Fiction – Kindle edition; Polygon; 224 pages; 2012.
First things first. The Devil’s Staircase by Helen FitzGerald is completely ludicrous. But it’s also entertaining — provided, of course, you suspend belief, try not to analyse the holes in the plot or the rationality (or otherwise) of the characters and don’t mind your fiction being dark and edgy.
Backpacking life in London
It tells the story of Bronny, a likeable but naive 18-year-old Australian, who’s just had a blood test to determine whether she has inherited the genetic disorder that killed her mother. She’s too scared to find out the result, so runs away to London without telling her father or elder sister.
She’s spent most of her teenage years frightened of being diagnosed with Huntington’s disease and has lived her life cautiously:
There was darkness, seeping into me.
I missed out on a lot in those four years:
I never went on the Scenic Railway at Luna Park.
I never kissed a boy in case I began to love him.
I never applied for university.
I never lost my virginity.
I was already dead.
In London she falls in with a group of backpackers and moves into a squat (an abandoned town house off the Bayswater Road) next door to a hostel, finds herself a meaningless job handing out towels in a gym and goes on an unabashed mission to lose her virginity. She makes new friends, goes sight-seeing, starts taking drugs and generally learns to loosen up a little. It’s all very far removed from her life in rural Australia living at home with her nice dad and her high achieving sister.
But there’s a dark element to the storyline, which comes as a bit of a shock when it’s revealed more than a third of the way through: there’s a woman hidden away in the basement of the squat. She’s gagged and bound to a chair. She’s been kidnapped by a depraved young man, who uses her for sexual gratification, and there doesn’t seem to be any way out of her predicament.
FitzGerald interleaves these two narrative threads — Bronny’s new hedonistic life in London (told in the first person) with the terrified woman in the basement (told in the third person) — to build up a sense of mounting tension: when will Bronny realise there’s someone stuck in the cellar below her room and do something about it?
The story is, of course, bonkers and far-fetched. It’s fast-paced though and I ripped through it in about three sittings. But it does make for uncomfortable reading, because in typical FitzGerald style she never shies away from writing about the questionable morality of ordinary people and doesn’t seem to mind if her fiction is exploitative. (She’s worked for the Scottish probation and parole service for more than a decade, so I suspect she’s seen it all.)
While it’s essentially a psychological thriller with a dark, noirish bent, The Devil’s Staircase does throw up some pertinent issues. For instance, is it ethical to be tested for a genetic disorder when you’re a teenager and how do you live with the results when they are disclosed? Does living your life mean doing things that may risk it? What can we do to stop depravity in seemingly ordinary people? How does losing a parent at a young age affect the rest your life?
This is a genuinely dark and edgy read, with great characterisation and superb pacing, but I question the exploitative nature of some of the basement scenes. Still, as a form of escapism, it’s difficult to beat and makes me relieved that my early days as a backpacker in London were nothing like this!
This is my 8th book for #AWW2017 and my 5th book for #20booksofsummer. I bought it online in August 2015 for the princely sum of 99p. I’ve read several of Fitzgerald’s novels, so knew it would be an entertaining read.
12 thoughts on “‘The Devil’s Staircase’ by Helen FitzGerald”
Your first line made me laugh. I just read My Last Confession and had the same sort of reaction.
My Last Confession was my first FitzGerald and given I’ve now read 5 of her novels you can see I wasn’t put off. They’re all ludicrous but I like their mix of shock, thrills, self-deprecating humour and moral ambiguity.
I wasn’t that keen, but it strikes me that you perhaps have to be in the right mood for one of this author’s books.
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Oh yes, you definitely need to be in the right mood. I usually read them when I’m in a bit of a reading slump or when I need a real palate cleanser cos I’ve read too much literary fiction of the same ilk.
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A lot of crime/thrillers are totally bonkers when you analyse them. But if the story is compelling we tend to forget the bits that are questionable in authenticity I suspect
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I find that psychological thrillers are the worst culprits for being bonkers. Police procedurals (or more traditional crime novels) need to be believable or they just don’t work; as soon as the reader thinks something doesn’t ring true you may as well throw the book against the wall, IMHO. I’m much more tolerant of plot holes or unbelievable elements in a thriller…
Sounds entertaining, if something is well written I can usually overlook a bonkers premise!
Fitzgerald does right well. I’ve read 5 of them now so I know what to expect. I know there will be elements of the story that are preposterous, but there’s enough authentic stuff to make you realise it’s not totally OTT; she’s a writer who is very good at detail.
If I’m going to read – in my case listen to – an easy book then I prefer detective fiction to thrillers, I really dislike the feeling that my emotions are being manipulated. Good question about the ethics of testing genes, as no action can be taken anyway then I think you should wait until the testee is an adult.
I think thrillers and crime fiction fulfil different functions for me: I like the adrenaline fuelled ride of a thriller, something that is pure entertainment, whereas an intelligent police procedural is all about making me think to see if I can figure out who dunnit (or in the case of the Scandi crime novels WHY dunnit).