Born On Third: Dipping Into Nick Hornby's About A Boy

I flippin' love Nick Hornby. 

As I'm working on this new manuscript, I'm looking at some of my favorite novels for tone. And I realized looking at About A Boy what I also realized reading Amy's novel: first person doesn't have a monopoly on the casual, the personal, the idiosyncratic, the interestingly voiced: 

Will had never wanted to fall in love. When it had happened to friends, it had always struck him as a particularly unpleasant-seeming experience, what with all the loss of sleep and weight, and the unhappiness when it was unreciprocated, and the suspect, dippy happiness when it was working out. These were people who could not control themselves, or protect themselves, people who, if only temporarily, were no longer content to occupy their own space, people who could no longer rely on a new jacket, a bag of grass, and an afternoon rerun of the Rockford Files to make them complete.
 
I know this is Intro to Creative Writing, Special Really Stupid People Edition, but bear with me.

Comments

[Carolyn Jean]

I love Hornby too. And I forgot this was even third person, his stuff always feels first person.

I wonder, if, reading it now, all the Nirvana stuff dates it, or if it makes it feel more classic. At the time, I thought, this guy just loves Nirvana a little too much.

[K]

I just realized, after reading some parts of that book MULTIPLE times, that Nirvana might be an ironic pun: this guy is so shallow, he confuses spiritual enlightenment with a band from Seattle.

[Carolyn Jean]

Oh, THAT would be really clever. Okay, might be a pun. So you're not sure? Let me know if you find out. I'm sort of interested.