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Anthony Burgess
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message 1: by Patrick (last edited Aug 28, 2022 03:45AM) (new)

Patrick Johns | 7 comments I highly recommend The Pianoplayers by Anthony Burgess. Semi autobiographical, it has a great portayal of working class Manchester and Blackpool between the wars, and lots of musical references. Themes: Catholicism, alcoholism, sex, mild domestic violence and of course piano playing (what more could you ask for?) AB's writing and clever use of English never fails to amuse me.


message 2: by David (new)

David | 1074 comments Thanks Patrick. I’ve read very little of Burgess’s writing, so I will remedy that. Not immediately, there aren’t enough hours in the day just now.


message 3: by Nigeyb (last edited Aug 27, 2022 11:59PM) (new)

Nigeyb | 4609 comments Mod
Thanks Patrick


A Clockwork Orange is great - obvs

I've also read Little Wilson and Big God, the first part of a two part biography and loved it. It covers the 42 years from Burgess’s birth, in 1917, to 1959, when his time as teacher and education officer in Malaya and Brunei came to an end and he decided to devote himself to writing full time (believing he only had a year to live).

I was inspired to read this book, having come across a short extract, photocopied and framed on the wall of The Wheatsheaf pub in Rathbone Place, London. Anthony Burgess was once a customer and he was describing the era in the 1940s when both he and Julian Maclaren-Ross were regulars. As a great admirer of Julian Maclaren-Ross, it was a desire to read this particular section (probably only six or seven pages in total) that prompted me to read it. I should add that Burgess was gratifyingly complimentary about the work of Maclaren-Ross and brings that era beautifully to life.

My review is here...

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...





message 4: by David (new)

David | 1074 comments Your comment has triggered a memory of my having started reading Little Wilson And Big God, in the bad old days when I’d escape the virtual thumbscrews of The Department of Exploitation for an hour at lunchtime, and dine in the car in the company of a book. Perhaps it’s still in the door pocket of KV51LXC, bringing joy to a patron of whichever scrapyard the old bus lies dormant. Or it could be on one of the many book piles dotted around the dwelling. Most of mybreading matter seems to be these days. Thanks for the prompt.


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