It’s not often that a book has a note on the front to explain that it is in-fact a whole novel but ‘The West Pier’ did. I’m not sure it needed it, the main story itself was thorough and satisfying, although there was something about it that made it feel a little like backstory or preamble.
‘The West Pier’ is the first novel in the Gorse Trilogy, intended to be the Gorse Quadrilogy but cut short by alcoholism and death. There are plenty of clues (and outright statements) about the proposed trajectory of the books. In each, Gorse is going to embark on riskier plans to humiliate and defraud women and presumably end up caught and hanged. This first book tells of his childhood and first big con.
There’s nothing in the childhood that explains Gorse’s unfeeling behaviour, we meet him at the age of ten with a cold, calculating indifference to other people and a fondness for trickery and manipulation. We are told he quite enjoys mindless army drills and has a fondness for uniforms, implying tendencies towards fascism. It’s also interesting to note that the first ‘trick’ played was by putting one boy’s prize torch into another’s jacket and claiming he stole it - the victim being Jewish.
More disturbing is the incident where he lures a young girl down to a shed, ties her up and takes her money. There are hints about his fondness for tying people up - something that may be developed in other books. Certainly he likes to make women feel silly (and take their money into the bargain).
We then meet him, Ryan and Bell walking along the West Pier of Brighton. Only one of them still lives there but the other two have independently decided to go on holiday before settling down into adult life, they’re eighteen. On the pier they meet pretty Esther and Gertrude, ‘the other one’. There’s a lot of fun with the politics of dating, the complications of having two women for three men and the unfairness that ‘other ones’ always end up together. They banter and chat and sound like utter tits, but the rivalry between Ryan and Gorse is set up. Ryan really has set his eyes on pretty Esther, Gorse has set his eyes on manipulation.
The rest of the book follows Gorse’s efforts to break any fledgling Ryan-Esther couple up and to bag all of Esther’s life-savings and self-worth to boot. On the page, he’s most dislikable when he is most trying to be charming, speaking in the faux-olde-fashioned dialogue favoured by Mr Thwaites in ‘The Slaves of Solitude’ and playing ‘silly ass’ with his monocle.
Of course Gorse gets all of his own way, in painful and pathetic detail. Much like Bob in ‘Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Stars’, you wanted to shout through the page at Esther and tell her she’s being a fool.
The book was a little repetitive, Gorse’s main move to impress was to get her drunk on gin in the Metropole hotel. Indeed, their dates started to sound incredibly tedious, almost as tedious as the dates that Ryan tries to take with her. The most interesting aspect of the book were the times when Gorse slips up and goes to far, the narrator intruding in and warning us that this is a feature of the otherwise meticulous Gorse’s dealings.
I didn’t find the tragedy as strong as in other Hamilton books, and I didn’t find Gorse a likeable enough bastard to be on his side but I’m led to believe the second book plays more for comedy, so it’ll be interesting to see how that goes. Being Patrick Hamilton, it’ll be cringe comedy, he does love his monsters.
Worth a read, but not if you haven’t already read ‘Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Stars’, ‘The Slaves of Solitude’ or ‘Hangover Square’.
Another novel and Gorse is back at it again. His plan is to seduce and manipulate a woman with flattery, a few simple con tricks and headed note paper - just like the first book. He even uses the switcheroo with the car. For a person of criminal genius, Gorse does have a very limited playbook.
This time the victim is a plummy, socially conscious and silly woman called Mrs Plumbleigh-Bruce. She’s a lot less likeable than Esther, the victim of the first book and so the book tries to win the reader over more towards Gorse’s side. It does this by laughing at Plumbleigh-Bruce’s snobbery but in reality appeals to the snobbery of the reader. We are supposed to scorn the pebble-dashed semi-detached with the gnomes outside and the shiny brass ships inside. We are meant to laugh at her silken boudoir of pink silk and her daft diary, We are meant to pity Plumbleigh-Bruce her pretensions, her misuse of words and her outrageous ‘posh’ accent - and we do but it doesn’t leave us feeling very good about ourselves.
Hamilton is at his most nasty, but he is funny. Whether he’s getting in the head of a businessman who fancies himself a poet going through his frequently absurd rhymes, or the other businessman trying in vain to solve a crossword, there is much to laugh at Plumbleigh-Bruce and her suburban ‘top-drawer’ set. They are inflated and ridiculous and we quite like Gorse manipulating them. Or we would, if there was more to Gorse.
Part of the point of the series is an explanation of the banality of evil, part of the trouble with this is that the main character is, well, banal. We discover, and are interested in, how his mind works and his schemes are carried out but we never find out why. He just does it because he enjoys messing with people, testing his skills and getting a little extra money into the bargain.
This is supposed to be Gorse at his pinnacle. After this, he is said to become more self-conscious and less natural in the conning arts and if this is his top, there are surely some bottoms to com because the Plumbleigh-Bruce affair is not one of the greats in criminal history.
The book is well written and amusing, the plot a little repetitive but still engaging and it is an enjoyable read but there’s something faintly poisonous about it that lingers on. It’s also odd how, at the end of the book, Patrick Hamilton has a huge rant about cars and how we are slaves to them. He was nearly killed by a car once, presumably he holds a grudge. We can also presume that Gorse having cars as one of his only interests is meant to reflect badly on him.
The series never having been completed, we won’t see the true downfall of Gorse but I am intrigued to read the next book and see him in his decline. Unfortunately, by all accounts we shall also be seeing Hamilton in his decline also, apparently the next novel reeks of booze. I still look forward to it though.
Gorse is back for the third and final instalment. He’s after swindling another foolish woman and looking to get some money from her nasty, arrogant father as well. In many ways it goes much as the other books have, with Gorse using hints of his unknown wealth, the allure of theatre and a few vague acquaintances to get his way in the door. He also uses a car. It’s different to the other books though as the swindling side of the story happens at breakneck pace with little of the slow accumulation of details we’ve had before.
Having heard that this book is whisky-soaked and rather rushed, I expected this to be the whole book but things did become surprising at the end. Having taken the Dad’s money and now taking the daughter out for the classic Gorse switcheroo, things go wrong. The girl in question if far simpler than previous victims and follows him as he is getting ready to leave her. Unable to carry on as he normally would, he takes her into the middle of nowhere and ties her up. The final two chapters show her being rescued by a all-capable telegram boy and arranging to live with an aunt in Manchester where she establishes a joyful life - giving the book something like a happy ending.
Hamilton was not on form in this book but still managed to whizz through the Gorse story in a fairly entertaining manner. It’s certainly not a must-read, but it’s not an unpleasant couple of hours.