High Fidelity
Nick Hornby’s novels tend read like a cross between a journal and a screen play. It’s no surprise that many have been turned into movies. They are chic lit but for men, too; bubble gum; beach reads. But they have this surprising depth of emotion and insight. I didn’t realize until recently that Hornby’s first book (Fever Pitch) is semi-autobiographical. (By the way, it has two film versions. The earlier one stars Colin Firth. You’re welcome.)
High Fidelity is about a record store owner and list maker named Rob who’s just been dumped by his cheating girlfriend. His anger seems justified even as its clear he’s more than a little self-involved. But the more he tells of the greatest hits of his other relationships, the clearer it becomes that Rob’s insecurity is a mask for something else. His inner narrator has painted a picture of beautiful, intelligent, and accomplished women who ultimately leave him for greener pastures. But as he reconnects with old girlfriends and meets new people trying to get over Laura, he starts to realize that it’s all a sham. He’s the one who gets bored. He’s the one who is always seeking the fun and magic of a new relationship. He’s the one who quietly sabotages the ones that last too long. And he’s the one who cheated on Laura first.
Rob, like most of Hornby’s characters, reveals a lot about what it’s like to be a (white Western) man after the sexual revolution. He knows he’s supposed to be sensitive but not too self-depreciating. Successful but not career obsessed. Passionate but about more than sex. Confident but really into powerful women. He can’t be like his dad because that’s bad but he can’t be like the flaky guys who work for him, either. It’s hard to know how to be in the world.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not crying into my coffee for poor, beleaguered white men. But Hornby reminds me why some men choose to stay little boys. It feels safer that way. And maybe catching up to history is hardest for those who have the most to lose. But in the end, Rob shows signs of finally being willing to try. Here’s to grown ups of every shape, size, race, and gender!
Top Five Quotes:
# 5. “What came first—the music or the misery? Did I listen to music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to music? Do all those records turn you into a melancholy person?” (p. 24)
# 4 “And before you judge, although you have probably already done so, go away and write down the four worst things that you have done to your partner, even if- especially if- your partner doesn't know about them. Don’t dress these things up, or try to explain them; just write them down, in a list, in the plainest language possible. Finished? Ok, so who’s arsehole now?” (p.93)
# 3 “When I saw Laura outside the shop I knew absolutely, without any question at all, that I wanted her again. But that probably because she's the one doing the rejecting.” (p.111)
# 2 “ ‘How come you hate women who have better jobs than you, Rob?’ She’s like this sometimes, Liz. She’s OK, but, you know, she’s one of those paranoid feminists who see evil in everything you say.” (p.193)
# 1 “Over the last couple of years, the photos of me when I was a kid, the ones that I never wanted old girlfriends to see…. well, they’ve started to give a little pang of something - not unhappiness, exactly, but some kind of quiet, deep regret. There’s one of me in a cowboy hat, pointing a gun at the camera, trying to look like a cowboy but failing, and i can hardly bring myself to look at it now… I keep wanting to apologize to the little guy: ‘I’m sorry, I’ve let you down. I was the person who was supposed to look after you, but I blew it: I made wrong decisions at bad times, and I turned you into me.” (p.205)
rejected
“ I want him to show the rest of us that it is possible to maintain a relationship and a large record collection simultaneously.” (p.159)
“ Tonight; it really doesn’t matter either way. Marie could one up to me as I was leaving and ask if I wanted to go for something to eat; or I could go home, and Laura would be sitting there, sipping tea and waiting nervously for absolution. Both of these daydreams sound equally attractive, and either would make me very happy.”(p.63)