It was a deliberate choice that this novel should follow the prior. The two, however, have little in common, the latter being more a wry acknowledgement of the former. Both do poke fun — in Brooke's case — and criticise — more for Conrad — at the complacent assumptions of the establishment. Just as the UK's colonial era came to an end (Conrad de facto preempts this), so Brooke seems to suggest that the establishment's grip on post-war Britain may not endure. Brooke's Giles Trenchard — a product of the upper class and all it entails — suffers a fall from grace, much as Conrad's Jim does in his period serving in the Navy during the war (Giles is also a seaman on the Conradian HMS Patusan). Whereas Jim has to live with the consequences of his decision to jump, Brooke leads readers to the point where we know Giles will fall, but not how. The genius of Lord Jim at Home is that it is completely grotesque and depraved, full of scatology and inappropriate behaviour. Think of it almost as an indictment on the upper class — if this is how they behave, then live with the consequences they must. Lord Jim at Home is also very funny (or wrong) — albeit in quite a sickening way. No surprise, perhaps, that Ottessa Moshfegh writes the foreword. I saw parallels with her work and also that of Magnus Mills. Lord Jim at Home was out of print for many years (this is a 50th anniversary edition), but feels very relevant. It will probably make my top ten of 2024, ten out of ten.
By Dinah Brooke