‘Look, I’m not saying your plenty is impossible,’ jabbed the man on the floor. ‘Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. How would I know. Pure maths, me, every time. None of your murky compromises. No, what I’m saying is that plenty is an intrinsically vulgar idea. It is, in itself, a stupid response to human needs. “Oh look, there’s someone unhappy. Let’s overwhelm him!” Real human needs are always specific. No one ever feels a generic hunger or a generic loneliness, and no one ever requires a generic solution to those things. Your plenty is like a bucket of plaster of Paris you want to pour over people’s heads. It’s a way of not paying human attention to them.’
from Red Plenty by Francis Spufford
* * *
This book is history, fiction, intertwined narratives, tableaux of 1960s USSR. Spufford’s prose and his ambition should be admired. But, like many an editor, I have a hunch that Red Plenty is “not for me.”
Look for a full review later this week.
Red Plenty by Francis Spufford
Graywolf Press, February 2012
ISBN: 9781555976040. 448 pgs.
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