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Consenting Adults: Or, The Duchess Will Be Furious
Fine in fine dust jacket. SIGNED hardcover first edition - Little Brown,, (1980). SIGNED hardcover first edition -. Fine in fine dust jacket.. First printing. A very funny novel of 'steadily graduating erotomania.' INSCRIBED on the front endpaper to writer and philosopher Hugh Moorhead. De Vries was one of the 250 people quoted in Moorhead's book "The Meaning of Life." 221 pp. Dust jacket design by Paul Bacon.
221 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1980
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About the author
Peter De Vries
54 books164 followersPeter De Vries is responsible for contributing to the cultural vernacular such witticisms as "Nostalgia ain't what it used to be" and "Deep down, he's shallow." He was, according to Kingsley Amis, "the funniest serious writer to be found on either side of the Atlantic." “Quick with quips so droll and witty, so penetrating and precise that you almost don’t feel them piercing your pretensions, Peter De Vries was perhaps America’s best comic novelist not named Mark Twain. . .” (Sam McManis, Sacramento Bee).
His achievement seemed best appreciated by his fellow writers. Harper Lee, naming the great American writers, said, “Peter De Vries . . . is the Evelyn Waugh of our time". Anthony Burgess called De Vries “surely one of the great prose virtuosos of modern America.”
Peter De Vries was a radio actor in the 1930s, and editor for Poetry magazine from 1938 to 1944. During World War II he served in the U.S. Marines attaining the rank of Captain, and was seconded to the O.S.S., predecessor to the CIA.
He joined the staff of The New Yorker magazine at the insistence of James Thurber and worked there from 1944 to 1987. A prolific writer, De Vries wrote short stories, reviews, poetry, essays, a play, novellas, and twenty-three novels, several of which were made into films.
De Vries met his wife, Katinka Loeser, while at Poetry magazine. They married and moved to Westport, Connecticut, where they raised 4 children. The death of his 10-year-old daughter Emily from leukemia inspired The Blood of the Lamb, the most poignant and the most autobiographical of De Vries's novels.
In Westport, De Vries formed a lifelong friendship with the young J. D. Salinger, who later described the writing process as "opening a vein and bleeding onto the page." The two writers clearly "understood each other very well” (son Derek De Vries in "The Return of Peter De Vries", Westport Magazine, April 2006).
De Vries received an honorary degree in 1979 from Susquehanna University, and was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Letters in May 1983.
His books were sadly out of print by the time of his death. After the New Yorker published a critical reappraisal of De Vries’ work however (“Few writers have understood literary comedy as well as De Vries, and few comic novelists have had his grasp of tragedy”), The University of Chicago Press began reissuing his works in 2005, starting with The Blood of the Lamb and Slouching Toward Kalamazoo.
His achievement seemed best appreciated by his fellow writers. Harper Lee, naming the great American writers, said, “Peter De Vries . . . is the Evelyn Waugh of our time". Anthony Burgess called De Vries “surely one of the great prose virtuosos of modern America.”
Peter De Vries was a radio actor in the 1930s, and editor for Poetry magazine from 1938 to 1944. During World War II he served in the U.S. Marines attaining the rank of Captain, and was seconded to the O.S.S., predecessor to the CIA.
He joined the staff of The New Yorker magazine at the insistence of James Thurber and worked there from 1944 to 1987. A prolific writer, De Vries wrote short stories, reviews, poetry, essays, a play, novellas, and twenty-three novels, several of which were made into films.
De Vries met his wife, Katinka Loeser, while at Poetry magazine. They married and moved to Westport, Connecticut, where they raised 4 children. The death of his 10-year-old daughter Emily from leukemia inspired The Blood of the Lamb, the most poignant and the most autobiographical of De Vries's novels.
In Westport, De Vries formed a lifelong friendship with the young J. D. Salinger, who later described the writing process as "opening a vein and bleeding onto the page." The two writers clearly "understood each other very well” (son Derek De Vries in "The Return of Peter De Vries", Westport Magazine, April 2006).
De Vries received an honorary degree in 1979 from Susquehanna University, and was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Letters in May 1983.
His books were sadly out of print by the time of his death. After the New Yorker published a critical reappraisal of De Vries’ work however (“Few writers have understood literary comedy as well as De Vries, and few comic novelists have had his grasp of tragedy”), The University of Chicago Press began reissuing his works in 2005, starting with The Blood of the Lamb and Slouching Toward Kalamazoo.
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Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews
September 3, 2011
Funniest book I've ever read. Made me laugh out loud more times than any other book. Was surprised to learn it's not considered one of his best but I don't care. DeVries just had a knack for this kind of thing, and this is one of those books that just gives me pleasure. I pick it up every few years, and it's like a tonic. I love spending time with these characters, all wacky and lovable in their ways. I am not someone who needs nice or good or likable characters, yet DeVries's characters are all three AND interesting, too.
Just plain fun, which isn't something I can say about enough books.
Just plain fun, which isn't something I can say about enough books.
September 23, 2018
*3.5 stars.
" 'That kid'll go very far.' Yes, and as soon as he can get out of here, I would think to myself" (4).
"But we were companionable enough, the three of us, as family bosoms go (and they are going)...(7).
" 'Or I may inhale a couple skeins of spaghetti'" (8).
"...usually with a Sunday-night get-together featuring a large ceramic porcupine bristling with toothpicks..." (8).
" '...the moon, a mote in the eye of Nothing...'" (22).
“...Mrs. d’Amboise said, gouging me briskly in the whereabouts. I seemed to have sympathetic twinges in the bag of jewels” (18).
“ ‘The specter of ghoulish galaxies banging about in an ungoverned universe destined to pile up on the cosmic scrapheap she doesn’t need!’” (24).
“In early youth we wear our nihilism with a certain bravado. It’s part of our panache. Then suddenly we’re brought up short with the realization that everything we’ve been so glibly spouting may well be true” (26).
“One was a stick of bone and a strand of gut riding for a piteous splinter of eternity on a speck of astral soot” (26).
“...these free neutrons (free, who’s free?) can coexist with protons and electrons in quite heinous numbers, so that, in fact, a kind of dynamic balance will be established in the general hellbroth” (28).
“As believing man once feared it, wised-up man now scrounges for it, some faint chink of light in the black inane. Not a Yes, only a tremor of Maybe to challenge the tyrannical sovereignty of No” (30).
“Each of us, unless totally bovine, has got to eat some despair” (31).
“ ‘A self-pitying stoic, I founded the school myself’” (35).
" 'Meaning, out there? Zilch. Purpose? Zilch. Any awareness in the cosmos of the fortuitous concatenation of atoms called man? Zilch'" (36).
“Let him eff the ineffable” (37).
“His account of the thermal stew occurring billions of years ago had the earmarks of something boned up on for a past college final, now remembered in possibly doubtful detail” (38).
“ ‘Hamburgers and hot dogs are the pornography of food’” (43).
“Boris Borealis who came on stage not in stocking feet, as rumored, but barefoot, no doubt to achieve an even richer intimacy with the instrument” (57).
“Was my snared foot now doomed never to taken even the first step of that fabled journey? Must I, lumpenfool, settle for a two-week honeymoon taken tourist class, with the bride dispatching me for pickles as night descends on Kansas City?” (60-61).
“Schwanda der Dudelsackpfeifer for Christ’s sake! Every word sound like a trunk falling downstairs” (62).
“And Milky Way would not have been an inapt term for one at which no less than three Muttervoke were nursing kids” (63).
“...smoking an alto saxophone. Or no, hold it, on closer view it might be a meerschaum” (63).
“ ‘Knowest the hullaballoo about the proposed marina, which the Lord despiseth?’” (81).
“...at an hour when decent folk were still having acid indigestion from orange juice at breakfast time” (95).
"Pa was cracking nuts with a pair of pliers, something he sometimes enjoyed doing with a monkey wrench, for the unadulterated hell of it, turning the acre slowly till the hull cracked, like a medieval Christian tormentor racking a heretic. He seemed to be trying to extract a retraction from the walnut before it was too late" (104).
"Shan't, for God's sake? Did she also say catsup?" (107).
"He was wearing a dark-blue suit with chalk stripes of a width associated with someone who had just deposited in the Chicago River a colleague with his feet encased in cement" (108).
"Skies were of that gray associated with oyster stew and sweatsuits" (122).
"I disclaimed credit with the two-handed motions of a man waving off the last of the summer's flies, at the same time muttering something unintelligible even to myself" (127).
"The weekend was in part dedicated to determining whether a new pair of shoes he'd just bought were too tight and should go back, or had only the snugness common to new footwear, and would be O.K. after being broken in--a common enough dilemma for all of us" (127).
" '…a picture in a family album, one of those red velvet-bound things with brass clasps so appropriate for encasing the concept of human continuity...'" (132).
" 'The incident was completely forgotten. He was just another flake.
" 'And no two are alike'" (139).
"...a grand piano across which was spread a fringed shawl with a somebody-threw-an-egg-at-the-fan sunset (or sunrise) on it..."(154).
"…noted a certain rubescence to the nose, with tiny excrescences on either side such as are known in the South as grog blossoms" (160-161).
"We took a corner table where he watered his grog blossoms with three or four bourbons…" (162).
"…after swallowing a mouthful of pastrami large enough to inspire a mental brushing up on the Heimlich" (163).
"The next morning I awoke looking like a police sketch of myself put together from conflicting sources" (174).
"I would resist Cyril Connelly's dictum that a tuft of the dog was even better" (174).
" 'He should get slivers under his fingernails from scratching his head'" (181).
"Candlestickmaker arrived in an overcoats of a plaid so loud that when it was removed and shut in a closet a hush seemed to fall over the house" (189).
"…where I would be lucky to get off with any charge less than aggravated erudition" (210).
" 'Surrealism,' I said at length, 'may be the last of the mayonnaise of Romanticism oozing from the disintegrating club sandwich of the Western psyche'" (211).
"She stoops to crank it…" (221).
" 'That kid'll go very far.' Yes, and as soon as he can get out of here, I would think to myself" (4).
"But we were companionable enough, the three of us, as family bosoms go (and they are going)...(7).
" 'Or I may inhale a couple skeins of spaghetti'" (8).
"...usually with a Sunday-night get-together featuring a large ceramic porcupine bristling with toothpicks..." (8).
" '...the moon, a mote in the eye of Nothing...'" (22).
“...Mrs. d’Amboise said, gouging me briskly in the whereabouts. I seemed to have sympathetic twinges in the bag of jewels” (18).
“ ‘The specter of ghoulish galaxies banging about in an ungoverned universe destined to pile up on the cosmic scrapheap she doesn’t need!’” (24).
“In early youth we wear our nihilism with a certain bravado. It’s part of our panache. Then suddenly we’re brought up short with the realization that everything we’ve been so glibly spouting may well be true” (26).
“One was a stick of bone and a strand of gut riding for a piteous splinter of eternity on a speck of astral soot” (26).
“...these free neutrons (free, who’s free?) can coexist with protons and electrons in quite heinous numbers, so that, in fact, a kind of dynamic balance will be established in the general hellbroth” (28).
“As believing man once feared it, wised-up man now scrounges for it, some faint chink of light in the black inane. Not a Yes, only a tremor of Maybe to challenge the tyrannical sovereignty of No” (30).
“Each of us, unless totally bovine, has got to eat some despair” (31).
“ ‘A self-pitying stoic, I founded the school myself’” (35).
" 'Meaning, out there? Zilch. Purpose? Zilch. Any awareness in the cosmos of the fortuitous concatenation of atoms called man? Zilch'" (36).
“Let him eff the ineffable” (37).
“His account of the thermal stew occurring billions of years ago had the earmarks of something boned up on for a past college final, now remembered in possibly doubtful detail” (38).
“ ‘Hamburgers and hot dogs are the pornography of food’” (43).
“Boris Borealis who came on stage not in stocking feet, as rumored, but barefoot, no doubt to achieve an even richer intimacy with the instrument” (57).
“Was my snared foot now doomed never to taken even the first step of that fabled journey? Must I, lumpenfool, settle for a two-week honeymoon taken tourist class, with the bride dispatching me for pickles as night descends on Kansas City?” (60-61).
“Schwanda der Dudelsackpfeifer for Christ’s sake! Every word sound like a trunk falling downstairs” (62).
“And Milky Way would not have been an inapt term for one at which no less than three Muttervoke were nursing kids” (63).
“...smoking an alto saxophone. Or no, hold it, on closer view it might be a meerschaum” (63).
“ ‘Knowest the hullaballoo about the proposed marina, which the Lord despiseth?’” (81).
“...at an hour when decent folk were still having acid indigestion from orange juice at breakfast time” (95).
"Pa was cracking nuts with a pair of pliers, something he sometimes enjoyed doing with a monkey wrench, for the unadulterated hell of it, turning the acre slowly till the hull cracked, like a medieval Christian tormentor racking a heretic. He seemed to be trying to extract a retraction from the walnut before it was too late" (104).
"Shan't, for God's sake? Did she also say catsup?" (107).
"He was wearing a dark-blue suit with chalk stripes of a width associated with someone who had just deposited in the Chicago River a colleague with his feet encased in cement" (108).
"Skies were of that gray associated with oyster stew and sweatsuits" (122).
"I disclaimed credit with the two-handed motions of a man waving off the last of the summer's flies, at the same time muttering something unintelligible even to myself" (127).
"The weekend was in part dedicated to determining whether a new pair of shoes he'd just bought were too tight and should go back, or had only the snugness common to new footwear, and would be O.K. after being broken in--a common enough dilemma for all of us" (127).
" '…a picture in a family album, one of those red velvet-bound things with brass clasps so appropriate for encasing the concept of human continuity...'" (132).
" 'The incident was completely forgotten. He was just another flake.
" 'And no two are alike'" (139).
"...a grand piano across which was spread a fringed shawl with a somebody-threw-an-egg-at-the-fan sunset (or sunrise) on it..."(154).
"…noted a certain rubescence to the nose, with tiny excrescences on either side such as are known in the South as grog blossoms" (160-161).
"We took a corner table where he watered his grog blossoms with three or four bourbons…" (162).
"…after swallowing a mouthful of pastrami large enough to inspire a mental brushing up on the Heimlich" (163).
"The next morning I awoke looking like a police sketch of myself put together from conflicting sources" (174).
"I would resist Cyril Connelly's dictum that a tuft of the dog was even better" (174).
" 'He should get slivers under his fingernails from scratching his head'" (181).
"Candlestickmaker arrived in an overcoats of a plaid so loud that when it was removed and shut in a closet a hush seemed to fall over the house" (189).
"…where I would be lucky to get off with any charge less than aggravated erudition" (210).
" 'Surrealism,' I said at length, 'may be the last of the mayonnaise of Romanticism oozing from the disintegrating club sandwich of the Western psyche'" (211).
"She stoops to crank it…" (221).
January 17, 2024
p174 "Her voice was low, a voluptuously soft, thick contralto, and made me think of ripe figs being hurled at high speed into a pan of gruel".
p174 "The next morning I awoke looking like a police sketch of myself put together from conflicting sources."
p183 " I am of two minds about myself-at least. I have this crush on myself - but the feeling is not returned.
p174 "The next morning I awoke looking like a police sketch of myself put together from conflicting sources."
p183 " I am of two minds about myself-at least. I have this crush on myself - but the feeling is not returned.
August 16, 2022
It was all downhill from here, but this is one of his best. Pure distilled essence of De Vries, a near-plotless excuse for the narrator's wonderfully bizarre musings.
February 26, 2019
De Vries is one of America's great forgotten humorists, one on par with James Thurber, but one whose books are now exceedingly hard to find. (Case in point: Our county library, last year rated the best in the nation, has none, as they're not on high school reading lists.) He's not on HS reading lists because his topics are often racy, a surprising turn for a writer educated at one of the most conservative colleges in the Midwest. (He went on to become the New Yorker's poetry editor.)
In Consenting Adults, the tension is that he's been asked by the older woman, a sculptor for whom he's modeling while a 17-year old high school student, if he'll plan to marry the woman's daughter, now age 10, when the daughter attains adulthood. Talk about helicopter parenting. That sick and unbelievable proposition only motors along in the novels background, as the youthful narrator tells of his adventures locally, with the daughter and his HS buddies and, later, as a young adult in NYC -- where he and the daughter eventually.... well, I'll leave that to the reader. Suffice to say, this book is a window onto 1960s sexuality -- or what older adults of the time thought was going on -- and has plenty of laugh out loud moments, even with its datedness.
In Consenting Adults, the tension is that he's been asked by the older woman, a sculptor for whom he's modeling while a 17-year old high school student, if he'll plan to marry the woman's daughter, now age 10, when the daughter attains adulthood. Talk about helicopter parenting. That sick and unbelievable proposition only motors along in the novels background, as the youthful narrator tells of his adventures locally, with the daughter and his HS buddies and, later, as a young adult in NYC -- where he and the daughter eventually.... well, I'll leave that to the reader. Suffice to say, this book is a window onto 1960s sexuality -- or what older adults of the time thought was going on -- and has plenty of laugh out loud moments, even with its datedness.
March 6, 2020
Amazing. I'm a big fan of De Vries. Slouching towards Kalamazoo being high on my list of favourites but this surpasses it. A must read.
July 11, 2020
Again, too baroque for me albeit clever.
Will not read anymore of this author, however had to check him out,curious.
Will not read anymore of this author, however had to check him out,curious.
February 25, 2025
George Will is the one who turned me onto De Vries. His works are amusing but feel like guilty pleasures. I read two or three before I decided to quit him.
March 28, 2012
Peter Devries is a very funny writer. He loves language and tells dark /wry tales of the human condition. This novel about the love life of a twenty something young man and it is filled with wry observations about life and lots of pithy sentences. Sadly most Devries novels are out of print and his world view may seem dated to some. I enjoyed this book and will try to track down other novels of his
February 28, 2022
Peter De Vries certainly has some wit about him, though his novels often blend together due to similarity of narrator, plots, and themes (hint: it's usually about sex). There's a point in this one where the narrator, strutting around dropping deep-but-not-profound aphorisms, is interrupted by one of his disciples: "you said that one already". That sums up this entertaining but ultimately forgettable novel.
September 15, 2011
His last book, excellent jokes and puns, not much of a story. Worth reading again and ten years from now.
October 23, 2011
Odd. Deliberate use of obscure words throughout the book, and a very odd structure--including essentially no plot or character development.
May 24, 2010
Comic genius with a little Bertrand Russell thrown in.
Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews