burritapal_1's review
adventurous
dark
informative
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
2.0
Spoiler
" 'You're born, you take shit, get out in the world, take shit, you climb higher, take less shit. The higher you climb, the less shit you take, till one day you get up in the rarified atmosphere and you've forgotten what shit even looks like. Welcome to the layer cake, son.' "
The Layer Cake is a book about drug dealers that takes place in 1990s London. The protagonist, who is also the narrator, never gives his name, coyly saying "if you knew my name you'd be as clever as myself." I was not amused by This announcement nor by the character of the protagonist, actually, I was not amused by any of the characters. in my opinion, this Book is for the audience of wannabe drug dealers, and young people who like to party, but it wasn't for me.
It was often hard to tell who was talking to who in conversations, because there were very few indicators. For example, no "said Monty," or "snorted Gene."
The protagonist is a cocaine dealer who has stashed away a large amount of money and has decided that he wants to get out of the drug dealing business when he turns 30, and retire . But he should know, as common sense dictates, that when you are involved in a crime syndicate, then you know too much, and of course they're not going to let you go.
I couldn't stand the protagonist's attitude towards women, as mainly human beings who are meant to shag with. Luckily there were no sex scenes.
Near the beginning of the book, we get a little 411 on how to launder money when you're a drug dealer:
"I was then faced with another kind of problem. I had bundles of cash wrapped round me and there's only so much you can do with cash without people getting suspicious or jealous. I was sent to see an accountant an hour's drive out of London. My card had been marked, I could be completely straight with him. He, Mr. Lonsdale, told me that I had better Start paying taxes on my drug profits, obviously not declaring that I was a dealer but start opening and investing in as many cash businesses as possible. Start flushing as much cash through these seemingly legit Fronts as would look feasible. Go to people you know and trust and tell them you'll put them in the swindle if you can fire some money through the books and get paid a partner's dividend at the end of the year. Start looking to open clothes shops, snack bars, flower stalls, car washes, ice cream vans, gyms, hot dog stands, driving schools, recording studios. If any of your pals come to you with a business plan that's halfway sensible, stick your money in, so long as it's a cash heavy business, don't matter if it don't make money in reality cos on paper it's fucking thriving. Don't worry if you got lock ups full of rotting flowers and burgers or you're knee deep in a river of melting ice cream or the hot dog stands are spending all day padlocked Up in a garage, cos on paper you're selling every bit of stock you buy at top fucking dollar."
The parts that I enjoyed, if any, were scenes of violence between drug dealing partners. There was one description of a man who had a boat, who supposedly was ferrying goods from Amsterdam to England, and for whatever reason, these Chechnya gangs tortured him to get information about his suppliers:
" ...' The victim, the Dutch bloke, was held for about two days before he died. They know that because the decay on the wounds showed some were 48 hours old and others were fresh. Also, two smartly dressed men were seen entering the boat yard early Sunday afternoon. They worked out, you really have to trust pathologists because they're seldom wrong, that he was tortured for the whole two days. He was given a rare beating. He had a fractured skull, ribs and forearm. They'd then wired him up to the electricity mains by His goolies, his swinging bits, Burns of the electrical variety on the old testes.'
'poor Van Tuck,' sighs Trevor.
'oh, there's lots more, they didn't stop there. They were only getting started. They put his eye out, pop, something sharp or something Blunt in the eye.'
'Sounds like they wanted information,' Says Trevor.
'I may continue,' says Duncan. 'they started cutting his fingers off, one by one, a couple off each hand. The wounds on the little fingers were older than the others.'
'charming,' says Trevor. 'if it was a hit, someone would've walked on that boat, Bang Bang with a silencer and away.'
'it's brutal but not very professional, I agree.'
'exactly. they risk getting caught in flattete.' 'What? Talk English, Duncan!'
'on the job. But if I can finish before you two offer a critique. He had water in his lungs, so they reckon they half drowned him in the bath and then they cut off his two big toes in the bath and dragged him around a bit so there's blood everywhere on the boat and the police are spooked by it because they reckon that these two were cooking meals and having naps. And the final coup de grâce, the grand finale, they left him wired up to the mains so he was slowly cooked alive and they carried on lobbing bits off him.' "
When you're a vegan and you've watched all those slaughterhouse videos, you're not bothered by this happening to humans as much.
There's a part where Monty and the protagonist are looking for the daughter of Jimmy-the-boss's friend, who supposedly got kidnapped, and they're going in a cafe when an old fart, supposedly known to Morty, Seizes on him and mooches a meal from him. The guy is totally disgusting, and the author gives a narration of it:
"I tried Geno yet again but no joy . I don't want to go back in just yet so I mooch about in a couple of shops for about five minutes and then stroll back. Monty hasn't moved a hair or touched his coffee but Freddie's in full flow and tucking in at the same. it's fucking revolting to watch Freddie eat at close quarters. He's shoveling fried eggs and beans, putting rashers of bacon into his mouth and then pulling off the rind with his chubby fingers. He's eating so fast, it's urgent business, he's getting breathless.He'ss chatting his rubbish the whole time. under different circumstances this could almost be funny but the mood ain't right today. He's pronged a sausage in the middle and he's taking bites out of each end. I can't believe this geezer. He's wiping up egg yolk and grease with bread and marge. I don't like being around mongrels like him any longer than I have to. I'll need a tetanus injection if I do. The cunt revolts me and he's talking nonstop, everyone's a grass, a slag, a muggy cunt or a wrong'un, or thinks they're Charlie Potatoes cos they've got a few Bob."
The "friend" of Jimmy Price, Eddy, lets the protagonist know that Jimmy is an informant to one of the top cops, Albie, and he lets the protagonist listen to a tape That he made of Jimmy talking to the cop. This is how the protagonist finds out he's going to be fingered and all his money stolen by Jimmy.
" 'so who is this geezer, Jimmy? Would I know him?'
'doubt it. Flash little prick but very low profile. Thinks he's retiring, the silly cunt. He's gonna do a couple of errands for me then he's yours. I want him away for twelve.'
'if he's got over a kilo of Class A on board, Brown rather than white, he's guaranteed double figures.'
'I'll guarantee he has on the day, even if I gotta put it there myself.'
I can feel my skin burning with heat but I can't breathe. I want to cry, to be honest. I want my mum to come and take me home. I don't wanna play no more.
'it sounds personal, Jim. Aint never been personal before.'
'shut your fuckin mouth.'
I can hear Jimmy spitting bits of cigar out.
'OK, Jim, fuck's sake,' says Albie.
'there's something about this geezer that gets me at it. He's fuckin smug.'
'and you reckon you can get your hands on his goodies?'
'I fuckin know I can. It Was me told him to go and see This dodgy accountant years ago and spread his readies about in Moody names. The book-keep ain't gonna cause no fuss. He'll poop his pants when I go and talk to him. A snide name can be just about anyone.' says Jimmy Price.
'I'll put that down in the "forthcoming events" column column shall i?' says Albie and they both start to laugh.
Eddie stops the tape."
The protagonist now thinks he knows how to get himself out of this fix, and on his way to retirement, with the help of Eddie. But I, and possibly other readers know there's no honor among thieves.
matosapa's review
4.0
A brilliant novel and (as usual) better than the movie. Be warned that the slang is thick and very common throughout the book because it's told from the perspective of an unnamed up and coming London drug dealer. The writing style varies between stream of consciousness and third person.
salbulga's review
challenging
funny
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.0
johnson5509's review
adventurous
dark
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.25
ooo's review
dark
funny
informative
mysterious
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
verityborras's review
adventurous
dark
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
mato's review
4.0
A brilliant novel and (as usual) better than the movie. Be warned that the slang is thick and very common throughout the book because it's told from the perspective of an unnamed up and coming London drug dealer. The writing style varies between stream of consciousness and third person.
raven88's review
5.0
In much the same way as Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting defined a generation in Scottish fiction, I believe that Layer Cake did much the same for London based crime fiction. The influence of this book on some of the best known London noir crime writers is inescapable, and J. J. Connolly really set the bar high for those following in his wake. It’s been a real pleasure dusting off my old copy of this and entering this violent and visceral world once again…
The characterisation of this disparate band of gangsters and wannabe gangsters is superlative from beginning to end, and they are, without exception so vividly drawn that the reader can picture each of them in all their sullied glory. Connolly plays close attention to how these men hold themselves, their physicality and manner of dress, and in this world where the appearance of confidence and strength is the key to success, it becomes easy to identify the weak and powerless who will definitely not make it to the end of the book. Despite having the moral code of a band of backstreet alley cats, I love that these men have a taste for the finer things in life be it smart threads, flashy motors and the finest food and drink. Much of their business is conducted in the rarefied air of high end restaurants and exclusive clubs, but equally in dodgy cafes and unsavoury boozers.
Our unnamed narrator, has all the street-smarts and at a relatively tender age is assured in his mission to retire at 30, unscathed and unpunished for his more nefarious drug dealings behind his appearance of respectability. Throughout the book, he not only cleverly negotiates the world of the gangster kingpins, but is more often than not, manipulated at the whim of others and things begin to get very dodgy indeed for him. I like the way that Connolly uses him as a mirror to the unsavoury cohorts encircle him, and through his perception of them, and their outbursts of violence, we get an even more vivid picture of these sometimes desperate and always dangerous men. In this world where money is all and double dealing the way to get on, there is little in the way of honesty, but there are flashes of loyalty and friendship that transcend this tough, dog-eat-dog and immoral world. The sudden and visceral outbursts of violence are as natural to these men as breathing, and as they alternately turn on each other, or band together to defeat outside forces, The psychological aspects of their personalities really fleshes them out for the reader, and poses puzzles all of its own as their behaviours change and by extension our perception of them.
The raw earthiness of Connolly’s prose is relentless, so for those of a sensitive disposition and an aversion to profanity, you would probably best avoid this. Even for a hardened reader the sheer weight of colloquialisms, street slang and swearing, added to the pace and rat-a-tat dialogue and narrative can be a little overwhelming at times, but the breath-taking scope of Connolly’s vocabulary and prose is a marvel. The prose is harshly rhythmical with a beat and musicality all of its own and although I have read the book a few times over the years, and I never tire of the snappy prose and the raw rhythm of the language that the book marches along to.
Admittedly, some of the book seems a little dated now in terms of how time has moved on and how technology plays a much bigger part in the world of cross border drug dealing, but of its time, Connolly’s Layer Cake remains a classic of London crime and a lucid and compelling tale of the drug underworld. There is a raw sophistication instead of a sleek one, as the book does untangle a little in terms of tight narrative, and goes off in tangents at some points, but it’s all part of its charm. This is probably why I’ve always loved it, and will always return to it when the opportunity arises, Highly recommended.
The characterisation of this disparate band of gangsters and wannabe gangsters is superlative from beginning to end, and they are, without exception so vividly drawn that the reader can picture each of them in all their sullied glory. Connolly plays close attention to how these men hold themselves, their physicality and manner of dress, and in this world where the appearance of confidence and strength is the key to success, it becomes easy to identify the weak and powerless who will definitely not make it to the end of the book. Despite having the moral code of a band of backstreet alley cats, I love that these men have a taste for the finer things in life be it smart threads, flashy motors and the finest food and drink. Much of their business is conducted in the rarefied air of high end restaurants and exclusive clubs, but equally in dodgy cafes and unsavoury boozers.
Our unnamed narrator, has all the street-smarts and at a relatively tender age is assured in his mission to retire at 30, unscathed and unpunished for his more nefarious drug dealings behind his appearance of respectability. Throughout the book, he not only cleverly negotiates the world of the gangster kingpins, but is more often than not, manipulated at the whim of others and things begin to get very dodgy indeed for him. I like the way that Connolly uses him as a mirror to the unsavoury cohorts encircle him, and through his perception of them, and their outbursts of violence, we get an even more vivid picture of these sometimes desperate and always dangerous men. In this world where money is all and double dealing the way to get on, there is little in the way of honesty, but there are flashes of loyalty and friendship that transcend this tough, dog-eat-dog and immoral world. The sudden and visceral outbursts of violence are as natural to these men as breathing, and as they alternately turn on each other, or band together to defeat outside forces, The psychological aspects of their personalities really fleshes them out for the reader, and poses puzzles all of its own as their behaviours change and by extension our perception of them.
The raw earthiness of Connolly’s prose is relentless, so for those of a sensitive disposition and an aversion to profanity, you would probably best avoid this. Even for a hardened reader the sheer weight of colloquialisms, street slang and swearing, added to the pace and rat-a-tat dialogue and narrative can be a little overwhelming at times, but the breath-taking scope of Connolly’s vocabulary and prose is a marvel. The prose is harshly rhythmical with a beat and musicality all of its own and although I have read the book a few times over the years, and I never tire of the snappy prose and the raw rhythm of the language that the book marches along to.
Admittedly, some of the book seems a little dated now in terms of how time has moved on and how technology plays a much bigger part in the world of cross border drug dealing, but of its time, Connolly’s Layer Cake remains a classic of London crime and a lucid and compelling tale of the drug underworld. There is a raw sophistication instead of a sleek one, as the book does untangle a little in terms of tight narrative, and goes off in tangents at some points, but it’s all part of its charm. This is probably why I’ve always loved it, and will always return to it when the opportunity arises, Highly recommended.
chalicotherex's review
3.0
I liked the plot but a lot of other things – characters, dialogue, the writing in general – were a letdown. The author takes great pains to stretch anecdotes out to fill chapters and there's an overabundance of run on sentences and strangely placed multiple exclamation marks. It's not a terrible book, some parts of it are really clever, but it gets tiresome after a while. There's a smugness to the protagonist that brings the novel down.
amyg42's review
4.0
The unnamed coke-dealer narrator tries to leave the business with his money and his life. He and his crew get blamed for stealing 2 million ecstasy pills from neo-Nazis and find out their boss is a snitch. The movie stayed true to the book, although the book was easier to understand. Good book, and recommended.
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