A brilliant read, jam packed with politics, music, and living life at 100 miles an hour.
We are brought all over Britain and given a taste of the times the lads are living in, how they are making sense of the state of the country and how it effects them in every shape and form.
This book is steeped in hardcore drinking, non stop smoking, and loud banging music that you can constantly hear throughout the book.
Loved it.

‘Mayflies’ - what an evocative and perfectly-chosen title. The most ephemeral of creatures, with just a single day to live its whole life, emerging to dance and sparkle in the light in a blaze of pure life force, and then gone. It’s a book of two halves - a concise rise and fall. In the first, the narrator Jimmy, his live-wire best friend Tully and their mates go to what they consider the greatest gig of all time, the pinnacle of their youth, if not their lives. In the second half, 30 years later, Tully is terminally ill and enlists Jimmy’s help in arranging his final months of life. And that’s it really. 

It’s something like a stripped-down Scottish ‘Rotters Club’ / ‘Our Friends in the North’ hybrid. There’s a hefty bit of 80s social/industrial history (yay), and a lot about identity, music, youth, change, aspiration, allegiance, all set against the backdrop of the death of Scotland’s shipyards, coal mines and steel works, rather than Jonathan Coe’s Birmingham motor industry. It’s very dialogue-driven (yay again) and there is some brilliant banter between the group of friends, which reminded me of Ali Smith (another Scot) who does witty zippy dialogue while dealing with heavy stuff, and carries it off, as Andrew O’Hagan does. Must be something in the water. Or some other beverage.    

Am I over-romanticising or did toxic masculinity loosen its grip a bit then as well? The post-punk era was a time when serious, shy, bookish, gentler males could be seen as cool; there wasn’t the blokey yobbery or violent tribalism of previous youth subcultures. At any rate Tully is exuberantly affectionate with his pals; Jimmy is literary and studious. Both are council estate boys, and while drinking and football are essential to their world (it begins and ends on a football pitch), both are determined to be nothing like the men their distant bitter fathers were. And they succeed.   

Young Tully and Jimmy have a mania for quoting films (gangster movies and 60s kitchen sink dramas, an interesting combination), and whole conversations are carried out in film quotes, with a few song lyrics sprinkled in. I’ll be honest: although realistic, this grated a bit. It’s partly about creating a exclusive shared language of in-jokes and references as a bonding thing. But more, it felt authentic in that how as a teenager, before you’ve lived much, you appropriate these expressions to help define yourself, signal the kind of person you are or how you identify - same as wearing badges and t-shirts (and how important THEY were). Others’ words act as stand-ins to express yourself because life hasn’t given you your own words yet. It’s probably a bit overdone, but there’s a truthfulness to it. (That, and being a bit didactic at times, and few too many minor characters made it a 4-star rather than 5-star read for me.)

But the big thing, the bond between the two men, is really poignant and lovingly done. As youths, Tully offers Jimmy a home and family, and Jimmy persuades Tully to return to studying and not piss his life away as a factory worker. Three decades later their loyalty is undiminished, and Jimmy enables Tully to leave life being Tully in all his glory, in an ending which was genuinely beautiful, without being mawkish. A gorgeous bittersweet life-affirming little book that I devoured in two sittings, and highly recommend.

The first half of Mayflies set in the 80s is vibrant, funny, and exciting as a bunch of friends go to Manchester for a weekend to attend a concert. The second half of the novel set in the present day is extremely moving and thought provoking. It is well written throughout and is highly recommended.

Mayflies starts with a beautiful verse by William Butler Yeats about friendship and how some people find the most glory of their life in their lifelong friends. The rest of the book is nothing but that. It works as a perfect allegory of Kantian philosophy of what people owe to each other. A rare gem of a book with a strong male friendship that is rarely established in books.

	The story is divided into two tonal opposite parts. The year is 1986 and Tully Dawson wants to have a memorable weekend in Manchester before all of his friends go on their career/life paths after college. Tully, with his larger than life presence in every one of his friends’ lives, has his hardships to go through, and he decides to get away from them with the drunkenness that the youth has to offer. And they succeed in seizing the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and witness their favourite band during a glorious weekend filled with political banter about Margaret Thatcher’s ways, the corruption of the Labour Party, the rise of capitalism, cinema, books, and music with an endless supply of alcohol.  

The narrative takes a time leap of 30 years, to 2017. The group has separated, not only professionally but geographically as well. Tully calls James with a devastating truth about himself, with a final wish that he expects his Noodles (as he fondly addresses Jimmy) to fulfill.

Andrew O’Hagan is unapologetically raw in the first half. He writes his strongly opinionated and complexly layered, and ahead-of-their-time-wise-for-their-age characters through their dialogues. (Excerpt: The bouncer said it was a gay bar and Limbo told him every man should be just gay enough.) He lets his characters’ recklessness of youth to run his imagination with incomprehensible 80’s slangs that I found overwhelming at times. The tone of the book takes a complete 180 in the second half which spends most of its time in retrospect. The rawness is replaced with tender empathy for its now aged and mature characters. The story delves in nostalgia, marinates in melancholy of growing old. It questions deeper philosophies of life and death and what people owe to their loved ones, be it their friends or family or life partner in life and death. The lyrical prose is often instigating and is usually more nuanced than it appears. It will push the reader to think about the hard decisions that they’ve made/yet to make.   

Mayflies is for people who want to dive deep into philosophical values of life and death and the emotional effect that it has on people. It is about the mark that one leaves behind after death. An emotional, bittersweet rollercoaster of a book and a must-read for anyone who wants to find a deeper meaning of life through unforgettable characters.

The first half of Mayflies is achingly nostalgic, and despite me being 10 years younger than the characters going wild on a weekend in Manchester in the 80s, it vividly brought back memories of the mid-late 90s gig-going and drinking  so much it almost hurts. O’Hagan makes every aspect of the relationships - the unqualified love, the ritualised slagging and mockery, the obsession with music and film, the politics - feel so alive. The change of pace and circumstances in the present day is well captured, moving and still feels totally realistic - the bond of friendship, the ultimately ephemeral quality of youth, if not life itself... 
Uplifting and sad in equal measure, i’ll be looking out more of O’Hagan’s work now.

This novel is full of life, even in it’s darkest points.  Andrew O’Hagan evokes a strong fondness for Ayrshire (though heavily impacted by Thatcher’s economic policies), music, literature, popular culture and most of all friendships.  The story focuses primarily with pals ‘Noodles’ and Tully in 1986 and in 2017.  The energy of youth is captured brilliantly,  night’s out took a life of their own and so much is packed in.   The first section predominately covers a weekend in Manchester for gigs by The Shop Assistants one night and the Factory Records ‘Festival of the Tenth Summers’ gig the next.  The tenth summer marks the 1976 Sex Pistols gig in Manchester.  Bands mentioned include: The Fall, A Certain Ratio,  New Order and a funny episode involving the Smiths.  

Moving forward to 2017 the men are middle-aged but no less committed to one another as one facing terminal illness.   This book is both hilarious and heart-breaking.   The scenes in Manchester and the grotty flats in Paisley accurately reflect the reality at that time.  Highly recommend, particularly for those who were in their late teens in mid-80s.   Fans of Andrew O’Hagan will not be disappointed.  

Thanks to NetGalley and Faber and Faber for an advanced copy.

I loved this book. It was full of bitter-sweet sadness and nostalgia and made me feel ancient but happy. Everyone can relate to this novel and its wonderful characters.

A story of a life-long friendship between two Scottish lads, opening with their love for indie music and a trip with friends to a festival in Manchester in the 80s when Morrissey was at his prime.

posted on goodreads.

Mayflies is a captivating story of a friendship you would eventually see adapted to TV, with episodes coming back and forth between the first and second parts, and of course, with a smashing soundtrack. I strongly recommend devouring this book with your Spotify ready - I definitely think about creating a playlist special to Mayflies - or streaming movies, whose lines James and Tully know by heart. I am still going back to the first part, which marvellously captures that juvenile itch any small-towner would recognise in a heart beat, wanting to get out and be at the heart of things.  
Massive thanks to NetGalley and Faber & Faber for providing me this book, pre-publication.

I really enjoyed this book a lot. The characters were clever and engaging, and getting to spend time with them was a treat. I liked the writing too - it was descriptive without ever veering into flowery territory, and I would certainly be interested in reading more work by this author. The cover is great too!

<p>Precisely unravelling the effervescence of youth and evoking the alternative music scene of the mid-1980s, <em>Mayflies</em> offers a valuable representation of an open, affectionate and lifelong masculine friendship. Beginning with an indulgent snapshot of a weekend to Manchester in 1986, and then picking up in 2017, Andrew O'Hagan explores the enduring friendship between James "Noodles" Collins and Tully Dawson and how they cope when terminal illness suddenly enters their lives. </p>
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<p>Having never read O'Hagan before, I was pulled in by the classic and literary feel of his writing, particularly the confiding undertone of the coming-of-age portion. There's a familiarity built into the language, reflecting the intimate friendship between Tully and James which has shades of both the brotherly and the romantic. O'Hagan has a magic touch with words, rendering very specific thoughts and feelings with a resounding smoothness and relatable quality. The intense, boundless brand of friendship that Tully and James share as young men will resonate with many readers: "<em>when the party is less fun, because your friend is the party</em>".</p>
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<p>O'Hagan defines youth by its limitless reserves of passion, capturing in particular the vital role of pop culture in young peoples' lives. Above all, he pays tribute to the power of music and its bonding qualities, its ritualistic role in friendships, and I loved how strongly the era was evoked (in particular, one astute description of Morrissey).</p>
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<p>Whilst at first the bantering discussions among the group serve to flesh out the characters and illustrate the anatomy of male friendships, they began to outstay their welcome, straying into pulpy, eye-rolling territory. There is an awareness of the group's pretension, though: to them, the weekend in Manchester is a pilgrimage, and there's a perceptive humour in the comparative ambivalence they are met with by its residents. </p>
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<p>By flashing forwards thirty years, O'Hagan is able to transition into more existentialist territory, bridged by the enduring friendship between James and Tully, who are older, settled down and more experienced. The novel enters into a gentle probing of the cyclical nature of politics and society, illness, life after death and euthanasia. The jump allows O'Hagan to highlight the shortness of life, the shift from youth to middle-age accelerated for the reader: in one chapter, it's a raucous weekend, in the next it's careful conversations about palliative care. Here O'Hagan depicts a tender friendship that has weathered it all, that has developed into the ultimate source of comfort and understanding.</p>
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<p>In what it sets out to do, the novel is tidy and complete. Tully and James' story is told with care and detail and the end is a fitting one. As much as I enjoyed the themes and setting of <em>Mayflies</em>, there's something keeping me at a distance. An element of that was the quotable quality that the novel indulges in and it pulled me out of the narrative. It was <em>too</em> neat, the characters' offhand remarks too effortlessly profound and perfect to the point of feeling unnatural. I also felt that despite the characters' established personalities, I never felt connected to them as people. Again, I think they felt too constructed and polished. Finally, at times, I just felt a little bit bored, the gentleness of the text working against it in some ways.</p>
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<p><em>Mayflies </em>is a wistful, affirming novel that rang true in its depiction of adolescence as a period of heightened senses, of a directionless excitement, defined by the friends who we share that time with. O'Hagan navigates the path from youth to middle-age smoothly, and whilst the plot simply wasn't one of my favourites, I'm glad to have discovered O'Hagan's writing.</p>
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Mayflies is novel about the friendship between two Glaswegian men. The first half of the novel is set in the summer of 1986 when our narrator, James, alongside four of his friends go to Manchester to watch some of their favourite bands. Andrew O'Hagan really brings this era to life, through their slang and the references they use. During the course of this freewheeling weekend they have the time of their lives, going to pubs and clubs, getting up to shenanigans, hanging out withs strangers, all the while animatedly discussing music and politics (Thatcher, the miners' strike). James, who is the more bookish and reserved of the lot, is particularly close to Tully, who is the undeniable glue that binds their group together and a wonderful friend. While this first half of the novel is all about what if feels to be young, reckless, free, and full of life, O'Hagan's characters, regardless of their age, are capable serious reflections, such as wondering what sort future awaits them and their country.
This section is so steeped in 1980s culture that I sometimes had a hard time keeping up with their banter (I am not from the UK and I'm a 90s child so I'm sure that readers who are more familiar with this era won't have such a hard time).

The second half brings us forward to 2017 when both James and Tully are in their early 50s. Here the narrative feels far more restrained, reflecting James' age. He has different preoccupations now, a career, a partner. Yet, he is recognisably still James. Tully too is both changed and unchanged. In spite of the distance between them (James lives in London now) the two have remained close friends. This latter section moves at a far slower pace, which should have been jarring but it wasn't. If anything it felt very natural. Here we have more measured meditations about life and death, questions about what we owe to the ones we love, and reconciliations with the past.
O'Hagan succeeds in uniting two very different moments of a man's life. One is an exhilarating snapshot of being young in the 80s, while the other one is more of a goodbye. I have read very few—if any—novels that focus on male friendship. So often we see portrayals that show how intimate and deep female friendships are, which is wonderful but it's refreshing to read a novel that is very much an ode to the friendship between two men. The relationship between Tully and James was incredibly moving.

Although I may have missed quite a few cultural references and Glaswegian/80s slangs, thanks to the musical education I received from my parents I mostly managed to keep up with the music front. I particularly appreciated James' literary references. I also really liked the way James would observe the character traits of those around—both as a young man and later in life—as well as his pondering about childhood, adulthood, and generational differences. His thoughtful narration was truly compelling.
Mayflies is an affecting and realistic novel examination of friendship and identity, one that I would thoroughly recommend.

Mayflies switches between two timeframes. Andrew O'Hagan cleverly juxtaposes, in the first part (1986) -  the raw spirit and delirious energy of youth with the second, (2017) and the fragility of our existence. The James/Tully friendship was very well written and I found the second part of the novel both moving and resonant. A great read.

This book is like reading two books in one. The earlier half of the novel concentrates on painting the teenage years of the protagonist and his friends and the second half focuses on the terminal illness of his best friend and how their friendship is tested. The two parts are written very differently and I preferred the second half as there were less characters. The first half is frenetic and fun, full of the energy of youth and nostalgia for the 80s and the indie music scene, but I struggled with the amount of characters. I was glad I read through to the second half though, as it was well written and an interesting read overall.

Mayflies (2020) by Andrew O'Hagan is a wonderful, heartfelt book about youth, friendship, death, and what it is to be human.

For anyone who lived through the 1980s, and enjoyed the indie music of the era, this is nigh on essential. The first part of the book embraces this era via a weekend trip to Manchester in 1986 for a group of Scottish friends. The passion and intensity of teenage life is stunningly evoked and this is clearly written from first hand experience.

In part two, we are in 2017 and we revisit some of the characters in middle age. Much has changed. I read the second part with a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye. It's moving, vivid and memorable.

Quite how Andrew O'Hagan has passed me by until now is a mystery as he has had an illustrious career. Here's what I now know...

Andrew O'Hagan was born in Glasgow in 1968 and grew up in Ayrshire. He has three times been nominated for the Booker Prize, and has won the Glenfiddich Writer of the Year Award, the Lost Angeles Times Book Award, and the E.M. Forster Prize from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. He is Editor-at-Large of the London Review of Books, and is a contributor to Esquire, the New York Review, and the New Yorker. He is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature and a Visiting Professor of Creative Writing at King's College London.

5/5

Andrew O'Hagan writes a brilliantly witty and unsentimental novel, a compassionate, sensitively relayed story of a group of friends set in two time period, examining the nature of class, friendship, life, love, loss and the impact, persistence and strength of their earlier bonds. Narrated by the quieter, but bright Jimmy, it is the summer of 1986 in Glasgow, the close group revolves around their working class, larger than life, charismatic, natural leader, 20 year old Tully Dawson, who has a remarkable capacity to love. They are on the cusp of heading out into very different futures after the end of school, music obsessives, the lyrics, their record collections, films, political discussions,the culture of that period of the 1980s, Thatcher's Britain, a time that resonated so strongly with me.

They make the decision to go to Manchester, to a Factory Records festival to mark the Sex Pistols, with acts that epitomised the 1980s. They experience a wild and unforgettable time, fizzing with energy, unrivalled joy, fervour, a strong spirit of rebellion, epitomising all that mattered to them. It is now 2017, and Jimmy is now a magazine writer, when he gets the shocking news that Tully is dying, he has cancer and he needs Jimmy. Amidst a wedding, the group are now older, different, with responsibilities, sharply contrasting with their younger selves when they had felt so invincible, a time they reflect on. Despite all the years that have passed, the strong relationships formed leave their mark, surviving, in a emotionally heartbreaking narrative of our mortality, the power of memories, male friendship, love and loss. O'Hagan develops his characters with great skill, they felt authentic, so real and so representative of that time. A memorable read that revived my memories of the time with ease. Many thanks to Faber and Faber for an ARC.

Honestly, I loved it from the very beginning and it did not disappoint with the ending either. 
As the book mentions itself, it resembles the story of The Great Gatsby in a way. The narrator is a bookish, intellectual James who's life is strongly influenced by his more extravagant friend Tully, The dynamic between them changes from their adolescence to adulthood, but they are always equally important for each other.

For me, the best feature of this book was its setting. The atmosphere of Scotland in the 80s was incredibly fitting and interesting. I enjoyed all the music references as well as the political ones. Living in Glasgow myself, it was especially interesting to learn about the interests of young people of that time. 

The writing style is genuine and hilarious, which suits a book about the power of friendship and value of memories so well. I was invested in the story from the beginning, wanting to know more about the characters. 

Overall, I think it is a great book for almost everyone, as it deals with important issues that are presented in this beautiful story.

(4.5)

Perfectly bittersweet distillation of how it feels to be eighteen and off your face dancing to your favourite tunes with 'life' miles in the distance; the grimy grandeur and epic nonsense of it; the fearless euphoria of having nothing but bands and films and books (and occasionally, politics) to argue about. The relegation of tricky stuff to the back-burner. And then: the comedown as reality slowly chips away. But not everything is lost, O'Hagan convincingly suggests -- some things are so magic they can't fade.

I think I read this at just the right time, and have nothing but gratitude for the author for in particular a first half that spends much of its time on streets I know and have great memories of, and which is a pitch-perfect encapsulation of teen lads on the rampage. The second half offers a sad yet fitting culmination to a real triumph, hopefully and deservedly a Booker longlistee in just over a week's time.

"They say you know nothing at eighteen. But there are things you know at eighteen that you will never know again. Morrissey would lose his youth, and not just his youth, but the gusto that took him across the stage with a banner saying 'The Queen is Dead' is a thing of permanence. 

Nobody at that age needs more than what Limbo McCafferty had in abundance. He had vitality. He had the spirit of resistance in that single moment. And as the final encore bristled and rose to a perfect confusion, Limbo appeared on the stage, going past crewmen and bouncers to take up residence by the drums, dancing and smiling for eternity, the crowd cheering him on and spiriting the light in his direction."

Thank you to NetGalley for an advance reading copy of this book which was given in exchange for an honest review.

A wonderfully tender book about friendship, love, life and death. O'Hagan keeps the balance beautifully between humour and a refusal to look away from the realities of mortality. James and Tully are fleshed out brilliantly as are, in the second half, their partners - and this stays on the right side of being frank without descending into either morbidity or cloying saccharine. And it's funny, wonderfully funny - just as the politicised commentary on Thatcher's Britain is spot on. So much to love about this book - just keep a tissue handy, I'd say.

I really enjoyed this.  The first half gives us an intense, funny and moving depiction of a group of Scottish lads spending a weekend at the Manchester G-Mex festival in 1986. It captures beautifully the hopes, failures and (mainly musical) obsessions of young men trying on adulthood and trying to be clever, like a more wistful version of David Keenan's similarly excellent "This is Memorial Device".  The second half moves to 2017 and a crisis which brings the narrator and his closest friend, Tully Dawson, together again in a period which reflects the intensity of their youth but adds mortality to the feelings of youthful immortality that characterise part 1.

There's some lovely writing here, which shows O'Hagan's range: "The band was at its height [...] with haircuts like agendas"; your connection to the music has become nostalgic, so the body is responding not to a discovery but to an old, dear echo" and O'Hagan captures beautifully captures the hunger of late teenage and the more measured nostalgia that comes later.  I wasn't convinced by the slightly forced introduction of the "mayflies" motif at the end of the book but this seems a really minor mistep in an excellent novel. Great final page too.