Down the Kitchen Sink has much in common with its famous predecessor, Down the Garden Path, in which Beverley Nichols described his early forays into the realm of gardening. When he began to write the first, he could not prune a rose. When he began to write the second, he could not boil an egg. Perhaps this is why both books remain fresh and eminently readable. The phrase 'kitchen sink' may suggest squalor and disillusionment, but Beverley Nichols transforms it into a symbol of merriment and adventure. With a new foreword by Roy Dicks and Val Biro's charming drawings, the Timber Press edition of Down the Kitchen Sink deservedly takes its place among Beverley's classics on gardens, homes, cats, and other friends.
John Beverley Nichols (born September 9, 1898 in Bower Ashton, Bristol, died September 15, 1983 in Kingston, London), was an English writer, playwright, actor, novelist and composer. He went to school at Marlborough College, and went to Balliol College, Oxford University, and was President of the Oxford Union and editor of Isis.
Between his first novel, Prelude, published in 1920, and Twilight in 1982, he wrote more than 60 books and plays on topics such as travel, politics, religion, cats, novels, mysteries, and children's stories, authoring six novels, five detective mysteries, four children's stories, six plays, and no fewer than six autobiographies.
Nichols is perhaps best remembered as a writer for Woman's Own and for his gardening books, the first of which Down the Garden Path, was illustrated — as were many of his books — by Rex Whistler. This bestseller — which has had 32 editions and has been in print almost continuously since 1932 — was the first of his trilogy about Allways, his Tudor thatched cottage in Glatton, Cambridgeshire. A later trilogy written between 1951 and 1956 documents his travails renovating Merry Hall (Meadowstream), a Georgian manor house in Agates Lane, Ashtead, Surrey, where Nichols lived from 1946 to 1956. These books often feature his gifted but laconic gardener "Oldfield". Nichols's final trilogy is referred to as "The Sudbrook Trilogy" (1963–1969) and concerns his late 18th-century attached cottage at Ham, (near Richmond), Surrey.
Nichols was a prolific author who wrote on a wide range of topics. He ghostwrote Dame Nellie Melba’s "autobiography" Memories and Melodies (1925), and in 1966 he wrote A Case of Human Bondage about the marriage and divorce of William Somerset Maugham and Gwendoline Maud Syrie Barnardo, which was highly critical of Maugham. Father Figure, which appeared in 1972 and in which he described how he had tried to murder his alcoholic and abusive father, caused a great uproar and several people asked for his prosecution. His autobiographies usually feature Arthur R. Gaskin who was Nichols’ manservant from 1924 until Gaskin's death from cirrhosis in 1966. Nichols made one appearance on film - in 1931 he appeared in Glamour, directed by Seymour Hicks and Harry Hughes, playing the part of the Hon. Richard Wells.
Nichols' long-term partner was Cyril Butcher. He died in 1983 from complications after a fall.
Feeling in need of a pick-me-up? For my money, anything by Beverley Nichols does the trick. A dream of a writer - witty, charming, fluffy as a Persian cat- with the occasional flash of claws just to keep you from getting too familiar.
So much name dropping! Nancy Mitford, Somerset Maughm, Noel Coward, Rebecca West, Earl this and Dowager that. Then we have Gaskin, the Jeeves type Gentleman's gentleman. How can you NOT love it.
I have no intention of making a single recipe but that's clearly not why I read this in the first place.
If you love that sharp British wit and get a kick out of Edwardian snobbery, read anything by Beverley Nichols.
Notionally this is a recipe book for those who cannot cook, but in reality it is another collection of anecdotes, some repeated from elsewhere, some new ones in a character study of his manservant Gaskin - a familiar Nichols format of a bitty collection of disjointed stories, possibly borrowed from his journalism. What is interesting is that he moves from an Edwardian childhood with rigidly stylised manners and protocols surrounding afternoon tea to the 1970s of frozen food, TV advertising and modern culinary laissez-faire, and it would have been interesting to expand on this sea change. Entertaining and charmingly written but once again, it could have been so much more.
While Nichols voice really hits the spot sometimes, I didn't find this one nearly as endearing as Green Grows in the City, which is why I should probably hunt down one of the other garden books. Because I think that the projects in those books give Nichols work some structure that is necessary. Part of the reason I didn't *love* this one is because it felt very scattershot and the stories pretty random - especially the post-Gaskin chapters. That being said, the first half that does have Gaskin - the last of the great Jeeves - to help structure it, I quite liked and found truly endearing. Alas, for a "cookery" memoir, there were very few dished I'm tempted to make! I find Nichols to be such an interesting person, that I should probably go put some of the other gardening books on reserve right now, despite my positively black thumb.
After reading a most unsatisfactory book forced upon me by my Book Club, I turned to Beverley Nichols to lift my spirits. He never lets me down; although, I do prefer his books about Merry Hall to this about learning to cook. But this was still delightful. As usual he peppers his musings with famous people such as Gertrude Stein, Noel Coward, Nancy Mitford, Gershwin, William Randolph Hearst, assorted dukes and duchesses, and his belove cats. Beverley's stories are full of humor and poetic writing. They're witty, charming, sophisticated, intelligent, and often touching. Downton Abbey fans might enjoy them, as he writes about the upper class and a time that has vanished. Sections of this book deal with his Jeeves-like manservant Gaskin, who was a flawless perfectionist and a bit of a snob. If one enjoys reading amusing British stories and laughing out loud, Nichols is your man.
One of Beverley Nichols' later books, this was different in the sense that he had been there/done that -- lots of references to his past and things from other books. It actually seemed more of a memoir, less fiction, than the others. While the first half is very melancholy, with Gaskin's passing, the author picks up his life and moves on with cooking. He did a wonderful job of going forward with life and learning to cook. As usual, there were lots of funny passages and a few garden references snuck in (yay!). I found his observations on the time period (and food) very amusing as well as an interesting take from a bygone generation on the 1970s (the advent of frozen food!). He also throws in memories from childhood and those were fun too, a nice look at Nichols' upbringing and the early 20th century customs.
To conclude, "The pleasures of the table are among the last to leave us in the long banquet of life. I hope to enjoy them for a few more years to come."
As much as I love Beverley Nichols, I have to be honest. This was not his best book. I think it was actually the last one he wrote, so he was growing older. It still has his characteristic wit and charm, but it seems a bit forced in places.
My late Dad was a fan of Beverley Nichols, I'm afraid he is not for me - initially I loved the stories of Gaskin his butler, however as we progress this 'cookbook' becomes bogged down in cats, socialites, class snobbery and rubbish recipes, I may put my Dad's vintage Nichols hardbacks on ebay....
We are in a major deep-freeze this winter, with tons of unseasonably cold temperatures and plenty of snow. This has caused a Beverley Nichols binge, and also a greatly increased appetite for booze. What is better than a bath and a drink? This book I have already read once, and I still wish the Gaskin stories went on forever. Some of the recipes are great, but I may never forget Beverley's withholding of Spam a la Gaskin. He seems too sad when Gaskin goes, and this taints his usually effervescent tone with melancholy. Finished already, got another one in the wings. Like drinks.
Like talking to an older avuncular uncle about his life, including being minded by a "Jeeves", in his case Gaskin (who was pronounced by P. G. Wodehouse as being a perfect Jeeves by the way), and then having to cope on his own, learning how to cook. Includes some recipes (two of which demand the use of asbestos mats, shudder) but largely it's an interesting look at how a lone man lived during the early and mid-20th century.
For those that know me, I find it hard to pass up novels, or non-fiction books, that include recipes. This is a memoir, by Beverley Nichols, whom I had never heard of but seems to have had a lot of interesting connections. And yes, it is of the British genre - those of you that know me know I am a sucker for British movies, television and books. Thank goodness for Netflix :>) and the library!