Book Review, Mr Loverman, Bernardine Evaristo

Barrington Jedidiah Walker is seventy-four and leads a double life. Born and bred in Antigua, he’s lived in Hackney, London, for years. A flamboyant, wise-cracking character with a dapper taste in retro suits and a fondness for Shakespeare, Barrington is a husband, father, grandfather–and also secretly gay, lovers with his childhood friend, Morris.

His deeply religious and disappointed wife, Carmel, thinks he sleeps with other women. When their marriage goes into meltdown, Barrington wants to divorce Carmel and live with Morris, but after a lifetime of fear and deception, will he manage to break away? With an abundance of laugh-out-loud humor and wit, Mr. Loverman explodes cultural myths and shows the extent of what can happen when people fear the consequences of being true to themselves.

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I had such high hopes for this novel, after loving Girl, Woman, Other and was hoping for something joyful and sparkling; unfortunately, I found the main characters – however well crafted – unpleasant.

There was so much that I was looking forward to in this novel. I had adored Girl, Woman, Other and had defended it passionately when its winning the Women’s Prize was criticised. Evaristo had created a wonderful varied and convincing ensemble of characters, exploring a range of gender identities and sexualities, in delightful, joyful and joyous voices, strong despite the vicissitudes of their lives.

I expected something similar from Mr Loverman – the tale of the coming out of a septuagenarian gay man after a lifetime of hiding his sexuality should have been equally celebratory and joyous… but it wasn’t…

That is not to say that Evaristo’s writing skill was at fault: she creates Barrington’s voice with wonderful and convincing authenticity, both recounting his life in the Caribbean and in London – and the casual racism he encountered. He felt like a real, breathing human being, but rife with crassness, selfishness, meanness as so many real human beings are.

And maybe that is deliberate: there is perhaps a tendency in some writers to pigeonhole lgbtqia+ characters as faultless and lovely, victims of homophobia. Barrington was certainly flawed!

The story takes place when, following an argument with Carmel after he returns home after a night spent dancing with his lover, Morris, Barrington decides to divorce her. Before he can raise it soberly, however, Carmel returns to Jamaica as her father is taken ill. Her absence extends as her father dies, which allows Barrington to explore the possibilities of being single, or of moving in with Morris, alongside negotiating his daughters and grandson in front of whom he accidentally comes out. Alongside that, we see flashbacks – particularly in Carmel’s narrative sections – of their early marriage, of their lives together.

There is at times real genuine humour and laugh out loud moments of linguistic playfulness. I adored Carmel’s temptation in the local council offices where even banal stationery is given erotic language:

by the time it was lunchtime at work you couldn’t wait for him to slip into your office for a cup of tea and eateries
rolling the sugared wheat of marrow cake . . . mango sponge . . . coconut-and-lime cheesecake
around your tongue until it dissolved
inside your warm, salivary, and tea-wet mouth
and you was grateful, so grateful, that there was your massive desk as a barrier between him and you
with your brand-new Smith Corona Typetronic typewriter plonked in the middle of the desk
and an erect regiment of foolscap lever-arch files lined up on the front line
to protect your moral decency

Evaristo alternates between this verse novel style for Carmel – much like the style of Girl, WOman, Other – and a more traditional prosaic style for Barrington which flowed well, authentically but didn’t really contribute much to their voices.

The novel progressed to a satisfying but inevitable conclusion when Carmel returned to London, but it was not a conclusion that I felt Barrington deserved.