Do you have one of those friends who is uncannily conscious of the most subtle signs of insincerity; who quietly witnesses selfish and narcissistic behaviour and drily expresses their observations with devastating wit in a few well-chosen words? Well, Harriet Lane is like that friend, and you don’t have to know her to enjoy her deliciously bitchy awareness of fakery.
Her first novel, Alys Always (2012), told the story of a silently sour sub-editor who seizes her chance to better her lot through a tragedy. She inveigles her way into the life of a recently bereaved male writer and exploits the situation to enjoy new-found power and material benefits. A second novel, Her (2014), was a simmering tale of revenge taken cold via an opportunistic friendship between a calm, collected female artist and a mother of two young children negotiating a chaotic existence. Both books showcased women with grudges adroitly manipulating circumstances to attain their ultimate goals.
Other People’s Fun also features a narrator hiding her true feelings and playing the long game. Ruth, a woman who often feels unseen, attends a memorial for a teacher at her old boarding school. While there, she is randomly chosen by Sookie, the most confident person she remembers from school, to accompany her for a cigarette. Sookie has not changed: she still assumes that everyone’s favourite topic of conversation is her. We have all met a Sookie – someone who helps themselves to everything they want in life, including the time and effort of others, and glides obliviously through a gilded existence, their entitlement serving as a free pass.
But with Lane, the doyenne of toxic female behaviour, things are different. As Ruth is drawn into becoming a sounding board and confidante, we are treated to her running commentary on Sookie’s unthinking egocentricity. It soon becomes apparent that Sookie is using Ruth as a free therapist and agony aunt. Lane gives us a vivid portrait of the narcissistic faux friend: one who shows no interest in the hopes or anxieties of others but regales them instead with the minutiae of their own life; who takes, materially and emotionally, whenever they feel the urge.
The denouement is delicious – although I did have some sympathy for the one who came off worst. Divine.
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