you’ll probably like this (especially if you are heck-a into music). Current favorite author.
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