Review: The Suicide Kit By David L Hayles Essay, Research Paper

Cockroach motel The Suicide Kit by David L Hayles192pp, SeckerIn “The Incredible Doctor Octor”, one of the short stories in David L Hayles’s debut anthology, the worst doctor on Harley Street instructs a female patient to strip and do a handstand in front of a full-length mirror. “Well Doctor?” she asks, no doubt wondering how a nude examination will help with her headache. “The boys at the squash club were right,” the doctor replies, stroking the pubic hair where he rests his chin, “I would look stupid with a beard. Now, what did you say the problem was?” “House of Buggin’” has a downtown New Yorker trying to sleep after a double shift in a dead-end job. He lies in bed, listening to the sound of bottles breaking in the street outside, the plumbing from the flat above, and his wife talking in her sleep, calling out another man’s name. The room is so hot, you could boil an egg. And there are cockroaches: “You could never catch ‘em, but you could hear them. They were all over the place. It was illegal to let them grow that big. He’d read about it. Anything over a foot long was illegal.” Suddenly, the bed begins to shudder. Is that his wife, kicking her legs? Is the house falling down? Or is his wife’s lover hiding under there, hoping to crawl across the floor and escape? The man wakes his wife and tells her to switch on the light, as he flips the mattress on to the floor. It isn’t his wife’s lover at all, but a cockroach, a metre-and-a-half long with a hard shiny shell and “twitching antennae as thick as coat hangers”. The two shortest stories, both entitled “The Suicide Kit”, consist of nothing but advertising blurb. “The Suicide Kit provides a clean fast suicide that will let you go out not only with dignity, but without adding to what you’re already suffering,” reads one. The customer is promised discounts for senior citizens and “no bloody mess”. So what does the kit contain? How does it work? We are not told, which makes it all rather creepy. This book has no heart, no soul. Although each story is primarily a comedy, many of them don’t even make you laugh. But why should they? What have you ever done for them? There are a few false notes: “A Cruel Occurrence at Victoria Coach Station” is a tarted-up urban myth; “The Singer” spends several brilliant pages working up to a very weak joke (a cabaret performer is reprimanded for singing the theme from the Titanic movie on a cruise ship). But there are some beautifully drawn characters – the cabaret performer certainly doesn’t need her punchline – and Hayles writes with such cold-blooded precision that these minor grievances are quickly forgotten. Daren King is the author of Boxy and Star