In fact, one of my favorite scenes from The Fault In Our Stars, which I loved, makes a similar joke: A teenager with cancer has his eyes removed in surgery to save his life, making him blind, but when he wakes up, the first thing he does is complain about a recent breakup. I don’t oppose the juxtaposition of the dark and the petty. I can see how this situation could be funny. When it comes time for Rob to comfort her, all he can think about and talk about is whether the new guy she’s dating is invited to the funeral. I almost had to stop reading during one section: Rob’s ex-longtime girlfriend, who just moved out, loses her father to a terminal illness. He’s so caught up in the breakup that drives the narrative - along with his “top 5” breakups ever - that it comes to define him, and it becomes almost dreadful to read at the lowest points. The writing style and pacing feels unique but polished. This was the first book that Hornby published, and it’s comfortably unconventional.

What are enjoyable are the well-rounded supporting characters, pop-cultural specificity, and - most of all - distinct London vernacular. He’s self-centered, whiny, spoiled - and no fun to read about. The book details the protagonist’s thoughts to the point that High Fidelity feels almost as much like a manifesto as it does a novel. What did bother me, though, was the mopey attitude of the central character. The novel is a brisk 323 pages, chronicling the protagonist Rob’s break-up blues.

It didn’t bother me that not too much happens in the plot, which covers a pretty unremarkable span of about two weeks. I was hooked right off the bat: Hornby displays a remarkable, conversational tone that compels you to keep reading. I was too lazy to fix it that night, so I grabbed the first book I saw on my bookshelf and started reading. I bought High Fidelity about a year ago on the recommendation of fellow Earn This writer Grant.

1995 nick hornby novel