What do you think?
Rate this book


"The best novel Amis has written; it has the comic gusto, the loathing of pretension that made LUCKY JIM so engaging and high-spirited." (Listener)
"Incendiary stuff...a really formidable blaze. This is his most interesting so far...and no less funny than the first." (Observer)
317 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1960
That remark, and the watchful look that went with it, had in it what she now saw as the thing that ruined his chances far more than any amount of face could: a heaviness that would make Alice in Wonderland sound like something by Sir Walter Scott or one of those, a way of talking about everything so as to make it as important as everything else and fit in with everything else.The ending is pretty shocking, by modern standards: I think it's pretty clear that Amis is not condoning Patrick, but this ending did give me second thoughts about recommending this book to others. But I still think it stands the test of time. It's plain-spoken, true to life, and full of good lines; here are a few.
But I do keep putting it on with all these disgusting cream cakes and chocolates and marshmallows and waffles and syrup and things. It quite worries me the way I keep at them, I just don’t seem to be able to stop myself. How do you manage to keep so lovely and slim? You’re like an absolute wand. You can’t eat enough to keep a flea alive. Of course all these shortages with the war and everything, that was really my best time, I was quite thin then.
In fact this was one of those evenings when the thought of death seemed intrinsically uninteresting, like the doings of the Queen and her consort or the history of banking.(Graham on Patrick's wealthy friend Julian Ormerod)
"Isn’t it now?" he agreed eagerly. "The money that must have gone into all this. And the upkeep must be something quite staggering. I’d like a wee glance at the details of Mr Ormerod’s monthly income, I must say. Where it all derives from, in particular." Then he quietened down, like somebody who knows he has let on to being a bit too interested in how they manage the floggings in prisons.
Getting drink into Jenny was usually like getting blood into a stone.And this impassioned speech by Graham about lookism.
"It’s a long time since I could fool myself over that. I know I’m unattractive. Not just not attractive. Unattractive. A positive quality."
"Please don’t say any more, let’s go back."
"A great British prime minister once remarked that the people were divided into two nations, the rich and the poor, and in effect that these had no knowledge of each other. One might say the same, perhaps, of those who live in parts of the world where segregation by races is practised. But these barriers, or the reasons for them, belong to a part of our history which is fortunately passing away. There is one barrier, however, which no amount of progress or tolerance or legislation can ever diminish. I’m talking about the barrier between the attractive and the unattractive, and if you think I sound as if I’ve got this learned off, so I have, pretty well. As I said, I’ve had plenty of time to think about it.
"Unless you sit down and do have a real good think about it, you can have no conception of the difference between the lives of those who look like you and those who look like me. No doubt you and I are extreme examples. But, you see, the whole pattern of our thinking and feeling is just miles apart. Our hopes and our ambitions and the chance we have of making them come true – that’s the important one – well, they move on totally different levels, they almost go in opposite directions altogether. You think I’m talking about sex, don’t you? Well, so I am, but we’ll get on to that properly in a minute. I just want to say first that it applies to friendship as well. Haven’t you ever noticed that groups of friends and associates tend to, I’m not saying always, but there is a distinct tendency for the attractive to congregate and the unattractive likewise, wouldn’t you say? Why do you think I see so much of the Thompsons, for instance, so much more than Patrick does? It’s not that I like them any better. Look round any community like a masters’ common room where the association isn’t purely voluntary, and you’ll see the duffers marking one another out. Like very small men getting together, a mutual defence system. Or any minority. That’s what we really are, the duffers, a minority, nothing so grand as a nation. Most people are passable, after all. But it isn’t all that easy, is my point, for a duffer to make a friend of an attractive person. There’s me and Patrick. We’re friends. And you’re maybe going to mention those mixed pairs of girls you see going round together, one pretty and the other ugly. But does that really happen often? Don’t we notice it because it is so rare? And I’d suppose it was often a kind of manhunting tactic when it does occur; you may know. I’m not saying it may not be a genuine friendship in many cases. After all, friendship includes charity. But there’s no charity in sex."
"Do stop, Graham, don’t tell me any more, there’s a dear."
"I won’t say anything that may shock you, rest assured of that."
"It’s not that, I just don’t want you to upset yourself."
"Upset you, you mean, by showing you something you’d prefer not to think about. No, that’s not fair to you. And why should you think about it? It can’t ever concern you. Let’s say, then, that I won’t be upsetting myself if I merely say out loud what I’ve already put into words for my own benefit hundreds of times. I never have said it before, but I’m going to finish it now, and I’ll apologize later for keeping you standing here in the dark listening to it. There’s not much more.
"You can’t imagine what it’s like not to know what it is to meet an attractive person who’s also attracted to you, can you? Because unattractive men don’t want unattractive girls, you see. They want attractive girls. They merely get unattractive girls. I think a lot of people feel vaguely when they see two duffers marrying that the duffers must prefer it that way. Which is rather like saying that slum-dwellers would rather live in the slums than anywhere else – there they are in the slums, aren’t they? A great German thinker once said that character is destiny. Appearance is character and destiny would have been better, and truer. What use is your character to you if you can’t turn it into your destiny? When I see someone as pretty as you I always start off by thinking that it’s going to be different this time, this time she’ll have to want me a little because I want her so much. That’s the bit I always do fool myself about, at first. Perhaps it isn’t normal, all this wanting. But I wouldn’t know, would I? I haven’t any way of knowing. What’s sex all about? How would I know? And not knowing that means not knowing a lot of other things, too. For instance, literature. I used to be a great reader at one time, but not any more. Eternity was in our lips and eyes, bliss in our brows' bent. It’s not envy. Simpler than that. What’s he talking about?"
"Oh, Graham, for God’s sake don’t go on. I can’t stand it."
"I’ve finished. There isn’t any more."
"You mustn’t think those things." She went up to him and put her arms round his bulky shoulders and laid her cheek against his. "It won’t always be like that; you see."
"I have upset you. I didn’t mean to."
"There’s bound to be someone for someone as nice as you."
"Someone, oh yes, there’ll be someone."
"Someone nice."
"Yes, someone nice, that’s it."