The Coma (Alex Garland, 2004)

Faced with a sunny Bank Holiday Monday on my own, I decided to venture out into town for a spot of shopping and, since our balcony rarely catches the sun, I took a book along to read in the one nice grassy area I know of in the centre of Leeds. I picked The Coma, as it's a slim volume, light to carry and I didn't want anything either physically or metaphorically heavy. I enjoyed Garland's The Beach, and although I've read The Tesseract, I can't say I remember anything about it, so this The Coma, his third and latest novel (from 2004, he's been writing screenplays since then) completes the set. 

Several hours later and I've finished The Coma, which must be some kind of record for me. It's incredibly easy to read, and each 'chapter' is only around 6 or fewer pages long, divided up by full-page illustrations by Nicholas Garland, the author's father. I don't know how long the book is, as there are no page numbers, a part of the effect of the whole. Told in the first person by 'Carl', the first passage sees the narrator beaten up on a tube train, and from there the mystery rapidly unfolds. Is Carl awake, in a coma, dreaming? It feels a little like Ashes to Ashes in the way Garland keeps any truth from seeping through. 

The disjointed 'chapters', with their creepy woodcut illustrations, and the spare prose creates an eerie, suitably dreamlike quality. It's an approach that urged me to read on, and devour more nuggets of Carl's life. It's the sort of book I would read again (it wouldn't take long!), looking for clues, but I don't think there is any real resolution and answer to be found. I suppose the book is somewhat philosophical, without being pretentious, and the ending is oddly satisfying yet oddly not. The Coma is not just a novel, it's an experience, one which I would recommend to anyone.