MEMPHIS UNDERGROUND by Stewart Home.
Snowbooks £7.99. 26 April 2007. ISBN 978-1-905005-42-0
Sent to a remote Scottish community to pose as its artist-in-residence, the narrator of Stewart Home's provocative new novel discovers an undercurrent of corruption, wife-swapping and military secrets.
Meanwhile in London a counter-narrative revolves around pubs, clubs, fights and feuds; making money, selling souls, trying to break on through.
A satire on contemporary art; a hymn to classic soul music; a meditation on celebrity; a deconstruction and rewriting of modern literature; Memphis Underground is all this and more.
To order this book click here. To read a review from 3:AM Magazine click here.
EXCERPT:
I got back home not long after midnight. I was tired and felt like going to bed, but there wasn't any point. My neighbours constantly disturbed me, and the gang of teenagers who hung out on the estate were being particularly noisy. I could tell they were hopped up on drugs. The youths were annoying at the best of times, they lived on a neighbouring estate and came onto ours because it enabled them to misbehave without their parents knowing about it. They liked to speed, and when doing sulphate the boys in question were particularly snotty. They were deep into an argument about a mobile phone. They probably wouldn't have viewed what was going on as an argument, more like horseplay. One youngster had shown another his mobile, and now it was being passed around the gang with the owner becoming increasingly anxious to get it back.
"Give me my mobile!"
"Fuck you, man!"
"Give me my mobile!"
"Fuck you, man!"
A window opened: "Could you be quiet?"
"We’re not disturbing anyone!"
"Yeah, there's no need to shout at us!"
"Yeah, fuck you man!"
"Yeah, fuck you!"
The window closed and the argument went on.
"Give me my mobile!"
"Fuck you, man!"
"Give me my mobile!"
"Fuck you, man!"
Then the door to one of the blocks opened: "I'll fucking kill you if you damage my car! You’re leaning on my fucking car! I'll fucking kill you!"
"What car?"
"That fucking silver car! I'll fucking kill you if you touch my car!"
"We haven’t touched your car!"
"What car?"
"That silver car. Look at all the marks on my car! If you go near my car again, I'll fucking kill you!"
"Fuck you, man!"
"
I'll fucking kill you!"
"Give me my mobile!"
"Fuck you, man!"
"Give me my mobile!"
"Fuck you, man!"
"You touched my fucking car!"
"Fuck you, man!"
"
I'll fucking kill you!"
"Give me my mobile!"
"Fuck you, man!"
"Give me my mobile!"
"Fuck you, man!"
"He fucking hit me!"
"Let go of me you cunt!"
"
I'll fucking have the lot of you!"
"Fucking hell!"
"Fuck!"
The sounds died away. The door to one of the blocks slammed. The teenagers had left the estate at a remarkably early hour by anyone’s standards. Aside from loud music, revving car engines, the sounds of domestic ultra- violence and children crying, the estate was almost
peaceful. It was too good to last.
"We're nearly there Michelle,”"the woman who said this had a voice like a fog-horn.
"I can't go on mum."
"Lean on me Michelle, we’re nearly there."
"
I'm freezing mum."
"We're nearly there."
Five minutes later, there was the sound of the bell ringing on a neighbouring block.
"Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel!"
"He's not in Michelle."
"Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel!"
I could hear the sound of the bell being rung, and someone pounding on the door to the neighbouring block with their fists.
"Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Damn you, damn you, damn you, Daniel!"
"He's not in Michelle. They’re out fucking them slags."
"Damn you, damn you, damn you, Daniel!"
"They're out fucking them whores."
"Damn you, damn you, damn you, Daniel!"
"He's not in Michelle. They're out fucking them slags."
"Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel!"
"They’re out fucking them whores."
"Damn you, damn you, damn you, Daniel!"
"We should have stayed in the fucking pub. We could be having another fucking drink."
"
I'm freezing mum."
"We should have stayed in the fucking pub, Michelle. At least we'd be fucking warm."
"Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel!"
"He’s not in Michelle. They're out fucking them slags. We should have stayed in the fucking pub. We could be having another fucking drink. He's your fucking boyfriend. Why hasn't he given you a set of fucking keys? They're out fucking them slags."
"Damn you, damn you, damn you, Daniel!"
"We should have stayed in the fucking pub. We could be having another fucking drink."
"I'm freezing mum!"
"We should have stayed in the fucking pub. At least we;d be fucking warm."
"Damn you, damn you, damn you, Daniel, damn!"
"Michelle, oh Michelle, you've fallen over Michelle."
"
I'm freezing mum!"
"Let me get you up."
"Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel!"
"Michelle, you're all wet Michelle. You've fallen in a fucking puddle. Let me get you up."
"I'm freezing mum."
"Here, have my coat. Oh Michelle, you're all wet. We should have stayed in the fucking pub. At least we'd be fucking warm. We could be having a fucking drink."
"Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel!"
"Where's your fucking mobile. I'll fucking call someone. Tell me the number of one of your fucking friends. Oh Michelle answer me. You must know somebody's fucking number. We should have stayed in the fucking pub. At least we could be having a fucking drink. Tell me somebody's fucking number so that I can fucking call them."
"Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel!"
"Hello, is that the police? I've come down from Clacton to see my daughter and we're locked out of her boyfriend's flat. I know this isn't an emergency. I know I'm not supposed to dial 999 unless it's an emergency, but we're cold and we're locked out of my daughter's flat. My daughter's only nineteen and we can't get in. Can't you send someone down to help us get in? Yes, I know I could have phoned the local police station but I didn't know the number. Yes. Okay, yes. Look, yes, I'm sorry."
"Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel! Daniel!"
"Oh Michelle, you've fallen over."
"Damn you, damn you, damn you, Daniel!"
"We should have stayed in the fucking pub. We could be having another fucking drink. The'’re out fucking them slags. They're out fucking them whores. I should have fucking stayed in Clacton. I'm not coming to fucking London again. We should have stayed in the fucking pub. We could be having another fucking drink. Why did you fucking move to London? Why didn't you fucking stay in Clacton? They're out fucking them whores. They're out fucking them slags. They're fucking them whores."
"Damn you, damn you, damn you, Daniel! Damn you, damn you, damn you, Daniel! Damn you, damn you, damn you, Daniel! Damn you, damn you, damn you, Daniel!"
"They're out fucking them whores. They're out fucking them slags.”
And so the drunken conversation continued for the next three hours. Call me sad if you like, but after about an hour curiosity got the better of me and I twitched the nets. Michelle was a big girl in a short skirt. Her hair was long and dyed honey blonde. When I first looked she was pounding the bonnet of a car with her fists, then she toppled off the bonnet and rolled into a puddle. Michelle’s mother had shorter hair and a peroxide bleach.
She looked about forty and had the beginnings of a stoop. She tried to pull her daughter out of the rain water, but Michelle appeared determined to wrestle with the puddle. Eventually, two meat wagons and a squad car pulled onto the estate. Michelle was arrested. Her mother had to ride to the police station in a separate vehicle.
MEMPHIS UNDERGROUND by Stewart Home. Snowbooks £7.99. Published 26 April 2007. ISBN 978-1-905005-42-0
For external links to this book click here.
Praise for Stewart Home:
"I really don’t think anyone who is at all interested in literature has any business not knowing the work of Stewart Home." London Review of Books.
"Home is hilarious, brilliant, annoying, and comes up with a new and original map for inventive readers." Lynne Tillman.
"The stuff of which cults are made." Time Out.
Blood Rites Of The Bourgeoisie by Stewart Home
Bibliography |
The book...
In Spanish.
The author in Brighton May 2007, shortly after the book's publication in the UK...
10 OF THE MOST DIFFICULT, SEARCHING AND AWKWARD QUESTIONS I COULD POSSIBLY ASK MYSELF ABOUT "MEMPHIS UNDERGROUND"
1. What is "Memphis Underground" about?
Wife swapping, the gentrification and suburbanisation of inner London, identity confusion and drug fuelled sexual perversion with dead celebrities.
2. How did you get the idea for "Memphis Underground"?
I was giving my 17 year-old crackhead girlfriend Poppy a poke, and during the epiphany I regularly experience upon climax, it struck me that I could fictionalise my own difficulties with sex addiction.
3. What research did you do for this book?
I got in some beers and a bottle of Springbank Malt Whiskey and I loaded some hardcore porn into my VCR, then I let my imagination run riot.
4. I know "Memphis Underground" is male but when he cross-dresses what does he look like?
A woman. He has a long red curly wig, strappy sandals to show off his great feet, and a slinky red dress which was too tight a year ago; all of which makes him look like the kind of over-ripe tomato you've just got to take to bed.
5. How does "Memphis Underground" manage to run his own MySpace profile?
Memphis is a very clever book, but it beats me how he manages to type without fingers, maybe he uses voice recognition software....
6. Which scenes in the book did you particularly enjoy writing?
The passages about Princess Diana having faked her own death, and then living out a life of sexual debauchery on a remote Scottish island.
7. Is the narrator of "Memphis Underground" bonkers?
Only if you're the kind of square who thinks I'm eccentric because of my penchant for standing on the balconies of inner city flats bollock naked while declaiming improving passages from Marx and Hegel at the top of my voice.
8. What sort of audience were you hoping to reach with "Memphis Underground"?
Anyone who likes to fuck with their boots on baby, plus everyone else who likes to get down and groove......
9. Why is the publication of this book the most important event in literary history?
It leaves "Finnegan's Wake" by James Joyce looking like a dumbed down comic on crack.
10. Why should people buy "Memphis Underground"?
So that I can make my rent and help my 17 year old runaway girlfriend Poppy with her crack habit; but if they're hard up like me they can always borrow it from the library.
"Memphis Underground" by Stewart Home is published by Snowbooks (London) on 26 April 2007 at £7.99. It can be (pre-)ordered from Amazon UK.
Stewart Home blog 1 April 2007. |
