"There's a voice in my head
that narrates. It's like another person who watches me all the time.
Do you hear that voice?"
Will anyone understand what Shona is
asking? The reader does. We have been privy to that voice since the
fifth page of this astonishing début novel by writer and artist Katy
Jones. But what about Shona's boyfriend, Callum, a young man who
believes in retail therapy as the answer to all women's woes? What of
the sensitive Chris, who idolises the beautiful Shona? As far as they
are concerned, Shona is sick and she needs a doctor, but Frances
Freak, forever cowering in the corner of the room in her cardigan,
believes otherwise. She is not the only one, as later becomes apparent
in this intriguing tale.
At a comfortable 227 pages, there is
plenty of time to get to know the characters; to cringe for Becca when
she follows bad advice regarding her potential new boyfriend; to feel
for Chris who becomes horribly tongue-tied whenever he’s in
Shona’s company, yet is still inexplicably round at her flat all the
time (the reason for this was one of the many joys of the novel for
me). There’s plenty of time to wonder when the 'Freak' of the title
is going to appear, only to realise that she's been there all along. I
jumped as much as the characters each time Frances Freak unexpectedly
spoke. She manages to dominate the book although she hardly ever opens
her mouth.
The novel is written entirely in the
present tense, which lends it an immediacy, and enables the reader to
feel very much part of the characters’ lives and be inside their
conversations – even inside Shona’s head as she ‘hears’ the
narrator. It’s a rare author who can make the present tense work
throughout an entire novel, but Katy Jones manages admirably.
Women, clothes, boyfriends, dating –
that’s normally the recipe for chick-lit, which this book most
certainly isn’t. On the other hand, neither is it a serious feminist
diatribe on gender politics, although the subject is inevitably
implicit in the writing. ‘The Freak and the Idol’, with its cast
of believable, modern characters who inhabit an entirely familiar
world of make-up and magazines, lies somewhere between the two genres,
and as such is both seriously thought provoking, and an entertaining
read. It refuses shallow definitions in the same way that Shona
refuses to be straight-jacketed as an airhead bimbo, ultimately saying
‘no’ to the society her vapid self-help books advocate.
So is Shona’s maddening internal
voice believable? I could certainly understand and sympathise when it
causes her to set fire to her room. We are always being exhorted by
the media to do the impossible; to be who we are not; to cake
ourselves in make-up and fake tans; to disguise our age with heavy
duty moisturisers and hair dyes; to wear clothes that change the shape
of our bodies. But why? To make us feel good, we’re told. In ‘The
Freak and the Idol’, Katy Jones makes us realise that Shona’s
voice is telling her that she’s been all too successful in
disguising her real self. The men around her see exactly what the
advertising companies want them to see; a beautiful, alluring, sex
object. What they’re not seeing, is the person under the skin; the
person with a voice and opinions which nobody hears.
Katy Jones enables us to hear Shona’s
voices, both the internal and external. We feel her frustrations,
understand her furious outbursts, cheer for her triumphs. Above all,
we recognise her within ourselves. I can heartily recommend this book
for any woman who has ever watched a TV add telling her she’s worth
it, and wondered why she’s only worth a pot of moisturiser; and for
any man who’s ever been bemused by the length of time it takes a
woman to put on her ‘face’. Shona’s voices, through the pen of
Katy Jones, have the answers.
Catherine Edmunds 23rd October 2006