Number 11 by Jonathan Coe Review

I was about fifty pages into this book before I realised it was an unexpected sequel to What a Carve Up!, Jonathan Coe’s acclaimed 1994 novel satirising the Thatcher years in Britain, which was surprising as I always assumed that book was a standalone. Having read What a Carve Up!, I can tell you that you needn’t have read it before picking up Number 11 and even Coe himself seems to be subtly describing this book as:

“Sequels which are not really sequels. Sequels where the relationship to the original is oblique, slippery.” p.152.

Which is accurate! The quote above is in reference to What a Whopper!, a real 1962 Sid James film that loosely connected to the real 1961 Sid James film What a Carve Up! I’ll try to keep the exclamation marks to a minimum here on out but - I also really liked Number 11!

There isn’t much of a plot. It’s basically an overview of 21st century Britain. Rachel, a young Oxford graduate who can’t find work, becomes the private tutor to the children of an obscenely wealthy banker. Her friend Alison becomes the victim of one of the few surviving Winshaw family members, Josephine Winshaw-Eaves, whose online right-wing column lands her in jail. Alison’s mum Val, a one-hit wonder, tries to rejuvenate her singing career with a stint on a “reality” show akin to “I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here”. Rachel’s former teacher Laura is studying the Loch Ness Monster for an academic thesis; an intellectual copper called PC Nathan Pilbeam is investigating a series of murders involving comedians; and something terrible has been awakened deep underneath London…

The title pops up throughout. There’s a Number 11 bus, a Number 11 table, the massive basement being dug by Rachel’s rich employers is 11 storeys deep, and the official residence of the Chancellor of the Exchequer is Number 11 Downing Street, and the story is heavily focused on finance and the economy. You could, if you squint, even see it as the Roman numeral for “2” as in the second book in the Winshaw series. Number 11 could be a reference for any, or all, of the above.

Coe’s previous novel slightly informs the structure of this novel. It too is a satire aimed at conservative politics, the targets are either Winshaws or connected to the family in some way, there’s another chap obsessed with a movie (this time it’s Laura’s husband Tim searching for a short pre-war German film called The Crystal Garden), and there are references to another Sid James movie.

Some of the digressions feel a bit tenuous in terms of the supposed satire - like what does obsessing over The Crystal Garden have to do with the state of Britain today? Maybe something to do with nostalgia informing contemporary politics/the national mood... ? And it didn’t need the Whopper movie references either as they didn’t really add much or were that interesting. I suppose you could also say some of the targets - reality TV, Twitter hate mobs - are obvious, and that Coe doesn’t have anything original to say about them, but I’m really just reaching to figure out for myself why I didn’t totally love this book as opposed to just enjoying it a lot.

Because most of the book is really, really excellent. It’s witty, and unpredictable, and compelling - it effectively mixes together disparate elements like realistic drama with comedic farce, meaningless tragedy, astute political commentary, and unexpected horror, like briefly in The Black Tower opening chapter and later in the final act. I really enjoyed the irreverent tone - at times I felt like I was reading part of a lost Terry Pratchett’s City Watch story with the antics of the clownish DCI Capes (who fruitlessly tries to get others to call him “The Caped Crusader”) and the vastly more sober PC Pilbeam and his chaste love for ultra-religious school teacher Lucinda Givings. It’s all wrapped up in Coe’s smooth, confident prose making sure that it’s never a chore to read.

I liked the glimpses into the lives of the super wealthy. The character portraits of Sir Gilbert’s demented wife Madiana and the perpetually furious newspaper magnate Sir Peter were fun, even if the accuracy of London properties being bought as investments and then left empty is both a depressing reality and an absurd state of affairs. Coe cleverly contrasts the ghostly qualities of both the super-wealthy and the poor, in their absences to the sight of the general public.

I can’t really blame Coe for opting for a fantastical ending - which is at odds with everything preceding it - because I don’t think it’s fair to expect him to come up with solutions for the current state of things, and at least he made it an entertaining finale, taking things into an unexpected - but not unwelcome, as I’m a fan of the genre - horror direction.

Maybe because Number 11 was shorter than the previous Winshaw book and more focused, maybe because this book is more contemporary and relevant, maybe Coe’s just become a better writer and storyteller in the 20+ years since the last Winshaw book and this - whatever the reasons, I had a blast with Number 11. Though it might not be the most successful satire, this is a very entertaining, well-written, and imaginative novel, brilliantly capturing a snapshot of early 21st century Britain.