Product Description

In his eagerly awaited fourth novel, New York Times-bestselling author Nick Hornby mines the hearts and psyches of four lost souls who connect just when they've reached the end of the line.

Meet Martin, JJ, Jess, and Maureen. Four people who come together on New Year's Eve: a former TV talk show host, a musician, a teenage girl, and a mother. Three are British, one is American. They encounter one another on the roof of Topper's House, a London destination famous as the last stop for those ready to end their lives.

In four distinct and riveting first-person voices, Nick Hornby tells a story of four individuals confronting the limits of choice, circumstance, and their own mortality. This is a tale of connections made and missed, punishing regrets, and the grace of second chances.

Intense, hilarious, provocative, and moving, A Long Way Down is a novel about suicide that is, surprisingly, full of life.

What's your jumping-off point?

Maureen
Why is it the biggest sin of all? All your life you're told that you'll be going to this marvelous place when you pass on. And the one thing you can do to get you there a bit quicker is something that stops you getting there at all. Oh, I can see that it's a kind of queue-jumping. But if someone jumps the queue at the post office, people tut. Or sometimes they say "Excuse me, I was here first." They don't say "You will be consumed by hellfire for all eternity." That would be a bit strong.

Martin
I'd spent the previous couple of months looking up suicides on the Internet, just out of curiosity. And nearly every single time, the coroner says the same thing: "He took his own life while the balance of his mind was disturbed." And then you read the story about the poor bastard: His wife was sleeping with his best friend, he'd lost his job, his daughter had been killed in a road accident some months before . . . Hello, Mr. Coroner? I'm sorry, but there's no disturbed mental balance here, my friend. I'd say he got it just right.

Jess
I was at a party downstairs. It was a shit party, full of all these ancient crusties sitting on the floor drinking cider and smoking huge spliffs and listening to weirdo space-out reggae. At midnight, one of them clapped sarcastically, and a couple of others laughed, and that was it-Happy New Year to you, too. You could have turned up to that party as the happiest person in London, and you'd still have wanted to jump off the roof by five past twelve. And I wasn't the happiest person in London anyway. Obviously.

JJ
New Year's Eve was a night for sentimental losers. It was my own stupid fault. Of course there'd be a low-rent crowd up there. I should have picked a classier date-like March 28, when Virginia Woolf took her walk into the river, or November 25 (Nick Drake). If anybody had been on the roof on either of those nights, the chances are they would have been like-minded souls, rather than hopeless f*ck-ups who had somehow persuaded themselves that the end of a calendar year is in any way significant.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #173065 in Books
• Published on: 2005-06-07
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Hardcover
• 352 pages

From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. If Camus had written a grown-up version of The Breakfast Club, the result might have had more than a little in common with Hornby's grimly comic, oddly moving fourth novel. The story opens in London on New Year's Eve, when four desperate people—Martin, a publicly disgraced TV personality; Maureen, a middle-aged woman with no life beyond caring for her severely disabled adult son; Jess [...]; and JJ, an American rocker whose music career has just ended with a whimper—meet on the roof of a building known as Toppers' House, where they have all come to commit suicide. Bonded by their shared misery, the unlikely quartet spends the night together, telling their stories, getting on each others' nerves even as they save each others' lives. They part the following morning, aware of having formed a peculiar sort of gang. As Jess reflects: "When you're sad—like, really sad, Toppers' House sad—you only want to be with other people who are sad."It's a bold setup, perilously high-concept, but Hornby pulls it off with understated ease. What follows is predictable in the broadest sense—as the motley crew of misfits coalesces into a kind of surrogate family, each individual takes a halting first step toward creating a tolerable future—but rarely in its particulars. Allowing the four main characters to narrate in round-robin fashion, Hornby alternates deftly executed comic episodes—an absurd brush with tabloid fame, an ill-conceived group vacation in the Canary Islands, a book group focused on writers who have committed suicide, a disastrous attempt to save Martin's marriage—with interludes of quiet reflection, some of which are startlingly insightful. Here, for example, is JJ, talking about the burden of understanding that he no longer wants to kill himself: "In a way, it makes things worse, not better.... Telling yourself life is shit is like an anesthetic, and when you stop taking the Advil, then you really can tell how much it hurts, and where, and it's not like that kind of pain does anyone a whole lot of good."While the reader comes to know all four characters well by the end of the novel, it's Maureen who stands out. A prim, old-fashioned Catholic woman who objects to foul language, Maureen is, on the surface, the least Hornbyesque of characters. Unacquainted with pop culture, she has done nothing throughout her entire adult life except care for a child who doesn't even know she's there and attend mass. As she says, "You know that things aren't going well for you when you can't even tell people the simplest fact about your life, just because they'll presume you're asking them to feel sorry for you." Hornby takes a Dickensian risk in creating a character as saintly and pathetic as Maureen, but it pays off. In her own quiet way, she's an unforgettable figure, the moral and emotional center of the novel. This is a brave and absorbing book. It's a thrill to watch a writer as talented as Hornby take on the grimmest of subjects without flinching, and somehow make it funny and surprising at the same time. And if the characters occasionally seem a little more eloquent or self-aware than they have a right to be, or if the novel turns just the tiniest bit sentimental at the end, all you can really fault Hornby for is an act of excessive generosity, an authorial embrace bestowed upon some characters who are sorely in need of a hug.175,000 first printing.(June)Tom Perrotta's most recent novel, Little Children, has just been published in paperback by St. Martin's Griffin.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From School Library Journal
Adult/High School–Four different people find themselves on the same roof on New Year's Eve, but they have one thing in common–they're all there to jump to their deaths. A scandal-plagued talk-show host, a single mom of a disabled young man, a troubled teen, and an aging American musician soon unite in a common cause, to find out why Jess (the teen) can't get her ex-boyfriend to return her calls. Down the stairs they go, and thoughts of suicide gradually subside. It all sounds so high concept, but each strand of the plot draws readers into Hornby's web. The novel is so simply written that its depths don't come to full view until well into the reading. Each character takes a turn telling the story in a distinctive voice. Tough questions are asked–why do you want to kill yourself, and why didn't you do it? Are adults any smarter than adolescents? What defines friends and family? Characters are alternately sympathetic and utterly despicable, talk-show-host Martin, particularly. The narrators are occasionally unreliable, with the truth coming from the observers instead. Obviously, a book about suicide is a dark read, but this one is darkly humorous–as Hornby usually is. Teens will identify with or loathe Jess and musician J. J., but they will also find themselves in the shoes of Maureen and Martin. This somewhat philosophical work will appeal to Hornby's fans but has plenty to attract new audiences as well.–Jamie Watson, Harford County Public Library, MD
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From The Washington Post
At first glance, A Long Way Down represents a considerable departure for Nick Hornby. His books typically revolve around narcissistic men in their thirties, obsessed with sports, music or casual sex, who are disabused of their illusions by patient, intelligent women; his recurrent theme is the movement from adolescence to maturity, from egotism to community. In today's solipsistic age, the stalking ground of that most unlovable of modern phenomena, the "kidult," this is a useful theme to have, and his books, funny and gently wise, have enjoyed great success.

Lately, though, his desire to take on the big questions -- Why are we here? Why should we stick around? -- has led him away from romantic comedy into darker terrain. A Long Way Down opens on the rooftop of a London building on New Year's Eve, where its four narrators -- Martin, a disgraced TV chat show host; JJ, a failed rock musician; Jess, a mercurial teenager; and Maureen, a middle-aged woman with a profoundly disabled son -- meet accidentally just as they are about to kill themselves. Largely out of embarrassment, they abandon their plans and, in the weeks that follow, help one another ride out their depression and come to terms with their lives.

Hornby is a writer of great feeling and warmth, and it is heartening to see him address mortality, the treatment of which, as Thomas Pynchon reminds us, is the ultimate arbiter of what we call "seriousness" in literature. However, it has to be said that he does so here with mixed results. Some, though not all, of the problem is with the dizzyingly high-concept premise. Four misfits meeting as they're about to jump off a rooftop -- it makes a great movie pitch and, in a good director's hands, with emotive close-ups and the right soundtrack (a couple of suggestions for which are included here, interestingly), could well work on the big screen. But in book form, it simply fails to convince. The first 50 pages are crippled by implausibility. "Don't do it, Nick!" you want to cry; but he does.

When his quartet comes down from the roof, Hornby seems on surer ground. There is an excellent scene at an art-school party, where Jess's mendacious boyfriend is cornered. (Actually, he's punched by Maureen and kicked, a few pages later, by Jess: This is a direct swipe from the movies, women beating up men being Hollywood shorthand for catharsis.) However, after that, Hornby appears at a loss for what to do with them. They agree to postpone their existential decision till Valentine's Day, then again till the end of March. Although the dialogue is consistently funny, there's a nagging sense that the characters are merely killing time (instead of themselves) -- which may well be how many of us live our lives but doesn't give the novel much in the way of momentum.

Hornby never seems quite at his ease with his subject. Having raised the issues of depression and suicide, he then devotes much of the book to backing away from them, attempting to retreat to the arenas of social comedy where he feels secure. This is a shame because he is capable of great empathy: "A man who wants to die feels angry and full of life and desperate and bored and exhausted, all at the same time," JJ the disillusioned guitarist tells us. "He wants to fight everyone, and he wants to curl up in a ball and hide in a cupboard somewhere. He wants to say sorry to everyone, and he wants everyone to know just how badly they've all let him down." But the only real moment of darkness that is allowed to enter the narrative comes from a taxi driver from an unnamed African country whose family has been slaughtered; the narrators feel guilty, give him a "very large tip," and he passes on into the night.

Although it pulls its punches, A Long Way Down is high on charm and frequently hilarious. Maureen left me cold -- Hornby plays her situation for all the pathos it's worth, to the point where it comes to seem relentless -- but the other characters are sympathetically drawn, and in Jess he perfectly captures the teenage cocktail of antisocial horribleness and quixotic idealism. Any time the plot is on the verge of sentimentality, she is on hand with an acidic quote: shamelessly grilling Maureen about her sole sexual experience or asking whether she'd like the others to kill her disabled son for her: "It's not like he's got much to live for, is it? If he could speak, he'd probably thank me for it, poor sod." In fact, Jess leads most of the action, with the other three plodding after her; and although Martin grumbles (after another of Jess's bonding exercises has gone awry), "That's the thing with the young these days . . . they watch too many happy endings," you realize that that, after all, is what you're going to get.

Perhaps it's telling that Hornby's foray into adult themes should end up dominated by a teenager addicted to movies; but although overall the novel feels like a missed opportunity, it misses with such bonhomie and good-heartedness that you're tempted to forgive the book its flaws, and even muster a cheer for the happy ending.

Reviewed by Paul Murray
Copyright 2005, The Washington Post Co. All Rights Reserved.

Customer Reviews

Not a Downer at All
I enjoyed Hornby's inventive approach to this seemingly dark topic, suicide. I expected a somber read, but found myself laughing out loud several times. He doesn't take the questions of Life and Death too lightly, nor does he take them too seriously. He finds the perfect mix of melancholia, humor, depression, and excitement.

Hornby writes the book in first person, but the point of view is passed around between the four main characters. My main concern when I discovered this format was that I was going to be re-living events through the four characters eyes, constantly back-tracking in time to get all points of view. Fortunately, Hornby avoids this pitfall by never having the story fold back on itself. This preserves the forward motion of the story. The reader is left with the impression that four very different people have written their personal memoirs and an editor deftly pieced them together to create a moving story. We've all read books where a young girl is speaking and you just can't get it out of your head that a middle-aged man is writing how he imagines a young girl would speak. Hornby doesn't have that problem. He writes from the point of view of different ages, sexes, and nationalities. You don't feel the heavy hand of the author weighing down their words. So in the end, Hornby's fiction feels like non-fiction.

While Hornby creates and develops his convincing characters, he includes insightful commentary on current London (and global) culture, such as the "Starbuck-ing" of the world, tabloid culture, and our obsession with celebrity. He doesn't necessarily condemn these things, he just starts conversations about them, or rather his characters do. Hornby takes some highly unlikeable people and fleshes them out so the reader cares what they think, and most importantly cares if they live or die.

I didn't really enjoy Hornby's last book, "How to be Good." I agree with several Amazon reviewers of HTBG who wrote something like, "That was an interesting premise and a fun ride, but what was the point?" I felt like I had wasted a few days of reading. "A Long Way Down" begins in a manner similar to "How to be Good," an intriguing but highly implausible exposition that shows great promise. While reading I was saying to myself, "Don't burn me again Hornby! Don't take me on this wild journey for no apparent reason!" Fortunately, "A Long Way Down" has a point. Not one I can sum up in a few sentences, but a point nonetheless.

There's no way to discuss the plot without ruining the book for you. Just order the book and enjoy a brilliant summer read.

Four Sorrowful Stories; One Hilarious Novel
When I read this was a very funny book about four people who try to commit suicide, I was intrigued. I had never read a book by Nick Hornby, but couldn't imagine how such a serious subject could be treated lightly and still be in good taste. Amazingly, Hornby seems to pull this feat off exceedingly well for even though you are saddened by their situations, the laugh-out-loud moments are many and the emotional delving that is done with intelligence and wit make this a rewarding read.

The four protagonists are: Martin, a tv talk-show host whose antics invite public humiliation; Maureen, an older woman and mother of a son who is more vegetable than human; Jess, a young girl who redefines the term deranged personality; and JJ, an American rock star wannabe dropped by both his band and his girl. When these four lost souls meet at the top of a London tower on New Year's Eve, a most unlikely bonding occurs.

Hornby explores the reasons people are brought to the brink of suicide, the reasons some jump and some don't, and most importantly, what it is that makes unhappy people keep on plugging away at finding a better life.

The writer does an excellent job of giving each of the protagonists a unique voice. While the story is told in rotation by each of the four, the reader is never confused as to the person narrating, and that is a remarkable accomplishment, especially since he writes in first person as old, young, male, and female.

Both grim and humorous, and liberally laced with pop culture references, this is a book you'll want to think about long after the last page is read.

Fantastic - what else can I say?
I'd read the review for this months ago in Kirkus, and my first thought was, "How is Hornby going to pull off a book around such an odd topic?" Well, I should have known better than to worry, as Hornby pulls it off with humor and great flair.

As you probably already know, the plot involves 4 people who meet while preparing to jump to their deaths from a famous suicide spot. Instead of doing so, they band together to form one of the strangest support group/families you'll ever read about.

I think many who read this one will feel bad about laughing out loud at certain passages, given the darkness of the subject. However, the ability to make us do that, to be able to laugh at topics like death and suicide, is what makes Hornby a great writer. Even in deadly serious situations, he's able to inject his wit and make us take things just a little bit lighter.

I've been waiting for this one, and it was well worth the wait. Not only do I feel like my expectations and anxieties were met, but that they were easily surpassed. I can't recommend this one highly enough. With all the poor fiction that gets released every week, it's such a great feeling when a gem like this one comes along.