Island Fling, by Ian Skidmore
I’ve had a cold this weekend, which usually does not bode well for the books i’m reading. Like most people I suppose, my ability to suffer fools gladly diminishes when my sinuses feel like they need a pipe cleaner taken to them. This in turn affects my reading. I’m no longer letting points of stupidity slip past for the sake of the narrative. ‘High Fidelity’ by Nick Hornby suffered from this. Frankly, while i’ve got a head like a watermelon i’m in no fit state to hear anyone whine about their failed relationships. If I want to hear about someone who has fucked up every decent relationship they ever had then I can just talk to myself.
Anyway, given this state of affairs I was very surprised indeed to find that I really liked reading ‘Island Fling’. I couldn’t put it down. Normally when I read a book that I enjoy i’ll enjoy it on an intellectual level: i’ll appreciate the style or the language. ‘Island Fling’ on the other hand, hit me at a visceral level: I just plain enjoyed it. And who wouldn’t, when people get described in this manner: ”he was a youngish man, thin, with an air of latent tennis about him”.
In brief terms, the book follows the small Welsh island of Tad after they get fed up with the English beauracracy and decide to secede from Great Britain as a protest. It’s set in 1985, the British government are rather ineffectual and the whole plan snowballs as the locals begin to realise that it might just succeed.
The book feels like an episode of ‘Hamish Macbeth’ or ‘Ballykissangel’ or even ‘Monarch of the Glen’. It’s a lighthearted English novel about ordinary people, but there’s a touch of Pratchett in there as well.
Highly recommended. 5 stars.
