Tunnel Visions: journeys of an underground philosopher
Christopher Ross Fourth Estate, 178pp, £12
ISBN 1841155667
In the past few years, journalists, politicians and, above all, the market-makers of London's fashionable art scene have conspired in the myth that the city is in the throes of a golden age. Fortunately, most of the recent books about London have been more balanced in their approach. Peter Ackroyd's London: a biography placed short-term triumphalism in its proper historical context, while a growing band of "pyscho-geographers", led by Iain Sinclair, continue to remind us that the city's essence lies beyond the reach of self-interested cheerleaders.
Christopher Ross is a self-styled philosopher who, on his return to Britain after living abroad for many years, took a job as a station assistant on the London Underground. Based on Platform 6 - the northbound Victoria Line - at Oxford Circus, he saw his new job not as a departure from a career that had included spells being a camel cowboy and a carpet smuggler, but as an extension of it. His aim was to pursue the goal that had sustained him throughout his travels: a search for "what is real". By performing repetitive, undemanding work, he hoped to "clear a space for serious reflection" and, in the process, answer some practical questions: "What duties, if any, were ours to fulfill? How can we say we know anything? Can we discover the purpose and potential of our lives?"
Yet it is the collision between the earnest philosopher and the massed ranks of commuters that provides Tunnel Vision with its best moments. Ross - "a birdwatcher, a twitcher, successfully camouflaged, watching and recording" - encounters a series of extraordinary characters in the course of his daily routine: for example, the fellow employee whose only desire is to sleep through his shift in a cupboard 100 feet below the surface; or the woman who rides the escalators with her pet fox. Ross witnesses the arrest of a man for running naked around the ticket hall because "Jesus told him to", as well as the trial and dismissal of the boy in the vending booth, who is accused of masturbating at work. These tales of everyday eccentricity are very funny; yet for someone who prides himself on seeing beneath the surface of things, Ross's judgements can be surprisingly glib. His attempt to think himself into the mind of a suicidal youth and his attack on what he calls the "slatterns-plus-baby gangs of Irish travellers" are jarring, especially as he began by delivering a lecture on the subject of empathy.
Interspersed with descriptions of life on the Tube are thoughts and observations dispensed in short, numbered paragraphs - presumably in an attempt to lend them aphoristic weight. Ross is determined to explore "what philosophers call a big idea: is urban man trapped and incapable of realising this?"; but few of his insights are particularly startling. He notes, for instance, that adverts seldom tell the truth and that we tend to behave oddly around those who are famous. At times, his philosophical musings are faintly absurd: when he is queueing at a vending machine, he notices that the people ahead of him tend to spill their overfilled drinks. He responds accordingly: "I called to mind Saadi's dictum, 'Learn from the mistakes of others, so that they need not learn from yours', and gingerly lifted the cardboard cup of perfect Italian coffee which had fallen out of the machine, without spilling any."
Ross is on much surer ground when contemplating his role as a station assistant, and he takes comfort in the thought that directing someone to their destination is at least an honest task. Inspired by his experiences in Japan, he resolves to attach himself to those of his colleagues who have the "extra something that donates complete mastery of their environment". Through imitating them, he hopes to "steal their skills" and transform his round of chores into a more exalted ritual.
Tunnel Visions is a short yet wildly inconsistent book. But when Ross suppresses his desire to ponder the meaning of existence and instead concentrates on the practicalities of life underground, he offers an intriguing and unusual perspective on our capital city.
Edward Platt is the author of Leadville: a biography of the A40 (Picador, £9.99)
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