By Emily Kelly

The best part of Nick Hornby’s 1995 novel High Fidelity is the end — when the whiny narrator and protagonist Rob Fleming finally shuts up. Rob’s selfish behavior places him high on a list of fiction’s most insufferable characters. High Fidelity tries to say something profound about a man who self-sabotages and blames women for the fallout. It doesn’t work.

High Fidelity, Hornby’s first novel, follows the mediocre life of record shop owner Rob Fleming in North London as he grapples with rejection in his love life. It begins with what Rob and his employees/sort-of friends Barry and Dick love: a top-five list. In this top-five list, Rob outlines his most memorable break-ups, making a pointed effort to let his latest ex-girlfriend Laura know she didn’t make the cut. Despite Hornby’s sharp writing, the unlikeability of Rob is so obstructive that any redeeming quality the novel has doesn’t matter. Its portrayal of masculinity and gender is troubling. Perhaps, that’s why the 2020 Hulu series remake casts Zoë Kravitz as Rob. 

Two lines sum up Rob: “She’s right, of course. I am a fucking arsehole.” Rob knows this. But any self-awareness he has fades in the face of his musical pretentiousness, incessant insecurity, and stunted compassion. He obsesses over whether Laura thinks sex with Ian (the man she leaves Rob for) is better. Early on, when Laura confirms she hasn’t slept with Ian, Rob goes ahead and has sex with American singer-songwriter Marie LaSalle. About this, he says: “I feel so much better, in fact, that I go straight out and sleep with Marie.” Like the hypocrite he is. 

Rob’s disregard for women is exhausting. The novel wants us to feel sorry for a man who attempts (and fails) to show how hard it is for straight men. Amidst a rant about men’s sexual challenges, he asks, “What do women have to worry about? A handful of cellulite? Join the club. A spot of I-wonder-how-I-rank? Ditto.” This tone-deaf ignorance further solidifies High Fidelity’s ‘dude-book’ status. And as a 36-year-old, Rob largely refuses to take responsibility for his dismal life. He prefers to blame ex-girlfriend Charlie for him dropping out of college and running a struggling record shop. 

Still, High Fidelity has moments of humor. Hornby cleverly paints Rob’s insecurities: “I was intimidated by the other men in her design course, and became convinced that she was going to go off with one of them. She went off with one of them.” He sprinkles this wit throughout. 

It’s easier to overlook unsympathetic characters when they’re in small roles. When that character is the narrator and protagonist, it’s difficult to ignore. There’s no escape. High Fidelity forces readers to spend hundreds of pages with Rob as he continuously takes out his unhappiness on others and then watch him have a relatively happy ending. But in a world where men often get rewarded for bad behavior, there’s nothing surprising in this.