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My Friend Judas
The scene is Cambridge in the early 1960s. Ben Birt, an intellectual Brando from a grammar school, sees the University through proud, bawdy and anarchic eyes. Classless but deeply class-conscious. Brought up on Shakespeare and the classics, much influenced by contemporary French and American, he talks a vivid new language. Ben, above all, is alive. He and does not apologize for what he does. He gives to life without giving in; and takes from life without being taken in. He ends up on his own, beginning to see Cambridge has more to offer than a three years' muckabout in a festering fen. 'Very clever indeed . . . This portrait of la vie de boheme universitaire should raise squeals of outraged delight . . . all along the line from Belgravia to Budleigh Salterton.' Daily Telegraph
- GenresFiction
224 pages, Paperback
First published June 1, 1985
31 people want to read
About the author
Andrew Sinclair
185 books32 followersAndrew Sinclair was born in Oxford in 1935 and was educated at Eton and Trinity College, Cambridge. After earning a Ph.D. in American History from Cambridge, he pursued an academic career in the United States and England. His first two novels, written while he was still at Cambridge, were both published in 1959: The Breaking of Bumbo (based on his own experience in the Coldstream Guards, and later adapted for a 1970 film written and directed by Sinclair) and My Friend Judas. Other early novels included The Project (1960), The Hallelujah Bum (1963), and The Raker (1964). The latter, also available from Valancourt, is a clever mix of Gothic fantasy and macabre comedy and was inspired by Sinclair’s relationship with Derek Lindsay, the pseudonymous author of the acclaimed novel The Rack (1958). Sinclair’s best-known novel, Gog (1967), a highly imaginative, picaresque account of the adventures of a seven-foot-tall man who washes ashore on the Scottish coast, naked and suffering from amnesia, has been named one of the top 100 modern fantasy novels. As the first in the ‘Albion Triptych’, it was followed by Magog (1972) and King Ludd (1988).
Sinclair’s varied and prolific career has also included work in film and a large output of nonfiction. As a director, he is best known for Under Milk Wood (1972), adapted from a Dylan Thomas play and starring Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. Sinclair’s nonfiction includes works on American history (including The Better Half: The Emancipation of the American Woman, which won the 1967 Somerset Maugham Award), books on Dylan Thomas, Jack London, Che Guevara, and Francis Bacon, and, more recently, works on the Knights Templar and the Freemasons.
Sinclair was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in 1972. He lives in London.
Sinclair’s varied and prolific career has also included work in film and a large output of nonfiction. As a director, he is best known for Under Milk Wood (1972), adapted from a Dylan Thomas play and starring Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. Sinclair’s nonfiction includes works on American history (including The Better Half: The Emancipation of the American Woman, which won the 1967 Somerset Maugham Award), books on Dylan Thomas, Jack London, Che Guevara, and Francis Bacon, and, more recently, works on the Knights Templar and the Freemasons.
Sinclair was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in 1972. He lives in London.
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
December 24, 2022
If nothing else, protagonist Benjamin Birt of My Friend Judas is an interesting and entertaining fellow! He is a complex amalgam of opposites: part romantic and part philanderer; part optimist and part cynic; part self-serving and part altruist; and part anti-establishment and part uncomplaining stoic. He is also the first-person narrator of the story, which, given his multi-dimensional character, he recounts in a fairly lively and humorous way.
At twenty-something, Benjamin is half-heartedly attempting to finish his degree at the prestigious Cambridge University in the early 1960s. I say half-heartedly because he appears to be drifting through life without much purpose. He drifted into university because that’s what was expected of him. However, he allows—indeed happily encourages—all manner of distractions to interfere with studies, which are hardly mentioned at all in any serious way. The somewhat plotless novel covers the period of time leading up to the event known as Tripos, one or more final examinations that qualify an undergraduate for a bachelor’s degree. But Benjamin’s efforts towards this accomplishment are desultory and lethargic, and fatalistically, he does not believe he has what it takes.
An interesting element of the story is that the “Judas” in the title is not a man, but a woman, Judy Binns, who enters into a romantic entanglement with Benjamin. Readers may glean that thus far in his life, Benjamin has had casual attachments with several other women prior to Judy, and is a practitioner of the love-‘em-and-leave-‘em model…until Judy. He professes love for her, seemingly genuine, but suspiciously self-persuasive, only to find that Judy’s character is just as complex as his. She must be the youngest person in history suffering from chronic but selective dementia, for she lives only in the present moment. This permits her to forget certain things in the past, not least of which are all previous love affairs. Inevitably, there is a “betrayal” of sorts.
There are numerous other colorful players in the story, ranging from Benjamin’s hilarious housekeeper and porter, to a number of dysfunctional fellow students, to a jaded professor. Benjamin interacts with them in a variety of ways, amicable in some cases, pugilistic in others! For all his mischief, there is a streak of goodness in Benjamin: in one situation, he is ready to take the blame for an incident to spare a friend; in another, he tenderly handles the fragile and delicate emotions of a professor’s wife, suspicious of her husband’s infidelity.
Benjamin is a fairly trustworthy narrator, and by the novel’s end, readers learn in a satisfactory manner of his fate—academically, romantically, professionally—and what opportunities are available for future drifting. This short, fast-paced, funny novel is cleverly done (with the exception of some unnecessary, funky indentation to delineate direct speech without the use of traditional quotation marks…why?) and worth the one- or two-sitting read.
At twenty-something, Benjamin is half-heartedly attempting to finish his degree at the prestigious Cambridge University in the early 1960s. I say half-heartedly because he appears to be drifting through life without much purpose. He drifted into university because that’s what was expected of him. However, he allows—indeed happily encourages—all manner of distractions to interfere with studies, which are hardly mentioned at all in any serious way. The somewhat plotless novel covers the period of time leading up to the event known as Tripos, one or more final examinations that qualify an undergraduate for a bachelor’s degree. But Benjamin’s efforts towards this accomplishment are desultory and lethargic, and fatalistically, he does not believe he has what it takes.
An interesting element of the story is that the “Judas” in the title is not a man, but a woman, Judy Binns, who enters into a romantic entanglement with Benjamin. Readers may glean that thus far in his life, Benjamin has had casual attachments with several other women prior to Judy, and is a practitioner of the love-‘em-and-leave-‘em model…until Judy. He professes love for her, seemingly genuine, but suspiciously self-persuasive, only to find that Judy’s character is just as complex as his. She must be the youngest person in history suffering from chronic but selective dementia, for she lives only in the present moment. This permits her to forget certain things in the past, not least of which are all previous love affairs. Inevitably, there is a “betrayal” of sorts.
There are numerous other colorful players in the story, ranging from Benjamin’s hilarious housekeeper and porter, to a number of dysfunctional fellow students, to a jaded professor. Benjamin interacts with them in a variety of ways, amicable in some cases, pugilistic in others! For all his mischief, there is a streak of goodness in Benjamin: in one situation, he is ready to take the blame for an incident to spare a friend; in another, he tenderly handles the fragile and delicate emotions of a professor’s wife, suspicious of her husband’s infidelity.
Benjamin is a fairly trustworthy narrator, and by the novel’s end, readers learn in a satisfactory manner of his fate—academically, romantically, professionally—and what opportunities are available for future drifting. This short, fast-paced, funny novel is cleverly done (with the exception of some unnecessary, funky indentation to delineate direct speech without the use of traditional quotation marks…why?) and worth the one- or two-sitting read.
January 18, 2025
For the first time since I’ve been on Goodreads, I looked at the reviews for this book before I actually read it. I have to say, it almost put me off. The reviews - balanced and eloquent - were pretty damning in their attempts at fair mindedness. At best, they mostly concluded the novel was “of its times”. Unenthusiastic, average ratings all round.
I particularly agreed with the reviewer who commented that the book cover shown on Goodreads wasn’t as attractive as the one on her own copy. She must have been looking at the first edition cover which was what had attracted me to the book in the first place. A sprightly and colourful drawing in quirky, vintage 1950s style. And it was my curiosity about the young chap in the cover illustration, with red-checked shirt and matching, snug-fitting trousers, that nudged me to start reading.
In so many ways the book was exactly how the reviewers had described it. Hopelessly sexist and misogynist, unappealingly racist, elitist and privileged - this was the, frankly distasteful, world view of an egocentric, entitled young male student in the late 1950s.
Distasteful - but perhaps self consciously, sardonically, deliberately so. Larger than life, ruder, louder, more opinionated. And yet I suspect the fact that he was causing readers, some six decades later, to huff and tutt in virtuous offence would probably have delighted our truculent, anti-hero student narrator, Ben Birt. Rather like the cynical, misfit teenager, Holden Caulfield, a decade earlier, whose American creator (JD Salinger) Ben Birt name-checks admiringly in his roll call of contemporary writers he believes deserve respect.
So while agreeing entirely with other reviewers about the novel’s myriad offences, I have to admit I’ve ended up feeling I need to defend and justify it. A novel of its time, certainly - but also one with several redeeming features.
Ben Birt’s eye for the bizarre in everyday life, for example, and his unconventional turns of phrase are especially striking. At one point he launches into a page-long, extended metaphor describing his merciless, probing tutor in terms of a dentist drilling out rotten teeth. Some other examples of his darkly fantastic imagery that particularly tickled me include:
- “I felt like an oyster just before it goes down with the big gulp.”
- “He looked like a Spanish-style exclamation mark, upside down.”
- “Spinning men into perpetual motion, making them spiral in space as they squash the beatitudes out of their own tripes.”
- “That’s what it is, religion, just a bad breath in a beautiful box, saying words I can’t catch.”
- “The examiners had their choppers out that year. They wanted their pound of flesh and they got about five stone of mine.”
- “I felt gutted like a herring on the easy knife of his calculation.”
- “The branches were leaning down to touch their toes, with the breeze breathing down the backs of their necks like a PT instructor.”
- “Black mascara ran down her cheeks like tea from a strainer.”
Ben Birt’s no monster. Though he tries to come across as hard boiled and brutal, he’s acutely conscious of, and daunted by, other people’s emotions. He’s tenderly sympathetic towards his tutor’s wife (Mrs Johnson Fruylen) whose husband’s cheating on her, he engages thoughtfully with Mimi’s au pair children, and he volunteers at the local hospital, reading to elderly and blind people.
But he doesn’t want anyone to know about his gentle side. He’s painfully private and self conscious, hypersensitive and very highly strung. It emerges during the novel that his mental health struggles involve troubled sexuality (a sort of drugged date-rape by the duplicitous Winkie Lloyd-Lumsden) and his own attempted suicide. Mimi, one of his girlfriends, also tries to take her own life. Though much else has changed since the late 1950s, mental health clearly remains as significant an issue in student life now as it was then.
I particularly agreed with the reviewer who commented that the book cover shown on Goodreads wasn’t as attractive as the one on her own copy. She must have been looking at the first edition cover which was what had attracted me to the book in the first place. A sprightly and colourful drawing in quirky, vintage 1950s style. And it was my curiosity about the young chap in the cover illustration, with red-checked shirt and matching, snug-fitting trousers, that nudged me to start reading.
In so many ways the book was exactly how the reviewers had described it. Hopelessly sexist and misogynist, unappealingly racist, elitist and privileged - this was the, frankly distasteful, world view of an egocentric, entitled young male student in the late 1950s.
Distasteful - but perhaps self consciously, sardonically, deliberately so. Larger than life, ruder, louder, more opinionated. And yet I suspect the fact that he was causing readers, some six decades later, to huff and tutt in virtuous offence would probably have delighted our truculent, anti-hero student narrator, Ben Birt. Rather like the cynical, misfit teenager, Holden Caulfield, a decade earlier, whose American creator (JD Salinger) Ben Birt name-checks admiringly in his roll call of contemporary writers he believes deserve respect.
So while agreeing entirely with other reviewers about the novel’s myriad offences, I have to admit I’ve ended up feeling I need to defend and justify it. A novel of its time, certainly - but also one with several redeeming features.
Ben Birt’s eye for the bizarre in everyday life, for example, and his unconventional turns of phrase are especially striking. At one point he launches into a page-long, extended metaphor describing his merciless, probing tutor in terms of a dentist drilling out rotten teeth. Some other examples of his darkly fantastic imagery that particularly tickled me include:
- “I felt like an oyster just before it goes down with the big gulp.”
- “He looked like a Spanish-style exclamation mark, upside down.”
- “Spinning men into perpetual motion, making them spiral in space as they squash the beatitudes out of their own tripes.”
- “That’s what it is, religion, just a bad breath in a beautiful box, saying words I can’t catch.”
- “The examiners had their choppers out that year. They wanted their pound of flesh and they got about five stone of mine.”
- “I felt gutted like a herring on the easy knife of his calculation.”
- “The branches were leaning down to touch their toes, with the breeze breathing down the backs of their necks like a PT instructor.”
- “Black mascara ran down her cheeks like tea from a strainer.”
Ben Birt’s no monster. Though he tries to come across as hard boiled and brutal, he’s acutely conscious of, and daunted by, other people’s emotions. He’s tenderly sympathetic towards his tutor’s wife (Mrs Johnson Fruylen) whose husband’s cheating on her, he engages thoughtfully with Mimi’s au pair children, and he volunteers at the local hospital, reading to elderly and blind people.
But he doesn’t want anyone to know about his gentle side. He’s painfully private and self conscious, hypersensitive and very highly strung. It emerges during the novel that his mental health struggles involve troubled sexuality (a sort of drugged date-rape by the duplicitous Winkie Lloyd-Lumsden) and his own attempted suicide. Mimi, one of his girlfriends, also tries to take her own life. Though much else has changed since the late 1950s, mental health clearly remains as significant an issue in student life now as it was then.
February 21, 2024
Some moments in this book are striking, truly evoking a vivid sense of Ben’s life.
Outside of these, often sparse, moments, the book is one not-so-long drag. It interestingly experiments with some different writing styles but never fully commits leaving a disjointed and unenjoyable read.
Outside of these, often sparse, moments, the book is one not-so-long drag. It interestingly experiments with some different writing styles but never fully commits leaving a disjointed and unenjoyable read.
January 5, 2016
Generously peppered with 50s British slang, this one caught me unawares with profound observations disguised as casual musings.
Ben Birt is brash, sensitive, impulsive and attentive all at once. The story is not so much a student-drama as an exposition of friendships with a fair amount of caricaturization of its characters. But thats what makes the dialogue so riveting- with all exchanges heavily coated in wild witticisms.
Perfect reading for when you're not looking for complex plotlines and yet be hooked .
Ben Birt is brash, sensitive, impulsive and attentive all at once. The story is not so much a student-drama as an exposition of friendships with a fair amount of caricaturization of its characters. But thats what makes the dialogue so riveting- with all exchanges heavily coated in wild witticisms.
Perfect reading for when you're not looking for complex plotlines and yet be hooked .
October 14, 2024
Picked this up in a Victorian Second hand store due to its intriguing illustrated cover (not pictured here 😔) and premise of university students trying to navigate life.
I rarely have had the chance to read a novel set at a university. I found myself getting distracted frequently during this read and was not a fan of the way it was written. I didn’t end up finishing it so there could have been something great here, although I doubt it.
I rarely have had the chance to read a novel set at a university. I found myself getting distracted frequently during this read and was not a fan of the way it was written. I didn’t end up finishing it so there could have been something great here, although I doubt it.
July 3, 2024
‘As one of my predecessors wrote – I forget his name – Man shall not live by bread alone. There are such things as caviar and cake.’ (98)
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews