Bring the House Down by Charlotte Runcie review – the joy of the hatchet job

When Jesus is pressed to condemn the woman taken in adultery, he says, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” No one does, and a lesson in critical generosity is learned. Judge not, that ye be not judged.

Is giving an artist a one-star review an act of abuse – casting the first stone? Is it worse when the reviewer is male and the artist female? That’s the starting point of this entertaining and very timely debut novel from Charlotte Runcie, an arts journalist who, as a young intern, was lambasted on stage by a successful standup to whom she’d given a bad review.

Alex Lyons, chief theatre critic for a national newspaper, is known for his hatchet jobs. It’s the Edinburgh fringe, and he’s sitting through a one-woman standup show. “The solo performance artist, Hayley Sinclair, had a lot to say about the climate emergency, the patriarchy, and the looming end of the world, which was fair enough, but unfortunately her show was so terrible that, by half an hour in, Alex had decided that he actually wanted the world to end as soon as possible.”

Instead, immediately after bashing out his one-star review, he goes to a bar, encounters an emotionally exhausted post-show Hayley, and invites her back to the flat he is sharing with another journalist, Sophie Ridgen. It is only the next morning that Hayley, after spending the night with Alex, reads the eviscerating, career-ending words he has written about her: “a dull, hectoring frump, like one of those 1950s cartoons of housewives beating their husbands with a rolling pin”. Alex blithely walks in from his morning shower to find Hayley with his brickbat in her hands.

It is a delightfully excruciating scene, setting in motion one of the most enjoyable novels I’ve read in a long time. Although as a male reviewer of a female artist, for a national newspaper, who by chance read much of the book on the train south from Edinburgh, I experienced moments of very meta-terror and mischief. Wouldn’t the most fun review to write, but even more to read, be an absolute slating? Wasn’t I, too, being tempted to cast the first stone?

Luckily, Runcie’s verbal wit, narrative chops and emotional subtlety rendered that impossible. Alongside a fringe festival retelling of the history of the #MeToo movement, we also get a will-they-won’t-they plot and an inside account of so-Alex-has-been-publicly-shamed. Because, in reaction to her awful one-star review, and the one-night stand, Hayley transforms her one-woman show into “The Alex Lyons Experience” – a one-star review of Alex’s entire life and an immediate star-making media sensation. She retells the story of her encounter with Alex, then opens the stage for other women to share the appalling things Alex or other Alex-like men have done to them. And as clips from the show go viral, resonating far beyond a small function room below a pub and bringing forth similar stories from thousands of women, it starts to seem as though most men – all men? – are deserving of similar humiliation. And if not that, then a good digital stoning.

As the Black Mirror episode Nosedive foretold, these days we are all but forced to participate in a culture of constantly rating one another. Midway through the novel, Sophie finds herself getting self-hatingly drunk at a festival party.

There was an interactive customer feedback device propped up on the bar. Tell us what you think of our service, it said, and underneath there were two buttons you could press: an angry red face or a smiling green one. Excellent or worthless, nothing in between. Review your experience, share your thoughts, recommend us to your friends, swipe left, swipe right, leave a comment, have an opinion.

Everyone’s a critic. But shouldn’t we be more forgiving? Like Jesus. When he was born, his father only gave him one star.