Seventy-Two Virgins

Author:

Boris Johnson

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It really is difficult to dislike Boris Johnson - the 'Tory Adonis' with his own fan club and numerous (official and unofficial) websites. There are online petitions to make him Prime Minister, and in a world of slick, media-savvy politicians, members of the public, political commentators and journalists of all political persuasions fall prey to his bumbling charm. The most recognisable, arguably the best-liked Tory MP for decades, his undoubted popular appeal looks set to endure despite accusations of pomposity, being out of touch and his recent sacking from the Tory front bench for having lied about an alleged extra-marital affair. So is it possible to dislike his first novel?

It is common knowledge that Johnson is not quite the baffled buffoon he appears. With a classics degree from Oxford, a reputation for strong journalism built on his column for The Daily Telegraph and his editorship of The Spectator, he is well known as an erudite writer, if not an eloquent politician. Numerous Tories lead the way - Jeffrey Archer, Anne Widdecombe and Iain Duncan Smith - to greater or lesser acclaim. Can Johnson follow in their footsteps and even surpass them to become a successful, popular and well-respected writer of fiction?

In this humorous political thriller, a group of would-be suicide bombers, through a mixture of coincidences, mistakes and blunders, manage to break into the Palace of Westminster during an address by the visiting American president. The thinly-veiled hero of the piece, a bicycling Tory MP (strangely enough, with a tabloid scandal threatening), is clearly Boris Johnson, and throughout the book, although practically no names are named, figures and issues from the world of contemporary politics are clearly and cleverly portrayed.

Johnson's style is extremely journalistic; he has a gift for painting vivid and amusing vignettes, images which lead one to think that the book must have been written with a television series or film in mind. He has been described as a 'comic institution', and although the book made me laugh out loud several times, those who have compared him with PG Wodehouse and Tom Sharpe are being somewhat over-generous.

In Seventy-Two Virgins we are constantly reminded of the author's love and knowledge of history and the classics. Johnson ostensibly tries to treat all sides in the story equally and fairly, but the book is written from a barely-disguised right wing perspective.

Every kind of stereotype is here - racial, religious, sexual, regional, national and political. We are firmly on planet Boris, where everyone speaks or is referred to with that peculiar Boris turn of phrase. Women are referred to as "girls" (unless they are formidable septuagenarian peers), all have "fantastic breasts" and are very beautiful. His attempts at characterisation through the portrayal of accents makes Dick van Dyke look like Rory Bremner. My personal favourite was Dean, the young and impressionable shelf-stacker turned reluctant suicide bomber from Wolverhampton, who speaks like an old Etonian, with the occasional 'yow' for 'you' dropped in, seemingly as an afterthought. Scots, anti-globalisation protesters, French politicians - each one sounds remarkably like Johnson.

Just as it is difficult to dislike Johnson, it is also difficult to dismiss his first novel. At times ludicrous, at others laboured, it remains an engaging, interesting and amusing read, despite the potentially disturbing possibilities it deals with - especially relevant since the seemingly effortless and highly publicised breaches of security at Westminster last year. Despite any criticisms, I did thoroughly enjoy Seventy-Two Virgins, though perhaps not for all the right reasons.

Reviewed by Vicky Aldus

Extent	336 Pages	Sub. No.
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Format	Hardback
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