The Imagined Life by Andrew Porter: ‘In the imagined life, so much is different’

Cover image for The Imagined Life by Andrew PorterI’d taken on too many titles for review when Andrew Porter’s The Imagined Life popped up on NetGalley but I couldn’t resist both its premise and that cover so jumped in. Porter’s novel sees a middle-aged man who’s been carrying the burden of his father’s disappearance since he was twelve years old, determined to get to the bottom of what happened to this vibrant, volatile man.

In the imagined life I have a strange and often challenging father, but I have a father.

Steven is still living a few miles away from the last family home he shared with his father. He remembers his parents’ poolside parties in the early ’80s, drinks and a few spliffs smoked, usually culminating in films projected onto the cabana house wall to an audience of friends and his father’s colleagues at the college where he taught. His father was a bright young lecturer, popular, with a promising future ahead of him, tenure almost in the bag. One evening, in the summer of 1983, one such party proved pivotal when Deryck Evanson, a young visiting academic turns up, charming many including Steven’s father. The evening ends in his father’s disgrace although twelve-year-old Steven can’t fathom why. The promise of tenure recedes as his father moves into the cabana house, ostensibly to finish his book, visited by Evanson, and increasingly manic. One day just before he disappears, his father takes Steven to the cinema to see an Antonioni movie, then to a party which ends badly for him. When his wife asks Steven for a temporary separation, he sets off to find out what happened to his father, visiting the men who once lounged around their family pool, entertained by their charismatic friend.

It felt good to be close to him. Years later, I’d freeze-frame this moment in time – this quiet moment before the curtain went up and the movie started, this strange little lull in what was otherwise a fairly chaotic day, the two of us sitting side by side in the dark theatre, elbows touching.

Opening with a lengthy flashback to the party that changed the family’s future irrevocably, Porter unfolds his story through Steven whose life has been overshadowed by loss and not knowing. His wife’s announcement that she can no longer bear his emotional distance has provoked a crisis in Steven who has always feared that he might be abandoned again. The twelve-year-old Steven puzzles over the denied tenure, embarrassed by his father’s increasingly dramatic behaviour, his only friend carrying his own burden of grief for his dying mother. As the adult Steven visits his father’s colleagues, friends and beloved brother, a picture emerges of a man whose illness overwhelmed him, who dearly loved his wife but fell in love with a man who fell in love with him and who was derailed by a college unable to accept him for what he was. Porter brings Steven’s two-day journey to a close with a revelation which is sad yet unsurprising. He’s an engaging narrator who drew me into this absorbing, compassionate novel about love, loss and a late understanding of how trauma can shape us. I’m glad I made time for it.

Europa Editions: London 99781787705906 288 pages Paperback (read via NetGalley)

16 thoughts on “The Imagined Life by Andrew Porter: ‘In the imagined life, so much is different’”

  1. I too had resolved not to add to the tottering TBR, but this sounds a thoughtful read. It’s not in our library yet, but reviews for his In Between Days are extremely positive too. Yet another Rather Good author. *sigh*

    1. You won’t regret it! I had a correspondence with Andrew as I was so struck with his portrayal of a character with MS which is rarely done well in fiction. He’s a thoroughly nice man.

    1. It’s very inviting, isn’t it. I do – there’s a minor character whose symptoms are relatively mild, similar to my own, which is a very unusual portrayal. It’s based on Porter’s brother, apparently. I was so struck by it I got in touch to thank him!

  2. I really like the cover too, but I’m not really sure why. Just the lighted backdrop, putting the character into a kind of relief, and the calming partial view of the pool, with all the implied privilege and comfort of that kind of life? Or does it recall other specific books I wonder? I can’t get this one easily, but his earlier one is within reach…

Leave a comment ...

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.