Absolute Beginners

London Trilogy #2

by Colin MacInnes

London, 1958. In the smoky jazz clubs of Soho and the coffee bars of Notting Hill the young and the restless - the absolute beginners - are forging a new carefree lifestyle of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll. Moving in the midst of this world of mods and rockers, Teddy gangs and trads., and snapping every scene with his trusty Rolleiflex, is MacInnes' young photographer, whose unique wit and honest views remain the definitive account of London life in the 1950s and what it means to be a teenager. In this twentieth century cult classic, MacInnes captures the spirit of a generation and creates the style bible for anyone interested in Mod culture, and the changing face of London in the era of the first race riots and the lead up to the swinging Sixties...

Genres: Fiction, London, Classics, British Literature, Music, Historical Fiction, Novels

288 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1959

About the author

MacInnes was born in London, the son of singer James Campbell MacInnes and novelist Angela Thirkell, and was educated in Australia. He served in the British intelligence corps during World War II.

He was the author of a number of books depicting London youth and black immigrant culture during the 1950s, in particular City of Spades (1957), Absolute Beginners (1959) and Mr. Love and Justice (1960).

Reviews

[mark monday · Rating 5 out of 5]

Absolute Beginners is remarkable - a dream of a novel. It is fast-paced, sweet-tempered, open-hearted, a golden book in many ways – a paean to youth, to a future brimming with possibility, to a present that is lived vibrantly and joyfully. It is also about selling out, junkies, prostitution, and race wars. How can this be? I suppose it is all about point of view, and the protagonist’s perspective is the embodiment of Live Now and Love It. This is one of those rare novels that make the reader feel even more alive by reading it. The enthusiasm of its narrator was equaled by my enthusiasm of the world that MacInnes plunges us into headfirst. It depicts, it mocks, it leaps forward, it grabs your hand and carries you along.

I was young once, gosh, just a decade or so ago. I lived a life full of punks, hippies, goths, ravers, djs, fags, dykes, trans girls & guys, straight guys who made out with other guys and straight girls who were angry and ardent feminists, vegetarians and vegans, girls who stripped for cash in dives and guys who waved their hard-ons for free in print, fighters and peacemakers, guys who carved symbols on their bodies and girls who dressed like vampire princesses; we lived in junked-out flats filled with too many people, we shared clothes and went on road trips and had neverending parties and made protests against the government and danced all night and consumed amazing amounts of booze and drugs and sex and live music. I read Absolute Beginners during that period, and one of the best things about this novel was that it felt completely real and true to me, despite the difference in social scenes that were separated by decades, by an ocean. It showed the true diversity available to people in their late teens, in their 20s; it illustrated – and so nonchalantly – values that were not just held dear, but were unspoken, values that defied the middle class and that were simply assumed to be shared by everyone we knew. To read oneself and one’s peers in a novel written in 1958 is something special, something wonderfully moving to contemplate, even many years later.

What lifts Absolute Beginners above the idea that life for the young and unencumbered can be a great time, a fun carnival, is its complete awareness that this is also rather an illusion, and a crushingly temporary one at that. So many wonderful things can happen, so much excitement – and yet the world around this world still exists to be fought against. For me and my friends, that world to rail against did not just include asshole yuppies who came to our neighborhoods from time to time, it included police brutality, the WTO, the wars abroad. In Absolute Beginners, that world above includes race warfare. "Race" is clearly interwoven throughout the narrative, and yet it is one of so many things that the narrator is aware of, just one facet of the world that the narrator comments on... the reader could almost lose sight of it. But race and racism are there the entire time and slowly but surely become the whole point; by the end, the reader and the protagonist see how fragile a life full of living can be when the world is singling out his peers for destruction, and those peers are turning to him for alliance. The protagonist chooses, and chooses well. But it marks an ending of sorts, an ending of an attitude and a lifestyle, and the beginning of an understanding that no matter what he and his peers have built, he lives in the world still, as does everyone, and that world is one of both wonder and horror.

[Antonomasia · Rating 4 out of 5]

One of the reasons I picked up Absolute Beginners again was because of historian Dominic Sandbrook's daft grudge against Colin Macinnes (in Never Had It So Good ). I last attempted it in my teens. It had been a slowish read – proved to be the same this time round – and was easy to give up on back then because the library copy was a horrible mouldy one.

Now, the vintage atmosphere and detail in the story was way more interesting so I hung around to savour that (when younger I'd filed this era as being 'before anything was cool'), noticing differences from the film musical, and processing the late 1950s slang. Plenty of 60s slang is still immediately familiar yet this stuff from only 5-10 years earlier, not immortalised in pop culture, can require a moment's thought to work out. These characters are the cool kids of my parents' generation, yet they are so different it reminded me how facile the idea of generation=social attitude can be. (One of the good points Sandbrook makes is that most people of this era, even the younger ones, weren't mods, hippies or their rock 'n' roll precursors, they were hardworking squares.)

There's something artificial about the way the main character loves the term “teenager” (as beloved of the media then as “hipster” has been for the last few years, though back then there was more fear and real disapproval, rather than the contemporary eye-rolling). He likes defining what it means to be a teenager – it's a culture at least as much as an age, squares aren't really teenagers – and it's not that different from The Who's 'My Generation', by the time of whose release the narrator and his mates might (if they weren't still pop-culture purveyors) be boring oldsters. The over-consciousness of cultural definitions works in a way because he's one of those entrepreneurial kids who's interested in talking to the media and getting noticed by the movers and shakers (in an 80s or 90s setting he'd be a DJ / party planner, here he's a photographer, proto-Blow-Up) but it's also a reminder that Absolute Beginners was written by a champagne socialist easily old enough to be the protagonist's dad. Some of the press evidently loved it (a quote on the back from Harpers & Queen says "Prose as sharp as a pair of Italian slacks and vivid as a pair of pink socks", The Sunday Times: "The cult novel of the year."). But I'd love to know what the real teenagers of the day thought of this book... Was everything in it so five years ago by the time they ever saw a copy? (By the 80s, presumably re-reviewing in the light of the film, the NME says "Macinnes caught it first - and best"; and Paul Weller, just born when it was published, "a book of inspiration.")

Some reviewers are critical of the way black, Jewish or gay people are described by the narrator. There's an element of positive stereotyping, complimentary or neutral description with frequent reference to some of the narrator's friends' background (how lively a friend's Jewish household is compared with his English one, there are white girls who fancy black men apparently because of sexual stereotypes, that sort of thing). But they have personalities too, and the narrator is way more inclusive and accepting than most of his contemporaries, even prepared to get injured defending his mates during the Notting Hill race riots. His way of speaking is what, over decades, evolved into the contemporary attitudes that mean it isn't okay to say the same things now. Such critics tend to dislike arguments for historical context, but if ever there was a good one for those people cutting a text some slack, it's with this book.

I'm kind of surprised to see so many reviews on here, and quite good ones, for Absolute Beginners; I'd had the impression its reputation was fading. Seems that inclusion in 1001 Books To Read Before You Die has boosted it a bit. For my part I'd recommend it mostly for people interested in the social & cultural history, and for those who like some background to their vintage clothes/film/music habit.

[Marc Lamot · Rating 3 out of 5]

A rather entertaining novel which evokes the emerging youth culture in Great Britain in the 1950s. An unnamed 18-year-old story teller searches for his own way in life, but obviously wrestles with the classic social conventions. The last quarter the book is more a description of the growing minority problem, including racial riots. The city of London shines through the book, and the author clearly shows his love for that city. Of course, this radiates the atmosphere of the times it was published (1959), with quite a few pages full of slang, but at the same time it has something refreshing. A plus also is the engaging style of MacInnis, with some razor-edge dialogues.

[Nigeyb · Rating 4 out of 5]

I first read Colin MacInnes's Absolute Beginners (1959) in the 1980s and then again in 2026. I loved it then and am pleased to confirm it really stands up all these decades later.

The cliched 1960s of peace, love, hippies, flower power etc only really got started in the mid 60s, before that it was a continuation of the 1950s, albeit with the rumblings of change just about audible to those whose ears were attuned. What could they hear? Modernity, technicolour and the coming youthquake. Before all that though things were still somewhat buttoned up and monochromatic. Absolute Beginners perfectly captures those early rumblings

Absolute Beginners is a time capsule of a disappearing London and the birth certificate of the British teenager which convincingly captures the electric, messy transition from post-war austerity to the vibrant Mod culture of the 1960s complete with jazz clubs, Italian scooters, coffee bars and finally race riots.

Whilst flawed it remains an essential read for anyone interested in British subcultures.

4/5


Our guide on this conducted tour of London's teenage sub-groups is an astonishingly, sparklingly articulate eighteen-year-old photographer ('street, holiday, park, studio, artistic poses, and when I can find a client, pornographic') with a riotous line in espresso patter. From Belgravia to Shepherd's Bush we drift with him among a colourful set of contacts and cronies - Crepe Suzette, his spade-crazy seventeen-year-old chick, Edward the Ted, the homosexual Hoplite, Zesty-Boy Sift, the pop-song writer - in a hilarious round of the jazz-dives, drinking clubs, and parties of all kinds where this under-twenty underworld hangs out. Climax of this modern Mayhew comes when our likeable guide gets involved in the Notting Hill race riots, with an unexpected result.
'Worth five hundred pamphlets, reports, or summer-school proceedings on the subject of British youth... it breezes like a breath of chlorophyll through the times we live in'-New Statesman
'Because of brilliantly wise writing and atmosphere-catching it is, boy, a real gasser' - Kenneth Allsop in the Daily Mail

[David Carrasco · Rating 4 out of 5]

Un adolescente con una cámara de fotos puede ser más peligroso que un sociólogo con beca. Sobre todo si tiene dieciocho años, casi diecinueve, vive en el Londres de 1958, se cree más listo que todos los adultos de la ciudad y todavía no ha descubierto que el mundo no se deja enfocar tan fácilmente.

El narrador de Principiantes no tiene nombre, aunque tampoco le hace demasiada falta. Tiene una Vespa, una Rolleiflex, un ático, discos de jazz moderno, ropa elegida con bastante más cuidado que muchas decisiones vitales y un trabajo como fotógrafo freelance que incluye encargos respetables y otros bastante menos presentables. Sueña con exponer algún día su trabajo serio; de momento, también se gana la vida haciendo fotografías pornográficas por encargo.

Conviene decirlo pronto, porque así evitamos convertirlo en el típico joven sensible que mira la ciudad con melancolía de postal. Este chico mira, sí, pero también cobra. Observa, encuadra, vende, juzga, desea, se equivoca y a veces va por la vida con esa seguridad insoportable de quien todavía no ha cumplido los veinte. Su posición en el mapa de clases queda un poco difusa, pero se mueve como si acabara de inventar el estilo.

La novela transcurre durante un verano londinense en el que casi todo parece estar cambiando de sitio. La ciudad aún arrastra mugre de posguerra, rigidez de clase, moral de señor mayor con gabardina, bombín y paraguas, y una idea bastante imperial de sí misma; pero por debajo empieza a circular otra electricidad: cafés, jazz, scooters, ropa italiana, escaparates, clubes, nuevas formas de ligar, de hablar, de moverse y de plantarse ante los adultos. MacInnes captura ese momento rarísimo en que la juventud deja de ser una sala de espera y empieza a convertirse en un territorio propio, con su economía, su jerga, sus uniformes, sus mitologías y sus pequeñas arrogancias. Alrededor, sin embargo, asoman quienes no han tenido adolescencia, quienes la han perdido demasiado pronto o quienes han quedado atrapados en trabajos que convierten la vida en un horario.

Esa es una de las grandes gracias de Principiantes: el libro parece escrito desde el instante exacto en que alguien descubre al teenager y no sabe aún si está ante una revolución, una moda carísima o una plaga con buenos zapatos. MacInnes lo mira con fascinación, con simpatía y también con algún exceso de entusiasmo. A ratos entiende de maravilla la energía de esos chavales que no quieren heredar el mundo adulto tal como se lo entregan; a ratos se le nota al adulto que quiere colarse en la fiesta y aprenderse la contraseña demasiado deprisa. Pero incluso cuando fuerza la nota, la novela tiene una vitalidad que compensa muchas torpezas.

La trama, por llamarla de alguna manera, sigue al narrador en sus paseos, encuentros, trabajos, enamoramientos y desencantos. Está Crêpe Suzette, exnovia, tentación, escaparate y problema; están los amigos y conocidos con nombres que parecen salidos de una libreta escrita a las tres de la mañana; está el Fabuloso Hoplita, criatura audaz en una época en que los actos homosexuales masculinos seguían perseguidos por la ley; están los primeros mods, los teds, los músicos, los buscavidas, los vecinos, los adultos agotados, los comerciantes del deseo juvenil y todos esos personajes que aparecen como si MacInnes hubiera abierto la puerta de un club y hubiese decidido que nadie podía quedarse fuera.

La galería de nombres es, de hecho, una de las marcas del libro: el Brujo, Miseria Kid, Mr. Templado, Dean Swift, la ex-Debutante-del-Año-pasado, el Excelso, el Deleitoso, la Gran Jill… Podría parecer un capricho, pero funciona como una declaración de principios. En este Londres, el registro civil pesa menos que la ropa, la música que escuchas, el barrio que pisas, la gente con quien te mezclas, el apodo que te cae encima o la pose que consigues mantener sin que se te note demasiado el miedo.

Y luego está el padre. La reseña de esta novela podría quedarse en lo juvenil, en el jazz, en la ropa, en el desfile de personajes pintorescos, pero entonces perdería una de sus zonas más humanas. El padre del narrador pertenece a otro mundo: una Inglaterra anterior, más pobre, más gris, más resignada, quizá también más decente en algunas cosas. Lleva años escribiendo una historia de Pimlico —ese barrio londinense venido a menos, bastante lejos de cualquier postal imperial— que parece destinada a no terminarse nunca, y en esa imagen hay más ternura de la que MacInnes aparenta querer admitir. La relación entre ambos toca algo profundo sin ponerse sentimental: ahí están un hijo que se cree futuro y un padre que casi parece vivir archivando los restos del pasado.

El estilo es otro asunto. MacInnes arma una novela más atenta al pulso que al plano: escenas, conversaciones, derivas y fogonazos. La primera mitad tiene algo de paseo con brújula estropeada: uno va de un sitio a otro, conoce gente, escucha voces, se deja arrastrar por el ritmo de la ciudad. Después el libro va apretando más, como si la fiesta empezara a enseñar lo que había debajo de la alfombra.

La lengua intenta sonar joven, callejera, moderna, llena de jerga, de síncopas, de ocurrencias y de velocidad. En traducción, algo de esto suele llegar con sordina, pero la apuesta se percibe: la novela quiere hablar desde la tribu, no limitarse a observarla desde la acera. Cuando funciona, tiene algo de solo de jazz: no siempre sabes hacia dónde va, pero notas que la frase respira. Cuando no funciona, también hay que decirlo, a MacInnes se le transparenta un poco el DNI: la jerga deja de sonar respirada y pasa a sonar aprendida. Ese desfase no arruina la novela; le da una rareza muy suya. Está intentando atrapar una voz antes de que se vuelva fórmula, antes de que el mercado la empaquete, antes de que los jóvenes dejen de ser una novedad y pasen a ser un segmento de ventas.

El libro gana verdadera gravedad cuando el Londres cool, multirracial y nocturno se encuentra de frente con la violencia racial. Lo que podía parecer simple color de época acaba revelándose como una fractura central de la ciudad que MacInnes quiere retratar: Notting Hill como promesa de mezcla y, al mismo tiempo, como lugar donde la vieja Inglaterra racista saca los dientes. Ahí la mirada del narrador se queda corta, como es lógico. Es joven, es vanidoso, está más preparado para detectar una camisa vulgar que para comprender una fractura histórica. Y esa limitación dice mucho: la novela muestra a un chico que presume de haber entendido el futuro justo cuando el pasado más miserable le corta el paso.

Leída hoy, Principiantes tiene zonas que crujen. Algunas miradas sobre la raza, el deseo o la cultura negra exigen cautela; MacInnes fue pionero en mirar ciertos márgenes de Londres, pero no siempre consigue mirarlos sin fantasía, fascinación o apropiación. También hay personajes que funcionan más como emblemas que como personas completas, y escenas que parecen más interesadas en capturar ambiente que en hacer avanzar nada. Pero quizá pedirle una maquinaria narrativa impecable a esta novela sería equivocarse de objeto. La lógica de Principiantes pertenece más bien a una calle iluminada a deshoras: irregular, viva, algo turbia, con gente entrando y saliendo antes de que nos dé tiempo a preguntar quién era.

Por eso sus defectos son parte de su encanto peligroso. Es excesiva, habladora, estilizada, algo pagada de sí misma, a veces brillante y a veces agotadora. Como su narrador. Como cierta juventud. Como esas noches en las que todo parece importantísimo mientras ocurre y un poco ridículo a la mañana siguiente, aunque uno sabe que algo ha cambiado.

Si hubiera que buscarle familia, podría pensarse en El guardián entre el centeno, pero con menos neurosis privada y más escaparate urbano. Holden Caulfield mira el mundo como si el mundo le hubiera ofendido personalmente; el chico de MacInnes lo mira como si estuviera convencido de poder fotografiarlo antes que nadie y vender la copia al mejor postor. También hay algo de Kerouac, pero sin carretera infinita: aquí basta con cruzar Londres, entrar en un café, subir a una Vespa o girar una esquina para que aparezca otra versión del país.

Principiantes no es una novela perfecta. Seguramente ni siquiera quiere serlo. Es un libro nervioso, lleno de música, de humo, de ropa, de deseo, de frases que corren demasiado, de intuiciones magníficas y de cegueras muy reveladoras. Un libro sobre ese momento peligrosísimo en que uno todavía cree que puede inventarse a sí mismo cambiando de chaqueta, de barrio, de disco, de amor o de acera.

Y lo que queda es la sensación de haber pasado una noche larga por un Londres que ya no existe del todo, acompañado por un guía que habla demasiado, mira muy bien y todavía no sabe cuánto va a dolerle crecer. Para una novela titulada Principiantes, no se me ocurre un destino más justo.

DC

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fun! Controversial. Interesting!

And you get to have the Bowie song in your head the entire time. Ba Ba Ba-uuuuuuh: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCJLO...

"these are Mum's lodgers, because she keeps a boarding house, and some of them, as you'd expect if you knew Ma, are lodged in very firmly,"

"'every time I open a newspaper, or pick up a paperback, or go to the Odeon, I hear nothing but war, war, war. You pensioners certainly seem to love that old old struggle.'"

"my God, my Lord, how horrible this country is, how dreary, how lifeless, how blind and busy over trifles!"

"Whoever thought up the Thames Embankment is a genius. It lies curled firm and gentle around the river like boy does with a girl, after it's over"

"And I must be a snob, because I really do think that when an educated English voice is turning bitchy, it's a quite specially unpleasant sound"

"'That ... is the one question we must never pause to answer.'"

When boomers moan about everyone using their iphones? Here's one who thought they were fools for having actual phones:
"We're all too much set on gadgets, and let the dam things rule us, and that's why, back home on Napoli, I've always refused to have the blower in, but use Big Jill's or, if I don't want her to hear the message, then the public."

"'Oh, no!' he cried. 'Didn't I tell you, sweetie? It's all over between he and me!'
'Yes? It is? My heavens!'
'Over and done with! ... From the the moment I saw him in a hat.'"

"As soon as the public hears a copper argue, and see he's a human being like any other (well, let's be generous), they know he's only a worried man in fancy dress."

[Ian Daley · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting book. A good read and did well to portray the time and place but not the classic I was expecting. Definitely worth a read though.

[David Corvine · Rating 2 out of 5]

On the plus side I could still remember whole scenes from this work although it has been at least twenty years since I last read it. The negative is that it hasn't aged well. It rings as true as a lead pound coin. The author's attempt to approximate working class and youth cultural speech is cringe worthy and patronising. The reality was that McInnes was from a middle-class background and grew up in pre-war colonial Australia long before the concept of the teenager as an entity existed. He vacillates between regurgitating media reports about the teenage phenomenon and preaching liberal-left propaganda. The cast of stereotypical characters are moved around a cardboard cut-out set reminiscent of an Edwardian child's toy theatre.

[Patrick · Rating 3 out of 5]

To be honest, this book was more interesting to me for its historical value than for anything contained in the story. Absolute Beginners' narrator felt like something of a dull archetype – the arrogant late-teenager convinced he knows more than those around him, and unaware of his own failings.

Perhaps it was more of a novelty in 1958, when it was written. Which brings me to what I thought was most intriguing about the novel. To me at least, it read for all the world like the anachronistic work of someone writing in much more recent times about how they would have imagined the late 1950s to be. The passing references to running like Dr Roger Bannister or driving away from a riot like Fangio could so easily have been clumsy attempts to remind the reader that the story is taking place in a particular historical setting. But more than that, the anti-racist politics of the latter part of the novel, set against the background of the 1958 Notting Hill race riots, read to me like a modern liberal's wish fulfilment of what a white liberal kid in the late 50s might have made of it (though such an author would probably have refrained from having his narrator use the term 'Spade' to describe the black characters. MacInnes was, in this respect at least ahead of his time. Perhaps the more remarkable for the fact that he was already about the same age as the narrator's father and maybe this goes some way to explain another of the book's oddities – the narrator's idiolect and use of slang terms I've never really encountered anywhere else. Not being old enough to judge myself, I might be doing MacInnes a disservice, but I couldn't help thinking of Anthony Burgess' made up youth argot from A Clockwork Orange. An moderately interesting diversion, which I'd picked up after hearing Andy Miller praising it on Little Atoms, but nothing more.

[Gerasimos Reads · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was surprised how much I enjoyed this. It's the first book of the year and the first book I had to read for this semester of university (for my post-1945 literature class) and it definitely sets the tone for a good year of reading.

It was way funnier than I expected and I really enjoyed the episodic element of the story. We basically follow the main character who is a young photograph in 1958's London through 4 different days in 4 different months of the year. The main character's narrative voice is very unique and it reminded me a lot of Alex from the Clockwork Orange in the sense that both characters invent their own slang and language through which they see and describe their world. The book is divided in four parts and every part is focused on one day. Even though at first the story seems to be a simple romance, it progressively gets more and more complicated as the author is getting closer to the events of the Notting Hill race riots in September of 1958. There is a strong element of diversity in the characters, we have black people, Indians, homosexuals, lesbians and more. MacInnes really strives to inform the reader of his time and bring to him a new understanding of the culture of these minorities, different from the way they were represented in the media.

[Cphe · Rating 3 out of 5]

Wasn't too sure about this to begin with but ended up enjoying it. Upbeat and a homage to the youth of that time in London.
Hadn't realised that the author was the son of Angela Thirkell.

[Andy Weston · Rating 4 out of 5]

A long summer in the London of the late fifties is the setting, as the nameless eighteen year old protagonist makes his living taking pornographic photographs in the few gaps in his hectic social life spent on his Vespa and in the coffee bars and jazz clubs. As the months pass he experiences friendship, betrayal, love and death with a motley cast of friends known by their nicknames, jobs or fashion sense; the deranged Wizard, the rentboy the Fabulous Hoplite, Mr Cool, the Misery Kid, Crepe Suzette and Ed the Ted.
There is the semblance of a plot, but this is driven by its protagonist, in whose character the reader is soon engrossed by, a teenager full of innocence looking at injustices around him, and deciding to act; particularly with regard to race, and the riots of the time.
Its about growing up, becoming wiser and yet remaining young and fearless, looking sharper and staying one step ahead of the crowd.
The book is rich in social history, with some wonderful descriptions of the city and the jazz of the day. As the 60s approach its the birth of the Mod scene, and quite inspirational.

[Virginia · Rating 5 out of 5]

I always had a soft spot for Julien Temple's film Absolute Beginners. I guess it was a bit overly ambitious to make a modern musical based on a 1958 novella, but I am grateful for the attempt. It produced a beautiful soundtrack featuring songs from Smiley Culture and the Style Council; wonderful vignettes from David Bowie (tap-dancing across a giant typewriter), Ray Davies, and Sade; and an opening sequence of black and white photographs from 1950s London which are nostalgic and heartbreaking to watch. And where did he get that great opening shot of Piccadilly Circus?!



I guess that's the real attraction of the book. It's an ode to a city that the narrator loves so much, it nearly breaks his heart. Colin MacInnes is keenly aware that he is writing about a time that is already in the past, that is already gone, that he already feels the ache of loss for. Basho might sum it up as "Sitting in London, I miss London." The city as we imagine it isn't the reality and maybe that's what it means to be a teenager: that process of discovering that how you think the world should be isn't what it actually is. With that lesson, this is a coming-of-age novel in the spirit of Catcher in the Rye -- the love of place and childhood innocence that inevitably slips away.

The movie, for a musical, did capture a lot more in the book than I would have expected, but it certainly borrowed most heavily from the first and last chapters: meeting all of the narrator's Soho characters and the 1958 riots: setting and plot, and some rather slick dialogue. But being a musical, the movie is a bit shallow in character. The novel gives us two middle chapters which the movie largely ignores, but gives readers an insight into the inner thoughts and feelings of the narrator. The relationship of the narrator to his family and his father in particular is deeply touching. Despite the narrator's apathetic attitude to anything of seriousness and his dismissive attitude toward old-timers, past and present catches up with him.

This book has a special place in my heart and always will. I adore meeting all the characters in the narrator's life, and 1958 London certainly looks wild and fun, but the author's injection of pathos gives this cult novel an authenticity that makes it universal. (Although, I still feel I need a hip chat dictionary.)

Bonus takeaway: Hipsters seem even more derivative after this novel.

[Gavin Smith · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had to take some time to organise my thoughts on this. It's difficult to assess exactly what I think of a book that is so firmly set in and attached to a particular time and place. A further problem is that the time is a couple of decades before I was born and the place is the opposite side of the country. As a result, I have no idea if the events or the narration of Absolute Beginners are in any way authentic. I also don't really care. The narration really reminded me of Anthony Burgess's A Clockwork Orange, not only because both books are narrated by disaffected youths but because there's also a similar rhythm and feel to it.

I found the first half of the book less interesting than the last. While I enjoyed bouncing around the London mod scene, particularly the nicknames and commentary on the other characters, I never felt very invested in the narrator's on/off relationship with Suze and really didn't feel that there was much tension in it. The sections I enjoyed the most were the home visits with his family and the race riots that conclude the story. I felt that his conversations with his mother and father really showed the generational disconnect without being overly dramatic or cliched. Both the family and race riot sections are when the prose comes out of the setting and moves onto more universal themes.

The race riot deserves its own special paragraph. This is the part of the book that I felt was truly great. The simmering tension that we feel before things start to get violent conjured up images from Spike Lee's masterful Do the Right Thing. Again we see themes and issues raised that are as relevant today as they've ever been. In particular, the way that racial tensions are exploited by tabloid media. Although the media featured here is print, today's TV news is every bit as bad and the tabloids are still what they've always been. The government and police are also criticised for their ineffectiveness, either through a lack of will or a lack of ability. The more things change...

[Rhys · Rating 3 out of 5]

I started reading this novel with bad intentions. I wanted to laugh at it. For some reason I assumed it was going to be corny, poorly written and absurdly naive... As it happens, it does contain some language that has dated in such a way that it brings a smile to the lips of the modern reader, but it's simply not possible to read this book right through with an ironic smirk. It's just too good, too exuberant, too smart, too accomplished, and the issues it raises are acutely appropriate for our own age.

The single quality about it that impressed me the most is the relative sophistication of the narrator in the essential political, cultural and social aspects of London life. Bear in mind that this is the 1950s. The narrator's attitudes are more advanced than those of the average person that I remember in my childhood back in the 1970s; and his style is a damn sight sharper. This book has changed my view of what life was like in '50s Britain. It wasn't necessarily all grey and bland...

[Paul Ataua · Rating 5 out of 5]

As Colin points out to his older brother,

‘In those days, it seems, you were just an overgrown boy, or an under-grown man, life didn’t seem to cater anything whatever else between.’

His generation, however, were not just following their parents or becoming father or mother clones. They were the first adolescent group to have money, their own clothes, and the first adolescent group to consider themselves ‘teenagers’. They were starting out from scratch, making it up as the went along. They weren’t just beginners in the world of adults. They were absolute beginners.
I am sure that the plot is that great or the ending that satisfying, but the whole thing is so vibrant that it just carried me along. I loved it.

[Robert · Rating 3 out of 5]

Back in 1999 I watched a film called Quadrophenia, in which depicts the life of a mod: The clothes he buys, the music he listens to, the love for Vespas and the constant showdowns with rockers. I thought it was quite original ( I knew it was based of a rock opera) Now that I have read Absolute beginners I am certain that this book was clearly an influence.

The plot is about the life of a mod. It also focuses on the lifestyle. However, it is much more than that. For starters there are a lot of passages about the freedom that youth brings and how older generations do not understand them. The main character is a jazz loving 19 year old, just ready to enter his twenties and we get his views on how society looks in his eyes, the absolute beginners being the name he calls his generation. I guess one could call this book an early YA novel.

Absolute Beginners is a love letter to London: but not only the romantic aspect. Like Last Exit to Brooklyn, Macinnes mentions people who usually do not feature in books. Thus we get portrayals of drug addicts, black communities and the London gay scene. The final section on the book is a loose commentary on the immigrants which entered London during that time.

Did I like the book? Although I found it interesting, I didn’t gel with the narration style plus I did find it overlong, the first section could have easily been shorter. I do know that the book has an ardent following and is somewhat a cult classic.

[David Sasaki · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lately I've been into mid-century books narrated by teenagers. While I was traveling in London a couple of weeks ago, I started reading Absolute Beginners about 1958 Notting Hill in the run-up to the race riots. Now I'm reading José Agustín's La Tumba, which was published in 1964 and follows a rebellious, literary teenager as he attempts to navigate the stiff, adult world of 1960s Mexico City.

I realized why I'm finding these books appealing when I watched the recent documentary on JD Salinger, author of perhaps the most famous midcentury book narrated by a teenager, The Catcher in the Rye. All teenagers feel alienated from adult society — mostly because they refuse to succumb to the phoniness of it all. In order to become successful in life, you must accept a level of phoniness. You must learn to refrain from expressing certain opinions. You must master the art of sycophancy and tactical deference. Adult social interaction is, in the words of Irving Goffman, "theatrical performance."

But teenagers aren't yet invested enough in their careers or communities to succumb to the phoniness. And so, refreshingly, they rebel against it. Teenage protagonists of novels are so appealing because, despite their insecurity and inexperience, they are authentic. They allow us to engage in the fantasy of doing and saying what we merely think because we're afraid of upset the theatrical performance of polite society.

Throughout my week in London, I became increasingly attached to the nameless, teenage narrator. Absolute Beginners is the British equivalent of beatnik literature. But instead of depicting the jeans-and-t-shirt-wearing literary beats of the US, we're entreated to a ragtag cast of mods and teddy boys, the two rival youth subcultures of post-war London. The novel depicts youth culture in London through the eyes of a precocious, empathetic teenager in the run-up to the 1958 Notting Hill race riots.

The book is great social documentary of London's complicated multicultural coming of age through the eyes of a narrator's personal coming of age. It's also excellent fiction with a Kerouac-like unorthodoxy of prose. If you're interested in learning more about the 1958 race riots, BBC as a good overview, and Stasy Adams and Nick Bentley have written academic pieces on MacInnes's portrayal of 1950s London in his fiction.

[Swjohnson · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Now, you can think what you like about the art of jazz – quite frankly, I don’t really care what you think, because jazz is a thing so wonderful that if anybody doesn’t rave about it, all you can feel for them is pity: not that I’m making out I really understand it all – I mean, certain LPs leave me speechless.”

― Absolute Beginners


Colin MacInnes' novel "Absolute Beginners" (1959) is a wide-lens view of pre-Beatlemania London, with characters, images and ideas that remain pop fixtures: stylish, jazz-loving Mods; fashion conscious Teddy Boys; the ascendancy of the teenager with increased income and diminished responsibility; and an atmosphere of combustible youth culture reacting to WWII-era morals.

"Absolute Beginners" is a remarkable period artifact for those reasons alone, but its literary qualities will surprise many readers looking for the cult novel that profoundly influenced Paul Weller. MacInnes' novel is energetic, lyrical and often brilliantly written. With its combination of cynical, stylized observation and dreamlike panoramas, "Absolute Beginners" feels like J.D. Salinger's "Catcher in the Rye" crossed with Céline's "Journey to the End of the Night" and "Death on the Installment Plan."   

The novel is less a plotted tale than a shifting, mildly surreal journey across London and its outskirts. Divided into four chapters, each section captures the events of a single day over separate months in 1958. The unnamed 18-year old narrator creates the impression of a "Lord of the Flies" social experiment in reverse, where teenagers have created a separate, superior civilization of freedom and literate sophistication. Living independently as a photographer in a diverse West End neighborhood, he encounters a range of colorful characters: the "ponce" (pimp) Wiz, the biracial Mr. Cool, the lesbian Big Jill, the violent and illiterate Ed the Ted, and his unrequited love "Crêpe" Suzette. The key conflicts are the threat of a race riot, the narrator's complex love for Suzette, whom he finds in a mariage blanc with an older man, and the sad expectation that youth's fleeting, ecstatic moment will soon fade.

With its unremitting imagery and stylized wordplay, "Absolute Beginners" is probably best read in a short immersive burst where its unique atmosphere can be savored before its novelty fades. Readers willing to surrender to its rhythms will discover an oblique, charged reality, a dreamily evocative Swinging London of the mind. Julien Temple's 1986 musical film adaptation, more "Newsies" than Céline, suggests the challenges of filming MacInnes' vision. The participation of David Bowie and Ray Davies confirms its lasting influence, but it remains a unique, unrepeatable artifact.

[Tim Julian · Rating 5 out of 5]

The epitome of "cult classic", this freewheeling account of a London still a few years away from becoming Swingin' was published in 1959 and holds up remarkably well.
Our 18-year-old narrator is an aspiring photographer/pornographer who spends his time dashing about on his Vespa, in coffee bars and jazz clubs, rubbing shoulders with characters with names like The Wizard and the Fabulous Hoplite, and trying to forget the luscious Suzette who has left him for a richer, older, and gayer rival.
Contemporary reviewers made lazy comparisons with The Catcher In the Rye, but apart from both having teenage narrators, there are few similarities. MacInnes's hero is far less self-obsessed, (and much funnier) than poor Holden, and although some of the language is obviously dated, (and probably offensive to some), underneath the book has a generosity of spirit in its treatment of the marginalised (immigrants, the sexually non-conforming) that is remarkable for the time. It's also a reminder that 1950s Britain was a violent and unwelcoming place if your face didn't fit. Not much changes, despite all those faux-nostalgic social media memes, as this extract reminds us, on a different topic:

"And if they’re being called themselves, they’ll never say, excuse me, won’t you, to whoever’s in the room, or tell the cat who’s buzzing them they’ll call back a little later, even if the number sitting in their office has something more important to tell them than the mug on the blower has. And when the damn thing rings, in any household, everyone flies to it, as if Winston Churchill’s at the other end, or M. Monroe, or someone, instead of the grocer about the unpaid bill or, more likely, a wrong number. We’re all too much set on gadgets, and let the damn things rule us,"

You said a mouthful, Daddy-O.

The final section is a vivid account of the Notting Hill race riots, and the aftermath, including a bile-flecked opinion piece in "Mrs Dale's Daily" which could have been published yesterday in the Mail, Express or Telegraph.

[Murray Ewing · Rating 4 out of 5]

It’s London in 1958, and the narrator of Colin MacInnes’s novel is living in what seems to be a new-minted teenage paradise, where teens, for the first time, have money to spend and the freedom to spend. It’s a world where all races, creeds and levels of society mix, a world where the (never named) narrator feels totally at home — the only cloud on the horizon being that the love of his love, Suze, has agreed to marry her homosexual boss as a front (homosexuality being illegal at the time). The narrator spends most of the first half of the book wandering round London, talking to Teddy boys, pimps, TV personalities, pop stars, jazz cats, fellow teens and advertising executives — they all seem to know him, and many owe him a favour or two. Everything’s looking up.

But, no, it isn’t. 1958 was the year of some infamous race riots, and MacInnes’s narrator lives right in the middle of where they’re brewing. Also, his dad may be dying.

It’s a novel that seeks to capture the brave new world of its time, when life for its young narrator seems full of nothing but possibility, only to be suddenly dashed as he becomes thoroughly disgusted with the intolerance, violence, and sheer complacency his fellow human beings are capable of. It’s written in a rather odd style — I’m not sure if teenagers actually spoke in this peculiar mix of mock-formality and jazz-like improvisation (it reminded me most of all of Anthony Burgess’s invented patois for A Clockwork Orange). Here’s a sample:

‘Hail, squire,’ I said. ‘Long time no see. How is you are we? Won’t you say tell?’

Moments of insight, moments of poetry, moments of confusion. A slice of life shot through with bursts of teenage outrage and human compassion. Nice and short, too.

[Rosemary · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wanted to read Absolute Beginners because of its ties to the development of Mod culture. I was expecting to get a glimpse into late 1950s British youth culture, but the book explores a whole lot more than that. I found the first 10 pages or so a little hard going until I got my head around the rhythm of the speech patterns, but once I was used to it and sorted out a few of the slang words it made for easy reading.
The first person narration really gives you a really personal look into the life of a main character with a very distinctive voice in quite a unique time culturally. At the same time MacInnes deftly weaves the bigger social issues of race, class, and sexual orientation into this very personal story, not unlike the way Christopher Isherwood captured 1930s Germany in his Berlin Novels.

Absolute Beginner's is not only a fascinating look into 1950s British youth culture, but British culture as whole just before the dawn of the far more documented 1960s.

[Kim · Rating 3 out of 5]

Setting: London, England; 1958.
The 'Absolute Beginners' of the title are the teenagers who inhabit the jazz clubs, cafes and generally-seedy suburbs of 1950's London and whose activities are described in detail by our unnamed narrator, an 18-year-old photographer.
The narrator, who has never left London, makes his love for the city clear as he tells of his family, home life, friends and work exploits. The issues of race and racism are a strong undercurrent in the book and the book concludes with a tale of race riots in the London suburb where the narrator lives and his reaction to it....
Like the first book in the trilogy, this book didn't really grip me and I was not terribly enamoured of the characters or the way the tale was told. Not sure if it is the writing style, the narrator or the content that failed to impress but I will probably still complete the trilogy at some time - 6/10.

[George · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting, thought provoking, witty novel set in London in 1958 and written in the first person from the perspective of an eighteen year old white teenage boy. He is a free lance photographer living in an apartment block. He is very social, mixing with a variety of individuals. He describes the smoky jazz clubs of Soho, the coffee bars of Notting Hill, his relationships with his girlfriend Suzette, his mother, father, siblings and friends.

I found the last fifty pages of the novel particularly interesting as he vividly describes the beginnings of the Notting Hill racial disturbances / riots from the perspective of a white teenager.

A worthwhile, rewarding reading experience. This book was first published in 1959.

[Laura · Rating 3 out of 5]

From BBC Radio 4 - Book at Bedtime:
Colin MacInnes's cult classic about teenagers, style and racial tension in 1950s London

[Bettie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bettie's Books

[Alex · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5

[Naomi Ruth Smith · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.5 stars. This book was interesting for the history but some of the writing felt awkward and I didn't really feel too invested in the characters.

[George P. · Rating 4 out of 5]

A lively story and thought-provoking at times. The copious slang reminded me of A Clockwork Orange. I rate it a four-minus.

[Serhiy]

Підлітки стали найбільшим винахідом другої половини минулого століття. Звісно, вони існували й раніше, але їхнє існування не було підкріплено купівельною спроможністю. «Повні початківці» схоплюють самий початок цих змін. For the first time since centuries of kingdom-come, they’d money, which hitherto had always been denied to us at the best time in life to use it, namely, when you’re young and strong, and also before the newspapers and telly got hold of this teenage fable and prostituted it as conscripts seem to do to everything they touch. Деякою мірою цей роман анти-«Ловець у житі». Безіменний лондонський підліток, від лиця якого ведеться оповідь, в захваті від перспектив, які відкриває перед ним чудовий світ новий. Герой веде напівбогемне життя вільного фотографа, читач мандрує з ним Лондоном кінця 50-х, зустрічаючи персонажів різних соціальних прошарків, від відвертих маргиналів до телезірок та дипломатів. Це дорок-н-рольна доба, музика підлітків тут це джаз, який і символ і метафора епохи. В оповідача кілька сюжетних ліній: романтична (не дуже цікава), родинна (доволі банальна), і расова. Власне, остання з чотирьох частин описує погром кольорового населення в одному з районів Лондона (стара добра Англія, нічого нового), де чудовий світ перестає бути безхмарним. And I thought to myself, standing there looking out on all this fable – what an age it is I’ve grown up in, with everything possible to mankind at last, and every horror too, you could imagine! Попри певні сумніви і розчарування в батьківщині, і спробу втекти з острова, герой залишається в Англії.

Треба сказати, що автору було 44 роки, коли він писав «Повних початківців». Це не самоопис, а погляд спостерігача. Головний герой повністю сконструйований. Персонажі носять умовні імена типу Mr. Cool, The Wizard, The Fabulous Hoplite, The ex-Deb-of-Last-Yea тощо. Але life imitates art, роман став, вибачте за слово, культовим в певних колах й сприяв формуванню субкультури модів в її різних інукарнаціях. Запорукою успіху були не художні досягнення, а схоплений дух часу і потужна вітальність.

And I thought, ‘My lord, one thing is certain, and that’s that they’ll make musicals one day about the glamour-studded 1950s.’ Мюзікл справді зняли у 80-х, його не врятували навіть Шаде і Девід Бові. Але останній написав для нього одну з найкращих своїх пісень.