{"product_id":"going-out-isbn-9781400075317","title":"Going Out","description":"Luke is allergic to everything.  He spends his days in a sterile safe-haven designed to keep out all light and dirt, while everything he knows about the world comes from  books, movies, the internet and whatever his best-friend Julie tells him. He would do anything to go outside.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulie, brilliant and kind, could be out changing the world. Unfortunately, she’s too afraid of airplane crashes, highway accidents, and potentially life-threatening bacteria to leave her hometown, her pointless waitress job, or Luke.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCharlotte’s boyfriend dropped dead from a brain hemorrhage. She disappeared for awhile, but now she’s decided that she misses her friends.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDavid has just been diagnosed with testicular cancer.  Consequently, he’s no longer wants to spend his days making pizza to pay for school. His priorities in life are changing; he just doesn’t know how, yet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLeanne has just discovered that she may or may not have magic powers. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen this motley bunch befriends a lottery winner with a generous heart, they all embark on a hysterical and heartwarming journey in search of the healer who just might be able to cure Luke, and perhaps give them the answers they didn’t know they were looking for.“\u003cb\u003eGoing Out\u003c\/b\u003e is wonderful. It hits all the right nails with just the right amount of force.”—Douglas Coupland\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Fierce and honest, \u003cb\u003eGoing Out\u003c\/b\u003e is a hilarious testament to love, friendship, and the pleasures of hitting the road.\"--Lauren Grodstein, author of \u003cb\u003eThe Best of Animals and Reproduction is the Flaw of Love \u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Points the way to a new future for English fiction.  Fans of Coupland and Murakami: here is your new favourite author.” —Matt Thorne\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A real offbeat gem. . . . It makes for a novel of subtlety and poise from an author of considerable promise—one that talks quietly but says a great deal.” —\u003ci\u003eArena\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Surreal and inventive. A warm and comical study of life outside the London orbital, \u003cb\u003eGoing Out\u003c\/b\u003e does for provincial Britain what Frank Capra did for small-town America.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Independent on Sunday\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Writing for and about people who cannot stand words such as \u003ci\u003eZeitgeist\u003c\/i\u003e, Scarlett Thomas captures perfectly the Estuarine suburbs where a lack of blonde highlights makes you a weirdo and where eccentrics are nevertheless stashed behind every Homebase-bought door. Never mind what the neighbors might think–\u003cb\u003eGoing Out\u003c\/b\u003e is worth staying in for.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Times \u003c\/i\u003e(London)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Thomas builds an absorbing, sympathetic story.” –\u003ci\u003eEsquire\u003c\/i\u003e (UK)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Original, funny and full of insight. A brilliant and assured novel with themes that resonate long after the book has been put down.” —Chrissie Glazebrook, author of \u003cb\u003eThe Madolescents\u003c\/b\u003e and \u003cb\u003eBlue Spark Sisters\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“A modern take on \u003cb\u003eThe Wizard of Oz\u003c\/b\u003e that will be thoroughly enjoyed by all fans of Douglas Coupland.” —\u003ci\u003eDaily Mail\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“A wonderful story with a dark sense of humour.” —\u003ci\u003ePunch\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Thomas has deftly tapped in to the rich vein of interest in different realities in this insightful and entertaining novel which is ultimately about friendship and trying to make sense of our confusing world.” —\u003ci\u003eBig Issue\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This depressingly sharp portrait of contemporary Britain, full of floods, retail parks and lookalike chain hotels is wonderfully observed” —\u003ci\u003eWigan Evening Post\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Original and well written.” —\u003ci\u003eJockey Slut\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“In telling a story with wit and true understanding of her characters, Thomas has established herself as Britain's answer to Douglas Coupland.” —\u003ci\u003eWaterstone’s Quarterly\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An unusually sharp writer.” —\u003ci\u003eIrish Tattler\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“Full of love, honesty, humour and sadness.” —Rebbecca Ray, author of \u003cb\u003ePure\u003c\/b\u003eScarlett Thomas is the author of \u003cb\u003eBring Young Things\u003c\/b\u003e. She was also a contributor to the controversial anthology \u003cb\u003eAll Hail the New Puritans\u003c\/b\u003e. The \u003ci\u003eIndependent\u003c\/i\u003e named her as one of the 20 Best British Young Writers in 2001 and in 2002 she won the Best New Writer award at the Elle Style Awards. She grew up in Essex and now lives in Devon with her partner and their animals. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVisit Scarlett’s website at \u003cu\u003ewww.bookgirl.org\u003c\/u\u003eChapter 1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSince Luke turned twenty-five--or since the millennium; Julie isn't  sure which event actually set him off--he's been talking about not  wanting to be stuck in this room any more. He wants to go out, he keeps  saying, and dance in the fields.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'I want to be naked,' he adds. 'While I'm dancing.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Great,' says Julie. 'You'll be naked and dead and your mother will go  totally insane. Nice combination. Very Kurt Cobain.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'How is that anything like Kurt Cobain? Anyway,I might not die.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulie pokes at her Pot Noodle. 'Luke, we've had this conversation a  thousand times. Yeah, you might not die, but do you want to take that  risk?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'No. I guess not,' Luke says. 'Is there anything on TV?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'I wish they'd put more peas in these,' Julie says, and reaches for the  remote.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter flicking through various channels, Julie settles on a Learning  Zone science programme in which a man with a beard is explaining the  birth of calculus. Luke gives Julie a look, then takes the remote  control.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'I'll find something with a story,' he says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere's nothing, really, so he settles for a profile of a pop group,  which may as well be a story. They're talking about how they used to  have these pathetic low-paid jobs, and play their music in provincial  youth-clubs. Now they play Wembley Arena.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulie looks around the room. There are magazines, CDs and Blockbuster  Video boxes on the floor. It is not usually a mess in here--Luke's  actually very organised--these are just the remains of tonight. The  rest of the room contains Luke's large double bed, his TV, video,  computer, and a couple of chairs. Most of the wall space is covered  with the shelves that hold every book Luke's ever read, and his library  of videos containing programmes he's taped from the TV--programmes full  of shiny white American malls, clean beaches, best buddies, teen angst,  high schools with cheerleaders, soccer pitches, geeks, girls with  suntans and blonde highlights, long corridors with lockers and feuds,  and perfect stories. He doesn't call them programmes, though. He calls  them 'shows', and he calls the pavement the 'sidewalk'. Luke has a  slight American accent, although he's never been to America. He  believes that Clacton-on-Sea is like the perfect yellow beaches on his  tapes--with beautiful people and lifeguards--and that kids hang out at  Lakeside the same way they do in American malls.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen he was about fifteen he went through a phase of asking Julie to  describe the local beaches, shops and parks. It was obvious that he  didn't believe her when she told him about the world outside, and her  attempts to be objective soon gave way to simply telling the truth  about just how shit everything was. But Luke didn't understand that  either, so in the end Julie gave up completely, deciding to just let  him believe things in Essex were like TV sets in LA. But when they  watched the millennium celebrations on TV, Luke thought it was all  fake. It was just as hard to convince him that the displays and the  fireworks were real as it was to try to convince him that Beverly Hills  90210 was fantasy and that although his mother has always had a  soap-opera kitchen, most people have dirt in their houses, dirty dishes  in the sink, clothes in the laundry basket.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLuke's floor is made of linoleum and all his furniture is plastic or  MDF. He has nylon sheets and wears clothes made out of artificial  fibres. He's sitting on his nylon bed next to Julie with his legs  crossed, like some kind of yoga student. Julie is leaning against the  wall, her knees drawn up to her chest. She finishes the Pot Noodle and  puts the empty plastic container neatly to one side. Her insides feel  warm and salty.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere's nothing on TV after the pop profile, so Julie gets up and scans  the video shelf. She feels like seeing some American animation:  dysfunctional families; dysfunctional robots; dysfunctional, offensive  kids.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'I don't want to die,' Luke says. 'But I do want to live.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulie laughs. 'Oh please. Will you stop saying that all the time?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLuke smiles too. 'At least it gets a laugh.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'And will you stop talking about going out? It makes me feel anxious.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Look, I'm not going to do it, of course I'm not. Not now. I just like  to think about it. Come on. I've never gone out just because I've  talked about it.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Yeah,' she says. 'I know.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLuke smiles. 'I'm not going to do it until it's safe--until I've been  cured.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt the millennium he swore that he'd be cured by 2001. It's October  now. Julie pulls out a video and slides it in the machine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'I'm worried about you,' Luke says suddenly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Me? Where did that come from? We were talking about you.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe looks at the Pot Noodle. 'Have you eaten anything real today?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eChapter 2\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLuke Gale was born on 24 October 1975, during an episode of Fawlty  Towers. In the year the Netherlands won the Eurovision Song Contest,  the year of Wombles, Pong, Ford Capris and the Bay City Rollers, Luke  was a miracle child.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis mother Jean had, apparently, always been unable to conceive, and  the adoption agency she and her husband Bill approached had ruled that  Bill was away too much for them to effectively parent a child. It  didn't matter that half the women in the area were single-parent  families with ten different men on the scene; Jean and Bill just  weren't good enough for a child. Bill was away so much because his  firm, a big insurance company, sent him to different locations for one,  two or sometimes three weeks at a time. In the end, the savings fund  that was supposed to provide private education for the adopted child  they never had ended up going towards Brazilian herbal fertility  treatments for Jean. A couple of years later, Luke was born.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe first time Julie saw Luke was some time in 1985. She was sitting in  the removal van, half asleep. He was a face in a window that she at  first thought belonged to a ghost. It was late--they'd been driving all  day--and in the moonlight he'd looked pale, drawn and a bit deathly.  Julie was ten at the time, and was going through a phase of thinking  everything was a ghost and everything looked deathly, but there was  something wrong about him even then. He wasn't looking at anything. He  was just looking. As they pulled up outside their new home, she  realised that he was going to be her new neighbour.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'I never thought I'd live in a cul-de-sac,' laughed Julie's mother.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'What's a cul-de-sac?' Julie asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Like this,' explained her father. 'A road with a beginning but no end.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe next day, after a night spent 'camping' in their new home, Julie's  father started his first day in his new job as a lecturer at the local  sixth-form college, preparing for the new term when he'd be teaching  art. At about three o'clock, after spending the day unpacking, Julie  and her mother went to say hello to the neighbours at number 17.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt first, Julie couldn't work out what was so weird about Luke. He  didn't seem like a ghost any more; he seemed more like a child you'd  see on TV or something--she wasn't sure why. When she thought about it  a lot later, Julie realised it was because he had no scabs, no suntan,  no insect bites and no dirt. He was the cleanest child she'd ever seen.  They just stood looking at each other in silence, in what Julie later  found out was the 'guest' lounge, in which she was never allowed again  after that first day.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn the lounge, the funny-looking plastic blinds were drawn over the  patio doors, although Julie didn't think this was particularly strange.  For a few minutes, while Julie and Luke stared at each other, the  mothers made small talk about the area, and Julie's mother, Helen,  commented on Jean's display case and collection of glass-blown animals.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'I'll go and make a cup of tea, shall I?' offered Jean eventually.  'Thanks,' said Julie's mum, smiling nervously as her daughter pushed  her feet around the immaculate white shag-pile carpet, making little,  meaningless patterns. 'Why don't you kids go and play outside?' she  suggested.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere was a funny silence, and then Luke sort of sneered. 'Yeah, why  not?' he said sarcastically. Then he left the room.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulie couldn't believe that a child had been so rude to a grown-up. She  was almost envious of the tone he'd taken with her mother; he'd sounded  almost like a grown-up himself. Her mother looked at the floor and then  fiddled with her earrings, the way she always did when she was nervous.  She was wearing her clip-on dog earrings today, the ones she had bought  on holiday in Cornwall last year. Julie suddenly felt cross with Luke  for speaking to her mother that way and guilty that a few moments ago  she'd thought it was clever. Stupid little boy, she thought, and  wondered if he was a problem child like the ones on the estate in  Bristol, near where she used to live.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Why don't we go into the kitchen?' suggested Jean.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulie and her mother followed Jean through the door and down the hall.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Sorry,' said Julie's mother, who always apologised for everything. 'I  hope I didn't say anything. . .'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJean filled the kettle and put it on to boil in silence. Julie could  sense a weird atmosphere in the room but tried not to think about it.  Instead she wondered whether this was the sort of kitchen where you'd  find Nesquik and Marmite, neither of which her mother bought, and both  of which she'd always relied on getting at friends' houses. She'd  already noted that there was no Soda Stream, which she was pleased  about. Luke was too horrible to deserve one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt was clear that Julie's mum was feeling uncomfortable.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Can I help with anything?' she asked Jean.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'No, no,' said Jean,pouring water into the teapot. 'That's all right.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Maybe we should leave you to it. Get on with the unpacking. . .'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'I'm sorry,' said Jean. 'I'm sorry for the way Luke spoke to you.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'I'm sure it's a just a phase,' Julie's mother said nicely. 'You should  hear this one sometimes.' She pointed at Julie. This was something that  really got on Julie's nerves. Whenever another child acted badly, her  mother pretended Julie did too, to make the person feel better. This  was unfair, because Julie hardly ever got into trouble.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Luke hasn't been outside since 1976,' Jean said. 'He isn't usually so  rude. I am sorry. He's having another assessment soon.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulie's mother seemed shocked. 'Assessment?' she repeated.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulie wondered if Luke was a mad person.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Yes. He's allergic to the sun,' explained Jean.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor the next half an hour, while the grown-ups carried on talking,  Julie considered this. What did being allergic to the sun involve? She  was allergic to wasp stings and swelled up whenever she was stung. Last  time she was stung, she had to go to hospital for an injection in her  bottom. She imagined Luke swelling in the sunshine, eventually  exploding in a ball of yellow pus. She was aware of her mother making  the sympathetic noises she always made when other adults told her their  problems, which were usually something to do with an illness or  'trouble at home'. This time there were a lot of medical terms Julie  didn't understand--apparently Luke was suffering from something called  XP and various other allergies. Julie couldn't follow what the  grown-ups were talking about and eventually started picking an old scab  on her finger.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'He just watches TV in his room all the time,' said Jean. She looked at  Julie and then back to Julie's mother. 'We got it for his birthday last  year. Since then all he does is watch it, and we don't know what to do.  He doesn't even read books any more--and he used to get through so many  books.' She sniffed. 'It'll be nice for him to have someone of his own  age to play with. Get him away from that box, anyway.' She's been  crying a bit, and apologising a lot, like Julie's mum does sometimes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Has he got a TV in his room?' asked Julie. She had never heard of  anything more glamorous in her life. No one she knew had TVs in their  bedrooms, not even moneybags Joanna who'd had a bouncy castle on her  birthday.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Julie,' said her mother, embarrassed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'What?' she said indignantly. 'I was only asking.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer mother gave her a look, and soon, after some fidgeting, sighing and  more scab picking, Julie was taken home.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'That poor little boy,' Julie's mother said to Julie's father later  that night,over dinner.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey were eating fish and chips in the half-unpacked sitting room.  Julie's father had just been talking about his preparations at the  college, and Julie's mother had been talking about all the reading she  still had to do before her degree course started at the polytechnic.  Now they were talking about that weirdo Luke. Julie was curled up on  the brown sofa reading Smash Hits and pretending not to listen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'What did you say he had again?' asked her father.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'XP,' said Julie's mother uncertainly. 'I can't remember what it stood  for.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'XP. Hmm. Never heard of it.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'It's very rare, apparently.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulie's father flicked the TV on to BBC2. Julie held her breath. The  Young Ones was about to start and if she held her breath there was a  chance she wouldn't be noticed and would be able to watch it all before  being told to clean her teeth for bed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'She is a seriously odd woman,' commented Julie's mother. 'Crystal  brandy glasses and a guest lounge,' she muttered to her husband and  they both giggled before turning their whole attention to the TV. Just  before bed-time, Julie overheard her father say something to her mother  she didn't understand. It was about there probably being a lot of  wife-swapping parties around here. It made them both laugh a lot, but  it sounded very dubious to Julie. Who would want to swap their wife?  She thought about the fat woman next door with her podgy fingers and  gold rings and wondered if her husband might want to swap her. He  probably would. That's probably what they meant. Smiling, having  finally got the joke, she put on her My Little Pony nightie and went to  sleep listening to her parents having sex.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulie's school was a ten-minute walk from her new house. Compared to  her last school journey, this was seen as too far for her to go on her  own. Especially with Stranger Danger, and the industrial estate and the  big fields that seemed to be the best shortcut to the school. The  fields near the new house were yellow with tall grass and you got there  by going down an overgrown alley next to a tyre factory. Julie enjoyed  playing there. She found she could hide herself in the tall soft grass  and make a little womb-like den where no one could find her. Then she  overheard her mother telling her father that she was sure some kid  would be found dead in those fields at some point. The next time Julie  went there she lay in the yellow grass, perfectly hidden and still, and  imagined being cold, pale and dead. Suddenly she didn't want to go  there again.A Novel","brand":"Anchor","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304783532261,"sku":"NP9781400075317","price":21.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781400075317.jpg?v=1767728281","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/going-out-isbn-9781400075317","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}