The Red Men by Matthew De Abaitua

Seven months – a pretty reasonable turnaround for a review if you ask me. Of course, no one asks me. I’d be worse at hitting deadlines than Karl Ove Knausgaard, of whom most definitely more later (much later). But then of course I’m busy binge-watching the autumn programming on Amazon Prime Video (other content streaming services are available) and co-managing a chaotic household of at any time up to seven children (not all mine I hasten to add, and at least I know most of their names, yeah, de Pfeffel?). I’ve also been quite absorbed by banging my face into a coffee table at the incredible contempt the British people seem to have for politicians who appear to have morals and integrity, and their ability to be won over by a man whose own contempt for the common people caused Stewart Lee to append quite a few pseudonymous adjectives to his already ridiculous name; Boris Piccaninny Watermelon Letterbox Cake Bumboys Vampires Haircut Wall-Spaffer Spunk-Burster Fuck-Business Fuck-The-Families Get-Off-My-Fucking-Laptop Girly-Swot Big-Girl’s-Blouse Chicken-frit Hulk-Smash Turds Johnson*.

Oh my, oh my.

So, back to the business at hand and to a book about demonic internet trolls.

No, not really, although the titular Red Men, virtual avatars of the board and customers of the grotesque corporation Monad who appear to exhibit unrestrained narcissism, vanity and peevish childishness, could be the one extension of the current trend to let rip online with repressed (and often wholly imagined outrage) whilst thinly protected by internet anonymity. Instead we have a bit of a quiet but discomfiting polemic about the nature of reality, about the development of technology and the redundant primacy of humankind, about our generally tragic hubris, and quite a bit of angst about lots of other things too – there’s a lot going on in Mr De Abaitua’s noggin.

In three parts it charts the path of Nelson Millar, formerly editor of New Lad wank-mag Drug Porn and now corporate shill for Monad, and his friend, the poet Raynond Chase, through the dizzyingly confusing world of Artificial Intelligence and the insane project that is creating a digitized version of an entire town in order to run political and environmental models using ‘real’ virtual people. Corporate sabotage, drug-taking, weird pagan imagery and murderous robots collide in a quite excellent cyberpunk-stroke-literary-thriller, set in a post-millennium near future and embodying all of the fears and anxieties of an ageing generation of former Spectrum, Atari and Commodore 64 owners and now worried neo-Luddites (I speak mainly for myself; I don’t even – EVEN – have an iPhone), concerned over the abuse of technology to further consolidate power in the hands of the callous rich/powerful/corrupt (synonyms in many people’s minds). It does have a bit of a Fight Club-type ending too but I won’t spoil it for you. Instead, go out and get yourself a copy, and don’t be put off by the simply terrible front cover. It gets better once you open it.

*Correct as of 29th September 2019 in his fabulous Guardian/Observer column. He may well have appended a few extra in the weeks following. I expect Stonking Man-baby will be among them.

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