Synopsis:
The book is a semi-fictional account of life as a student in the 1980s and as a lecturer in the 1990’s and 2000’s. It attempts to deal with themes of the loss of youth, the camaraderie of long-lost friends, and the erosion of standards in Higher Education; but in a humorous style.
The book alternates between two time periods, October 1985 and September 2006. The main character in the book is Mark O’ Connor. In 1985 he is a first-year student arriving at Rossmere University, (based on Keele University) and in 2006 he is a lecturer in English at West Mercia University, a new institution in a fictional midlands city.
We follow the first term at West Mercia in the present day, but cut back to the whole year of 1985-1986. In the former Mark is having to deal with lectures, students, faculty meetings, the Research Assessment Exercise and a forthcoming conference. But the past haunts him, and especially an ill-fated relationship he had when a student at Rossmere.
In the past, we see Mark in his first week of term and follow him through the whole year, along with his friends Steve and Pete. In particular we see Mark's relationship with Laura developing, which is to become the focal point of the book, both then and now.
Sample
October 1985
Mark dropped the note back into the drawer with a sense of disappointment. He looked around at his room for any more information but none was to be found. On the middle of the carpet loomed a large cardboard monolith, two of the boxes creaking at the corners where they had been knocked whilst putting them into the boot of the car this morning. He sat down on the chair in the corner and thought.
The first thing he realised was that he was alone and had absolutely no idea what he was meant to do next. He supposed that he must have felt this way when he started Primary School, and Secondary School, but as he couldn’t remember back that far, it wasn’t much of a consolation; and anyway, there was always some teacher nearby telling them what to do and herding them this way and that. This morning he had waved good-bye to his mother, and in doing so he now understood he had waved good-bye to his childhood. Last night it had seemed like an adventure, a new chapter in his life, and sleep had only caught up on him as dawn was beginning to break. He had always thought of University as a chance to explore everything he was interested in, a chance to make new friends, a three-year party. Now, looking around at the breeze-block walls he desperately wished he was back in his parents house in London, with all the surrounding comforts that had cushioned his life up to now.
About half a mile across campus, Laura, as she walked across the Union piazza, was feeling exactly the same though she was still cocooned safely by the contact of her parents who flanked her. Indeed, all around the small residential blocks of the hall that nestled in between hexagonal concrete slabs and small patches of grass, bewildered students were sitting on the edge of their beds surrounded by boxes, wondering what on earth they were meant to do. But Mark was unaware of any of this, and for at least six more hours, was unaware that Laura even existed.
The journey up the motorway had been truly dreadful. His dad had been quiet most of the time apart from whistling Dean Martin songs, leaving Mark to contemplate his future all the more. Every mile that passed by seemed like another part wrenched from his soul; his life and security tumbling away behind him. Eventually the countryside actually became countryside, as the terraced houses of the London suburbs dropped away and then the names of threatening Northern towns and cities began to appear on the blue motorway signs. The numbers signifying the distance to these cities gradually became less and less. Of course he’d done the journey before on the train when he’d gone up for the interview, but that had been a day out, a brief excursion into the unknown, but always with the comfort that in a few hours he’d be back home. Yet this time, as the car had ploughed on and on and the county borders were crossed, he realised there was no coming back.
When they finally pulled into the University, it seemed as if they had arrived at the biggest jumble sale in the world. Vehicles were parked in every available space and embarrassed youths led proud and worried parents along pathways as they struggled beneath suitcases and boxes. This was it, he thought, this was to be his home for the next three years. His life was to be made or lost in amongst all these buildings, and suddenly the first pangs of loneliness began to creep in. Added to this were mounting feelings of uncertainty. Was he good enough to be here? Sure he had the A-levels, two Bs and a C which was pretty good. He had passed the interview, and his teachers had said repeatedly that he was University standard; but now that he was here it all seemed slightly less clear-cut. Everyone, he could immediately sense, was much more intelligent than he was. It was oozing out of their pores.
His father had managed to find a parking space and they headed for a central building which the map indicated as the Student Union. Inside, a large desk covered in a large green tablecloth separated them from an equally large woman.
“Hello,” she grinned for the two-hundredth time that morning. “Are you looking for your room key?”
“Yes,” muttered Mark, producing the rather crumpled letter from his jacket he had received two weeks ago. He looked around to see his father staring up at a large notice-board with the banner University Societies pinned above it. He was looking intently at several of the posters shaking his head in a slow deliberate manner.
“Ah yes, here we are, College Hall, L-Block, Room 11,” she stated as she crossed a large blue line through something totally illegible on a pad of perforated computer printout. She then proceeded to flick through a card shoe-box and pulled out a brown envelope. His name was written on it but he noticed that the surname had been spelt incorrectly.
“John!” Mark looked up from the envelope to see that the woman was yelling over towards a small group of youths standing by a nearby pinball machine. “John! Take this one over to College Hall will you?”
Mark’s father joined them, still clearly in a mild state of disbelief. His face became a picture of defeat as a painfully thin youth approached in answer to the woman’s call.
“Follow me,” mumbled John with acute apathy. “Have you got a car by the way?”
“No. We walked from London,” replied Mark’s father.
“Uh,” muttered John, the sarcasm missing the mark somewhat, but the message still managing to hit home. “Best drive there then.”
The journey to the Hall proved to be an entertaining, though unplanned, tour of campus. John was clearly struggling with the road system and usually preceded each direction with a “Hang on a minute,” and followed each one by a “No, I don’t think it’s this way”. After ten minutes of this Mark’s father finally cracked, muttered that he hoped John was not studying geography, and snatched the map off the dashboard.
That was about two hours ago. After they’d found College Hall, discovered that the key in the envelope was the wrong one, waited for their guide to reappear with the correct key, and unloaded the car, Mark’s father had finally had enough and said his good-byes. Lunch was offered but for some reason Mark just wanted to be alone and the first signs of embarrassment and fear as to what his father might do next, were already beginning to tickle the back of his mind. The pair hugged each other, making sure to keep a respectable gap between them as only men can, and a rolled up twenty-pound note was tucked into Mark’s top pocket.
“I'll ring you tonight, honest.” was all he could think to say although as yet he had no idea if there was a telephone nearby. His father dutifully replied, “Good, your mother will like that,” and then left. Alone.
Mark looked out the window across the sandstone buildings to the fields beyond. Families and guides were still busying themselves back and forth, as what seemed like the biggest logistics exercise since D-day maintained its momentum. Mark felt that at any moment the system could collapse and the campus would be full of bewildered families, wielding useless keys, and pursuing John and his friends. He suspected that if it was to happen though, John would be sensible enough to be well out of the area and the woman behind her desk really would have her work cut out. What Mark didn’t know was that it was the same every year, and after the beginning of each term the Administrative staff of every University shook their heads in amazement wondering how the hell they had managed to make it work again.
He looked around and discovered that he could see into a few other rooms in his block. Most of them were still empty but one, just down to his left, contained a kindred spirit. Standing in the middle of the room was another student, surrounded by boxes, scratching his head. The sight of him seemed to fill Mark with a wave of new confidence. Perhaps he wasn’t so alone after all...
