Jeremy Cooper, Brian

 

- This is a delightful story of a sad, lonely, middle-aged man who gets hooked on movies. He sees a movie every night at the British Film Institute. His favourite movies are Japanese, but as the years progress he becomes an expert on quality films, their directors, producers and actors. He joins a small group of film buffs who talk each night about the movies they've seen, and becomes friendly with Jack, another isolated man living alone. Jack is fascinated by musical scores.  

- Northern Irish by birth, Brian has lived and worked in London all his adult life, and has always been estranged from his family. His father died when Brian was a baby and his mother abandoned him. He's never been in an intimate relationship, and has never had sex. He works as a clerk at the local council, and doesn't like any of his co-workers, and they return the favour. Apart from his boss who sees him as a dedicated worker.  

- He goes to a local Italian restaurant each day for lunch and always has the pasta special. Lorenzo, the owner, and his wife and family treasure him as a customer and he is attracted to them. 

- One thing I really loved about this novel is the dozens of familiar movies that are dissected by Brian and the buffs each night. I've seen most of them over the years and agreed with most of their insights. French, Italian and German directors, as well as Japanese, are a prime focus. 

- And there's this: The buffs...were driven to neurotic distraction by the mid-film munch of a Mars Bar or, worst of all, the maddening crinkle-crunch of a packet of crisps. My pet peeve too!

- Jeremy Cooper has written a wonderful book. It's only 180 pages long but it's packed with insight and beautifully written. 

- I must end with this:

The principle of good behaviour had always mattered to Brian. Certain conduct he condemned as bad manners, thoughtless. Like being any more than a minute or two late for an appointment. Brian incessantly worried about failing to arrive on time, for anything, anywhere, and for safety's sake wore a watch on either wrist in case one went wrong - though the benefit, he admitted, was marginal as he had no means of knowing, if they differed, which of them was accurate. One of the few things which made him demonstrably angry was a latecomer to the cinema pushing by and blocking his view of crucial early shots of a movie. He had been known to refuse to get to his feet to let people pass and had twice written to the Chief Executive of the BFI to plead for the cinema's doors to be barred from entry once a film was in progress.