Making History - When 500+ Pages Is Not Enough

Making History represented my first foray into the world of Stephen Fry’s fictional witterings, and probably earned itself the slightly disappointing Sound-But-Unspectacular stamp.

Perhaps unavoidably, the novel suffers for the identification of its author, for I found it impossible to judge as a work in its own right. This was not helped by the fact that the lead character might just as well have been called Stephen Fry, as many of the asides, musings and scathing rants of the Cambridge graduate central character had more than just a tinge of the autobiographical about them.

Given this, it was disappointing that the prose itself was not really imbued with a genuine and heartfelt relish for the evocative capacity of language. While witty and intelligent, there was none of the Wodehouse-esque moulding of language that grabs one’s funny-bone and hammers at it relentlessly until it cracks under the strain of mirth. Instead, the 500+ pages glided by with a pleasing but perhaps over-simplistic ease.

Neither, curiously, were there any real sub-plots to speak of, but this did not matter greatly, for the subject itself was hugely entertaining and thought-provoking. The question of how history would have panned out had Hitler’s birth been prevented is explored in intelligent and enjoyable style. The theme is worthy of exploration, and is duly done justice. Fry does a grand old job of detailing the alternate history of mankind as a whole, amusingly juxtaposing it with the bewildering personal perplexities one would presumably encounter when suddenly dumped into a parallel reality. It’s an impressive feat, and one achieved with cheerful aplomb.

Some of the literary devices used seem a little contrived and unnecessary – the occasional mozey into the world of screenplays does not add a huge amount to the novel, and if anything is a rather lazy means of injecting pace. One would have thought that the author possessed greater literary tools and invention within his intellectual arsenal.

Nevertheless, this remains an enjoyable piece of mindless fluff. It’s a worthy exploration of an intriguing notion, and for that, thumbs are enthusiastically upturned at All Action No Plot Towers. It is just a nagging shame, that given the author’s ill-disguised identity, the narrative style was nowhere near as luscious as it might have been.