Gardeners' Sexist Time: Mr. Macgregor

Mr. Macgregor by Alan Titchmarsh

Pocket Books

Pp. 341

English gardener, broadcaster, TV presenter, poet and journalist, Alan Titchmarsh, has written a novel. Sticking to the advice of ‘write what you know’, he has set it in the glamorous world of TV gardening shows, and the stereotypical gender roles of the 1980s. Apparently gardeners are sexy these days and a valued staple of any TV station’s talent. From the lights of the studio to the marquees of the Chelsea Flower Show, it’s full of bitchy gay presenters, man-eating female news reporters and division of women into the categories of young, attractive and nubile or old, fat and ugly. There are plenty of adjectives, and a couple of jokes, but none of them are original. According to a quote on the jacket, Jilly Cooper found it ‘absolutely charming... made me understand a lot more about men.’ I sincerely hope not.

Rob MacGregor becomes TV’s latest sex symbol, which alienates quite a few people, including the expert he replaces and his girlfriend, an investigative journalist. We don’t learn a lot about her. Women are invariably described by their appearance and how it fits the male gaze. “Miss Menopause. No one’s ever seen her legs. Greenhouse expert at that difficult time of life.” “Hair the colour of marmalade and the face of a Welsh cob.” “Monstrous limbs he gazed upon now, which made the Michelin man look anorexic.” The socially-acceptable attractive women don’t fare any better, and pretending to be writing from the character’s point of view does not excuse the crude and leering sexism, not least because we learn way more about a character’s appearance than their actual character. “The neatly tailored matching jacket was open wide enough for Frank’s all-invading eyes to notice that underneath her ribbed turtle-necked sweater was a perfect pair of breasts.”

Class distinctions are also broad and satirised at the most basic level. Roofing contractors obviously have “an East London accent, with more than a hint of the cowboy about it”. The cheerful cleaning lady drops her aitches as she muddles her metaphors. The speech of these characters is rendered phonetically, while all other accents are unremarked upon.

Everything is as expected and the plot is totally predictable. Reviewers on Goodreads have described it as a light and comfortable holiday book in which very little happens. Add twee and sexist to the description and that just about sums it up.