For a moment, in Blanes, on the Costa Brava, Rob Doyle entertains the idea that the mysterious writer who set out on the Roberto Bolano Literary Trail before him might actually be himself, “a double, flickering in some eerie glitch in the space-time continuum”; or perhaps “an emissary from the future, seeking to warn me of danger”. But then he decides it’s perhaps only John Banville, Anne Enright or Roddy Doyle, “fleeing whatever demons tormented them”. In the end, in fact, it turns out to be someone with the fantastical name of “Turtle Bunbury”. Between outings like this one, he considers suicide. But the only painless method, he concludes, would be to shoot himself in the head, and the only place he could easily come by a gun would be America, a country he will never, ever live in again. “I would rather kill myself.” Prime stand-up from Doyle’s new book.
My review of Threshold in the Guardian.