This is a funny novel about three fence-builders in rural Scotland.
Tam, Ritchie and the unnamed narrator work for a small fence-construction company, run by the tyrannical Donald. As “Gang No. 3” their fates are inextricably linked – they work, they drink, they work again. Tam and Ritchie are Scottish – both dour, monosyllabic heavy-metal enthusiasts. Early on we are informed they look like Vikings. The narrator is English, from the off an outsider, and at the start of the novel is made foreman of the crew. We follow them at their work in the vicinity, before getting sent to England on a special fencing project. Here they drink, work and drink again – all the while living on site in a squalid company caravan. They somehow manage to kill three people. On this assignment the work-drink cycle goes to extremes – each payday merely clears the debt they have accumulated at that point on drink. The English town is inhospitable, and everywhere they are aware of the sinister presence of the mysterious Hall Brothers – fencers, butchers and local heroes.
The style is deadpan. The comedy derives from the repetition of ridiculous acts and tics. Tam and Ritchie abound with idiosyncrasies. Tam always screws on the lid of his empty Irn-Bru bottle before throwing it out the window. Ritchie keeps his cigarettes in his shirt pocket, but his lighter in the back of his too-tight-jeans, requiring contortions and squirming to liberate it. Both are comically lethargic, sullen and unmotivated. The squalor in the caravan is horrific and hilarious – all three are painfully unprepared for working in the rain. The work is tedious and monotonous and the three have their spirits slowly ground down by it. It is, along with Flann O’Brien and Catch-22, among the funniest novels I have ever read.
However, and I may be the only person ever to subject the novel to this level of scrutiny, I believe the novel is deeper than the mere farce that it appears on the surface. Like “The Wizard of Oz”, I believe this book is actually an allegory of economics and, in particular, capitalism and Marxism.
Here we have the stark contrast between those with “Capital” (Donald, the Hall Brothers) and those that, lacking Capital, are the “Labour” (Tam, Ritchie, the narrator). The lot of the Labour is to work their lives away in tedious work for the owners of the Capital – their wages merely cover the debts of their vices (the booze). It is a life of circularity – work, drink, work. Never have the Labour any chance to break from this vicious circle. The owners of the Capital put the Labour to work, to further their ownership of the Capital. It is not an accidental metaphor that the niche of Labour in which the three unfortunates ply their trade is the building of high tensile fences. They are constructing their own cage – they are told it is for “the restraint of beasts” that they are to build, and it is no lie. Even the narrator, getting a promotion to foreman, is really no better than the lowest rung. The whole life is a farce, there is no real power in this world, except for the owners of the Capital. The novel is a description of the Author’s view of how the world works. It is not so much a call to arms to change the system, but an honest appraisal. It offers no solutions to the unfairness of this system, but a cynic would certainly draw from it the suggestion that one should make every effort to be an owner of Capital, than a labouring drone. It is in a sense a nihilistic message. The portrayals of the Labour are affectionate, but there is no hope for them in this system. It is a Beckettian view of the world – hopelessness laced with humour.
I could be reading too much into it, but having read the rest of Magnus Mills’ novels, I believe that I am correct. His other notable novel is “All Quiet on the Orient Express” and the themes and metaphors are so similar that it is hard to believe that the author does not have a grand design and message. In this novel, the (again) unnamed narrator goes to a Cumbrian campsite for a week’s holidays. He does some oddjobs for the campsite owner and, by a bizarre serious of events, ends up practically indentured as the campsite owner’s serf. The narrator has his dreams, but they recede by the work-day. This novel is as grim and humorous as “The Restraint of Beasts”, but it is the lesser novel. In some ways it is more successful at conveying the Author’s pessimistic take on the human condition – the conclusions are more obvious – but is suffers in the comedy compartment, as it lacks the comedic interplay between the opposite characters of Tam, Richie and the narrator.
I really enjoyed this novel and have been back to it many times, for entertainment and education both.
