Mark Barrowcliffe
Aka M.D. Lachlan.
He grew up in Coventry and studied at the University of Sussex. He worked as a journalist and also as a stand-up comedian before he started writing his first novel, Girlfriend 44. He lives and writes in Brighton, England and South Cambridgeshire. Ron Howard secured the film rights for Girlfriend 44 and Infidelity for First Time Fathers is in development with 2929.
Barrowcliffe achieved early success in the late 1990s as part of the Lad Lit movement, although his writing has little in common with other writers who were bracketed under that heading. He is nearer to Terry Southern, Jonathan Coe and Martin Amis than he is to Nick Hornby or Mike Gayle.This is more than likely a matter of presentation, as most of the British versions of his novels have appeared in the candy-coloured covers favoured by lad and chick lit publishers.
Barrowcliffe's early work was noted for its cynicism and black humour, although Lucky Dog strikes a lighter tone, that of comedic magic realism.
At his best Barrowcliffe can be irreverent and very funny. Rugby, for instance, is described as 'a game invented by the English public schools in order to encourage homosexuality'. Of a woman who has had a tough time and put on weight, he says 'her life had hit the crash barriers and it looked as though an air bag had gone off inside her face'. He is also insightful. Lucky Dog, for instance, says a lot about how we cope with death, our own and those of the people we love.
Sometimes, though, particularly in his first novel Girlfriend 44, Barrowcliffe can be long winded in his comic diversions.
The Elfish Gene is a memoir of growing up uncool, confused, and obsessed with Dungeons and Dragons and other role-playing games.
Barrowcliffe is certainly one of Britain's more original and interesting new writers but it remains to be seen if he can survive being labelled as part of the Lad Lit fad.
“My parents were not one for photography, and my dad earned the nickname 'Henry VII' for his ability to slice the heads off of subjects for his snaps”
“Actually 'bad' doesn't do justice to my handwriting. Neither does 'handwriting.' 'Desecration of paper' about covers it.”
“...an obsession is a way for damaged people to damage themselves more.”
“There is also a psychological phenomenon at work here that I believe is particularly male. A woman or girl--presuming one could be induced to take part in this sort of activity in the first place--having burned her hair and eyebrows would conclude that she had been lucky and reduce the amount of gas she put into the balloon next time. The man doesn't come to the same conclusion at all. He, singed and blackened, arrives at the point of view that he still has a margin of error to play with. After all, he isn't dead, and he's hardly likely to burn his eyebrows off again. They've already gone, history; he's moved on. There can be but one deduction--the dose needs to be increased.”
“It's an odd fact of life that you don't really remember the good times all that well. I have only mental snapshots of birthday parties, skiing, beach holidays, my wedding. The bad times too are just impressions. I can see myself standing at the end of some bed while someone I love is dying, or on the way home from a girlfriend's after I've been dumped, but again, they're just pictures. For full Technicolor, script plus subtitles plus commemorative programme in the memory, though, nothing beats embarrassment. You tend to remember the lines pretty well once you've woken screaming them at midnight a few times.”
“I thought it very likely I might have this sort of untestable power myself. It was kind of logical--no good at sport, alrightish at my studies, there must have been some field in which I excelled. Magic had to be it.It's difficult for adults to picture just what a grip these fantasies can take on a child. There's occasionally a reminder as a kid throws himself off a roof pretending to be Batman, but mostly the interior life of children goes unnoticed.When I say I thought I could be a wizard, that's exactly true. I really did believe I had latent magical powers, and, with enough concentration and fiddling my fingers into strange patterns, I might suddenly find how to unlock the magic inside me.I wouldn't call this a delusion, more a very strong suspicion. I'd weighed all the evidence, and that was the likely conclusion--so much so that I had to stop myself trying to turn Matt Bradon into a fly when he was jumping up and down on the desk in French saying, "Miss, what are mammary glands?" to the big-breasted Miss Mundsley. I feared that, if I succeeded, I might not be able to turn him back. It was important, I knew, to use my powers wisely.There's nothing that you'd have to call a psychoanalyst in for here. At the bottom line my growing interest in fantasy was just an expression of a very common feeling--"there's got to be something better than this," an easy one to have in the drab Midlands of the 1970s. I couldn't see it, though. My world was very small, and I couldn't imagine making things better incrementally, only a total escape.”
“I knew you were meant to kiss girls, but there was something else that you were meant to do first, and I didn't know what that was.”
“In no way did I allow reality as it was to intrude on reality as I wanted it to be.”