Room, by Emma Donoghue

At first, I was a little cranky that there were two books on the Man Booker shortlist with 'Room' in the title (not to mention another on the Cheltenham shortlist). It seemed like an oversight; how can this reflect the best of Commonwealth literature when two have such similar titles. Then the copy of the book I had was a slightly oversized hard cover, which also annoyed me. I put the book off.

I started reading 'Room' on Wednesday night. I had finished it by Friday morning. I found myself reading it when people left the room, while I was walking down the street, staying up until 2am because I JUST COULDN'T STOP.

'Room' is instantly compelling because of the voice of the narrator, Jack. He is five, and there are immediate clues that his world is not a normal one. In fact, it turns out that his world in simply Room. Jack's mother (who we only ever know as Ma), was kidnapped seven years earlier; Jack was born and raised in Room, and has never known more than this eleven by eleven foot space. Items in Room have proper names (after all, if there's is not another Bed in your world, why call it 'the bed' or 'that bed'? There are no other beds from which to distinguish) and genders. Necessities are requested as 'Sundaytreats' and delivered by 'Old Nick', who visits Ma after 9, when Jack is 'switched off' in Wardrobe.

While Jack knows and loves Room and all of her facets, it becomes clear that Ma is distressed and ready to leave. The games they play often have a different meaning for Jack than they do for Ma; while Scream is a fun game they play, allowing them to climb up near the skylight and yell, for Ma it is a desperate ritualistic attempt to gain the attention of someone, anyone. Ma starts to break down the boundaries of Jack's world, advising him that, now he is five, he is old enough to know that there is a world outside of Room; that things on the TV are actually real. Jack struggles with such concepts, and what they mean for him and his world.

Many novels thrive on the 'car-crash' storyline, the type of plot that is so tragic and horrible that our sympathy compels us to keep reading. 'Room' could run the risk of falling into this category, but for one factor; Jack. While at first it is jarring and horrifying to hear a child describe such a limited and warped existence, the reader quickly settles into an understanding that, for Jack, this is normal and safe. Any threats to this normality are dangerous and far more disturbing for him than his own situation could ever be. Jack's voice completely disarms and consumes the reader, allowing them to wholly connect with him; we want simultaneously to keep him safe from fearful newness, but also to gift him the freedom to escape and experience the childhood he ought never to have been denied.

Like 'A Strange Room', I found this novel completely un-put-down-able. While I'm truly a bibliophile, it's very rare that I am so absorbed in a book that I will read it while walking: 'Room' is absolutely brilliant.