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The Eve of St Venus
This fascinating early work by Anthony Burgess is a delightful fantasy, blending classical myth and farce. Displaying a high degree of verbal ingenuity and intelligence, Burgess effortlessly plays with ideas to create a riotous comedy that is ultimately a celebration of love and marriage. It is presented here along with the earlier and similarly themed The Venus of Ille, by Prosper Mérimée. Ambrose and Diana are to be married. Diana, however, is having last-minute doubts fuelled by her feminist friend and bridesmaid, Julia, while Ambrose inadvertently becomes engaged to the goddess Venus, who has taken possession of the wedding ring. These obstacles present the first in a farcical series of challenges—not only to the impending wedding, but also to the most dearly held preconceptions of Ambrose, Diana, and their wedding guests. In addition to writing novels like A Clockwork Orange and The Earthly Powers, Anthony Burgess was also a composer and critic.
144 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1964
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211 people want to read
About the author
Anthony Burgess
359 books4,258 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
Seriocomic novels of noted British writer and critic Anthony Burgess, pen name of John Burgess Wilson, include the futuristic classic A Clockwork Orange (1962).
He composed also a librettos, poems, plays, screens, and essays and traveled, broadcast, translated, linguist and educationalist. He lived for long periods in southeastern Asia, the United States of America, and Europe along Mediterranean Sea as well as England. His fiction embraces the Malayan trilogy ( The Long Day Wanes ) on the dying days of empire in the east. The Enderby quartet concerns a poet and his muse. Nothing like the Sun re-creates love life of William Shakespeare. He explores the nature of evil with Earthly Powers , a panoramic saga of the 20th century. He published studies of James Joyce, Ernest Miller Hemingway, Shakespeare, and David Herbert Lawrence. He produced the treatises Language Made Plain and A Mouthful of Air . His journalism proliferated in several languages. He translated and adapted Cyrano de Bergerac , Oedipus the King , and Carmen for the stage. He scripted Jesus of Nazareth and Moses the Lawgiver for the screen. He invented the prehistoric language, spoken in Quest for Fire . He composed the Sinfoni Melayu , the Symphony (No. 3) in C , and the opera Blooms of Dublin .
Seriocomic novels of noted British writer and critic Anthony Burgess, pen name of John Burgess Wilson, include the futuristic classic A Clockwork Orange (1962).
He composed also a librettos, poems, plays, screens, and essays and traveled, broadcast, translated, linguist and educationalist. He lived for long periods in southeastern Asia, the United States of America, and Europe along Mediterranean Sea as well as England. His fiction embraces the Malayan trilogy ( The Long Day Wanes ) on the dying days of empire in the east. The Enderby quartet concerns a poet and his muse. Nothing like the Sun re-creates love life of William Shakespeare. He explores the nature of evil with Earthly Powers , a panoramic saga of the 20th century. He published studies of James Joyce, Ernest Miller Hemingway, Shakespeare, and David Herbert Lawrence. He produced the treatises Language Made Plain and A Mouthful of Air . His journalism proliferated in several languages. He translated and adapted Cyrano de Bergerac , Oedipus the King , and Carmen for the stage. He scripted Jesus of Nazareth and Moses the Lawgiver for the screen. He invented the prehistoric language, spoken in Quest for Fire . He composed the Sinfoni Melayu , the Symphony (No. 3) in C , and the opera Blooms of Dublin .
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Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews
September 9, 2025
Tenía ganas de leer algo de él que no fuese la Naranja Mecánica y encontré esta novela cortita. El argumento podría ser el de una comedia española y si te imaginas a los personajes como Gracita Morales, José Luis López Vázquez, etc. la experiencia mejora notablemente.
March 22, 2022
Few novelists can match Burgess's gift for sprightly dialogue, and this novel is 90% dialogue. The book reads like a play, specifically like a Shakespeare fantasy as re-imagined with the satiric and philosophical wit of a Tom Stoppard or a G.K. Chesterton.
[Read again in Nov. 2011; this time the book made me think of both an Ingmar Bergman farce and a Charles Williams story.]
[Read again in Nov. 2011; this time the book made me think of both an Ingmar Bergman farce and a Charles Williams story.]
November 16, 2023
Un bultito sonrosado, con una llorosa cara churchilliana.
Los ingleses toman tristemente sus placeres.
El pasado ha muerto y todo lo que había de bueno lo enterraron con él. Y aquí está la recia y horrible puerta del presente con el ojo tentador de su cerradura. Le puedes aplicar el ojo o el oído, pero no puedes hacer que éstos se conviertan en la llave. El pasado continúa en el interior, la fiesta perpetua se hace más y más desaforada, pero no puedes entrar.
¿Por qué afecta el matrimonio de esa forma a la gente? ¿Es tan valiosa la libertad que las personas tiemblan ante la idea de perderla? Nunca lo hubiera creído.—Debería saberlo todo acerca de su precio, si no de su valor,—dijo Sir Benjamin, con mala intención—. Ustedes, los políticos, la consideran como una mercancía vendible.
Yo no confío en ningún político. Todos son sucios. Y los que creen en un futuro bonito, limpio y saludable, con cuartos de baño para todos e intimidad para nadie, son con mucho los más sucios.
hambrientos, como arenas movedizas
—Toda restricción es inmoral,
La anarquía es más adecuada para una vida tan corta como la nuestra.
Deberíamos buscar el color, no la forma, y aprender a preferir el dolor de muelas a la sonrisa muerta de las dentaduras perfectas.
Ne plus ultra».
El romanticismo está muy bien a su manera, pero cuando los nuevos e inexpertos amantes se han hartado uno de otro, una hipoteca pagada significa más que los apasionados tópicos que sólo son la fina capa de azúcar glaseado sobre el pesado pastel biológico.
Me gusta reír a carcajadas, y llorar a moco tendido. Es la vida, podríamos decir. Yo he llevado ya cinco maridos a la tumba, y quiera Dios que no sean los últimos. Casi siempre es el violín viejo el que toca mejor, según dice el refrán.
Lizzie Adkins iba siempre detrás de él, pero estaba flaca como un rastrillo. Él solía decir que si se hubiera casado con ella, habría sido como acostarse con una bicicleta.
a mí me gustan los hombres celosos; un ojo a la funerala o una oreja hinchada duelen menos que un corazón frío.
—Las palabras son cosas curiosas—murmuró Julia Webb—. Para el escritor son tal vez la única realidad. El significado importa poco. Repites una palabra para convencerte de que tiene un significado. Y la repites una y otra vez hasta que ese significado no quiera decir nada. La palabra queda reducida a una serie de fenómenos glóticos. ¿Estás segura de que sabes lo que quieres decir con la palabra «feliz»?
Sabes que es la muerte, pero sabes también que la muerte puede hacerse muy agradable y que el dolor puede convertirse, con el tiempo, no sólo en tolerable, sino incluso deseable.
Los héroes han muerto para ellos, adoran a estrellas de TV. El pensar profundo y el buen beber ceden su sitio al bar y al café.
—Véalos,—dijo—, mirando con ojos desorbitados en esa caja hecha para que los ojos salten de sus cuencas. Allí, esos simulacros resecos y chupados por vampiros, perdón, he dicho esos simulacros, esas fibras cocidas a fuego lento de la nueva mitología exangüe, hacen guiños y posturas, pasean y mugen. Y allí están ellos, mascando bombones baratos.
El país naufraga en un mar de risas de muchachas en los autobuses de altas horas de la noche.
—Oh,—dijo el vicario—, el pecado es mi hobby. No la comisión del pecado, naturalmente, sino su estudio. Un vicario necesita distraerse de un trabajo que se vuelve cada vez más secular. Pienso en el pecado con una especie de melancólica nostalgia, un verano hace tiempo desaparecido de cerveza de jengibre y campanillas azules. Ahora nadie peca ya, y el pecado, a fin de cuentas, debería ser mi negocio. Envidio a los médicos: ellos tienen siempre enfermedades.
donde hay entusiasmo, no hay pecado.
¿Qué tenemos ahora en cambio? Lo justo y lo injusto, con su vestuario intercambiable, y los tribunales de policía, templos de un dios aburrido y neutral, aficionado a los desinfectantes.
ningún sacerdote es capaz de impresionarse, sobre todo después de haber estudiado las vidas de los patriarcas.
—Tal vez ella había estado comiendo ostras,—dijo Sir Benjamin.—Esto es muy poco probable,—saltó Crowther-Mason—. Este mes no lleva erre.
El origen de los diablos. Los antiguos dioses no murieron. Se pasaron a la oposición cuando empezó la nueva administración. Los diablos fueron antaño dioses. La propia palabra «diablo» significa «pequeño dios».
El dolor es malo como cena,
en realidad, importa poco la persona con quien se case. El matrimonio en sí es lo que cuenta.
Yo acepto a la gente como es. A mi edad, no puedo permitirme tener demasiados enemigos.
A mi modo de ver, una nueva religión no debe suplantar simplemente la antigua, sino que debe englobarla también.
Yo diría que la verdad no es materia de lenta destilación, sino una revelación acumulativa, tejiendo círculos cada vez más anchos…
El pasado se enriquece al desplegarse el presente. Los dioses están todavía vivos, son parte de un plan sobrecogedor que crece, se mueve, se ensancha, unifica.
—Todo es creado por los hombres—dijo Crowther-Mason—. Tenemos que confesarlo. Lo objetivo y lo eterno se parecen en que ambos son separables del observador. Cuando miro una mesa, hago una mesa, sólo por el hecho de verla. Lo eterno no es menos eterno porque sea una mente falible quien lo concibe. La revelación divina tiene que terminar en la mente del receptor humano. En este sentido, nosotros hacemos nuestros dioses.
Santa Venus.
La religión está muy bien en su lugar, pero cuando provoca actos de Dios, me abandona mi sentido del humor.
La muerte no es más que otro nombre del estado de ser yo mismo.
—«Mañana habrá amor para el que no lo tiene, y para el amante, amor. El día de la boda primigenia, la cópula De las partículas irreductibles; el día en que Venus Surgió armada de las flores nupciales de la espuma Y la verde danza de las olas, mientras los caballos volantes Relinchaban y resollaban a su alrededor y las monstruosas conchas Pregonaban su alegría intolerable».
El mundo parecía empeñado en romper todos sus espejos. El mundo estaba construyendo un salón de espejos, sólo para ver su propia y multiplicada imagen deshaciéndose en fragmentos, convertida la sonrisa narcisista en una risa burlona y retorcida.
Sabía que los ejércitos se habían puesto en marcha, que sonaban las trompetas, que la mente colectiva (instrumento de la oligarquía) estaba siendo modelada bajo la anestesia de los slogans y de los espectáculos de masas.
Los ingleses toman tristemente sus placeres.
El pasado ha muerto y todo lo que había de bueno lo enterraron con él. Y aquí está la recia y horrible puerta del presente con el ojo tentador de su cerradura. Le puedes aplicar el ojo o el oído, pero no puedes hacer que éstos se conviertan en la llave. El pasado continúa en el interior, la fiesta perpetua se hace más y más desaforada, pero no puedes entrar.
¿Por qué afecta el matrimonio de esa forma a la gente? ¿Es tan valiosa la libertad que las personas tiemblan ante la idea de perderla? Nunca lo hubiera creído.—Debería saberlo todo acerca de su precio, si no de su valor,—dijo Sir Benjamin, con mala intención—. Ustedes, los políticos, la consideran como una mercancía vendible.
Yo no confío en ningún político. Todos son sucios. Y los que creen en un futuro bonito, limpio y saludable, con cuartos de baño para todos e intimidad para nadie, son con mucho los más sucios.
hambrientos, como arenas movedizas
—Toda restricción es inmoral,
La anarquía es más adecuada para una vida tan corta como la nuestra.
Deberíamos buscar el color, no la forma, y aprender a preferir el dolor de muelas a la sonrisa muerta de las dentaduras perfectas.
Ne plus ultra».
El romanticismo está muy bien a su manera, pero cuando los nuevos e inexpertos amantes se han hartado uno de otro, una hipoteca pagada significa más que los apasionados tópicos que sólo son la fina capa de azúcar glaseado sobre el pesado pastel biológico.
Me gusta reír a carcajadas, y llorar a moco tendido. Es la vida, podríamos decir. Yo he llevado ya cinco maridos a la tumba, y quiera Dios que no sean los últimos. Casi siempre es el violín viejo el que toca mejor, según dice el refrán.
Lizzie Adkins iba siempre detrás de él, pero estaba flaca como un rastrillo. Él solía decir que si se hubiera casado con ella, habría sido como acostarse con una bicicleta.
a mí me gustan los hombres celosos; un ojo a la funerala o una oreja hinchada duelen menos que un corazón frío.
—Las palabras son cosas curiosas—murmuró Julia Webb—. Para el escritor son tal vez la única realidad. El significado importa poco. Repites una palabra para convencerte de que tiene un significado. Y la repites una y otra vez hasta que ese significado no quiera decir nada. La palabra queda reducida a una serie de fenómenos glóticos. ¿Estás segura de que sabes lo que quieres decir con la palabra «feliz»?
Sabes que es la muerte, pero sabes también que la muerte puede hacerse muy agradable y que el dolor puede convertirse, con el tiempo, no sólo en tolerable, sino incluso deseable.
Los héroes han muerto para ellos, adoran a estrellas de TV. El pensar profundo y el buen beber ceden su sitio al bar y al café.
—Véalos,—dijo—, mirando con ojos desorbitados en esa caja hecha para que los ojos salten de sus cuencas. Allí, esos simulacros resecos y chupados por vampiros, perdón, he dicho esos simulacros, esas fibras cocidas a fuego lento de la nueva mitología exangüe, hacen guiños y posturas, pasean y mugen. Y allí están ellos, mascando bombones baratos.
El país naufraga en un mar de risas de muchachas en los autobuses de altas horas de la noche.
—Oh,—dijo el vicario—, el pecado es mi hobby. No la comisión del pecado, naturalmente, sino su estudio. Un vicario necesita distraerse de un trabajo que se vuelve cada vez más secular. Pienso en el pecado con una especie de melancólica nostalgia, un verano hace tiempo desaparecido de cerveza de jengibre y campanillas azules. Ahora nadie peca ya, y el pecado, a fin de cuentas, debería ser mi negocio. Envidio a los médicos: ellos tienen siempre enfermedades.
donde hay entusiasmo, no hay pecado.
¿Qué tenemos ahora en cambio? Lo justo y lo injusto, con su vestuario intercambiable, y los tribunales de policía, templos de un dios aburrido y neutral, aficionado a los desinfectantes.
ningún sacerdote es capaz de impresionarse, sobre todo después de haber estudiado las vidas de los patriarcas.
—Tal vez ella había estado comiendo ostras,—dijo Sir Benjamin.—Esto es muy poco probable,—saltó Crowther-Mason—. Este mes no lleva erre.
El origen de los diablos. Los antiguos dioses no murieron. Se pasaron a la oposición cuando empezó la nueva administración. Los diablos fueron antaño dioses. La propia palabra «diablo» significa «pequeño dios».
El dolor es malo como cena,
en realidad, importa poco la persona con quien se case. El matrimonio en sí es lo que cuenta.
Yo acepto a la gente como es. A mi edad, no puedo permitirme tener demasiados enemigos.
A mi modo de ver, una nueva religión no debe suplantar simplemente la antigua, sino que debe englobarla también.
Yo diría que la verdad no es materia de lenta destilación, sino una revelación acumulativa, tejiendo círculos cada vez más anchos…
El pasado se enriquece al desplegarse el presente. Los dioses están todavía vivos, son parte de un plan sobrecogedor que crece, se mueve, se ensancha, unifica.
—Todo es creado por los hombres—dijo Crowther-Mason—. Tenemos que confesarlo. Lo objetivo y lo eterno se parecen en que ambos son separables del observador. Cuando miro una mesa, hago una mesa, sólo por el hecho de verla. Lo eterno no es menos eterno porque sea una mente falible quien lo concibe. La revelación divina tiene que terminar en la mente del receptor humano. En este sentido, nosotros hacemos nuestros dioses.
Santa Venus.
La religión está muy bien en su lugar, pero cuando provoca actos de Dios, me abandona mi sentido del humor.
La muerte no es más que otro nombre del estado de ser yo mismo.
—«Mañana habrá amor para el que no lo tiene, y para el amante, amor. El día de la boda primigenia, la cópula De las partículas irreductibles; el día en que Venus Surgió armada de las flores nupciales de la espuma Y la verde danza de las olas, mientras los caballos volantes Relinchaban y resollaban a su alrededor y las monstruosas conchas Pregonaban su alegría intolerable».
El mundo parecía empeñado en romper todos sus espejos. El mundo estaba construyendo un salón de espejos, sólo para ver su propia y multiplicada imagen deshaciéndose en fragmentos, convertida la sonrisa narcisista en una risa burlona y retorcida.
Sabía que los ejércitos se habían puesto en marcha, que sonaban las trompetas, que la mente colectiva (instrumento de la oligarquía) estaba siendo modelada bajo la anestesia de los slogans y de los espectáculos de masas.
May 10, 2012
I think all you need to know about this book, in order to steer clear of it, is that statues come alive. Unless statues coming alive is the sort of thing you think is worthy of literary or semi-literary fiction, or even of 60's sit-coms. Then I say, "This is the book for you." There are other things I don't say, that I keep to myself because I see no reason to be impolite to deranged strangers.
April 25, 2020
This book feels increasingly dated as the 60s/70s fade farther into historical context. It is imaginative and beautiful in its depiction of human relations on the eve of marriage and all the weight that commitment entails. However, there is no great "aha" moment or conclusion to provide satisfaction of a read well read. Fortunately, at less than 150 pages, the journey will hardly be an arduous one.
July 31, 2018
Not sure if I’m more upset by the book itself or the fact Anthony Burgess willingly associated his name with this. Funny at times, I suppose, but horribly underwhelming compared to his other works.
August 25, 2023
Confusa y desorientada. Así es como me siento después de haber leído La víspera de Santa Venus. Y es que lo mejor que se puede decir de ella es que es muy inglesa y muy corta. Ambos atributos, aunque reconozco que más el segundo que el primero, contribuyen a que leerla no se transforme en un tormento insufrible.
Anthony Burguess es un escritor extraño. Sus obras están a caballo entre los delirios de un drogadicto o los desvaríos de un enfermo mental. Supongo que lo hará a posta porque si no no comprendo la fama que ha tenido. Indudablemente Burguess, a su manera, no es mal escritor pero termina aburriendo. Su estilo de escritura es lioso, excesivamente enrevesado aunque con una ejecución aceptable. Para poder mantener esta manera de escribir cuenta con una prosa lenta y con un nefasto desarrollo, un lenguaje con pretensiones líricas y unas descripciones aceptables aunque sin ningún atractivo. Pero lo peor son los personajes. Éstos oscilan entre lo esperpéntico y lo grotesco. Y es que a una nefasta construcción se le une una historia absurda que potencia lo ridículo de estos personajes. No se salva ninguno.
Es difícil establecer que es lo que el autor pretende contarnos en La víspera de Santa Venus. Pero cabe aclarar que quien hay visto "La novia cadáver" de Tim Burton observará grandes similitudes con la trama de este libro, en especial si sustituimos "cadáver" por "diosa". Sin embargo la idea original no le pertenece ni a Burton ni al propio Burguess. Como éste deja claro al principio, esta trama está basada en un cuento mucho más antiguo de Robert Burton (dudo mucho que sea un antepasado del director norteamericano, pero vete a saber). Aclarado esto, hagamos una pequeña sinopsis para clarificar (o intentarlo) un poco la trama. Ambrose es un joven ingeniero que se va a casar con Diane, hija de familia acomodada. La víspera de la boda, Ambrose le coloca el anillo en el dedo a la estatua de Venus que hay en el jardín de su futuro suegro, practicando junto a su amigo para el día siguiente. La estatua cierra la mano, impidiendo a nuestro protagonista recuperar el anillo. Y es entonces cuando todo se desboca: la novia a punto de huir por los malos consejos de una amiga, invitados indeseados y una presencia misteriosa que reclama a Ambrose como suyo y que afecta a todos los habitantes de la casa. Y hasta aquí puedo contar sin desvelar nada realmente importante. Pero si puedo hablar de que, además del sinsentido de la trama, el libro orbita otras cuestiones como el talento artístico, la influencia del paganismo en la cultura y el matrimonio desde el punto de vista práctico. El final es como todo de esta clase de libro que se precie, abierto y feliz, o todo lo que puedo serlo con esta historia.
En suma, La víspera de Santa Venus, es un ejemplo de como el humor inglés no puede ser realmente entendido por nadie que no sea de allá. Es una lectura desagradable con una galería de personajes,que más que divertidos parecen patéticos, por más que intenten ser representativos de una categoría. Le falta fuerza, cinismo e ironía para ser un buen humor negro de esos que te arrancan carcajadas y la obsesión por mezclar la trama con la religión termina de enfriar una lectura que te venden como hilarante pero que te deja tan congelada como la temperatura de los polos de la Tierra. Mi consejo, si es que sirve de algo, es que huyáis abandonando a Venus y todo su parafernalia. No merece le pena el sufrimiento...
Anthony Burguess es un escritor extraño. Sus obras están a caballo entre los delirios de un drogadicto o los desvaríos de un enfermo mental. Supongo que lo hará a posta porque si no no comprendo la fama que ha tenido. Indudablemente Burguess, a su manera, no es mal escritor pero termina aburriendo. Su estilo de escritura es lioso, excesivamente enrevesado aunque con una ejecución aceptable. Para poder mantener esta manera de escribir cuenta con una prosa lenta y con un nefasto desarrollo, un lenguaje con pretensiones líricas y unas descripciones aceptables aunque sin ningún atractivo. Pero lo peor son los personajes. Éstos oscilan entre lo esperpéntico y lo grotesco. Y es que a una nefasta construcción se le une una historia absurda que potencia lo ridículo de estos personajes. No se salva ninguno.
Es difícil establecer que es lo que el autor pretende contarnos en La víspera de Santa Venus. Pero cabe aclarar que quien hay visto "La novia cadáver" de Tim Burton observará grandes similitudes con la trama de este libro, en especial si sustituimos "cadáver" por "diosa". Sin embargo la idea original no le pertenece ni a Burton ni al propio Burguess. Como éste deja claro al principio, esta trama está basada en un cuento mucho más antiguo de Robert Burton (dudo mucho que sea un antepasado del director norteamericano, pero vete a saber). Aclarado esto, hagamos una pequeña sinopsis para clarificar (o intentarlo) un poco la trama. Ambrose es un joven ingeniero que se va a casar con Diane, hija de familia acomodada. La víspera de la boda, Ambrose le coloca el anillo en el dedo a la estatua de Venus que hay en el jardín de su futuro suegro, practicando junto a su amigo para el día siguiente. La estatua cierra la mano, impidiendo a nuestro protagonista recuperar el anillo. Y es entonces cuando todo se desboca: la novia a punto de huir por los malos consejos de una amiga, invitados indeseados y una presencia misteriosa que reclama a Ambrose como suyo y que afecta a todos los habitantes de la casa. Y hasta aquí puedo contar sin desvelar nada realmente importante. Pero si puedo hablar de que, además del sinsentido de la trama, el libro orbita otras cuestiones como el talento artístico, la influencia del paganismo en la cultura y el matrimonio desde el punto de vista práctico. El final es como todo de esta clase de libro que se precie, abierto y feliz, o todo lo que puedo serlo con esta historia.
En suma, La víspera de Santa Venus, es un ejemplo de como el humor inglés no puede ser realmente entendido por nadie que no sea de allá. Es una lectura desagradable con una galería de personajes,que más que divertidos parecen patéticos, por más que intenten ser representativos de una categoría. Le falta fuerza, cinismo e ironía para ser un buen humor negro de esos que te arrancan carcajadas y la obsesión por mezclar la trama con la religión termina de enfriar una lectura que te venden como hilarante pero que te deja tan congelada como la temperatura de los polos de la Tierra. Mi consejo, si es que sirve de algo, es que huyáis abandonando a Venus y todo su parafernalia. No merece le pena el sufrimiento...
February 14, 2024
This *work of art* truly exceeded all my expectations.
I randomly bought a copy because Venus was in the title and I became slightly curious. My my- am I glad I did get it.
I was slightly dubious of the wedding context, although the plot thickened beautifully. Got me reaching the climax and gently bringing me down again.
This book has the politics, the faith, the myth. The spoiled girl, the boy who thinks he’s going insane, the parents who are too wrapped up in their own thing they don’t really pay attention to their child’s antics, the vicar who is overwhelmed by religion, the lesbian (who doesn’t die at the end!) and the some what sane politician to whom the reader can’t help but encourage to guide them through the journey with their head screwed on compared to the other characters (which isn’t something you can say about a politician these days…)
Burgess I am aware has written many a brilliant novel, yet this seems to be my first. I definitely won’t let it be my last.
The one thing I would say is - as the author explains in the preface - this was intended as a play/opera. And you can definitely tell in most parts that this was intended for the stage. As a theatre lover myself, that aspect rather thrilled me although I can see others being slightly disappointed with parts of the telling of the story.
I randomly bought a copy because Venus was in the title and I became slightly curious. My my- am I glad I did get it.
I was slightly dubious of the wedding context, although the plot thickened beautifully. Got me reaching the climax and gently bringing me down again.
This book has the politics, the faith, the myth. The spoiled girl, the boy who thinks he’s going insane, the parents who are too wrapped up in their own thing they don’t really pay attention to their child’s antics, the vicar who is overwhelmed by religion, the lesbian (who doesn’t die at the end!) and the some what sane politician to whom the reader can’t help but encourage to guide them through the journey with their head screwed on compared to the other characters (which isn’t something you can say about a politician these days…)
Burgess I am aware has written many a brilliant novel, yet this seems to be my first. I definitely won’t let it be my last.
The one thing I would say is - as the author explains in the preface - this was intended as a play/opera. And you can definitely tell in most parts that this was intended for the stage. As a theatre lover myself, that aspect rather thrilled me although I can see others being slightly disappointed with parts of the telling of the story.
November 27, 2025
This novel by the author of A Clockwork Orange was found at my used-book shop, and I lapped up the first part in an hour or two. It is somewhat dated, having to do with the British aristocracy and its rituals, shibboleths and idiosyncrasies, but one must look past that and get into the spirit of fun that Burgess is inviting his readers into. It is the eve of a wedding, a very important wedding, and a cast of unusual characters struts upon their small stage in preparation for the event. The uncle of the bride-t0-be has just returned from a trip to Greece with a collection of classical statues, and they are cluttering up the estate; their owner is drunk and takes to his bed while his brother, the father of the bride-t0-be, is pontificating and scolding the scullery maid; the designated maid of honor seduces and runs away with the bride-t0-be; and the groom-to-be worries that he won't know how to put the ring on the hand of his betrothed the following day. From this mad, and very funny scene, the story proceeds to a sort-of Midsummer-Night's-Dream-inspired tale of adventure and fantasy, complete with Burgess's eloquent descriptions and caricature of the ruling classes.
An easy read, short and humorous ... a bauble and a look into the absurdities of an earlier era.
An easy read, short and humorous ... a bauble and a look into the absurdities of an earlier era.
February 25, 2019
Anthony Burgess isn't to everyone's taste, and this novel in particular is an interesting curiosity that might not appeal to fans of his A Clockwork Orange. Still, I'm amazed at the people who disliked it simply because of the fantasy element of a statue coming to life.
Burgess didn't invent this particular trope, but updated a much older allegorical tale, The Ring Given to Venus, which was penned by William of Malmesbury in the 1100s. Numerous other writers since found the subject irresistible: Robert Burton recounted it in The Anatomy of Melancholy (1621), Sabine Baring-Gould included it in Curious Myths of the Middle Ages (1865), William Morris used it as the basis of his poem The Ring Given to Venus (1867), poet John Masefield set his version Arthur and his Ring (1928) in the Court of King Arthur, and Ogden Nash and S.J. Perelman collaborated with Kurt Weill on One Touch of Venus (1943), a musical comedy which was based on F. Anstey's humorous tale, The Tinted Venus (1885).
I'm looking forward to reading it just on the basis of its illustrious lineage!
Burgess didn't invent this particular trope, but updated a much older allegorical tale, The Ring Given to Venus, which was penned by William of Malmesbury in the 1100s. Numerous other writers since found the subject irresistible: Robert Burton recounted it in The Anatomy of Melancholy (1621), Sabine Baring-Gould included it in Curious Myths of the Middle Ages (1865), William Morris used it as the basis of his poem The Ring Given to Venus (1867), poet John Masefield set his version Arthur and his Ring (1928) in the Court of King Arthur, and Ogden Nash and S.J. Perelman collaborated with Kurt Weill on One Touch of Venus (1943), a musical comedy which was based on F. Anstey's humorous tale, The Tinted Venus (1885).
I'm looking forward to reading it just on the basis of its illustrious lineage!
June 3, 2025
On the day before his wedding, Ambrose, a rather boring engineer decides to check the fit of his betrothed’s wedding ring on his father in law’s new statue of Venus. This summons her down from the heavens, believing that she is in fact married to the confused Ambrose. Prenuptial chaos ensues.
The novella has a hilarious cast of characters (perhaps caricatures) brought to life with Burgesses outstanding prose.
I find that this type of writing is hard to find these days, where the so called literati are only interested in serious, humourless stories.
I think that this might be one of the funniest books I’ve read.
Strong recommendations on this one.
The novella has a hilarious cast of characters (perhaps caricatures) brought to life with Burgesses outstanding prose.
I find that this type of writing is hard to find these days, where the so called literati are only interested in serious, humourless stories.
I think that this might be one of the funniest books I’ve read.
Strong recommendations on this one.
August 18, 2019
Surprised me. The first story is ace. A properly funny satire that feels like it takes place in Austen's time, even though it can only be 1956 at the earliest. Really impressed. The dialogue is wondrous. The second story is not so good - it could have made an excellent horror novella but it made me shrug. Overall, excellent though.
April 30, 2023
Soooo funny
“ “Oh, to be happy! My very body is reaffirmed in the glory of its flesh, though aging. My flesh is reformed. The blood skates through my arteries; I could digest a whole sheep; my mind seethes with inchoate poems. What a night this is!” And he danced a sort of pavane”
“ “Oh, to be happy! My very body is reaffirmed in the glory of its flesh, though aging. My flesh is reformed. The blood skates through my arteries; I could digest a whole sheep; my mind seethes with inchoate poems. What a night this is!” And he danced a sort of pavane”
February 9, 2023
I absolutely adored this tale, I think because I am sort of a romantic, and that is exactly what this was, a somewhat surreal mystery with delicate touches of romanticism.
September 10, 2023
This reads a lot like specifically a film of its time, which is odd. I don't think I've really gotten such an impression like that before. It's not very compelling I don't think, but it's not bad.
March 7, 2024
A statue of Venus comes to life and shenanigans follow. Probably funnier if you’re British.
February 11, 2025
3/5 stunnin cover, started eh, got better, but the endin was cheeks
October 16, 2025
The only good thing about this novel is the titties on the cover. How did the same person who wrote A Clockwork Orange write this drivel? This isn't a rhetorical question.
January 14, 2026
Fun quick read
March 7, 2011
The Eve of St Venus:
An entertaining story following Ambrose as he manages to find himself married to a statue of Venus, the day before his marriage to Diana, who is dealing with her own doubts about the impending marriage. As Ambrose and friends try to find a solution to both the natural and supernatural problems in order to keep the wedding on track Burgess manages to have a little tongue in cheek dig at religion, mythology, marriage and love itself. The story is told by the characters themselves as they try to address the problems at hand (or in the case of Sir Ben, address the problems of his own hunger and thirst), which adds to the characters' depth and gives them that bit of realism/humanity which could otherwise have been lacking. A highly entertaining tale that certainly makes you chuckle.
The Venus of Ille:
An earlier and darker story along similar lines to The Eve, this tale tells of a young man's experiences in Italy as he stays with a local family, where the head of the household has uncovered a bronze idol of Venus and had it erected in the garden. At the same time the oldest son is to be wed but during a tennis match he places his ring on the finger of the statue where he finds it has become stuck when he tries to retrieve it later. His embarasement causes him to keep this a secret until after his marriage when he confides in our young gentleman, after which events take a turn for the worst. A darkly gothic tale focusing on the superstitions and religious conviction of rural Italy this may only be a short tale but it lacks nothing in impact or drama.
An entertaining story following Ambrose as he manages to find himself married to a statue of Venus, the day before his marriage to Diana, who is dealing with her own doubts about the impending marriage. As Ambrose and friends try to find a solution to both the natural and supernatural problems in order to keep the wedding on track Burgess manages to have a little tongue in cheek dig at religion, mythology, marriage and love itself. The story is told by the characters themselves as they try to address the problems at hand (or in the case of Sir Ben, address the problems of his own hunger and thirst), which adds to the characters' depth and gives them that bit of realism/humanity which could otherwise have been lacking. A highly entertaining tale that certainly makes you chuckle.
The Venus of Ille:
An earlier and darker story along similar lines to The Eve, this tale tells of a young man's experiences in Italy as he stays with a local family, where the head of the household has uncovered a bronze idol of Venus and had it erected in the garden. At the same time the oldest son is to be wed but during a tennis match he places his ring on the finger of the statue where he finds it has become stuck when he tries to retrieve it later. His embarasement causes him to keep this a secret until after his marriage when he confides in our young gentleman, after which events take a turn for the worst. A darkly gothic tale focusing on the superstitions and religious conviction of rural Italy this may only be a short tale but it lacks nothing in impact or drama.
August 2, 2011
4.5 stars, because for what it is...slightly more than a novella, this book really satisfies. The English country house and all things of the conservative, country-house, landed gentry come to life in this tricky little farce. Like the Adam Sandler movie of Burgess novels. Makes me want to reread the Enderby series.
Read
April 20, 2016Funny! Slight, but funny. About a man who accidentally marries foam-born Aphrodite on the night before his wedding. It's small but it makes you laugh on near every page. Burgess is a talented comic writer. I often wonder why the mid-century Brits were so much better at this than everyone else, but never really came to a conclusion.
May 18, 2011
One of the most satisfactory endings to any book I have read. Burgess is a master of story and character, and his use of dialogue puts most play wrights to shame. Even in this slight, fantastical novel, Burgess' fierce intellect shines through. A great way to spend a few hours on a sunny day.
November 2, 2014
I don't like giving one of my favourite authors such a low score, but this book just didn't do it for me.
October 14, 2025
Love the dialogue and Burgess’s ability to write passionate characters with opposing views…without making one better than the other.
May 22, 2017
I applaud Hesperus Press for bringing into light unknown novels and novellas by famous authors, and in some cases, foreign language stories into English. I'm not the biggest fan of the look of their books, and of the placement of the notes at the end of the book, which makes the reading quite tedious since reading those notes is absolutely necessary to understand what is going on (this was one of the few instances in which I started to despise some author's need to cite way too many sources from Latin, rendering their work unable to survive without the help of other authors, but the placement of the notes probably was what pushed my patience); nevertheless, I still admire their effort.
Who knew Anthony Burgess was a romantic person? Let's be honest. Everyone knows him for A Clockwork Orange, and while his ending of the story (not the one from Stanley Kubrick's movie) may be an indication of his softer side, always anxious to bring back peace, this is a drastically different work from the novel that made him famous all around the world (judging by his biography at the end of the book, we owe him a great many works—musical and literary—that never left the UK).
This is a story about love. Before reading this book, I was tempted to check other reviews, and I was amused by the fact that some outright hated it for being the equivalent of an Adam Sandler comedy, and couldn't suspend their disbelief because the story involved a living statue. Others liked it quite a lot, and I find myself in the middle of the road, for there are many things I like about this novel, and others that in today's times make me cringe. In short, I could say this is a well-intentioned book with many great truths about language, some insights on love that while being old-fashioned still ring true, and all the elements of a play (or an opera, as he originally conceived it) that many people would enjoy on a nice Saturday evening. However, it's understandable why it is less known than his other works.
Let's start with well-intentioned: Anthony Burgess dedicated one edition of this book to Lady Diana and Prince Charles when they got married, to let them appreciate the challenges of marriage and wish them well. Everyone knows how that ended, and it seems ironic, because one of the conflicts in the novel is that both characters getting married, Ambrose and Diana, which are terribly flawed, want to show each other who's boss in this marriage. Even though the novel, right from the beginning lets us know that this is going to end well, it is not difficult to imagine their marriage being outright awful, and probably end up in divorce, just like... well, you can see who I'm thinking of. Yes, the author tries very hard to convince us that marriage is hard but it is worth it, but some people aren't meant for each other. Anthony Burgess offers unintentionally a false dilemma which is very easy to discern and call out for being ridiculous. Diana faces two options, marry Ambrose, a fool, or elope with Julia, her stereotypical lesbian feminist friend. Yeah, there are other choices.
However, in the spirit of imagining how people felt in the fifties, when this novel was written, it is easier to accept such ridiculous notions. After all, perception does hold some truth. So if we are able to look beyond this disastrous marriage, with characters that outright say a lot of idiotic stuff worthy of an Adam Sandler movie (I never thought I'd see that comparison being valid), it doesn't mean that it doesn't have charm (unlike Adam Sandler or other pathetic romantic comedies). We can enjoy this as a study of characters who live in a bubble of perfect imperfection and laugh because it really is adorable and romantic if we suspend our disbelief. And honestly, a statue that comes alive when the groom puts a ring on one of its fingers and assumes it is now married is not something that shatters any believable notions in fiction. It has been present in multiple myths, stories, and even movies (modern audiences will immediately think of The Corpse Bride, rightly so)!
What I do love about this novel, and for what it totally deserves recognition is for the observations that characters make on language and meaning (I'll always love the line about listening to Greek, not the one you hear people speak in schools, but one with actual meaning, referring to the way Venus speaks), which transforms this novel into a meta novel of sorts at times. This edition also includes a French story that has similar beats, and that one is a somewhat dull, but insightful meta study on the translation of Latin.
I probably wouldn't read it again for the love story, but I do imagine myself going back to it for those ideas about language. Besides, if we also suspend our sensitivity or our politically-correct triggers, we can have a good time rooting for a marriage that can survive in that fictional landscape, or look at is as evidence of views that luckily, modern generations no longer have. We just have to wait for old people, and some poorly-taught young people to die with those old-fashioned notions about feminism, homosexuality, and love.
Who knew Anthony Burgess was a romantic person? Let's be honest. Everyone knows him for A Clockwork Orange, and while his ending of the story (not the one from Stanley Kubrick's movie) may be an indication of his softer side, always anxious to bring back peace, this is a drastically different work from the novel that made him famous all around the world (judging by his biography at the end of the book, we owe him a great many works—musical and literary—that never left the UK).
This is a story about love. Before reading this book, I was tempted to check other reviews, and I was amused by the fact that some outright hated it for being the equivalent of an Adam Sandler comedy, and couldn't suspend their disbelief because the story involved a living statue. Others liked it quite a lot, and I find myself in the middle of the road, for there are many things I like about this novel, and others that in today's times make me cringe. In short, I could say this is a well-intentioned book with many great truths about language, some insights on love that while being old-fashioned still ring true, and all the elements of a play (or an opera, as he originally conceived it) that many people would enjoy on a nice Saturday evening. However, it's understandable why it is less known than his other works.
Let's start with well-intentioned: Anthony Burgess dedicated one edition of this book to Lady Diana and Prince Charles when they got married, to let them appreciate the challenges of marriage and wish them well. Everyone knows how that ended, and it seems ironic, because one of the conflicts in the novel is that both characters getting married, Ambrose and Diana, which are terribly flawed, want to show each other who's boss in this marriage. Even though the novel, right from the beginning lets us know that this is going to end well, it is not difficult to imagine their marriage being outright awful, and probably end up in divorce, just like... well, you can see who I'm thinking of. Yes, the author tries very hard to convince us that marriage is hard but it is worth it, but some people aren't meant for each other. Anthony Burgess offers unintentionally a false dilemma which is very easy to discern and call out for being ridiculous. Diana faces two options, marry Ambrose, a fool, or elope with Julia, her stereotypical lesbian feminist friend. Yeah, there are other choices.
However, in the spirit of imagining how people felt in the fifties, when this novel was written, it is easier to accept such ridiculous notions. After all, perception does hold some truth. So if we are able to look beyond this disastrous marriage, with characters that outright say a lot of idiotic stuff worthy of an Adam Sandler movie (I never thought I'd see that comparison being valid), it doesn't mean that it doesn't have charm (unlike Adam Sandler or other pathetic romantic comedies). We can enjoy this as a study of characters who live in a bubble of perfect imperfection and laugh because it really is adorable and romantic if we suspend our disbelief. And honestly, a statue that comes alive when the groom puts a ring on one of its fingers and assumes it is now married is not something that shatters any believable notions in fiction. It has been present in multiple myths, stories, and even movies (modern audiences will immediately think of The Corpse Bride, rightly so)!
What I do love about this novel, and for what it totally deserves recognition is for the observations that characters make on language and meaning (I'll always love the line about listening to Greek, not the one you hear people speak in schools, but one with actual meaning, referring to the way Venus speaks), which transforms this novel into a meta novel of sorts at times. This edition also includes a French story that has similar beats, and that one is a somewhat dull, but insightful meta study on the translation of Latin.
I probably wouldn't read it again for the love story, but I do imagine myself going back to it for those ideas about language. Besides, if we also suspend our sensitivity or our politically-correct triggers, we can have a good time rooting for a marriage that can survive in that fictional landscape, or look at is as evidence of views that luckily, modern generations no longer have. We just have to wait for old people, and some poorly-taught young people to die with those old-fashioned notions about feminism, homosexuality, and love.
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