Book Title: REPORTS OF HIS DEATH HAVE BEEN GREATLY EXAGGERATED
Character Name: Ray “Spike” Thorns
How would you describe your family or your childhood?
I was a jolly fortunate young man to be born into peacetime, arriving as I did on the very day that World War II in Europe came to an end. Doubly lucky that I enjoyed such opulent surroundings. My father had been unable to serve in the military (trouble with his legs at the crucial moment, an affliction that mercifully never again returned). That he had to remain in Britain frustrated him no end, but ever resourceful, he succeeded in making an absolute fortune whilst his contemporaries were away fighting. We had a quite enormous house in the wilds of Kent, with its own lake, a rose garden where I could pick flowers for my mother, and four lavatories no less! Alas, it was not to last. By the time I was five he was working later and later into the evenings; my brother Denny and I would stay up - past midnight sometimes - to steal a glance at Dad pulling onto the drive in his Bentley and disembarking in his three-piece Savile Row suit and trilby. One night, he simply never returned. So began a more austere life for Mum, my brother and I, with the necessary move to a simple house in South London. We wanted for little even then, though. I have nothing but praise for the job my mother did. My childhood was a happy one, with or without our fortune.
What was your greatest talent?
I possess no talents, perish the thought! Though, working as I did for forty years at a prestigious boys’ prep school, I had the good fortune to mix with many gifted young men. Perhaps there was a time when I had a certain knack for mentoring those young folk; I did after all join the workforce as a caretaker and found myself - entirely accidentally – becoming a teacher. But I’m not sure I’d consider this way I had with the boys to be a talentas such. In any case, the last headmaster under whom I worked did not consider me an asset to the school in any way. I rather had my retirement thrust upon me.
Significant other?
Gosh, this is all getting a bit personal! I am what you might term a confirmed bachelor. There was a young lady once upon a time. Junie. Dear, dear Junie. We met in the spring of 1960. Just children, the pair of us. We were a fine couple. It was about five weeks and one day before our wedding when we parted. A very long time ago. I scarcely ever think about it. Next question if I may?
Biggest challenge in relationships?
Imagining that love alone is enough to see you through anything. I fear it may not be. Oh, will you listen to me? What a sentimental old duffer I can be!
Where do you live?
In the same house I’ve lived for seventy-five years. We moved here when I was a young child and I inherited it from my mother when she sadly passed on. Her room is still made-up as she left it. That’s a job I should get around to one of these days. How long’s it been? My word, it must be forty years!
Do you have any enemies?
There’s no profit in an enemy, as they say. But that last headmaster of mine – he’s hardly my favourite person. And my brother Denny – there’s no animosity between us, but I suppose we have become estranged. It’s been three decades at least since we last spoke.
How do you feel about the place where you are now? Is there something you are particularly attached to, or particularly repelled by, in this place?
This place is home! I’m surrounded by all my myriad possessions: tools, books, periodicals, receptacles, you name it! I’ll admit, space is getting a little tight, but I can still get into most rooms. I suppose a bit of a sort out wouldn’t hurt. Where to start though? And what could I bear to throw away?
Do you have children, pets, both, or neither?
No children. No. None… Well, there was a time when I almost became a … Oh, you don’t want to hear about that. It’s not even worth talking about. There’s nothing to say, actually.
What do you do for a living?
I’ve been retired twenty-five years. I keep jolly busy though, scouring the thrift stores and clearing lost property on the heath. And I sometimes play chess of an evening – online would you believe? What’s that nonsense they say about old dogs?
Greatest disappointment?
None. Not one.
Greatest source of joy?
Remembering those days long ago when everything was new and exciting, when I existed at the very leading edge of time as it unfolds. Oh, and an occasional Chinese takeaway.
What do you do to entertain yourself or have fun?
I do so enjoy restoring children’s toys. Preferably with a Chicago blues record on in the background: a little Howlin’ Wolf or Muddy Waters. Bliss!
What is your greatest personal failing, in your view?
That I don’t seem to do a terribly good job at keeping up with friends and relations.
What keeps you awake at night?
Wastefulness. The thought of things being discarded that have life left to give.
And death, on occasion. Well, it’s a frightening prospect, isn’t it? The thought of the things that I’ve likely already done for the very last time. Oh, shut up, Ray! What a macabre old sod I can be!
What is the most pressing problem you have at the moment?
Right at this instant, it is the fact that someone is knocking at my door. He’s being rather persistent too. It’s eight o’clock at night for pity’s sake. Pitch dark and below freezing. Whatever can it be? Let’s be honest, visitors are not something I have a lot of. Who was last to set foot in here? A man came to read the gas meter a few months back. And before him? I forget. And still the person knocks!
I’ve snuck a glance; I think it may be the old fellow from the flat opposite. What the devil does he want? One thing’s for sure – he’s going nowhere. I suppose I’d better answer. I’ll be right back as soon as I’ve dealt with him.
A Novel
Perfect for fans of The Dead Poets Society, It's A Wonderful Life, and A Man Called Ove.
A lifetime ago, Ray “Spike” Thorns was a well-regarded caretaker on a boarding school’s grounds. These days, he lives the life of a recluse in a house rammed with hoarded junk, alone and disconnected from family or anyone he might have at one time considered a friend.
When his next-door neighbor drops dead on Spike’s doorstep, a case of mistaken identity ensues: according to the police, the hospital, the doctors—everyone—Spike is dead. Spike wants to correct the mistake, really he does, but when confronted with those who knew him best, he hesitates, forced to face whatever impression he’s left on the world. It’s a discovery that brings him up close to ghosts from his past, and to the only woman he ever loved.
Could it be that in coming face-to-face with his own demise, Spike is able to really live again? And will he be able to put things straight before the inevitable happens—his own funeral? The result is a beautiful look at life and what we would all do if given a second chance.
Thriller | Literature and Fiction Literary [Mira Books, On Sale: July 1, 2025, Paperback / e-Book , ISBN: 9780778387466 / eISBN: 9780369762672]
James Goodhand has written two YA novels. His YA debut, Last Lesson, was called "a powerfully charged study in empathy," by the Financial Times. This is his adult debut. He lives in Englad with his wife and young son.
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