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Shy
A novel about guilt, rage, imagination, and boyhood, about being lost in the dark and learning you’re not alone
This is the story of a few strange hours in the life of a troubled teenage boy.
You mustn’t do that to yourself Shy. You mustn’t hurt yourself like that.
He is wandering into the night listening to the voices in his head: his teachers, his parents, the people he has hurt and the people who are trying to love him.
Got your special meds, nutcase?
He is escaping Last Chance, a home for “very disturbed young men,” and walking into the haunted space between his night terrors, his past, and the heavy question of his future.
The night is huge and it hurts.
In Shy, Max Porter extends the excavation of boyhood that began with Grief Is the Thing with Feathers and continued with Lanny. But here he asks: How does mischievous wonder and anarchic energy curdle into something more disturbing and violent? Shy is a bravura, lyric, music-besotted performance by one of the great writers of his generation.
This is the story of a few strange hours in the life of a troubled teenage boy.
You mustn’t do that to yourself Shy. You mustn’t hurt yourself like that.
He is wandering into the night listening to the voices in his head: his teachers, his parents, the people he has hurt and the people who are trying to love him.
Got your special meds, nutcase?
He is escaping Last Chance, a home for “very disturbed young men,” and walking into the haunted space between his night terrors, his past, and the heavy question of his future.
The night is huge and it hurts.
In Shy, Max Porter extends the excavation of boyhood that began with Grief Is the Thing with Feathers and continued with Lanny. But here he asks: How does mischievous wonder and anarchic energy curdle into something more disturbing and violent? Shy is a bravura, lyric, music-besotted performance by one of the great writers of his generation.
136 pages, Hardcover
First published April 6, 2023
About the author
Max Porter
32 books1,621 followersMax Porter’s first novel, Grief Is the Thing with Feathers won the Sunday Times/Peter, Fraser + Dunlop Young Writer of the Year, the International Dylan Thomas Prize, the Europese Literatuurprijs and the BAMB Readers’ Award and was shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award and the Goldsmiths Prize. It has been sold in twenty-nine territories. Complicité and Wayward’s production of Grief Is the Thing with Feathers directed by Enda Walsh and starring Cillian Murphy opened in Dublin in March 2018. Max lives in Bath with his family.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 892 reviews
March 15, 2024
For some a coming-of-age can feel more like a coming-of-rage when feeling overpowered in the struggle to process the maelstrom of emotions seething through us in a world that feels uninviting. Beleaguered by condemnations of bad behavior often worsens the feelings of isolation and shame, such as is the case for Max Porter’s titular character, Shy, who’s attempts at temporary relief have been been short on solace but lengthy on his criminal record, and the road to healing often seems impossible to find in the fog of frustration. Porter’s Shy is a very empathetic and experimental look at young men teetering off the edge—a leitmotif of Porter’s works—and brought to Last Chance House, ‘a shite old mansion converted into a school for badly behaved boys in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere,’ that is possibly also as haunted as the boys feel their own minds are. Using an impressive variety of form and playful poetic expression that structurally recreates the bewildering way Shy processes the ‘shattered flicker-drag of these sensejumbled memories,’ the experimentation occasionally seems to supercede the execution though the overall effect still lands. And like Shy’s own feelings, this novel ‘feels colossally sad. Blisteringly sad. Almost ecstatically sad,’ yet the healing power of music and and optimistic finish keep it afloat and send the message deep into the heart of the reader. Caustic yet heartfelt, Shy is a moving novella that interrogates masculinity and mental health while critiquing the ways society would sooner brush those in need out of sight and out of mind, all culminating in a unique and penetrating novel that reminds us everyone deserves a chance to heal.
‘The night is huge and it hurts.’
Max Porter has a knack for expressing emotional extremes and trauma, with his best-known work, Grief Is the Thing with Feathers, being a searing portrait of grief, especially when expressing the ways two young sons wrestle with it. Grief had the bemusing and darkly-comical Crow figure to soften the heartache which is an element missing from Shy which instead plunges the reader into the swirling pain of memories, shame and frustration. The only real relief comes from some great passages on music, taking on ethereal qualities through Porter’s prose, but even the aims at comedy through young men’s antics feels more bruising than bemusing. This is part of the attempt to show the struggles of boys in a society that pushes and models a masculinity on them that is detrimental to their emotional growth and expression. Slurs and insults abound even when ‘just having a laugh, and ‘the boys just rip and rip at each other, endless patterns of attack and response, like flirting’s grim twin.’ It makes boyhood seem a very unfriendly landscape, especially for those who are more sensitive. This is furthered by these boys often having a lack of positive role models, such as Shy’s step-father being aggressive and abusive as his response to confrontation or parenting in general.
Shy struggles in this, and while Last Chance is a place for healing being in close proximity to a lot of rough personalities only makes him feel more on edge. The novella all takes place on a night he chooses to run away, though the story spirals back across the timeline to capture his experience of ‘sensejumbled memories.’ While it may take a moment to get one’s bearings in this abstract and chaotic narrative approach, it is where Porter really shines. It is written in a unique space between fiction and poetry, changing forms frequently and accommodating multiple voices (sometimes in multiple timelines at once) through text modifications like italics or bolded letters or simply placement on the page. The style shifts dramatically, from short, staccatoed lines to big dense passages without punctuation to reflect frenetic thoughts bubbling over in anxiety. Or there is the voice of the step-father, written in a poetic form that seems to cluster frequent phrases rather than reflect a single argument (the text appears center-justified in the novel):
It is apparent that Shy has a lot of guilt and feels powerless against his own actions, and has been treated with disdain for them. It is another critique of masculinity here, though the softer approach of those in Last Chance house still haven’t gotten through to him.
It is also an interesting critique on the treatment of those deemed criminals or troubled youth, the way they are discarded from society, and how the already minimal resources for help are typically underfunded and staffed but overworked and underpaid professionals. The possible end of Last Chance house is brilliantly indicative of this. ‘If the owner of the building gets planning permission to convert it into luxury self-contained flats, then Last Chance will be a thing of the past.’ There is a documentary being filmed about Last Chance, though being used as a prop is another element that sets off Shy here.
This is experimentally brilliant, though occasionally it feels that there isn’t enough beneath the experimentation. One benefit of abstraction in narration is the reader’s mind fills in a lot of space and you can imply a lot with only a few linguistic strokes, which might by why the middle of this book felt a bit overstuffed, repeatedly adding to Shy’s litany of crimes or sorrows that could have been understood just as strongly in implication instead of constantly bringing them back up. I really did like the music elements, however, with some playful passages about that really breaking up the harsher sections.
This is definitely a “its not you its me” thing, but when I read Grief Is the Thing with Feathers I was reading it alongside Master of Reality by Mountain Goats singer John Darnielle which deals with many of the same things here: a boy in a mental health hospital using music as he way of processing his emotions. I think because I liked that one better and associate it with Porter I may have felt a little underwhelmed here. I like how this one launches into some pretty surreal moments (particularly with what might be the ghost of the place?) but it does kind of unravel. The ending makes up for it all, however.
A short but powerful little book, Shy excels on experimentation and expression for a sharp look into mental health and the people fighting against their own minds. It is deeply empathetic and wonderfully poetic, and while it might go off the rails a bit and value experimenting over substance, it makes for a brilliant little read.
2.5/5
‘The night is huge and it hurts.’
Max Porter has a knack for expressing emotional extremes and trauma, with his best-known work, Grief Is the Thing with Feathers, being a searing portrait of grief, especially when expressing the ways two young sons wrestle with it. Grief had the bemusing and darkly-comical Crow figure to soften the heartache which is an element missing from Shy which instead plunges the reader into the swirling pain of memories, shame and frustration. The only real relief comes from some great passages on music, taking on ethereal qualities through Porter’s prose, but even the aims at comedy through young men’s antics feels more bruising than bemusing. This is part of the attempt to show the struggles of boys in a society that pushes and models a masculinity on them that is detrimental to their emotional growth and expression. Slurs and insults abound even when ‘just having a laugh, and ‘the boys just rip and rip at each other, endless patterns of attack and response, like flirting’s grim twin.’ It makes boyhood seem a very unfriendly landscape, especially for those who are more sensitive. This is furthered by these boys often having a lack of positive role models, such as Shy’s step-father being aggressive and abusive as his response to confrontation or parenting in general.
Shy struggles in this, and while Last Chance is a place for healing being in close proximity to a lot of rough personalities only makes him feel more on edge. The novella all takes place on a night he chooses to run away, though the story spirals back across the timeline to capture his experience of ‘sensejumbled memories.’ While it may take a moment to get one’s bearings in this abstract and chaotic narrative approach, it is where Porter really shines. It is written in a unique space between fiction and poetry, changing forms frequently and accommodating multiple voices (sometimes in multiple timelines at once) through text modifications like italics or bolded letters or simply placement on the page. The style shifts dramatically, from short, staccatoed lines to big dense passages without punctuation to reflect frenetic thoughts bubbling over in anxiety. Or there is the voice of the step-father, written in a poetic form that seems to cluster frequent phrases rather than reflect a single argument (the text appears center-justified in the novel):
‘Do you think that's an appropriate way to speak to me? / Do you want to break this family apart, is that what you want? / I can't believe you would choose to do this / Some people don't have the luxury of a nice mum to speak to like that / Wow, here we go again / Don't you dare walk away / Please don't do this again /
Have you any idea of the hurt you've caused? / Are you trying to trying to destroy our lives? / What's the point of all this? / I am literally begging you to treat me like a human being / Come back here / Not again, please not again’
It is apparent that Shy has a lot of guilt and feels powerless against his own actions, and has been treated with disdain for them. It is another critique of masculinity here, though the softer approach of those in Last Chance house still haven’t gotten through to him.
It is also an interesting critique on the treatment of those deemed criminals or troubled youth, the way they are discarded from society, and how the already minimal resources for help are typically underfunded and staffed but overworked and underpaid professionals. The possible end of Last Chance house is brilliantly indicative of this. ‘If the owner of the building gets planning permission to convert it into luxury self-contained flats, then Last Chance will be a thing of the past.’ There is a documentary being filmed about Last Chance, though being used as a prop is another element that sets off Shy here.
This is experimentally brilliant, though occasionally it feels that there isn’t enough beneath the experimentation. One benefit of abstraction in narration is the reader’s mind fills in a lot of space and you can imply a lot with only a few linguistic strokes, which might by why the middle of this book felt a bit overstuffed, repeatedly adding to Shy’s litany of crimes or sorrows that could have been understood just as strongly in implication instead of constantly bringing them back up. I really did like the music elements, however, with some playful passages about that really breaking up the harsher sections.
‘God is a bouncy bastard who wants his people together in the dance. Rolling. Technology and soul. Hallefuckinlujah he loves the drums. Rain them down on me.’
This is definitely a “its not you its me” thing, but when I read Grief Is the Thing with Feathers I was reading it alongside Master of Reality by Mountain Goats singer John Darnielle which deals with many of the same things here: a boy in a mental health hospital using music as he way of processing his emotions. I think because I liked that one better and associate it with Porter I may have felt a little underwhelmed here. I like how this one launches into some pretty surreal moments (particularly with what might be the ghost of the place?) but it does kind of unravel. The ending makes up for it all, however.
A short but powerful little book, Shy excels on experimentation and expression for a sharp look into mental health and the people fighting against their own minds. It is deeply empathetic and wonderfully poetic, and while it might go off the rails a bit and value experimenting over substance, it makes for a brilliant little read.
2.5/5
April 10, 2023
5★
“Adults tease him better, almost a form of kindness. The boys just rip and rip at each other, endless patterns of attack and response, like flirting’s grim twin.”
Shy is one of the teens at the Last Chance School, where staff and teachers are no doubt trying their best with a difficult cohort of students. A news report describes it.
It’s one of those books, like Lanny, that is better to read as hard copy or in a PDF format, so you can see the line breaks, the italics, the font size, and the changing spacing. When people shout at him, they REALLY SHOUT in a large typeface that runs across two open pages.
Following Shy’s mental wanderings is something that I just let happen, rather than try to figure out details. He thinks of what’s happening right now and then goes back to a phrase from a past conversation that pops into his head.
I think it’s an excellent rendition of what it feels like living with Shy’s night terrors and the bullying that he tries to escape by listening to heavy music with his earphones on, drowning out the unwanted noise. When he retaliates, it’s by destroying anything within range.
The boys talk to therapists and gradually learn a bit about each other.
“They each carry a private inner register of who is genuinely not OK, who is liable to go psycho, who is hard, who is a pussy, who is actually alright, and friendship seeps into the gaps of these false registers in unexpected ways, just as hatred does, just as terrible loneliness does.”
Shy finds talking really hard.
“He threw his chair back and stormed out of a session with Jenny.
He got as far as the foot of the big staircase and he turned around, back along the corridor, and stormed in again.
Stop pretending you know me! You only know what I tell you.
OK, Shy, said Jenny.
It’s not OK, said Shy.”
We meet him in the middle of the night with a backpack full of flints, headed out across the paddocks around this big heritage-listed building in the country. As he’s walking, old conversations pop into his head along with his own thoughts.
“The other teaching staff and I feel you’re taking up more than your fair share of space at the moment. A lot of our attention. Just dial things down a bit, please.”
The turmoil of his thoughts and his genuine remorse about some (not all) of the things he’s done are touching. I have so much time for the adults who try to help these troubled and troublesome kids navigate adolescence.
Substance abuse doesn’t come into it, and it’s just as well. Shy’s dreams, nightmares, and memories of fights and bullying are more than enough. Music is his escape. In his mind, he describes what he’s hearing, and I’ll share a little.
“He can hear it, precisely, in his head, the way an Amen break washes like a wave, slots inside itself again and again, fits inside his heart, his favourite thing when it drops down to half speed, slouching, swagger, weapons close to its chest, and then it jumps up, exploding crisp and juicy, [much more]
. . .
Obviously he never says any of this to Shaun, or Benny, he just says Hardcore. Nice. Yeah. F**king love this tune.”
I loved this. It’s a short read, and I just let it wash over me. I admit to having a soft spot for boys who are struggling to grow up, whether it's due to mental problems, or poverty and abusive childhoods. Shy joins my group with countless others, including recent additions Lanny, Shuggie Bain, and Young Mungo..
I’d love to see inside Max Porter’s mind! Thanks to NetGalley and Faber and Faber for the copy for review from which I’ve quoted.
“Adults tease him better, almost a form of kindness. The boys just rip and rip at each other, endless patterns of attack and response, like flirting’s grim twin.”
Shy is one of the teens at the Last Chance School, where staff and teachers are no doubt trying their best with a difficult cohort of students. A news report describes it.
“[The camera pans across the lawn.]
‘An ordinary bunch of teenagers kicking a ball about or some of the most disturbed and violent young offenders in the country? Here at the unconventional Last Chance school, it’s reiterated time and time again: they can be both.’”
It’s one of those books, like Lanny, that is better to read as hard copy or in a PDF format, so you can see the line breaks, the italics, the font size, and the changing spacing. When people shout at him, they REALLY SHOUT in a large typeface that runs across two open pages.
Following Shy’s mental wanderings is something that I just let happen, rather than try to figure out details. He thinks of what’s happening right now and then goes back to a phrase from a past conversation that pops into his head.
I think it’s an excellent rendition of what it feels like living with Shy’s night terrors and the bullying that he tries to escape by listening to heavy music with his earphones on, drowning out the unwanted noise. When he retaliates, it’s by destroying anything within range.
The boys talk to therapists and gradually learn a bit about each other.
“They each carry a private inner register of who is genuinely not OK, who is liable to go psycho, who is hard, who is a pussy, who is actually alright, and friendship seeps into the gaps of these false registers in unexpected ways, just as hatred does, just as terrible loneliness does.”
Shy finds talking really hard.
“He threw his chair back and stormed out of a session with Jenny.
He got as far as the foot of the big staircase and he turned around, back along the corridor, and stormed in again.
Stop pretending you know me! You only know what I tell you.
OK, Shy, said Jenny.
It’s not OK, said Shy.”
We meet him in the middle of the night with a backpack full of flints, headed out across the paddocks around this big heritage-listed building in the country. As he’s walking, old conversations pop into his head along with his own thoughts.
“The other teaching staff and I feel you’re taking up more than your fair share of space at the moment. A lot of our attention. Just dial things down a bit, please.”
The turmoil of his thoughts and his genuine remorse about some (not all) of the things he’s done are touching. I have so much time for the adults who try to help these troubled and troublesome kids navigate adolescence.
Substance abuse doesn’t come into it, and it’s just as well. Shy’s dreams, nightmares, and memories of fights and bullying are more than enough. Music is his escape. In his mind, he describes what he’s hearing, and I’ll share a little.
“He can hear it, precisely, in his head, the way an Amen break washes like a wave, slots inside itself again and again, fits inside his heart, his favourite thing when it drops down to half speed, slouching, swagger, weapons close to its chest, and then it jumps up, exploding crisp and juicy, [much more]
. . .
Obviously he never says any of this to Shaun, or Benny, he just says Hardcore. Nice. Yeah. F**king love this tune.”
I loved this. It’s a short read, and I just let it wash over me. I admit to having a soft spot for boys who are struggling to grow up, whether it's due to mental problems, or poverty and abusive childhoods. Shy joins my group with countless others, including recent additions Lanny, Shuggie Bain, and Young Mungo..
I’d love to see inside Max Porter’s mind! Thanks to NetGalley and Faber and Faber for the copy for review from which I’ve quoted.
March 7, 2023
Absolutely spectacular.
Max Porter knocks it out of the park again, with this stunning little novel about one night in the life of Shy, a young lad with numerous problems, who has reached yet another tipping point.
As the novel opens, Shy sneaks out in the dead of night from Last Chance, a school for troubled young men, where he has been staying. As he makes his way across the fields with a backpack full of stones, his past comes back to haunt him.
He is plagued by scenes of both trauma and pleasure, the voices of his parents, teachers and peers, and moments of love and lust. Porter is an expert at bringing these many facets together into a narrative that's both fresh and inventive and ever-changing, and yet lucid enough that he keeps the train of the story steady throughout.
Just like in his brilliant Lanny, what cuts through is the humanity of our protagonist. Shy is troubled, yes. But he's also been chronically misunderstood by society and his own family. He's haunted by single overheard sentences he can't shake. He's been undeniably damaged by the culture around him. But he's clinging on, he's trying...
This is a deeply moving, beautifully written work of art. Utterly fabulous.
Max Porter knocks it out of the park again, with this stunning little novel about one night in the life of Shy, a young lad with numerous problems, who has reached yet another tipping point.
As the novel opens, Shy sneaks out in the dead of night from Last Chance, a school for troubled young men, where he has been staying. As he makes his way across the fields with a backpack full of stones, his past comes back to haunt him.
He is plagued by scenes of both trauma and pleasure, the voices of his parents, teachers and peers, and moments of love and lust. Porter is an expert at bringing these many facets together into a narrative that's both fresh and inventive and ever-changing, and yet lucid enough that he keeps the train of the story steady throughout.
Just like in his brilliant Lanny, what cuts through is the humanity of our protagonist. Shy is troubled, yes. But he's also been chronically misunderstood by society and his own family. He's haunted by single overheard sentences he can't shake. He's been undeniably damaged by the culture around him. But he's clinging on, he's trying...
This is a deeply moving, beautifully written work of art. Utterly fabulous.
August 29, 2023
What a remarkable book. I cannot imagine a more personal, intimate, emotional and accurate description of a very troubled teenage boy. I’ve certainly never read one in the past. It is one of those rare books that, once I’d started reading it, I couldn’t put down until I’d finished it. Brilliant!
July 1, 2023
Shy is a teenage boy tortured by the weight of his thoughts/fears/loneliness represented by a backpack [rucksack] full of stones, which is referred to throughout from the opening line, "The rucksack is shockingly heavy," then later, "carrying a heavy bag of sorry," until finally, when surrounded by a group of young men, he no longer feels alone, and the weight is lifted:
"Shy is wrapped up in other people,
no weight upon his back,
eyes closed,
waiting for another day."
Max Porter provides us with an experience, we get to be inside the head of a troubled teen, not a fun place to be! Even the descriptive writing of the natural environment appears to add to Shy's sense of guilt and persecution: "The grass in the next field whispers," and "The moon is stalking. Judging." Music is Shy's refuge. After all the suffering, I was glad to feel some hope in the end.
"Shy is wrapped up in other people,
no weight upon his back,
eyes closed,
waiting for another day."
Max Porter provides us with an experience, we get to be inside the head of a troubled teen, not a fun place to be! Even the descriptive writing of the natural environment appears to add to Shy's sense of guilt and persecution: "The grass in the next field whispers," and "The moon is stalking. Judging." Music is Shy's refuge. After all the suffering, I was glad to feel some hope in the end.
Read
June 27, 2023This is Max Porter's bailiwick, all right -- in the head (check) of a troubled (check) teenage boy (check).
Appropriately enough, Shy is at the Last Chance boarding school with other square pegs that don't fit into society's round holes. And oh, the anger in there. The school. Or the heads. Both, I mean.
A rabbit-punch of a book, it stands at a mere 122 pp. Many of the almost psychedelic descriptions of Shy's stream of consciousness are damn near poetic in nature. Incomplete sentences. White spaces between paragraphs fat and thin. A sudden fever of large font.
Meaning: It strangely shares a characteristic with poetry in that it is a good dipper book to read now and then, to savor due to its strength vs. quaffing in one fell draught (as I did due to its brevity). Taken all together, the novella can be a bit much due to its content.
Should carry a warning label, maybe, about the proof. Strong stuff!
I recommend it but realize that it won't be every reader's cup of. Even for me parts held up better than whole, but that's a pretty lame complaint about a book, really, so focus on the rich writing and you'll be fine.
Appropriately enough, Shy is at the Last Chance boarding school with other square pegs that don't fit into society's round holes. And oh, the anger in there. The school. Or the heads. Both, I mean.
A rabbit-punch of a book, it stands at a mere 122 pp. Many of the almost psychedelic descriptions of Shy's stream of consciousness are damn near poetic in nature. Incomplete sentences. White spaces between paragraphs fat and thin. A sudden fever of large font.
Meaning: It strangely shares a characteristic with poetry in that it is a good dipper book to read now and then, to savor due to its strength vs. quaffing in one fell draught (as I did due to its brevity). Taken all together, the novella can be a bit much due to its content.
Should carry a warning label, maybe, about the proof. Strong stuff!
I recommend it but realize that it won't be every reader's cup of. Even for me parts held up better than whole, but that's a pretty lame complaint about a book, really, so focus on the rich writing and you'll be fine.
May 19, 2023
He leaves the room dark. Shy’s room minus Shy. Eve 1965 carved in the beam. A wonky heart carved in the beam. 1891 carved in the beam. Shy 95, fresh and badly scraped in the beam, with a jagged S like a Z. Couldn’t even get that right.
For such a short work, I found Shy to be incredibly affecting. Centred in the brain of a disturbed and confused young man as he sneaks out of a reform school in the dead of night, the story and the sentences and the tone are all off-puttingly disturbed and confusing. We wincingly watch Shy struggling under the weight of a flint-stuffed backpack as he effects his escape, and the many questions that that initiating scenario brings up will eventually be answered by the thoughts and memories and jumbled emotions that swirl uncontrollably through Shy’s mind. His memories are filled with rage and violence and uncontrollable tears; he suffers terrifying dreams and waking shame; every bad thing he’s ever done plays on an unbidden loop in Shy’s mind and he responds with aggression and destruction that he neither understands or attempts to control. I was similarly affected (mentally and emotionally) by Max Porter’s Lanny, but while that novel was luscious and enthralling in its fabulous language, Shy is abrupt and confrontational; perfectly capturing the experience of being trapped inside the disturbed mind of a young fella who can’t control his thoughts, emotions, or actions. Captivated, and disquieted, throughout. (Note: I read an ARC through NetGalley and passages quoted may not be in their final form.)
I said to him, there’ll be rapists, violent offenders, not murderers I don’t think, but some very disturbed young men, and he stood up, came round the table and said, Mum, I’m a very disturbed young man, and I said, No poppet, you’re lost, that’s different, and he said, Mum, listen to me, I know you love me, but it’s not different. I’m not lost. I’m right where I got myself, and I said Oh, darling, no, and he said, Mum, shh. Whatever. A new school. My last chance. I’m going to take it.
Shy’s brain pings around through disjointed thoughts and scenarios as he makes his way across the grounds of the Last Chance school; pinging from his earliest to his latest memories; pinging from first person, to third person, to transcribing a documentary made about the program at his school. We learn about Shy’s long-suffering mother and stepfather (who seem to have tried everything to help their son, not understanding what might have hurt him along the way); we learn about his cousin Shaun introducing him to “jungle music” and drugs; we learn that Shy has had friends and a girlfriend and is capable of academic success, but he just can’t help blowing up the good things in his life. The Last Chance school seems to be staffed by extraordinarily caring and capable teacher-councillors, but despite their efforts to share calming techniques and forge understanding between the boys with group therapy sessions, every small slight drives Shy to respond with his default rage. Weary of his own violence, plagued by nightmares and shame, Shy struggles under the weight of his flint-stuffed backpack as he heads through the fields for the nearby pond.
His thoughts are lopping along in odd repetitive chunks, running at him, stumbling. Feels brave, feels pathetic, feels nothing. Panic. Calm. Mad clatter in the roof of the break like machine guns then swirling calm, home, school, years ago, yesterday, his mind all tight, then slackening, then something buzzing under like a tectonic plate, then marching, then pure noise, then snapping traps, then humming, bassline in his migraine, under the bathwater private time, then a dancey synth part in the clear sleepless noise of his insomnia, piano choon, one step forward two step backward, building a real thing, into the movement, which is like, oops, slippery on the leaves here, haha nearly went down.
The jumbled storytelling can be hard to follow, and the violence and mental illness don’t make for a “nice” story, but it feels like Porter has captured something true and worth considering from the inside of a disturbed mind. Shy might not be likeable or relatable, but he’s a broken teenager and it’s provoking to be asked to care about him and his fate. I was correspondingly provoked and captivated; I couldn’t ask for more from a novel of triple the length.
April 19, 2023
6th book from my reading challenge with Ted.
#9 - Read a book set in England.
New Max Porter, and I guess I got on the bandwagon pretty early on, so I will be here for the foreseeable future. Completionist, because why not.
I didn’t like it as much as Porter’s other books (well, with the exception of The Death of Francis Bacon, which I still don’t get). It wasn’t exactly pleasant, as it dealt with the thorny issue of deeply tortured youth. It had the same style that I have come to enjoy, where thoughts merge with scene descriptions and here come flashbacks, but wait a minute! Dialogue out of nowhere. Nothing conventional, but the whole picture makes a lot of sense. If you read it out loud, it works even better. But like I said, it’s hard to do this and feel as satisfied when a teenage boy is causing mayhem, kicking and screaming, only to turn around and sob into his arms. You feel as hopeless and helpless as he does.
That being said, ready for the next one. Hopefully soon, as Porter doesn’t write tomes.
#9 - Read a book set in England.
New Max Porter, and I guess I got on the bandwagon pretty early on, so I will be here for the foreseeable future. Completionist, because why not.
I didn’t like it as much as Porter’s other books (well, with the exception of The Death of Francis Bacon, which I still don’t get). It wasn’t exactly pleasant, as it dealt with the thorny issue of deeply tortured youth. It had the same style that I have come to enjoy, where thoughts merge with scene descriptions and here come flashbacks, but wait a minute! Dialogue out of nowhere. Nothing conventional, but the whole picture makes a lot of sense. If you read it out loud, it works even better. But like I said, it’s hard to do this and feel as satisfied when a teenage boy is causing mayhem, kicking and screaming, only to turn around and sob into his arms. You feel as hopeless and helpless as he does.
That being said, ready for the next one. Hopefully soon, as Porter doesn’t write tomes.
May 20, 2023
I have a love/hate relationship with Max Porter. I couldn’t stand his debut GRIEF IS THE THING WITH FEATHERS (yes, I’m the only one lol; that book has always struck me as coming off as profound when it’s merely flaky; an opinion I’m aware most don’t share). However, I fell hard for his sophomore novel LANNY —that book to me on the most magical ride. Unfortunately, his third novel THE DEATH OF FRANCIS BACON lost me again; I felt it was almost too niche and impenetrable. But with his new one, I can say I’m back on the Porter train because oh my, my, my, I adored this one.
With SHY, Porter accomplished something that was similarly done with LANNY: He made me care very deeply for the title characters and the worlds they inhabit. Although the vibes are totally different. In this new novel, Porter ditches the whimsical, fairy-tale-esque tone and gives us something angsty, dripping with rage and anxiety, and steeped in harsh reality. His literary tricks (bouncy prose, non-linear narratives, fragmented sentences) are still present, but they’re not used to enhance the supernatural that was present in his first two novels. Here, they’re used to emphasize and enhance the chaos and hyper-anxious headspace of our protagonist.
To be honest, we’ve read several stories like this: troubled self-destructive teenage boy who lashes out at everyone around him, but Porter’s unique writing style took that premise to refreshing places and territory. His “quirks” made the character (and the book) feel so alive. The book ends in a way that felt so cathartic (and something I imagined myself doing many times while reading). This novel is a character study like no other. I adore.
With SHY, Porter accomplished something that was similarly done with LANNY: He made me care very deeply for the title characters and the worlds they inhabit. Although the vibes are totally different. In this new novel, Porter ditches the whimsical, fairy-tale-esque tone and gives us something angsty, dripping with rage and anxiety, and steeped in harsh reality. His literary tricks (bouncy prose, non-linear narratives, fragmented sentences) are still present, but they’re not used to enhance the supernatural that was present in his first two novels. Here, they’re used to emphasize and enhance the chaos and hyper-anxious headspace of our protagonist.
To be honest, we’ve read several stories like this: troubled self-destructive teenage boy who lashes out at everyone around him, but Porter’s unique writing style took that premise to refreshing places and territory. His “quirks” made the character (and the book) feel so alive. The book ends in a way that felt so cathartic (and something I imagined myself doing many times while reading). This novel is a character study like no other. I adore.
November 26, 2023
So when Porter first appeared on the scene way back in 2015 and was all the rage with his faux-novel about Grief, I read it, but thought it a rather trite, unfathomable (unless one had a Ph.D. in Ted Hughes), and chilly, instantly forgettable experiment, and one I wouldn't ever have to repeat.
Then his second quasi-fiction, Lanny, got longlisted for the Booker and as a completist, I steeled myself to get through that - and though slightly more comprehensible, it was so unbearably twee, I hated it with a passion.
I successfully avoided his 3rd Bacon book, since all I know about the artist is what I gleaned from a weird movie about his life; about all I recall of THAT is that Daniel Craig went full-frontal in a bathtub for it (no, he didn't play Bacon - that was Derek Jacobi). And even people who enjoyed his first two books claimed it was unreadable.
So why, you might ask, did I put myself through yet another torturous exercise in gobbledygook, complete with Porter's trademark myriad and microscopic frilly fonts, numerous colloquial UK expressions that meant nothing to me, and a storyline comprised of every 'troubled teen' cliche out there? This really should have been called 'Boy, Interrupted' .... if only Porter had an ounce of humour!
Well, lemme tell ya - first off, it fulfilled a 'Read Harder' Challenge in one of my GR groups - to read a book by an author to whom you had never given more than a 2-star rating. And as you can see - Porter's batting average remains intact.
Secondly, it currently sits at #15 on the Listopia of 2023 Booker Eligible Novels - and because the Booker gods hate me, I am almost sure it'll be announced as one of the Booker Baker Dozen come Aug. 1. So I'll have already gotten through what I am sure will be #13 in my rankings, and I can sleep easier tonight. Luckily, it only took me 90 minutes to plod through, and now I can get on to more important things ... Candy Crush isn't going to play itself.
PS. What's up with Porter and all the dead Mustelidae and Erinaceidae? Dude has some serious 'issues'!
PPS: If you want a 5-star read with the same title, check out: Shy: The Alarmingly Outspoken Memoirs of Mary Rodgers
PPPS: How did the Booker judges neglect this pile of excrement? Sure, their longlist was rife with largely unreadable dreck, but I was SURE this would make it on there... I demand a recount!
Then his second quasi-fiction, Lanny, got longlisted for the Booker and as a completist, I steeled myself to get through that - and though slightly more comprehensible, it was so unbearably twee, I hated it with a passion.
I successfully avoided his 3rd Bacon book, since all I know about the artist is what I gleaned from a weird movie about his life; about all I recall of THAT is that Daniel Craig went full-frontal in a bathtub for it (no, he didn't play Bacon - that was Derek Jacobi). And even people who enjoyed his first two books claimed it was unreadable.
So why, you might ask, did I put myself through yet another torturous exercise in gobbledygook, complete with Porter's trademark myriad and microscopic frilly fonts, numerous colloquial UK expressions that meant nothing to me, and a storyline comprised of every 'troubled teen' cliche out there? This really should have been called 'Boy, Interrupted' .... if only Porter had an ounce of humour!
Well, lemme tell ya - first off, it fulfilled a 'Read Harder' Challenge in one of my GR groups - to read a book by an author to whom you had never given more than a 2-star rating. And as you can see - Porter's batting average remains intact.
Secondly, it currently sits at #15 on the Listopia of 2023 Booker Eligible Novels - and because the Booker gods hate me, I am almost sure it'll be announced as one of the Booker Baker Dozen come Aug. 1. So I'll have already gotten through what I am sure will be #13 in my rankings, and I can sleep easier tonight. Luckily, it only took me 90 minutes to plod through, and now I can get on to more important things ... Candy Crush isn't going to play itself.
PS. What's up with Porter and all the dead Mustelidae and Erinaceidae? Dude has some serious 'issues'!
PPS: If you want a 5-star read with the same title, check out: Shy: The Alarmingly Outspoken Memoirs of Mary Rodgers
PPPS: How did the Booker judges neglect this pile of excrement? Sure, their longlist was rife with largely unreadable dreck, but I was SURE this would make it on there... I demand a recount!
May 1, 2023
59th book of 2023.
George Saunders says,
I've read his previous three books, and expect the style and structure that Porter plays with: mostly fragmented prose/poetry. Shy has less flying, spiralling words than his second book, Lanny, and I'm glad of that (though oddly I prefer the latter to this, I think). The problem with innovation, as Saunders calls it, is that it sometimes gets in the way of the narrative and our connection with the central character(s). Shy, the narrator, is a Holdenesque teenager at 'Last Chance', a school for difficult children. He's stabbed his stepdad, stolen cars, smokes a lot of pot. I've known many of the sorts; but Porter allows us into Shy's internal world, which is a world of insecurity and fear (as we are told so often as children, bullies are the scared ones! bullies are the ones with the real problems! (though Shy isn't a bully, per se, only troubled)). There's a pond involved in the finale, and the epiphany (Porter loves his epiphanies), which makes this slim volume feel like even more of a homage to Salinger's troubled teenager of the 40s/50s. I enjoyed it. I liked the pond stuff. Found the ending itself fairly underwhelming, but I can excuse that. I'm just waiting to see if Porter can write something bigger and what that would look like if he did. These slim works always feel just out of reach, just unfinished, or slightly unrealised.
George Saunders says,
Max Porter is one of my favourite writers in the world. Why? Because he's always asking the most important questions and then finding ways - through innovative structures and that inimitable voice - of answering those questions soulfully, with his full attention, in ways that make the world seem stranger and more dear (or more dear because stranger). He gives his readers, in other words, bursts of new vision.
I've read his previous three books, and expect the style and structure that Porter plays with: mostly fragmented prose/poetry. Shy has less flying, spiralling words than his second book, Lanny, and I'm glad of that (though oddly I prefer the latter to this, I think). The problem with innovation, as Saunders calls it, is that it sometimes gets in the way of the narrative and our connection with the central character(s). Shy, the narrator, is a Holdenesque teenager at 'Last Chance', a school for difficult children. He's stabbed his stepdad, stolen cars, smokes a lot of pot. I've known many of the sorts; but Porter allows us into Shy's internal world, which is a world of insecurity and fear (as we are told so often as children, bullies are the scared ones! bullies are the ones with the real problems! (though Shy isn't a bully, per se, only troubled)). There's a pond involved in the finale, and the epiphany (Porter loves his epiphanies), which makes this slim volume feel like even more of a homage to Salinger's troubled teenager of the 40s/50s. I enjoyed it. I liked the pond stuff. Found the ending itself fairly underwhelming, but I can excuse that. I'm just waiting to see if Porter can write something bigger and what that would look like if he did. These slim works always feel just out of reach, just unfinished, or slightly unrealised.
May 14, 2023
3.5
Shy is a short novel, more of a novella about a fifteen-year-old teen, Shy, who's angry, misbehaves, causes havoc at school and the community and who eventually ends up in a "last chance school".
There are some stand-out moments and the writing is raw and intense. There's quite a bit of sex and sex talk and dick mentions - which is disconcerting for such a young person; it could explain why I was less sympathetic to Shy's issues, even though I'm aware kids are sexual creatures etc.
I don't know if I missed it, but I never quite got what his issue was, was there even a real issue?
Shy is a short novel, more of a novella about a fifteen-year-old teen, Shy, who's angry, misbehaves, causes havoc at school and the community and who eventually ends up in a "last chance school".
There are some stand-out moments and the writing is raw and intense. There's quite a bit of sex and sex talk and dick mentions - which is disconcerting for such a young person; it could explain why I was less sympathetic to Shy's issues, even though I'm aware kids are sexual creatures etc.
I don't know if I missed it, but I never quite got what his issue was, was there even a real issue?
July 2, 2023
Idiot drama with no audience. Overthinking overlapping voiceovers.
We made such good progress today, Shy. I’m really delighted.
He’s sprayed, snorted, smoked, sworn, stolen, cut, punched, run, jumped, crashed an Escort, smashed up a shop, trashed a house, broken a nose, stabbed his stepdad’s finger, but it’s been a while since he’s crept. Stressful work.
Psychologically disturbed juveniles requiring special educational treatment, or a bunch of teenage criminals on a taxpayer-funded countryside retreat?
Shy is the third in a loose triptych of novels with Grief is the Thing with Feathers and Lanny, and likely the last of this style of novels for Porter as he explained to Waterstones Waterstones:
The 'sort of' in that quote rather key as this is a less distinctive and successful work that it's predecessors, so perhaps Porter has exhausted rather than conquered the style of work. The book also lacks the harder edge of both Grief Is... and Lanny, but I suspect deliberately so as in the same interview Porter talks of the lack of empathy in modern politics, and it's no coincidence I suspect that the novel is set in 1995, with a General Election looming, with battlelines being drawn up between John Major's "Society needs to condemn a little more and understand a little less" and Tony Blair's "Tough on Crime, Tough on the Causes of Crime."
The magical side of the previous works is still here - ghosts, the League-of-Gentlemenesque Papa Toothwort replaced by Harry Hill's badgers, and a clairvoyant teacher who already knows the next election will be in 1997.
I was though delighted to see Porter keep to the perfect length of his novels and that, reacting to an Anthony Cummins review in the Guardian that suggested he ought to write longer books, respond in Esquire:
Well said - and I look forward to what comes next from this fascinating author.
Shy by Dall-E:
We made such good progress today, Shy. I’m really delighted.
He’s sprayed, snorted, smoked, sworn, stolen, cut, punched, run, jumped, crashed an Escort, smashed up a shop, trashed a house, broken a nose, stabbed his stepdad’s finger, but it’s been a while since he’s crept. Stressful work.
Psychologically disturbed juveniles requiring special educational treatment, or a bunch of teenage criminals on a taxpayer-funded countryside retreat?
Shy is the third in a loose triptych of novels with Grief is the Thing with Feathers and Lanny, and likely the last of this style of novels for Porter as he explained to Waterstones Waterstones:
I suppose I am at a point in my career where my preoccupation about how to get inside the minds of others and how to use multiple voices to create a living collaborative thing on the page for the reader needed to reach its peak and has sort of reached its peak with this book. I think I am moving onto something different next time with my novels.
The 'sort of' in that quote rather key as this is a less distinctive and successful work that it's predecessors, so perhaps Porter has exhausted rather than conquered the style of work. The book also lacks the harder edge of both Grief Is... and Lanny, but I suspect deliberately so as in the same interview Porter talks of the lack of empathy in modern politics, and it's no coincidence I suspect that the novel is set in 1995, with a General Election looming, with battlelines being drawn up between John Major's "Society needs to condemn a little more and understand a little less" and Tony Blair's "Tough on Crime, Tough on the Causes of Crime."
The magical side of the previous works is still here - ghosts, the League-of-Gentlemenesque Papa Toothwort replaced by Harry Hill's badgers, and a clairvoyant teacher who already knows the next election will be in 1997.
I was though delighted to see Porter keep to the perfect length of his novels and that, reacting to an Anthony Cummins review in the Guardian that suggested he ought to write longer books, respond in Esquire:
"I just don’t buy that, really,” he says. What the novella does, he believes is “get you thinking longer than some novels of triple, quadruple the length do. If you’re wanting a bit more from those characters, or wanting more sense of what might happen, that’s good. I think that means it might be a book you think about a little bit after you’ve turned the last page.”
Well said - and I look forward to what comes next from this fascinating author.
Shy by Dall-E:
May 18, 2023
Actual rating 4.5/5 stars.
Shy is a young boy who is troubled but only seen as trouble. The contents of this novel stem from his own mind as he unveils the insults he has cussed and the injuries he has caused. His thoughts flow as freely as his fists and he is often left unaware of where they have landed until after the fact.
This measured in at just over 100 pages and every one of them was full of painful recollections that were brilliantly juxtaposed by the astronomical beauty of the writing style. Max Porter is one of the most innovative and unique writers I have ever had the pleasure of reading. The emotion exuding from this story ensured it an unforgettable one, as did the narrative style. The conclusion was a hopeful one, as the contents warranted, and left me with a painful lump in my throat that took some time to dispel.
I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. Thank you to the author, Max Porter, and the publisher, Faber and Faber, for this opportunity.
Shy is a young boy who is troubled but only seen as trouble. The contents of this novel stem from his own mind as he unveils the insults he has cussed and the injuries he has caused. His thoughts flow as freely as his fists and he is often left unaware of where they have landed until after the fact.
This measured in at just over 100 pages and every one of them was full of painful recollections that were brilliantly juxtaposed by the astronomical beauty of the writing style. Max Porter is one of the most innovative and unique writers I have ever had the pleasure of reading. The emotion exuding from this story ensured it an unforgettable one, as did the narrative style. The conclusion was a hopeful one, as the contents warranted, and left me with a painful lump in my throat that took some time to dispel.
I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. Thank you to the author, Max Porter, and the publisher, Faber and Faber, for this opportunity.
April 8, 2023
riiight. no.
February 19, 2023
I fell in love with Porter’s writing when I read Grief Is the Thing With Feathers a few years ago, and was thrilled to love his second novel Lanny just as much if not more. I haven’t read The Death of Francis Bacon yet, though I’ve heard mixed things, but I was still really excited to read his latest book, Shy. I’m sad to say that I didn’t love it…I desperately wanted to but I didn’t. Porter’s style in the aforementioned works I’ve read felt so organic and natural to him - the language was lyrical and beautiful while at the same time being the antithesis of those things, and I found the way he played with form unique. Shy felt like a shadow of that. There were moments that definitely shone through, sentences that lit me up like his previous books did, but they were few and far between. Porter did an excellent job of getting into the noisy headspace of a lost and conflicted teenage boy but as a whole, I didn’t really like this book very much. It just didn’t work for me.
March 23, 2023
I loved ‘Grief Is a Thing with Feathers’ and ‘Lanny,’ but disliked ‘The Death of Francis Bacon’ and just didn’t get it. Luckily ‘Shy’ is a return to his first two books again. Beautifully written, honest, and truly felt emotions. It just hit me right in the stomach.
Thank you Faber & Faber and Netgalley for the ARC.
Thank you Faber & Faber and Netgalley for the ARC.
February 27, 2023
I had one of the best conversations of my life about fiction with Max Porter in 2019. It was on the same day I had one of the best conversations of my life about fiction with Alexander Chee. Damn that was a good day. Porter is a unique writer and a fine editor (he has edited so many of my favourite writers). He does a good job here of capturing the interiority of a troubled teen, this is a boy, interupted. It does not pack the emotional punch of his first two books (and thankfully actually makes sense unlike his third book). But his style and use of form are beautiful. He is a literary craftsman and I love to read his work. He’s also a literary risktaker so of course he’ll have some hits and some misses and they’ll be different for different readers. As long as he keeps swinging I’ll be reading.
April 30, 2023
A theme is beginning to emerge in the writing of Max Porter. The difficulties of the young – the troubled minds and dealing with difficult situations. The style, rather like the titles of his books, is becoming more and more compressed and insular. Young people are put in difficult situations; death of a mother in Grief is the thing with Feathers, being the only one who sees and feels the Green Man, Old Papa Toothwort, in Lanny, and here in Shy we go deeper into the life of a very troubled teen in the special home called ‘Last Chance’.
I have deliberately left out The Death of Francis Bacon from that summary of Porter’s work. It doesn’t fit, it isn’t the same style or even the same size. My other three Porter books sit on the shelf together – same height and roughly the same thickness, but old Francis is shorter, thinner and doesn’t fit the pattern.
Shy really is a book for our times. It is an attempt to put onto paper and into words some of the sensations of those with troubled minds, mental illness and drug addictions. These are all problems that are growing exponentially in out societies but which we find hard, or uncomfortable, to talk about. Even here in New Zealand the government announced an extra $500million for mental health and addiction services. This will barely scratch the surface. All our buildings are outdated and not fit for purpose, and it will be years before new ones are even built, even though the money is available. The speed of planning and consenting is glacial at best. And all the time the staff who work there are leaving, because the conditions are so poor. No-one wants to work in terrible old buildings and who can blame them? How are people’s minds going to heal surrounded by such conditions? And that is just New Zealand. There will be similar and worse elsewhere. Porter really tries to paint a picture of Shy, our central character, and how his mind works; what troubles him in his everyday situations.
In Lanny, the old Green Man had some text that curled around the page, echoing the character’s twisted mind and challenging the dexterity of the reader. In Shy we have an enlarged font where a single line runs over two pages, forcing the reader to flick back and forth to follow each sentence. We run through bold, italic and indents to differentiate one line from another and create a sense of ‘dis-ease’ on the page.
It is three in the morning and Shy is trying to break out of ‘Last Chance’. He has a rucksack full of rocks. Initially I didn’t know why, but perhaps I should have guessed at once. On page four we learn that this is 1996 and Shy has a Walkman. We are just before the age of the ubiquitous mobile phone. The voice of his therapist comes indented and in bold. She praises the progress they have made today and Shy unleashes his first volley of anxious vitriol as he creeps from the house:
Although we are mostly looking at Shy, we do also see some of the others collected together inside the ‘Last Chance’:
I have ended up quoting the whole page there, because I love the easy way we roll from simple observations to pin-point depth about the whole situation. You can feel the emotion behind the words. You can feel the uneasy tension of a room full of boys.
As Shy lies in bed, these are some of the thoughts that are flowing through his head:
Beautiful imagery, full of half-memories and half-remembered names and faces overlaid by the story from mythology, linking a past time with the present.
I was particularly struck by the expansiveness of this short book. The time frame is only a few short hours but it seems to swell and expand to feel like a whole lifetime and then back to the early hours of the morning. All in 120 pages. We eventually get back to Shy with his backpack of rocks, creeping out of the building and across the fields to a pond. All his senses are alive as he wades into the middle of the shallow lake. He kneels, so the water is up to his chin, but then he is distracted by two floating shapes and has to investigate what is in the water with him. Before we know it, he is out of the water and heading back to the house:
And as his journey progresses, the structure of the narrative changes to suit the situation, becoming an inner narrative, a conversation with himself:
I love the inventiveness of these passages, they are alive with detail and just as Shy is experiencing all his senses at once, so are we, through inventive language and brilliant imagery. This is a great read. Short enough to read in a single sitting, like the night it describes. Hauntingly satisfying.
I have deliberately left out The Death of Francis Bacon from that summary of Porter’s work. It doesn’t fit, it isn’t the same style or even the same size. My other three Porter books sit on the shelf together – same height and roughly the same thickness, but old Francis is shorter, thinner and doesn’t fit the pattern.
Shy really is a book for our times. It is an attempt to put onto paper and into words some of the sensations of those with troubled minds, mental illness and drug addictions. These are all problems that are growing exponentially in out societies but which we find hard, or uncomfortable, to talk about. Even here in New Zealand the government announced an extra $500million for mental health and addiction services. This will barely scratch the surface. All our buildings are outdated and not fit for purpose, and it will be years before new ones are even built, even though the money is available. The speed of planning and consenting is glacial at best. And all the time the staff who work there are leaving, because the conditions are so poor. No-one wants to work in terrible old buildings and who can blame them? How are people’s minds going to heal surrounded by such conditions? And that is just New Zealand. There will be similar and worse elsewhere. Porter really tries to paint a picture of Shy, our central character, and how his mind works; what troubles him in his everyday situations.
In Lanny, the old Green Man had some text that curled around the page, echoing the character’s twisted mind and challenging the dexterity of the reader. In Shy we have an enlarged font where a single line runs over two pages, forcing the reader to flick back and forth to follow each sentence. We run through bold, italic and indents to differentiate one line from another and create a sense of ‘dis-ease’ on the page.
It is three in the morning and Shy is trying to break out of ‘Last Chance’. He has a rucksack full of rocks. Initially I didn’t know why, but perhaps I should have guessed at once. On page four we learn that this is 1996 and Shy has a Walkman. We are just before the age of the ubiquitous mobile phone. The voice of his therapist comes indented and in bold. She praises the progress they have made today and Shy unleashes his first volley of anxious vitriol as he creeps from the house:
He’s sprayed, snorted, smoked, sworn, stolen, cut, punched, run, jumped, crashed an Escort, smashed up a shop, trashed a house, broken a nose, stabbed his stepfather’s finger, but it’s been a while since he’s crept. Stressful work.
Although we are mostly looking at Shy, we do also see some of the others collected together inside the ‘Last Chance’:
They talk a lot. More than any of them ever have before. Sometimes with the teachers, unpacking what they have been through, what they’ve done, just chatting in lessons, or in little groups, sudden moments of honesty. Jamie told them about when he got his diagnosis aged thirteen and all his mates stopped talking to him. His best friend started calling him a retard. I won’t ever forgive that, said Jamie. Benny talked about his dad dying in prison. He almost cried and everyone was silent while he got his shit together because Benny is the toughest and nobody ever sees him cry. Paul talked about what he’d done and his time in borstal and how he’d lost his virginity when he was eleven and they didn’t feel easy making sex jokes around Paul after that, but Paul mostly stays in his room playing his SNES. They tell stories. Some bragging, some regret, some baffled grinning shrugs and ripples of easy laughter. They talk about how wrong school was for them. They try and figure each other out, because there’s fuck-all else to do. They each carry a private inner register of who is genuinely not OK, who is liable to go psycho, who is hard, who is a pussy, who is actually alright, and friendship seeps into the gaps of these false registers in unexpected ways, just as hatred does, just as terrible loneliness does.
I have ended up quoting the whole page there, because I love the easy way we roll from simple observations to pin-point depth about the whole situation. You can feel the emotion behind the words. You can feel the uneasy tension of a room full of boys.
As Shy lies in bed, these are some of the thoughts that are flowing through his head:
Amanda taught them about the Norns, the mystical Nordic sisters, sitting knitting futures, and that night Shy was woken by the weight of them as they sat at the foot of his bed, three ancient biddies, oddly familiar hybrids of Mum, Nana, Amanda, Thatcher, Mrs Hooper his playschool teacher, Pat Butcher, Jenny, Madge Bishop, women he’d known or seen or imagined, collaged together, risen from the smudgy mess of his subconscious, staring back at him, smiling, clck, clck, one of them’s knitting, clck, clck, fate being looped and strung as he falls back asleep.
Beautiful imagery, full of half-memories and half-remembered names and faces overlaid by the story from mythology, linking a past time with the present.
I was particularly struck by the expansiveness of this short book. The time frame is only a few short hours but it seems to swell and expand to feel like a whole lifetime and then back to the early hours of the morning. All in 120 pages. We eventually get back to Shy with his backpack of rocks, creeping out of the building and across the fields to a pond. All his senses are alive as he wades into the middle of the shallow lake. He kneels, so the water is up to his chin, but then he is distracted by two floating shapes and has to investigate what is in the water with him. Before we know it, he is out of the water and heading back to the house:
He smells of pond. Everything smells of pond. He feels like he could sniff his way into individual microbes, earthy worming growgreen liquid stink, newts and shoots, silty, fruity, and as he walks he gathers in the smell of dry leaves, crinkly things, brown oily smells, good rot, herby hydro deep woodlousey sticky mushroomy smells, things turning, things that go on smelling this way whether or not a wet teenager is here to smell them. He is all sense. He isn’t having any thoughts, he’s all smell and shadows and ruined trainers, a frighteningly awake sleep creature sloshing along.
And as his journey progresses, the structure of the narrative changes to suit the situation, becoming an inner narrative, a conversation with himself:
He could learn to speak this language: night-end. He could train his indoor pupils to permanently widen, to drink it in.
Strange dizzy wake-up. Untangling.
He breathes deeply and it’s clean digestible air. He feels it hitting his insides.
He asks himself the question Jenny always starts with:
What’s happening with Shy this week?
Well, I went down to the pond. There were these badgers and…umm, I’m heading back now. Back up to the house.
And how are you feeling about that? About the night?
Umm.
Take your time.
I feel kind of lonely. Bit embarrassed and sad, if I’m honest, Jenny. A bit scared.
Oh Shy, he says, in Jenny’s gentle voice. Bad luck.
I love the inventiveness of these passages, they are alive with detail and just as Shy is experiencing all his senses at once, so are we, through inventive language and brilliant imagery. This is a great read. Short enough to read in a single sitting, like the night it describes. Hauntingly satisfying.
April 19, 2023
Since I’ve enjoyed the originality and style of Max Porters previous works so much in the past, his next novel was an easy addition to my most-anticipated list of 2023 releases. Unfortunately, it has quickly vacated that spot and made its way to my most-disappointing list from there on.
Although made out of the same building blocks as Grief is the Thing with Feathers and Lanny, Shy stands out to me as Porters weakest work to date.
The story set-up is simple: we follow our titular protagonists; a troubled teen with a violent past and an unsure future. We meet him in the darkness of night, as he runs away from the Last Chance-home where he lives with other “delinquents and disturbed young men”, carrying nothing but a backpack filled with rocks. As Shy converses with the voices in his head throughout his hike, we slowly get to know his inner world and what brought him to where he is now.
From the first page, Porters distinguishing style that blurs the line between prose, poetry and typography is evident. Themes explored in Lanny and Grief is the Thing with Feathers make a reappearance as well: unruly boys coming of age and having the chaos of their inner world leak into the outside world. Where they somehow fell into place with his previous works, these signature “Porter-elements” began to feel gimmicky and stale in Shy. The innovative quality that transformed them is absent.
Shy attempts to set itself apart as an “edgier/darker” tale, mostly by leaning into the ugliness, violence and vulgarity of this teens mind. Although I can see what the author tries to do here, using 5 swear-words and mentioning dicks on every page does not make for an “raw” or “artsy” novel in my book. No matter how befitting it might be of the protagonists noisy and chaotic inner-world.
In short: it’s more of the same from what we know from Porter. Just not necessarily more of what made his writing special to me. (succinctness, originality and capacity for innovation).
Although made out of the same building blocks as Grief is the Thing with Feathers and Lanny, Shy stands out to me as Porters weakest work to date.
The story set-up is simple: we follow our titular protagonists; a troubled teen with a violent past and an unsure future. We meet him in the darkness of night, as he runs away from the Last Chance-home where he lives with other “delinquents and disturbed young men”, carrying nothing but a backpack filled with rocks. As Shy converses with the voices in his head throughout his hike, we slowly get to know his inner world and what brought him to where he is now.
From the first page, Porters distinguishing style that blurs the line between prose, poetry and typography is evident. Themes explored in Lanny and Grief is the Thing with Feathers make a reappearance as well: unruly boys coming of age and having the chaos of their inner world leak into the outside world. Where they somehow fell into place with his previous works, these signature “Porter-elements” began to feel gimmicky and stale in Shy. The innovative quality that transformed them is absent.
Shy attempts to set itself apart as an “edgier/darker” tale, mostly by leaning into the ugliness, violence and vulgarity of this teens mind. Although I can see what the author tries to do here, using 5 swear-words and mentioning dicks on every page does not make for an “raw” or “artsy” novel in my book. No matter how befitting it might be of the protagonists noisy and chaotic inner-world.
In short: it’s more of the same from what we know from Porter. Just not necessarily more of what made his writing special to me. (succinctness, originality and capacity for innovation).
September 28, 2023
Pass. I would rather not comment too much on this at all. I can only say that this experimental writing style is definitely not my cup of tea.
March 7, 2024
If you have never been a troubled teenager this book is your opportunity to see how it feels to be inside the head of one. “Shy” by Max Porter unfolds in a single night and describes a few hours of Shy’s life while he escapes from “Last Chance School”, a home for disturbed young men. This is the first Max Porter book I read and I found the protagonist’s mental wanderings and turmoil of thoughts really interesting. The writing, between poetry and prose, is quite experimental (probably passed beyond the point of literary experimentation for me) and in a way became incomprehensible and chaotic. Felt like a dream where many things don’t make sense and gave the feeling that things are beyond control, that there is not enough air to breathe, that you want to scream but your voice doesn’t come out; and after finishing the book I wasn’t sure if this was a good or a bad thing. In between the chaos though, I felt the humanity and hopelessness of the protagonist, and that was for sure a good thing.
This is a book about boyhood with all its complications and troubles. About rage, violence, substance abuse, mental health issues and risky behaviors. About the pressure we all felt when we were teenagers related to what people thought of us, the burden of the society that wants you to be fixed, the worries of parents that chronically misunderstood you. It is a book about feeling shame, guilt and exhaustion to be you. About wishing to never have been born, wanting to die and trying to escape from yourself. About all the things you felt sorry for or all the times you lost control. About the rucksack of experiences we all carry, which sometimes can be shockingly heavy. It is also a book about memories, life saving warm memories that can keep you standing and walking. About the voices of the people around that care and try to help. About how love is the only thing that can truly save us.
Why should you read “Shy”:
Because you will realize how important it is to recognise any warning signs of mental disorder and be aware of what you are feeling and how it’s affecting what you’re doing.
Because you will understand that sometimes life can feel like too much pressure, and stress you in a way you will feel you can’t deal with it.
Because you will justify feeling ashamed and embarrassed when little things get so big inside your head.
Because it will hopefully make you stop feeling upset and angry with yourself when things don’t work out exactly like you want.
Because you will feel how love can make you want to stay around forever.
Favorite quotes:
“It’s a multi-season job, knowing yourself. You’re still in the spring”
This is a book about boyhood with all its complications and troubles. About rage, violence, substance abuse, mental health issues and risky behaviors. About the pressure we all felt when we were teenagers related to what people thought of us, the burden of the society that wants you to be fixed, the worries of parents that chronically misunderstood you. It is a book about feeling shame, guilt and exhaustion to be you. About wishing to never have been born, wanting to die and trying to escape from yourself. About all the things you felt sorry for or all the times you lost control. About the rucksack of experiences we all carry, which sometimes can be shockingly heavy. It is also a book about memories, life saving warm memories that can keep you standing and walking. About the voices of the people around that care and try to help. About how love is the only thing that can truly save us.
Why should you read “Shy”:
Because you will realize how important it is to recognise any warning signs of mental disorder and be aware of what you are feeling and how it’s affecting what you’re doing.
Because you will understand that sometimes life can feel like too much pressure, and stress you in a way you will feel you can’t deal with it.
Because you will justify feeling ashamed and embarrassed when little things get so big inside your head.
Because it will hopefully make you stop feeling upset and angry with yourself when things don’t work out exactly like you want.
Because you will feel how love can make you want to stay around forever.
Favorite quotes:
“It’s a multi-season job, knowing yourself. You’re still in the spring”
May 17, 2023
3.5 stars
This is the first time I’ve read Max Porter, though he seems to be much-loved by the Goodreads community and readers more generally, so I thought I’d better check it out. I was impressed by the author’s ability to get inside the head of a greatly troubled teenage boy, called Shy; the entire novella unfolds in the course of a single night entirely from Shy’s point of view. He’s been so full of rage and violence, against others and himself, for so long that he’s been consigned to a last-chance home for boys like him, and on this particular night he sets out bent on a final act of desperation. But Shy is such a bundle of non-stop unfocused rage and violence, even against those who care for him and try to help, that I just couldn’t care for him in spite of the, in places, bravura writing. I wonder if that was the author’s intent, to demonstrate the lack of empathy boys like Shy face from society at large?
This is the first time I’ve read Max Porter, though he seems to be much-loved by the Goodreads community and readers more generally, so I thought I’d better check it out. I was impressed by the author’s ability to get inside the head of a greatly troubled teenage boy, called Shy; the entire novella unfolds in the course of a single night entirely from Shy’s point of view. He’s been so full of rage and violence, against others and himself, for so long that he’s been consigned to a last-chance home for boys like him, and on this particular night he sets out bent on a final act of desperation. But Shy is such a bundle of non-stop unfocused rage and violence, even against those who care for him and try to help, that I just couldn’t care for him in spite of the, in places, bravura writing. I wonder if that was the author’s intent, to demonstrate the lack of empathy boys like Shy face from society at large?
November 12, 2022
Porter's books are all strange little creations. Tiny, intricate novellas with such depth. You read a hundred pages and feel like you've travelled into someone's head and out the other side. This is what it's like to be in the head of a troubled young man called Shy. His thoughts are out of control. He doesn't know how to handle himself. The only things that allow him any respite from his own self destruction are drugs and music. Everything else is too out of control and sometimes even the drugs and music don't help. Shy is on his last ditch attempt to be 'saved' but doesn't think he's going to hack it and he's not even sure if he wants to. We follow him into the night and beyond.
July 5, 2023
Dear Max Porter,
I read your first novel, Grief Is the Thing with Feathers and really liked it. So I was eager to read your second book, Lanny, which unfortunately fell flat for me. Finding myself in an English bookstore in The Hague. I picked up your latest book, Shy. Your prose is eloquent, but over my head. There were too many voices other than the narrator, Shy’s competing in such a short book, left me feeling confused, at a loss for words, and frankly uncertain I will read more of your work. Luckily there are many who find your writing sensational, so don’t listen to me.
Sincerely,
Royce Houthuijzen
I read your first novel, Grief Is the Thing with Feathers and really liked it. So I was eager to read your second book, Lanny, which unfortunately fell flat for me. Finding myself in an English bookstore in The Hague. I picked up your latest book, Shy. Your prose is eloquent, but over my head. There were too many voices other than the narrator, Shy’s competing in such a short book, left me feeling confused, at a loss for words, and frankly uncertain I will read more of your work. Luckily there are many who find your writing sensational, so don’t listen to me.
Sincerely,
Royce Houthuijzen
April 11, 2023
Porter is such a clever writer and this is amongst his best. It’s a short, sharp story of a boy gone wrong. It lacks the beauty of Grief and Lanny but this isn’t a book of beauty but raw and in your face.
November 12, 2023
Mijn verwachtingen waren hoog gespannen na het interview in maart 2023 op het Passaportafestival in Brussel tussen Ruth Joos en Max Porter. En op aanraden van de schrijver zelf (tijdens het signeren) las ik deze week zowel deze Nederlandse vertaling als de Engelse versie op e-reader. En dat kan ik iedereen aanraden!
Ik las eerst in het Engels en dan merk je dat je niet altijd iets wil opzoeken/vertalen want je wilt het ritme en de sfeer behouden. Weten dat ik nadien de vertaling kon lezen bracht rust in mijn hoofd en ik kon me laten meeslepen in de gedachten en handelingen van Shy en alle stemmen die door zijn hoofd spoken. Met de 2e versie kwamen er meer details tot leven (beschrijving van de omgeving, de planten, de geuren,...) en voelde ik me nog meer betrokken bij Shy.
Quote: "De maan zit achter een wolk. Het donker hier bij de vijver is van een andere dichtheid."
Ik las eerst in het Engels en dan merk je dat je niet altijd iets wil opzoeken/vertalen want je wilt het ritme en de sfeer behouden. Weten dat ik nadien de vertaling kon lezen bracht rust in mijn hoofd en ik kon me laten meeslepen in de gedachten en handelingen van Shy en alle stemmen die door zijn hoofd spoken. Met de 2e versie kwamen er meer details tot leven (beschrijving van de omgeving, de planten, de geuren,...) en voelde ik me nog meer betrokken bij Shy.
Quote: "De maan zit achter een wolk. Het donker hier bij de vijver is van een andere dichtheid."
January 23, 2024
4.5 stars 🌟
Max Porter’s writing is intoxicating and unexpected. I loved ‘Lanny’ and found this story equally fascinating.
This story puts us in the shoes of a troubled teenage boy- at times I found it hard to read due to the heavy content and the struggles this character faces, I needed to frequently put this book down for a time to give myself some space.
But I particularly liked the way we saw glimpses of multiple characters perspectives and fears, and the writing is wonderful :-)
Max Porter’s writing is intoxicating and unexpected. I loved ‘Lanny’ and found this story equally fascinating.
This story puts us in the shoes of a troubled teenage boy- at times I found it hard to read due to the heavy content and the struggles this character faces, I needed to frequently put this book down for a time to give myself some space.
But I particularly liked the way we saw glimpses of multiple characters perspectives and fears, and the writing is wonderful :-)
November 19, 2023
Book is 4.5 stars; audio book narration takes it to 5+. This is a whisperscream prose-poem of adolescent fury and confusion and despair. Is Shy mad? Or just thoroughly bad? Are the ghosts that haunt him real or figments? Has he fucked his life up completely by sixteen, or is there a way to recover and life a more peaceful life? Is life hope? Or is that not available to him anymore?
This isn't particularly satisfying in a narrative way, but it does feel cathartic. It doesn't have any answers or clear point of view, but the style is inventive in an admirable way (rather than being different 'just because' the varying fonts and styles really reflected Shy's frame of mind. It made me think about why relatively privileged young white men are so angry, not to the degree Shy is, but just in general. Yet, I felt a lot of sympathy for Shy, while also understanding why many people in his life might never be able to trust or forgive him. It walked a tightrope the whole 2+ hours, and I'm not sure if the ending was a safe landing or a swan dive into oblivion.
I read Grief is the Thing with Feathers earlier this year, but only the print version. This time, I did a hybrid read with the book and audio and would recommend this method. I'm looking forward to trying Lanny that way, too.
This isn't particularly satisfying in a narrative way, but it does feel cathartic. It doesn't have any answers or clear point of view, but the style is inventive in an admirable way (rather than being different 'just because' the varying fonts and styles really reflected Shy's frame of mind. It made me think about why relatively privileged young white men are so angry, not to the degree Shy is, but just in general. Yet, I felt a lot of sympathy for Shy, while also understanding why many people in his life might never be able to trust or forgive him. It walked a tightrope the whole 2+ hours, and I'm not sure if the ending was a safe landing or a swan dive into oblivion.
I read Grief is the Thing with Feathers earlier this year, but only the print version. This time, I did a hybrid read with the book and audio and would recommend this method. I'm looking forward to trying Lanny that way, too.
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