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London Trilogy #1-3
The Colin MacInnes Omnibus: City of Spades, Absolute Beginners, Mr Love and Justice
Bringing together three of Colin MacInnes’ finest works, this exciting omnibus explores a very different side of London life in the 1950s than is usually portrayed. His characters are colourful and real, painting vivid pictures of areas such as Brixton and Notting Hill at this time. The stories of friendship, love and growing up are set against a background of jazz and good times, as London’s staid reputation progresses to that of a thriving multiracial capital. A man ahead of his time, MacInnes displayed the realities of 1950s London: an emerging teen culture, black immigration and the glamorisation of crime and criminals with remarkable insight and sympathy.
- GenresFictionLiteratureLondon
Paperback
First published January 1, 1969
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286 people want to read
About the author
Colin MacInnes
26 books43 followersMacInnes was born in London, the son of singer James Campbell MacInnes and novelist Angela Thirkell, and was educated in Australia. He served in the British intelligence corps during World War II.
He was the author of a number of books depicting London youth and black immigrant culture during the 1950s, in particular City of Spades (1957), Absolute Beginners (1959) and Mr. Love and Justice (1960).
He was the author of a number of books depicting London youth and black immigrant culture during the 1950s, in particular City of Spades (1957), Absolute Beginners (1959) and Mr. Love and Justice (1960).
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
February 14, 2009
read now twice in less than two months, 'absolute beginners' is still amazing and the one hundred percent true prize of this trilogy, flanked between a nearly-as-good one ('city of spades') and one that's only just okay, in part because of its redundant observations but as a whole just not grabby.
i defy anyone to read 'absolute beginners' and not find it relevant to these times.
ponces and whores, baby. and derelict socialite queers. hooray!
i defy anyone to read 'absolute beginners' and not find it relevant to these times.
ponces and whores, baby. and derelict socialite queers. hooray!
January 19, 2009
These novels are an often astonishing, for their time, peek into the underclasses of 1950s London. The world in which their characters inhabit is gritty and sleazy, and all the more real for it. The first, City of Spades, takes a look at the African immigrants in London and their various adventures in nightclubs and scrapes with the law, while the second, Absolute Beginners, is the best of the bunch, telling the story of the burgeoning teenage culture of London through the eyes of one of them. The last, Mr. Love and Justice, was the one I actually liked the least, which was the story of a pimp (Frankie Love) and a policeman (Edward Justice) and the difference between the letter of the law and the morality of the man on the street. It wasn't quite as interesting a read as the other two.
August 30, 2022
< I only had a chance to read “Absolute Beginners” and Nat Hentoff’s introduction before this book was due back at the library, so I can only speak to about a third of this collection. >
I picked this up after hearing that “Absolute Beginners” had a big impact on Paul Weller, and having now read it that sounds very plausible. There’s an energy and a playfulness with language that the two share, as well as a frustration with the world and an underlying little-R romanticism.
It’s very easy to get immersed in MacInnes’s version of late-50s teenage London. I won’t go into much of the plot, but there are memorable characters and his depictions of different parts of London (told from the protagonist’s POV) are rich and textured. Stylistically it’s a joy to read. A few bits made me cringe a little (it was, after all, written in 1959) but they were far outnumbered by parts that really rang true. I’d certainly like to read more of his work (both fiction and non-fiction).
I picked this up after hearing that “Absolute Beginners” had a big impact on Paul Weller, and having now read it that sounds very plausible. There’s an energy and a playfulness with language that the two share, as well as a frustration with the world and an underlying little-R romanticism.
It’s very easy to get immersed in MacInnes’s version of late-50s teenage London. I won’t go into much of the plot, but there are memorable characters and his depictions of different parts of London (told from the protagonist’s POV) are rich and textured. Stylistically it’s a joy to read. A few bits made me cringe a little (it was, after all, written in 1959) but they were far outnumbered by parts that really rang true. I’d certainly like to read more of his work (both fiction and non-fiction).
January 13, 2025
review of
the London novels of Colin MacInnes
by tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE - January 9, 2025
http://idioideo.pleintekst.nl/CriticM...
Reviews that're too long to post on Goodreads go, eventually, to my "Critic" website: http://idioideo.pleintekst.nl/Critic.... . Alas, I'm getting slower & slower to create the relevant webpage - largely b/c I just don't enjoy it. Still, if you wait for a wk or 2 after this truncated review is posted & if you then go to the Critic link & search for The London Novels of Colin MacInnes you might find a review about 3 times as long as this.
This bk caught my attn when it was on a moving bk cart in front of one of my favorite used bkstores in PGH. I can't really give a good reason why I was interested. "London novels" by an author I've never heard of. I'm certainly NOT an expert on Brit Lit so it's no wonder the author's not familiar. I've been to London in 1978, 1984, 1988, & 1994 so maybe I just wanted to visit it from the perspective of someone who, presumably, lived there. Anyway, I anticipated liking it &, indeed, I did. I found the author unique, slightly close to Anthony Burgess (but earlier) but not so close as to seem too close. I liked the way he handled his subjects & I liked his writing style. The downside was that the bk was poorly bound & was, therefore, falling apart while I was reading it. I had to stop all-too-frequently to tape pages together (messy).
There's an Introduction from Nat Hentoff, someone I associate w/ jazz criticism.
"I was thinking of Colim MacInnes very early one winter morning during a demonstration against the American way of bringing peace to Vietnam. Having briefly shuffled along in a picket line in front of an induction center in lower Manhattan, I was now on the periphery of both police and demonstrators as I moved to see how another deployment of our forces, so to speak, had fared behind the center. An elderly lady, suspecting quite correctly that I, being bearded, was one of them, paused at the entrance to a chapel to inform me and my companions that we were 'Scum!' Some months before, in an allegorical novel, I had described such a demonstration and indeed had written about an elderly lady who had assured the protagonist and his companions that they were 'Scum!' Bowing to the real lady, I felt somewhat regretful that fiction had so specifically turned into fact—a further augury that when published the book would be categorized as a sociological or documentary or journalist's novel.
"It was then that Colin MacInnes came to mind because such terms have been applied by many to these London novels of his. Whether in praise or as reservation, they have been applied far too casually and with only partial accuracy. He intended more, and achieved more. Or so it seems to me, particularly as I feel a degree of identification with MacInnes, both with regard to our bifurcated vocations and also because neither of us takes kindly to being fitted into little boxes." - p vii
For me, that's an auspicious beginning for multiple reasons that resonate w/ me. For one, I was against the Vietnam War. For a 2nd, I've been insulted by strangers fairly often. For a 3rd, Hentoff's "elderly lady" who's "paused at the entrance to a chapel" reminds me of the religious environment I grew up in. Everyone around me was a Christian, they also all seemed to be uniformly hypocritical. "Thous Shalt Not Kill" never seemed to interfere w/ their bloodthirstiness. Such a climate still prevails insofar as even anarchists, these days, are largely sweetly oblivious to the conflict between being hypothetically "against rule-by" as they endorse enforced mask-wearing & proof-of-vaccination for entry into venues - going a step beyond the state in their oppressiveness. Furthermore, I, too, am against "being fitted into little boxes." In other words, Hentoff's attitude neatly resonates w/ my own &, hence, I expect much the same from MacInnes.
"But another reason for the frequency of outsiders in his fiction is a moral concern. Most who are not outsiders acquire considerable skills in what the American social critic Joseph Lyford calls auto-anesthesia—the ability to exclude from all but the most surface levels of consciousness those who are not like themselves. 'In the popular phrase," MacInnes writes in English, Half English, 'they just "don't want to know."" - p x
The 1st novel is called City of Spades (©1957/58) & is centered around Black/White relations involving black immigrants. The reader is introduced to a new civil servant:
"'Yours is a wide assignment, limitless almost as the sea. You must be their unpaid lawyer, estate agent, wet-nurse and, in a word, their bloody guardian angel.'"
[..]
"He had now closed his eyes; and stood at the door, a Whitehall Machiavelli.
"'Some might say,' he told me softly, 'that your duty is to help them to corrupt our country.'
"Up went my brows.
"'So some might say . . . their irruption among us has not been an unmixed blessing. Thousands, you see, have come here in the last few years from Africa and the Caribbean, and given us what we never had before—a colour problem.'
"His eyes opened slowly in a slit. 'Could it not be,' I said, 'that we have given them just that in their own countries?'
"'My dear Pew! Could it be that I positively find myself in the presence of a liberal?'" - p 10
A "liberal"! I suppose 'liberals' are still associated w/ anti-racist justice & maybe there's even some truth to it.. but, for me, 'liberal' has come to mean well-to-do people who self-exalt & self-justify w/ a PR version of anti-racism & justice that rarely manifests w/ much substance when it comes down to the nitty-gritty.
In general, I like MacInnes's writing, esp his use of slang & details like the following:
"Namely, leaving my luggages at the Government hostel, to go straight out by taxi (oh, so slow, compared with our sleek Lagos limousines!) to the famous central Piccadilly tube station where I took a one-stop ticket, went down on the escalator, and then ran up the same steps in the wrong direction. It was quite easy to reach the top, and our elder brother Christmas was wrong to warn it would be impossible to me." - p 13
If you've never done this, you've never lived.
This civil servant encounters his 1st African immigrant at his job:
""You're a Jumble, man.'
"'I?'
"'Yes. That's what we call you. You don't mind?'
"'I hope I don't. . . . It's not, I trust, an impolite expression?'
"'You mean like nigger?'
"I rose up.
"'Now, please! This is the Colonial Department Welfare Office. That word is absolutely forbidden within these walls.'
"'It should be outside them, too.'
"'No doubt, I too deplore its use.'
"'Well, relax, please, Mr. Pew. And don't be so scared of Jumble. It's cheeky, perhaps, but not so very insulting.'
"'May I inquire how it is spelt?'
"'J-o-h-n-b-u-l-l.'
"'Ah! But pronounced as you pronounce it?'
"'Yes. Jumble.'" - p 18
John Bull is a personifcation of the UK, perhaps like Uncle Sam is for the US. Johnny Fortune, Mr. Pew's African immigrant client, has a half-brother who he undertakes to visit.
"'Arthur, you see . . .' (she looked modest as she spoke, though I wasn't sure if it was felt or acted) ' . . . Arthur was Mum's mistake before she met our Dad.'
"'And Arthur: where is he?'
"'In jail.'
"'Ah!'
"'He's always in and out of jail.'" - p 23
I found this following depiction of Trinidadian prejudice against Africans interesting. Whether it was accurate at the time of the writing of this (1950s) in London is unknown to me.
"'I'm looking,' I told him, 'for Mr J. M. Fortune.'
"'Oh, that little jungle cannibal. That bongo-banging Bushman.'
"'I take it,' I said, accepting some rum in a discoloured tooth-glass, 'that you yourself are not from Africa?'
"'Please be to God, no, man. I'm a civilized respectable Trinidadian.'
"'The Africans, then, aren't civilized?'
"'They have their own tribal customs, mister, but it was because of their primitive barbarity that our ancestors fled from that country some centuries ago.'" - p 37
Likewise to the above regarding Bushmen vs Gambians.
"'Do other boys here have things to sell?'
"'Oh, misters! Here is him big Londons Spadiss markik place! Better than Oxford Stereek hisself!' And he roared out laughing loud, doubling himself up and slapping himself all over. Then he looked coyly discreet. 'Those bad boys,' he said, 'they relieves you of somesink?'
"'Yes. You saw? They stole my lighter.'
"'A Ronsons?'
"'Yes.'
"'Of course. Was Mr Ronson Lighter who took it. That is his professins: when he sees Ronson lighter, he muss steal him.'
"'And who are his friends?'
"'The Billy Whispers people. Gambian boys, real bad.[']" - p 46
I don't know if this is a realistic depection of a dialect or not. If it isn't, I still like it as a writing style.
Johnny reunites w/ an old friend from Africa named Hamilton who's also an immigrant to Britain:
"'I came here, Johnny, on a merchant ship.'
"'As passenger? As crew?'
"'As stowaway. Then one month in their English jail, and I'm a free British citizen again.'
"'And how to you live on what?'
"'Ah, now, that . . .' He smiled and wobbled. 'Well, man, I hustle[']" - p 50
"'Johnny,' said Hamilton in our speech again. 'You got weed on you? If yes, do slip it in that white man's pocket while he doesn't look.'
"'No, he's my friend, I think. But I'll take care. Don't you worry, Hamilton, for me.'" - pp 55-56
In other words, Johnny is loyal to Pew b/c they've gotten to know & like each other. MacInnes's portrayal of racism, a central subject of the novel, is subtle & not too reductionist.
Indeed, when there's a raid & Johnny's carrying he turns out to be a quick thinker.
"I handed Johnny the box I'd bought to replace my lighter. As he took it, the officer grabbed it from him and opened it eagerly, scrabbling among the matches. When he did this, I saw Johnny quickly put his hand up to his mouth and swallow." - p 58
Of course, swallowing drugs is only 'safe' in small doses. I have one friend who swallowed entirely too many quaaludes & had to have his stomach pumped to prevent himself from ODing. He avoided a drug trafficking charge but barely escaped dying. Another friend, swalowed a large dose of LSD to avoid a very serious long sentence but he flipped out in jail & permanently harmed himself, it was tragic.
I've never thought that there' a language called "African" but, nonetheless, I found the following educational. Undoutedly, the number of Nigerian languages has dramatically diminished since this bk was written.
"'Johnny,' I said. 'You talk to Hamilton in African. But to others you talk in English. Why?'
"'I do not speak with Hamilton in African. I speak to him in the language of our tribe. There is no "African", but many, many tribal languages.'
"'How many?'
"'More than one hundred in Nigeria.[']" - p 61
The novel introduces me to what a "tapper" is:
"'Give me some sustenance.' And he began patting me on the back—gently at first, then harder
"'Go away,' I said, half rising.
"'Ignore him, please,' said Johnny. 'He will shoot off in time.'
"But sure enough, the tapper slowly stopped his patting, sat huddled a while in silence in his chair, then shambled to another table.
"'It is useless,' said Johnny, 'to instruct a tapper. If you resist, he will create some foolish disturbance. If you play cool, he will lose interest of his profit, and fade away.'" - p 63
Family love:
"Mr Bo looked at her through veiled eyes, ironically. 'Others,' he said, come here to flee their families' great love. A family in Africa, you see, is not like here. Our whole life and business belong to every second cousin. A family only loves you and gives you some peace when you let it eat you.' Mr Bo chuckled warmly, and flung up his hands. 'Some boys are here who wish to escape those circumstances. Here you can live out your own life, even if it is miserably.'" - p 78
My own experience is that 'families' (mine, at least) are none-too-supportive of individualists - unless we enable their parasitic existence.
The reader comes to "FIRST INTERLUDE Idyll of miscegenation on the river" (p 97).
In other words, sex between different races or ethnicities (esp if one of them is white). Not usually a friendly term but certainly one pertinent to the mentality of the 1950s in the US or the UK.
"'Our blood's the same colour, Muriel, is all that matters. Everything that comes out of every all human body is the same colour—did you think of that?'
"She did: 'Johnny, don't be disgusting.'" - p 102
"'I'd do anything for you,' she said.
"'Anything. Big words.'
"'If you want to stay with me, you can. If you wanted to get married ever, you just say. If you want a child, I'll give you one—a boy: we'll call it Johnny-number-two. I'd work for you, Johnny—any work, I'd go to jail for you—do anything.'
"'Muriel! Muriel! What sad thoughts you speak of.'" - p 106
Pew gets fired & becomes a free-lance:
"'I'm not surprised the coloured race hates us.'
"He wasn't a bit disconcerted.
"'But they don't, Pew, that's where you make your second big mistake. They don't like us, certainly, but they don't hate us. They just accept us as, I suppose, a necessary evil.'
"Determined to have the last word, I said: 'Nothing could be worse than to be neither loved nor hated. It puts one on a level with the Swiss.'" - p 109
Now I don't know if there's any realism whatsover to "It puts one on a level with the Swiss" but it's the kind of touch to this novel that endears it to me.
Johnny sows his seed:
"'This child of hers she says is one day to be yours. You believe her story, Johnny?'
"'How can I tell? It could be so. . . .'
"'You will let her have it, Johnny?'
"'Hamilton! I am no infant murderer.'
"Hamilton stretched his long body out.
"'Perhaps not,' he said. 'But if she has it, and you refuse her marriage, as I expect you to, she can then weep before the magistrate until he grants her an affiliation order. This will oblige you to support her until the infant is sixteen years of age.'
"'Man, I shall skip the country if that happens.'" - p 113
"At which this foolish man spat on the floor.
"I ought not to have said what I did, of course, but nor ought he to spit—is an unhealthy habit. So I slapped him on his face, and a fight began, and I was seized on by eight people and thrown out through the doors. Stupid behavior, with my pockets stuffed with weed, but poverty and misery cause you to act desperately, as all know." - p 126
Poverty & misery are causing me to fight desperately against writing this review.
"The price Miss Theodora made me pay for that twenty pounds she gave me at the radio corporation building was quite heavy: it was to take me that selfsame evening to a theater, and show me a play by a French man about nothing I could get my brain to climb around. At a coffee, in the interval (for this theater had no liquor in its sad bar), I said, "Miss Theodora, I know this kind of enertainment is suitable for my improvement, but don't you think we could now step out into the air?'" - p 137
Alas, Johnny gets arrested & treated in a not-exactly friendly way.
"I know the great danger of hitting back against the Law, so sat still with my hands clenched by my side. This beating went on. 'Don't bruise him,' said Mr Purity. The Constable stopped and rubbed his hands.
"'Our bruises do not show in court so well as white man's do,' I said. 'This the reason why you always hit us harder.'" - p 184
"Mr Zuss-Amor told Montgomery, 'but why don't you tell him to plead guilty and settle before the magistrate? Believe me, if they don't get him for something, they'll never let him alone. And it'll only be a fine.'
"It was, but no one had any money, and Johnny went to prison for a month." - p 229
& hence ends City of Spades, the 1st of the 3 London novels I finished that on July 22, 2024, after oh-so-many-mnths of slow going. I can't really explain that, I liked the writing - maybe I just can't read straight novels anymore. The again, the pages falling out didn't help much.
**********
Next up is Absolute Beginners (1959). I may've enjoyed this one the most since its somewhat exaggerated depiction of teenagers made it more fanciful than the others. This is also the one that reminded me of Anthony Burgess's A Clockwork Orange (1962) w/o being quite so 'extreme'. I wonder if Burgess had read MacInnes?
"It was with the advent of the Laudie London era that I realized the whole teenage epic was tottering to doom.
"'Fourteen years old, that absolute beginner,' I said to the Wizard as we passed casually in the gramophone section to hear Little Laurie in that golden disc performance of his.
"'From now on,' said Wizard, 'he's certainly Got The Whole World In His Hands.'
"We listened to the wonder boy's nostrils spinning on.
"'They buy us younger every year,' I cried. 'Why, Little Mr L.'s voice hasn't even dropped yet, so who will those tax-payers try to kidnap next?
"'Sucklings,' said Wizard." - p 257
Note that in the very 1st sentence there's a typo: "Laudie" instead of "Laurie". That, coupled w/ the bk's continuing to fall apart even as I try to write this review, led to my projectile shitting out the window of a bus going 100mph out-of-control. ALSO, I don't know about you, but I'd buy a recording of a babe singing while suckling at their mama's teat if they cd carry a tune the way a bird carries a suitcase.
"[']The net result? "Teenager"'s became a dirty word or, at any rate, a square one.'
"I smile at Mr W. 'Well, take it easy, son,' I said, 'because a sixteen year old sperm like you has got a lot of teenage living still to do. As for me, eighteen summers, rising nineteen, I'll very soon be out there among the oldies.'" - p 258
"'This summer can't last,' said the yobbo behind the Gaggia, mopping his sweaty brow with his sweaty arm.
"'Oh yes it can, daddy-o,' I answered. 'It can last until the calendar says stop.'
"'No . . .' said the yobbo, gazing meanly up at the black-blue of that succulent June sky.
"'It can shine on forever,' I hissed at him, leaning across and mingling with the steam out of his Gaggia." - p 265
the London novels of Colin MacInnes
by tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE - January 9, 2025
http://idioideo.pleintekst.nl/CriticM...
Reviews that're too long to post on Goodreads go, eventually, to my "Critic" website: http://idioideo.pleintekst.nl/Critic.... . Alas, I'm getting slower & slower to create the relevant webpage - largely b/c I just don't enjoy it. Still, if you wait for a wk or 2 after this truncated review is posted & if you then go to the Critic link & search for The London Novels of Colin MacInnes you might find a review about 3 times as long as this.
This bk caught my attn when it was on a moving bk cart in front of one of my favorite used bkstores in PGH. I can't really give a good reason why I was interested. "London novels" by an author I've never heard of. I'm certainly NOT an expert on Brit Lit so it's no wonder the author's not familiar. I've been to London in 1978, 1984, 1988, & 1994 so maybe I just wanted to visit it from the perspective of someone who, presumably, lived there. Anyway, I anticipated liking it &, indeed, I did. I found the author unique, slightly close to Anthony Burgess (but earlier) but not so close as to seem too close. I liked the way he handled his subjects & I liked his writing style. The downside was that the bk was poorly bound & was, therefore, falling apart while I was reading it. I had to stop all-too-frequently to tape pages together (messy).
There's an Introduction from Nat Hentoff, someone I associate w/ jazz criticism.
"I was thinking of Colim MacInnes very early one winter morning during a demonstration against the American way of bringing peace to Vietnam. Having briefly shuffled along in a picket line in front of an induction center in lower Manhattan, I was now on the periphery of both police and demonstrators as I moved to see how another deployment of our forces, so to speak, had fared behind the center. An elderly lady, suspecting quite correctly that I, being bearded, was one of them, paused at the entrance to a chapel to inform me and my companions that we were 'Scum!' Some months before, in an allegorical novel, I had described such a demonstration and indeed had written about an elderly lady who had assured the protagonist and his companions that they were 'Scum!' Bowing to the real lady, I felt somewhat regretful that fiction had so specifically turned into fact—a further augury that when published the book would be categorized as a sociological or documentary or journalist's novel.
"It was then that Colin MacInnes came to mind because such terms have been applied by many to these London novels of his. Whether in praise or as reservation, they have been applied far too casually and with only partial accuracy. He intended more, and achieved more. Or so it seems to me, particularly as I feel a degree of identification with MacInnes, both with regard to our bifurcated vocations and also because neither of us takes kindly to being fitted into little boxes." - p vii
For me, that's an auspicious beginning for multiple reasons that resonate w/ me. For one, I was against the Vietnam War. For a 2nd, I've been insulted by strangers fairly often. For a 3rd, Hentoff's "elderly lady" who's "paused at the entrance to a chapel" reminds me of the religious environment I grew up in. Everyone around me was a Christian, they also all seemed to be uniformly hypocritical. "Thous Shalt Not Kill" never seemed to interfere w/ their bloodthirstiness. Such a climate still prevails insofar as even anarchists, these days, are largely sweetly oblivious to the conflict between being hypothetically "against rule-by" as they endorse enforced mask-wearing & proof-of-vaccination for entry into venues - going a step beyond the state in their oppressiveness. Furthermore, I, too, am against "being fitted into little boxes." In other words, Hentoff's attitude neatly resonates w/ my own &, hence, I expect much the same from MacInnes.
"But another reason for the frequency of outsiders in his fiction is a moral concern. Most who are not outsiders acquire considerable skills in what the American social critic Joseph Lyford calls auto-anesthesia—the ability to exclude from all but the most surface levels of consciousness those who are not like themselves. 'In the popular phrase," MacInnes writes in English, Half English, 'they just "don't want to know."" - p x
The 1st novel is called City of Spades (©1957/58) & is centered around Black/White relations involving black immigrants. The reader is introduced to a new civil servant:
"'Yours is a wide assignment, limitless almost as the sea. You must be their unpaid lawyer, estate agent, wet-nurse and, in a word, their bloody guardian angel.'"
[..]
"He had now closed his eyes; and stood at the door, a Whitehall Machiavelli.
"'Some might say,' he told me softly, 'that your duty is to help them to corrupt our country.'
"Up went my brows.
"'So some might say . . . their irruption among us has not been an unmixed blessing. Thousands, you see, have come here in the last few years from Africa and the Caribbean, and given us what we never had before—a colour problem.'
"His eyes opened slowly in a slit. 'Could it not be,' I said, 'that we have given them just that in their own countries?'
"'My dear Pew! Could it be that I positively find myself in the presence of a liberal?'" - p 10
A "liberal"! I suppose 'liberals' are still associated w/ anti-racist justice & maybe there's even some truth to it.. but, for me, 'liberal' has come to mean well-to-do people who self-exalt & self-justify w/ a PR version of anti-racism & justice that rarely manifests w/ much substance when it comes down to the nitty-gritty.
In general, I like MacInnes's writing, esp his use of slang & details like the following:
"Namely, leaving my luggages at the Government hostel, to go straight out by taxi (oh, so slow, compared with our sleek Lagos limousines!) to the famous central Piccadilly tube station where I took a one-stop ticket, went down on the escalator, and then ran up the same steps in the wrong direction. It was quite easy to reach the top, and our elder brother Christmas was wrong to warn it would be impossible to me." - p 13
If you've never done this, you've never lived.
This civil servant encounters his 1st African immigrant at his job:
""You're a Jumble, man.'
"'I?'
"'Yes. That's what we call you. You don't mind?'
"'I hope I don't. . . . It's not, I trust, an impolite expression?'
"'You mean like nigger?'
"I rose up.
"'Now, please! This is the Colonial Department Welfare Office. That word is absolutely forbidden within these walls.'
"'It should be outside them, too.'
"'No doubt, I too deplore its use.'
"'Well, relax, please, Mr. Pew. And don't be so scared of Jumble. It's cheeky, perhaps, but not so very insulting.'
"'May I inquire how it is spelt?'
"'J-o-h-n-b-u-l-l.'
"'Ah! But pronounced as you pronounce it?'
"'Yes. Jumble.'" - p 18
John Bull is a personifcation of the UK, perhaps like Uncle Sam is for the US. Johnny Fortune, Mr. Pew's African immigrant client, has a half-brother who he undertakes to visit.
"'Arthur, you see . . .' (she looked modest as she spoke, though I wasn't sure if it was felt or acted) ' . . . Arthur was Mum's mistake before she met our Dad.'
"'And Arthur: where is he?'
"'In jail.'
"'Ah!'
"'He's always in and out of jail.'" - p 23
I found this following depiction of Trinidadian prejudice against Africans interesting. Whether it was accurate at the time of the writing of this (1950s) in London is unknown to me.
"'I'm looking,' I told him, 'for Mr J. M. Fortune.'
"'Oh, that little jungle cannibal. That bongo-banging Bushman.'
"'I take it,' I said, accepting some rum in a discoloured tooth-glass, 'that you yourself are not from Africa?'
"'Please be to God, no, man. I'm a civilized respectable Trinidadian.'
"'The Africans, then, aren't civilized?'
"'They have their own tribal customs, mister, but it was because of their primitive barbarity that our ancestors fled from that country some centuries ago.'" - p 37
Likewise to the above regarding Bushmen vs Gambians.
"'Do other boys here have things to sell?'
"'Oh, misters! Here is him big Londons Spadiss markik place! Better than Oxford Stereek hisself!' And he roared out laughing loud, doubling himself up and slapping himself all over. Then he looked coyly discreet. 'Those bad boys,' he said, 'they relieves you of somesink?'
"'Yes. You saw? They stole my lighter.'
"'A Ronsons?'
"'Yes.'
"'Of course. Was Mr Ronson Lighter who took it. That is his professins: when he sees Ronson lighter, he muss steal him.'
"'And who are his friends?'
"'The Billy Whispers people. Gambian boys, real bad.[']" - p 46
I don't know if this is a realistic depection of a dialect or not. If it isn't, I still like it as a writing style.
Johnny reunites w/ an old friend from Africa named Hamilton who's also an immigrant to Britain:
"'I came here, Johnny, on a merchant ship.'
"'As passenger? As crew?'
"'As stowaway. Then one month in their English jail, and I'm a free British citizen again.'
"'And how to you live on what?'
"'Ah, now, that . . .' He smiled and wobbled. 'Well, man, I hustle[']" - p 50
"'Johnny,' said Hamilton in our speech again. 'You got weed on you? If yes, do slip it in that white man's pocket while he doesn't look.'
"'No, he's my friend, I think. But I'll take care. Don't you worry, Hamilton, for me.'" - pp 55-56
In other words, Johnny is loyal to Pew b/c they've gotten to know & like each other. MacInnes's portrayal of racism, a central subject of the novel, is subtle & not too reductionist.
Indeed, when there's a raid & Johnny's carrying he turns out to be a quick thinker.
"I handed Johnny the box I'd bought to replace my lighter. As he took it, the officer grabbed it from him and opened it eagerly, scrabbling among the matches. When he did this, I saw Johnny quickly put his hand up to his mouth and swallow." - p 58
Of course, swallowing drugs is only 'safe' in small doses. I have one friend who swallowed entirely too many quaaludes & had to have his stomach pumped to prevent himself from ODing. He avoided a drug trafficking charge but barely escaped dying. Another friend, swalowed a large dose of LSD to avoid a very serious long sentence but he flipped out in jail & permanently harmed himself, it was tragic.
I've never thought that there' a language called "African" but, nonetheless, I found the following educational. Undoutedly, the number of Nigerian languages has dramatically diminished since this bk was written.
"'Johnny,' I said. 'You talk to Hamilton in African. But to others you talk in English. Why?'
"'I do not speak with Hamilton in African. I speak to him in the language of our tribe. There is no "African", but many, many tribal languages.'
"'How many?'
"'More than one hundred in Nigeria.[']" - p 61
The novel introduces me to what a "tapper" is:
"'Give me some sustenance.' And he began patting me on the back—gently at first, then harder
"'Go away,' I said, half rising.
"'Ignore him, please,' said Johnny. 'He will shoot off in time.'
"But sure enough, the tapper slowly stopped his patting, sat huddled a while in silence in his chair, then shambled to another table.
"'It is useless,' said Johnny, 'to instruct a tapper. If you resist, he will create some foolish disturbance. If you play cool, he will lose interest of his profit, and fade away.'" - p 63
Family love:
"Mr Bo looked at her through veiled eyes, ironically. 'Others,' he said, come here to flee their families' great love. A family in Africa, you see, is not like here. Our whole life and business belong to every second cousin. A family only loves you and gives you some peace when you let it eat you.' Mr Bo chuckled warmly, and flung up his hands. 'Some boys are here who wish to escape those circumstances. Here you can live out your own life, even if it is miserably.'" - p 78
My own experience is that 'families' (mine, at least) are none-too-supportive of individualists - unless we enable their parasitic existence.
The reader comes to "FIRST INTERLUDE Idyll of miscegenation on the river" (p 97).
In other words, sex between different races or ethnicities (esp if one of them is white). Not usually a friendly term but certainly one pertinent to the mentality of the 1950s in the US or the UK.
"'Our blood's the same colour, Muriel, is all that matters. Everything that comes out of every all human body is the same colour—did you think of that?'
"She did: 'Johnny, don't be disgusting.'" - p 102
"'I'd do anything for you,' she said.
"'Anything. Big words.'
"'If you want to stay with me, you can. If you wanted to get married ever, you just say. If you want a child, I'll give you one—a boy: we'll call it Johnny-number-two. I'd work for you, Johnny—any work, I'd go to jail for you—do anything.'
"'Muriel! Muriel! What sad thoughts you speak of.'" - p 106
Pew gets fired & becomes a free-lance:
"'I'm not surprised the coloured race hates us.'
"He wasn't a bit disconcerted.
"'But they don't, Pew, that's where you make your second big mistake. They don't like us, certainly, but they don't hate us. They just accept us as, I suppose, a necessary evil.'
"Determined to have the last word, I said: 'Nothing could be worse than to be neither loved nor hated. It puts one on a level with the Swiss.'" - p 109
Now I don't know if there's any realism whatsover to "It puts one on a level with the Swiss" but it's the kind of touch to this novel that endears it to me.
Johnny sows his seed:
"'This child of hers she says is one day to be yours. You believe her story, Johnny?'
"'How can I tell? It could be so. . . .'
"'You will let her have it, Johnny?'
"'Hamilton! I am no infant murderer.'
"Hamilton stretched his long body out.
"'Perhaps not,' he said. 'But if she has it, and you refuse her marriage, as I expect you to, she can then weep before the magistrate until he grants her an affiliation order. This will oblige you to support her until the infant is sixteen years of age.'
"'Man, I shall skip the country if that happens.'" - p 113
"At which this foolish man spat on the floor.
"I ought not to have said what I did, of course, but nor ought he to spit—is an unhealthy habit. So I slapped him on his face, and a fight began, and I was seized on by eight people and thrown out through the doors. Stupid behavior, with my pockets stuffed with weed, but poverty and misery cause you to act desperately, as all know." - p 126
Poverty & misery are causing me to fight desperately against writing this review.
"The price Miss Theodora made me pay for that twenty pounds she gave me at the radio corporation building was quite heavy: it was to take me that selfsame evening to a theater, and show me a play by a French man about nothing I could get my brain to climb around. At a coffee, in the interval (for this theater had no liquor in its sad bar), I said, "Miss Theodora, I know this kind of enertainment is suitable for my improvement, but don't you think we could now step out into the air?'" - p 137
Alas, Johnny gets arrested & treated in a not-exactly friendly way.
"I know the great danger of hitting back against the Law, so sat still with my hands clenched by my side. This beating went on. 'Don't bruise him,' said Mr Purity. The Constable stopped and rubbed his hands.
"'Our bruises do not show in court so well as white man's do,' I said. 'This the reason why you always hit us harder.'" - p 184
"Mr Zuss-Amor told Montgomery, 'but why don't you tell him to plead guilty and settle before the magistrate? Believe me, if they don't get him for something, they'll never let him alone. And it'll only be a fine.'
"It was, but no one had any money, and Johnny went to prison for a month." - p 229
& hence ends City of Spades, the 1st of the 3 London novels I finished that on July 22, 2024, after oh-so-many-mnths of slow going. I can't really explain that, I liked the writing - maybe I just can't read straight novels anymore. The again, the pages falling out didn't help much.
**********
Next up is Absolute Beginners (1959). I may've enjoyed this one the most since its somewhat exaggerated depiction of teenagers made it more fanciful than the others. This is also the one that reminded me of Anthony Burgess's A Clockwork Orange (1962) w/o being quite so 'extreme'. I wonder if Burgess had read MacInnes?
"It was with the advent of the Laudie London era that I realized the whole teenage epic was tottering to doom.
"'Fourteen years old, that absolute beginner,' I said to the Wizard as we passed casually in the gramophone section to hear Little Laurie in that golden disc performance of his.
"'From now on,' said Wizard, 'he's certainly Got The Whole World In His Hands.'
"We listened to the wonder boy's nostrils spinning on.
"'They buy us younger every year,' I cried. 'Why, Little Mr L.'s voice hasn't even dropped yet, so who will those tax-payers try to kidnap next?
"'Sucklings,' said Wizard." - p 257
Note that in the very 1st sentence there's a typo: "Laudie" instead of "Laurie". That, coupled w/ the bk's continuing to fall apart even as I try to write this review, led to my projectile shitting out the window of a bus going 100mph out-of-control. ALSO, I don't know about you, but I'd buy a recording of a babe singing while suckling at their mama's teat if they cd carry a tune the way a bird carries a suitcase.
"[']The net result? "Teenager"'s became a dirty word or, at any rate, a square one.'
"I smile at Mr W. 'Well, take it easy, son,' I said, 'because a sixteen year old sperm like you has got a lot of teenage living still to do. As for me, eighteen summers, rising nineteen, I'll very soon be out there among the oldies.'" - p 258
"'This summer can't last,' said the yobbo behind the Gaggia, mopping his sweaty brow with his sweaty arm.
"'Oh yes it can, daddy-o,' I answered. 'It can last until the calendar says stop.'
"'No . . .' said the yobbo, gazing meanly up at the black-blue of that succulent June sky.
"'It can shine on forever,' I hissed at him, leaning across and mingling with the steam out of his Gaggia." - p 265
September 1, 2020
I read “City of Spades” from this trilogy upon receiving it (a 30th birthday present, thanks Grace!). At that point I simply added a rating and a quote, thusly- “The word 'free-lance', I used to think, had a romantic ring; but sadly discovered, when I tried to be one, that its practice has little freedom, and the lance is a sorry weapon to tilt at literary windmills.”
Well, I have (some decade or so later), just read Absolute Beginners. It does feel stitched together in places, and possibly isn’t helped by my thoughts on some of the stuff it influenced, but nevertheless, parts have an authentic magical haze: “The night was glorious, out there. The air was sweet as a cool bath, the stars were peeping noisily beyond the their neons, and the citizens of the Queendom, in their jeans and separates, were floating down the Shaftesbury avenue canals, like gondolas. Everyone had loot to spend, everyone a bath with verbena salts behind them, and nobody had broken hearts, because they all were all ripe for the easy summer evening. The rubber-plants in the espressos had been dusted, and the smooth white lights of the new-style Chinese restaurants - not the old Mah Jongg categories, but the latest thing with broad glass fronts, and dacron curtainings, and a beige carpet over the interiors - were shining a dazzle, like some monster telly screens. Even those horrible old anglo-saxon public-houses - all potato crisps and flat, stale ale, and puddles on the counter bar, and spittle - looked quite alluring, provided you didn't push those two-ton doors that pinch your arse, and wander in. In fact, the capital was a night-horse dream. And I thought, 'My lord, one thing is certain, and that's that they'll make musical sone day about the glamour-studded 1950s'. And I thought, my heaven, one thing is certain too, I'm miserable.”
Well, I have (some decade or so later), just read Absolute Beginners. It does feel stitched together in places, and possibly isn’t helped by my thoughts on some of the stuff it influenced, but nevertheless, parts have an authentic magical haze: “The night was glorious, out there. The air was sweet as a cool bath, the stars were peeping noisily beyond the their neons, and the citizens of the Queendom, in their jeans and separates, were floating down the Shaftesbury avenue canals, like gondolas. Everyone had loot to spend, everyone a bath with verbena salts behind them, and nobody had broken hearts, because they all were all ripe for the easy summer evening. The rubber-plants in the espressos had been dusted, and the smooth white lights of the new-style Chinese restaurants - not the old Mah Jongg categories, but the latest thing with broad glass fronts, and dacron curtainings, and a beige carpet over the interiors - were shining a dazzle, like some monster telly screens. Even those horrible old anglo-saxon public-houses - all potato crisps and flat, stale ale, and puddles on the counter bar, and spittle - looked quite alluring, provided you didn't push those two-ton doors that pinch your arse, and wander in. In fact, the capital was a night-horse dream. And I thought, 'My lord, one thing is certain, and that's that they'll make musical sone day about the glamour-studded 1950s'. And I thought, my heaven, one thing is certain too, I'm miserable.”
December 31, 2009
I absolutely loved the teeny slang, reminiscent of the Beats language. Chicklets, Spades, tax-payers. All very good. I have only read Absolute Beginners, from this book, by the way.
There is more trouble on the character side. I find the protagonist rather unsympathetic, and resent his need for 'putting people in boxes' depending on their sexuality, skin colour, etc.
Also, the last bit of the novel doesn't flow with the first three quarters, which is quite disappointing. The Notting Hill riots seem a bit thrown in.
There is more trouble on the character side. I find the protagonist rather unsympathetic, and resent his need for 'putting people in boxes' depending on their sexuality, skin colour, etc.
Also, the last bit of the novel doesn't flow with the first three quarters, which is quite disappointing. The Notting Hill riots seem a bit thrown in.
December 8, 2007
Zero One for the ultimate Mod literature. "Absolute Beginners" is an incredible view of Multi-cultural London during the late 50's and start of the 'Teenage' subculture.
August 16, 2009
3 novels about th world's capitol.
October 7, 2014
A great trilogy that encompasses London at the dawn of a new era - an enjoyable read.
October 11, 2024
I bought this because I liked the cover and because I wanted a nice thick book to take on holiday. (That was in early 2020. Best laid plans etc.)
I'd never even heard of the author but I was captivated by the novels, which manage to be both realistic and funny. My favourite of the three was Absolute Beginners, with its teenage narrator whose enthusiasm outweighs his cynicism in spite of himself. I loved City of Spades for its look at a London rarely documented at the time. Mr Love and Justice I found the least interesting; the parallel stories of the characters was well done, but I didn't find the technicalities of ponce life that enthralling.
I'd never even heard of the author but I was captivated by the novels, which manage to be both realistic and funny. My favourite of the three was Absolute Beginners, with its teenage narrator whose enthusiasm outweighs his cynicism in spite of himself. I loved City of Spades for its look at a London rarely documented at the time. Mr Love and Justice I found the least interesting; the parallel stories of the characters was well done, but I didn't find the technicalities of ponce life that enthralling.
May 12, 2018
Absolute Beginners is the best, City of Spades second and Mr. Love and Mr. Justice coming in third. All worth a look.
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