Adrian Mole: The Cappaccino Years

Jason Maloney reviews

Adrian Mole: The Cappaccino Years by Sue Townsend
Published by
Penguin Books

    Cover

  • Type: Paperback, 391 pages
  • Pressing: UK, 2000
  • Price: £6.99

To those of a certain age, the very mention of Adrian Mole will instantly bring back memories of a bygone era….of spotty, hormonal adolescence muddling its way through the early 1980s. With her ingenious and extremely popular 1982 novel “The Secret Diary Of Adrian Mole, Aged 13¾”, author Sue Townsend tapped into a rich vein of humourous teenage angst, creating a protagonist as fully realised as any work of fiction has ever managed.

The idea was strong enough to provide an equally successful sequel – “The Growing Pains Of Adrian Mole” two years later, essentially more of the same but naturally – with Moley reaching an even more advanced stage of maturity – the sexual quotient slightly more prevalent.

Who can forget his yearning lust for the adorable Pandora Braithwaite, the perfect girl with everything whose relationship with Adrian never seemed to settle on being either purely platonic or of a more intimate and committed natured, and whose very existence seemed to consume him whole.

His dysfunctional family life, so wittily brought to life by Townsend via Mole’s sardonic diary entries, helped to create a believable, if slightly caricatured, environment for the characters to inhabit.


Now, more than 15 years on from those earlier books – and almost a decade since “The Wilderness Years”, Adrian Mole is back. The catalyst for once again picking up his pen was the dawn of a New Labour Government, “a momentous time in the affairs of men (and, thank God, because this is a secret diary, I am not required to add ‘and women’)”. His first entry is dated April 30th 1997.

The Cappuccino Years covers the next 367 days in the life of Adrian Albert Mole, now aged 30. Since he last kept a diary, he’s got married, become a father (to William), and then separated from his Nigerain wife Jo-Jo. Pandora, still his true love, has entered the world of politics. One of Tony Blair’s “New Labour Babes”, she is on the threshold of winning the vote for Local MP in her (and Mole’s) hometown of Ashby-de-la-Zouch, Leicestershire.

So begins another pivotal chapter in the rollercoaster existence of Adrian Mole, as the connections between past and present conspire to heap a set of new – and not-so-new – problems upon our hero.

Any doubt as to the wisdom of resurrecting a (literary) cultural icon of the 1980s such as Adrian Mole is comprehensively dispelled about half way down page one. So recognisable is the tone, the style, the distinctive turn of phrase and of course the laugh-out-loud humour, it immediately feels like a very pleasant reaccquaintance with an old friend. Trust me, you’ll be sniggering like a… well, like something which sniggers approximately every 5 seconds.


Hindsight allows us, the reader, to chuckle knowingly at the absolute faith the prinicipal players here have in Blair’s (sadly empty) promise of a Brave New Britain, and marvel at how Pandora is so ideally suited to mixing it with dear Tony and darling Mandy (Peter Mandelson) – always scheming to project a public image to snare the majority vote.

Townsend adds a well-judged element of topical social commentary masked as satire, whilst never losing sight of what made the original books so charming, compelling and unforgettable. The paths each character finds themselves taking (and having taken) are perfectly beliveable given their previous histories.

Adrian Mole the awkward, lusting, intellectual teenager has grown into Adrian Mole the awkward, lusting, intellectual adult… and he’s acutely aware of the fact. Yet the barely-concealed anguish at his failure to fulfill his adolescent goal – to marry Pandora and sire one, beautiful, daughter called Liberty – is never depressing, nor does Townsend make him beyond identification and sympathy.

Mole’s self-awareness, his witty accpetance of the lousy hand fate his dealt him, continues to make him one of the great lovable eccentrics of English (this, however, is not a secret review, so I will have to add ‘and British’) comedy.

As the story unfolds, it’s impossible not to root for him, to hope that his determination to become a famous writer, a successful celebrity offal chef and a good father sees him through the personal and professional turbulence that refuses to go away.

It’s the never-ending saga of his intensely passionate love for Pandora, and how it still plays such a major part in his adult life, however, that forms the backbone of The Cappucino Years. Time has done nothing to dim the appeal of being privy to the tantalisingly elusive relationship between these two star-crossed lovers.

The genius of Townsend’s writing here is the effortless ease with which she has adapted the much-loved (but distinctly adolescent) first-person narrative style of old to account for the passing of years and the changes in personal situations for everyone in Adrian’s circle of family and friends.


All the trademark touches are still very much present and correct – measuring the length of his *thing* has been replaced by assessing his “penis function” (marking it out of 10) and reporting on his daily bowel movements (or lack thereof).

Likewise, domestic bliss (or lack thereof) is witheringly documented. The mid-life crises of both Adrian’s and Pandora’s parents also play a key role in proceedings, the sexual meltdown of the four elders providing some brilliantly observed farce.

By the book’s dramatic, and quite unexpected, climax, it’s hard to know how the world survived for 15 years without Adrian Mole to make us laugh, to make us feel less unhappy about our own lives, to remind us that someone else out there could be going through what we are, obly several times worse. Adrian Mole, if he hasn’t done so already, ought to become a national institution, a national treasure.


The Cappuccino Years quite simply is hysterically and consistently funny, as well as superbly ironic.

Will there be another Adrain Mole book? The ending is ambiguous in its possibilty for any further installments, but I certainly hope so.

Review copyright © Jason Maloney, 2001. E-mail Jason Maloney

Check out Jason’s homepage: The Slipstream.

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