Despite a slightly patchy experience with Jonathan Coe’s novels over past few years, I couldn’t resist The Proof of My Innocence when it was pitched to me, particularly as I’d very much enjoyed Bournville, his last novel. There’s always a thread of state-of-the-nation running through his fiction, sometimes more overt than others. This one opens in early September 2022 as Phyl Maidstone, freshly graduated and back in the family home, contemplates what to do with her future, distracted by notifications about the newly elected Conservative Party leader, Liz Truss.
Although Wetherby Pond had the reputation of being pretty and unspoilt, he could not quite believe what he was seeing: it felt as though he had stumbled on a forgotten corner of England that evoked the set of the 1950s film more than it resembled contemporary reality.
Phyl’s not best pleased with news of a visit from her mother’s old university friend, dropping in on his way to the TrueCon conference, but finds herself impressed by his blog. Christopher is a long-term critic of the increasingly extreme antics of some members of the Conservative Party, even more right wing than those leading it. He and Joanna were at Cambridge along with Brian Collier, the three of them state-school educated and allies against the braying likes of Roger Wagstaff, now a TrueCon leading light, and his acolyte Rebecca Wood. News of Christopher’s death shakes the Maidstones who offer a refuge to Rashida, Christopher’s daughter with whom Phyl has already bonded over a particularly egregious example of mansplaining. As they become close, Rash encourages Phyl in her decision to write a novel. It’s through writing that Phyl tries to make sense of Chritopher’s sudden, violent death, first by adopting Britain’s favourite cosy crime genre, then exploring dark academia before turning her hand to autofiction. Throughout it all, the drama of Truss’s premiership plays out, survived by the lettuce livestreamed by a tabloid alongside her picture.
But it did seem odd that they were so angry, given that the party they’re all supposed to support has been in charge for the last twelve years.
Coe frames Phyl’s three attempts to write the story of Christopher’s death with a lengthy prologue setting the scene and a catch-up epilogue set in 2024. It’s a complicated structure which didn’t entirely work for me but the plotting is pleasingly intricate with some enjoyable lightbulb moments. Coe picks up familiar themes from his previous novels – entitlement, privilege, nostalgia – none of which have served the country well, particularly over the last decade and a half. No prizes for subtlety but then I wouldn’t expect that from Coe’s brand of slapstick political satire and there are some brilliantly comic moments. Fun is also poked at the literary world, in awe, as it often is, of a handful of names. Coe’s trademark filmic references run through the novel together with some clever wordplay, something I always relish, not least that title, although you’ll have to read it to find out why. Not my favourite Coe but enjoyably entertaining in a very British way. I wondered how I would have felt reading it if I’d woken up to different news on Friday 5th July.
Viking London 9780241678411 368 pages Hardback (read via NetGalley)
I too have on the whole enjoyed Coe’s novels, and it’s not so very long since I’d appreciatively read Bourneville. So your review, and others have easily persuaded me that I need to put The Proof of My Innocence on my TBR list. Your very last sentence brought me up short. As I know what sort of slant Coe will have put on the period he writes about …. yes indeed.
Odd thinking of that time, now, but its repercussions rumble on, don’t they. The structure of this one got in the way for me but I enjoyed it nevertheless.
I enjoyed this too—not quite as good as Bournville but certainly very good. The metafictional genre games were especially entertaining. My only difficulty was having to spend as much time as we did in the horrible company of horrible people, particularly in the Cambridge section, but that’s always easier when you’re clearly not *meant* to like those characters.
I’m not sure if I could have spent time with those people if things had gone the other way in July! Have you read The Rotters’ Club? If not, I’m sure you’d like it as you rated Bournville.
I have, but it was absolutely ages ago—I think I was 15?! I should read it again, it was wonderful.
It’s my favourite!
I’m quite intrigued by the structure here, though I see it didn’t work so well for you.
It felt a bit clunky for me, I’m afraid. I wasn’t entirely sure why he chose it.
I have never read Coe! Is this a good place to start?
I think The Rotters’ Club would be better, then Bournville if you enjoyed it. He’s definitely worth reading.
I have yet to read one of his books, but it will be your ongoing enthusiasm about his wriitng (mostly, anyway!) that finally gets me there!
Thank you! Either The Rotters’ Club or Bournville would be a good place to start if you do decide to try him.
I enjoy Coe although I have lost track of him a bit. This sounds enjoyable although the structure sounds a wee bit cumbersome.
It’s a tad clunky but I enjoyed the satire safe in the knowledge that the grown ups were back in charge!