Review | Tuesday 01 February 2011
More Than You Can Say by Paul Torday
Richard Gaunt is ex-army, disillusioned and not a little drunk when he accepts a bet to walk from a card game in London to meet a fellow gambler for lunch in Oxford in just 12 hours. Just short of his £6000 victory, he is knocked over by a Range Rover, whisked away to a luxurious country home and made an offer he can’t refuse: ten thousand pounds, and all he has to do is marry a complete stranger. In his current state of mind, saying yes to such an offer doesn’t seem as absurd as it normally would. A deal like that doesn’t come without its problems, and when Gaunt questions the situation, his life takes a dangerous turn.
As the novel unfolds, Gaunt’s past rises to the surface: his flawed previous relationship with the sunny Emma; the horror he experienced in Iraq; the chasm he felt between himself and the rest of society after he returned, which led him to become a problem gambler – in debt, friendless, and with his mobile phone thrown drunkenly in the bottom of a river to avoid getting calls from a girl. In front of us, Gaunt becomes not a bumbling Englishman who finds himself married and caught up unexpectedly in a violent new world, but a trained soldier harbouring a lot of guilt and self-pity, and someone it’s best not to get offside.
Moving at a surprisingly laidback pace for a cat-and-mouse tale, and with a main character that you occasionally want to take by the shoulders and shake vigorously, More Than You Can Say is a dramatic look at the difficulties those who have been in a war zone can face after their tour is over – though I’d guess only a small portion end up in this exact situation.