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Charlie Mortdecai #1-3 omnibus
The Mortdecai Trilogy
Don't Point that Thing at Me finds Charlie momentarily distracted by a police charge accusing him of stealing a priceless Goya; a nuisance that he overcomes without passing up a single glass of fine wine or plate of foie gras. In After You with a Pistol Mortdecai is roped into a marriage with a beautiful Viennese heiress, who is willing to blissfully accompany him on his life of taste and intrigue as long as he can help her with one little errand: assassinate the Queen of England. Something Nasty in the Woodshed features Charlie, exiled in London due to his growing unpopularity fueled by the aforementioned shady art deal, taking refuge on the island of Jersey. What begins as a epicurean interlude morphs into a macabre manhunt as Charlie seeks to expose a local rapist.
519 pages, Paperback
First published February 14, 1991
43 people are currently reading
3005 people want to read
About the author
Kyril Bonfiglioli
34 books101 followersKyril Bonfiglioli was variously an art dealer, editor, and writer.
He wrote four books featuring Charlie Mortdecai, three of which were published in his lifetime, and one posthumously as completed by the satirist Craig Brown. Charlie Mortdecai is the fictional art dealer anti-hero of the series. His character resembles, among other things, an amoral Bertie Wooster with occasional psychopathic tendencies. His books are still in print and have been translated into several different languages including Spanish, French, Italian, German and Japanese.
Bonfiglioli's style and novel structure have often been favourably compared to that of P. G. Wodehouse. Mortdecai and his manservant Jock Strapp bear a fun-house mirror relation to Wodehouse's Wooster and Jeeves. The author makes a nod to this comparison by having Mortdecai reference Wodehouse in the novels.
He wrote four books featuring Charlie Mortdecai, three of which were published in his lifetime, and one posthumously as completed by the satirist Craig Brown. Charlie Mortdecai is the fictional art dealer anti-hero of the series. His character resembles, among other things, an amoral Bertie Wooster with occasional psychopathic tendencies. His books are still in print and have been translated into several different languages including Spanish, French, Italian, German and Japanese.
Bonfiglioli's style and novel structure have often been favourably compared to that of P. G. Wodehouse. Mortdecai and his manservant Jock Strapp bear a fun-house mirror relation to Wodehouse's Wooster and Jeeves. The author makes a nod to this comparison by having Mortdecai reference Wodehouse in the novels.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 66 reviews
February 14, 2013
I like and am grateful for books that make me laugh. The extremes of the early Tom Sharpe novels, Riotous Assembly and Indecent Exposure (much funnier than the Wilt novels for me), the glory that is Catch 22, the continuing inventiveness and wit of Carl Hiaasen, the over-the-top characters of Janet Evanovich – they’re uplifting, life affirming, even when (as in Hiaasen and Heller’s case) they’re frequently conveying a serious underlying message. The Mortdecai Trilogy, a hit when it first appeared back in the 70s,. is long – 519 pages of smallish print covering three connected novels: Don’t point that thing at me, After you with the pistol and Something nasty in the woodshed. It belongs unmistakably in the Humour section of bookshops and libraries and it should have been an extended delight.
I won’t bother with a ‘but’ because the ‘should have been’ indicates that it didn’t live up to the hype. Oh it’s funny alright, very funny in lots of places, and it’s brilliantly crafted as Bonfiglioli prepares and delivers his gags, observations, asides and other jeux de mots with careful precision. The writing, in fact, is immaculate. He also shows great respect for the reader, often addressing him/her directly and, as he sprays quotations and references about – in French, Italian and Latin – there’s an implicit assumption that you (i.e. the reader) share his elevated cultural space, understand his terms of reference, and feel as comfortable as he and his protagonist do in a context of luxury and sophistication.
That protagonist is The Honourable Charlie Mortdecai and he’s obviously a character in the Wodehouse comic tradition, a louche art dealer caught up in some very dark and dubious activities, pursued by various nasty people and yet surviving through his wits and an indomitable insistence on enjoying the better things in life, many of which are delivered through the good offices of his … er … assistant, Jock Strapp. The plots are convoluted but, in a way, that doesn’t matter because they’re all vehicles to enable Charlie, who’s the first person narrator, to shine. And shine he does. He’s erudite, cultured, witty, highly intelligent and supremely articulate. Bonfiglioli was himself an art dealer and Charlie draws on the fine detail of his knowledge of the business to justify his elevated position in the world of aesthetics and its corrupt underbelly.
Why, then, with all these positives, do I have reservations about the book? Well, it’s actually because Charlie is so relentlessly funny, so concerned to turn his phrases with such care, so persistent with his self-deprecation that, after the first book, he begins to lose his impact. There’s only Charlie, Charlie’s judgements of other people, Charlie’s measured, carefree approach to situations which actually threaten his life, Charlie’s bons mots and one-liners, Charlie being resolutely Charlie. And we know him so well by then that the jokes become predictable, in a way repetitive. And, in fact, his solipsistic view of and approach to everything becomes tiresome. It’s all about Charlie. He’s never boring but it’s easy to see that he could be. Perhaps that’s what’s behind Julian Barnes’s opinion that Bonfiglioli was ‘a writer capable of a rare mixture of wit and imaginative unpleasantness’.
I’m not trying to dissuade you from reading it – far from it, it’s an object lesson in crafting linguistic effects. The humour can be clichéd but Bonfiglioli always adds something to enhance it. When Charlie meets a Chinaman, we hear the following exchange:
"Harrow," he said civilly. I glanced at his tie.
"Surely you mean Clifton? Oh, yes, sorry, I see; harro to you too."
It’s the old, Chinese velly solly joke, but here it’s more. As the conversation continues, we see the words ‘colonels’ and ‘bereave’, but it’s nothing to do with the army or death because they mean ‘coroners’ and ‘believe’.
There’s the classic approach to Britishness:
A muscle in his face twitched, almost as though he were a British cavalry officer who is trying to puzzle out whether someone has made a joke and, if so, whether or not it would be good form to smile.
If you want a good tuck-in in Oxford you have to go to places like Pembroke, Trinity or St Edmund Hall, where they play rugger and hockey and things like that and, if you're spotted reading a book, someone takes you aside and has a chat with you.
And there are lots of gems which are very satisfying for people who appreciate words manipulated with self-conscious care:
The coffee having arrived (how hard it is to write without the ablative absolute), we guzzled genteelly for a while.
It all started – or at any rate the narrative I have to offer all started – at Easter last year: that season when we remind each other of the judicial murder of a Jewish revolutionary 2000 years ago by distributing chocolate eggs to the children of people we dislike.’
It seems perverse of me to lavish praise on this and yet, in the end, express dissatisfaction. At first, I settled into enjoying this character and his insights, his attitudes to life and luxury and, above all, his facility with words. But the books need something else – nothing necessarily heavy or serious but something to still now and again, the discreet stridency (yes, that’s deliberate) of his overwhelming presence.
The books are classics, they’re great fun and many reviewers have written of reading and re-reading them again and again. So it’s my own fault. I should have stopped after the first novel and not come back to the others until I’d read something completely different. With so many books in the TBR pile, 519 pages is quite a commitment.
I won’t bother with a ‘but’ because the ‘should have been’ indicates that it didn’t live up to the hype. Oh it’s funny alright, very funny in lots of places, and it’s brilliantly crafted as Bonfiglioli prepares and delivers his gags, observations, asides and other jeux de mots with careful precision. The writing, in fact, is immaculate. He also shows great respect for the reader, often addressing him/her directly and, as he sprays quotations and references about – in French, Italian and Latin – there’s an implicit assumption that you (i.e. the reader) share his elevated cultural space, understand his terms of reference, and feel as comfortable as he and his protagonist do in a context of luxury and sophistication.
That protagonist is The Honourable Charlie Mortdecai and he’s obviously a character in the Wodehouse comic tradition, a louche art dealer caught up in some very dark and dubious activities, pursued by various nasty people and yet surviving through his wits and an indomitable insistence on enjoying the better things in life, many of which are delivered through the good offices of his … er … assistant, Jock Strapp. The plots are convoluted but, in a way, that doesn’t matter because they’re all vehicles to enable Charlie, who’s the first person narrator, to shine. And shine he does. He’s erudite, cultured, witty, highly intelligent and supremely articulate. Bonfiglioli was himself an art dealer and Charlie draws on the fine detail of his knowledge of the business to justify his elevated position in the world of aesthetics and its corrupt underbelly.
Why, then, with all these positives, do I have reservations about the book? Well, it’s actually because Charlie is so relentlessly funny, so concerned to turn his phrases with such care, so persistent with his self-deprecation that, after the first book, he begins to lose his impact. There’s only Charlie, Charlie’s judgements of other people, Charlie’s measured, carefree approach to situations which actually threaten his life, Charlie’s bons mots and one-liners, Charlie being resolutely Charlie. And we know him so well by then that the jokes become predictable, in a way repetitive. And, in fact, his solipsistic view of and approach to everything becomes tiresome. It’s all about Charlie. He’s never boring but it’s easy to see that he could be. Perhaps that’s what’s behind Julian Barnes’s opinion that Bonfiglioli was ‘a writer capable of a rare mixture of wit and imaginative unpleasantness’.
I’m not trying to dissuade you from reading it – far from it, it’s an object lesson in crafting linguistic effects. The humour can be clichéd but Bonfiglioli always adds something to enhance it. When Charlie meets a Chinaman, we hear the following exchange:
"Harrow," he said civilly. I glanced at his tie.
"Surely you mean Clifton? Oh, yes, sorry, I see; harro to you too."
It’s the old, Chinese velly solly joke, but here it’s more. As the conversation continues, we see the words ‘colonels’ and ‘bereave’, but it’s nothing to do with the army or death because they mean ‘coroners’ and ‘believe’.
There’s the classic approach to Britishness:
A muscle in his face twitched, almost as though he were a British cavalry officer who is trying to puzzle out whether someone has made a joke and, if so, whether or not it would be good form to smile.
If you want a good tuck-in in Oxford you have to go to places like Pembroke, Trinity or St Edmund Hall, where they play rugger and hockey and things like that and, if you're spotted reading a book, someone takes you aside and has a chat with you.
And there are lots of gems which are very satisfying for people who appreciate words manipulated with self-conscious care:
The coffee having arrived (how hard it is to write without the ablative absolute), we guzzled genteelly for a while.
It all started – or at any rate the narrative I have to offer all started – at Easter last year: that season when we remind each other of the judicial murder of a Jewish revolutionary 2000 years ago by distributing chocolate eggs to the children of people we dislike.’
It seems perverse of me to lavish praise on this and yet, in the end, express dissatisfaction. At first, I settled into enjoying this character and his insights, his attitudes to life and luxury and, above all, his facility with words. But the books need something else – nothing necessarily heavy or serious but something to still now and again, the discreet stridency (yes, that’s deliberate) of his overwhelming presence.
The books are classics, they’re great fun and many reviewers have written of reading and re-reading them again and again. So it’s my own fault. I should have stopped after the first novel and not come back to the others until I’d read something completely different. With so many books in the TBR pile, 519 pages is quite a commitment.
April 21, 2019
Excelent book, it's a bit of a shame I didn't get all the references, especially when the narrator insinuates you know what he means, but then I don't, which is very frustrating. Another point of frustration, but this is just because of the moment I'm reading it, is the amount of food described. Suffering from hiker hunger, it was often hard to stay sane!
Anyway, the pacing and style are very pleasing, and the protagonist has a compelling personality.
The last part felt at first a bit like an unnecessary spin off, but the end took me completely by surprise.
Anyway, the pacing and style are very pleasing, and the protagonist has a compelling personality.
The last part felt at first a bit like an unnecessary spin off, but the end took me completely by surprise.
May 7, 2019
Funny and different
May 5, 2016
This is a wonderfully twisted trio of comic thrillers featuring the anti Jeeves and Wooster, Jock and Charlie Mortdecai.
Charlie is a thoroughly despicable art dealer and Jock is his manservant. Jock doesn't sort out trouble with Aunts though, he hits people with a cosh. And Charlie might be upper class but he doesn't dribble like a buffoon, he gets in to awkward and dangerous situations and finds a way of getting out of them with style, panache and just a touch of grovelling on the floor like a true coward.
Actually if anything he's more Flashman than Wooster and that's no bad thing!
Charlie is a thoroughly despicable art dealer and Jock is his manservant. Jock doesn't sort out trouble with Aunts though, he hits people with a cosh. And Charlie might be upper class but he doesn't dribble like a buffoon, he gets in to awkward and dangerous situations and finds a way of getting out of them with style, panache and just a touch of grovelling on the floor like a true coward.
Actually if anything he's more Flashman than Wooster and that's no bad thing!
August 29, 2010
Maybe I'm just an uptight, moralistic American, but I was never charmed or particularly entertained by the Hon. Charlie Mordtecai, described in the jacket copy as a degenerate aristocrat, amoral art dealer, seasoned epicurean, unwilling assassin, and knave about Picadilly. All that sounded very promising, but by halfway through the book I decided he was just a tiresome slime ball caught up in unbelievable shenanigans. The book is often very funny --actually I only read the first novel, Don't Point That Thing at Me, because the book was due back to interlibrary loan and there are no renewals and prohibitive late charges. I confess I was expecting something more along the lines of Patricia Highsmith's Thomas Ripley. Bonifiglioli has no reason to create a character at all similar to Highsmith's, but they are covering somewhat similar ground. But I can read about Thomas Ripley and cringe with guility pleasure as he murders his way out of one awkward situation after another. Bonifiglioli's Mordtecai is a linguistic concoction, a endless spew of cleverness that I suppose is sending up a type depraved aristocracy, but I wish he instead of the antique car restorer Mr. Spinoza had taken the bullet to the head in the third chapter.
I am curious what happens in the other two books, since Mortdecai does not seem destined to survive the offstage finale of this one. But I am going to look for a published summary rather than run the risk of those late charges.
I am curious what happens in the other two books, since Mortdecai does not seem destined to survive the offstage finale of this one. But I am going to look for a published summary rather than run the risk of those late charges.
August 4, 2013
Very funny moments with "larger than life" characters. From first book to last there is change in scene, some in style and to a degree in genre. Very believable and realistic situation at the start of the first book which gets increasingly disconnected from real life. Characters and situations move away from the mundane - which is very funny - and into more bizarre situations. The final book is different again and although the narrative does take you from 1 and 2 into 3 I found the change a bit jarring, and the final in the "trilogy" not quite as successful. Still well worth 4 stars with some of those good old "laugh out loud" moments and the main character is a marvel - a depraved Bertie Wooster
February 19, 2008
This book is what I expected The Gunseller by Hugh Laurie to be like. The ending was really dark but the journey getting there was very enjoyable. And isn't the journey more important than the destination most time?
February 28, 2021
The first two books really do belong toghether. The third one is a whole different shebang - not only the plot is discontinued from the first two, but it is also built upon a completely diverse mood. The style is the same throughout the three of them, though.
The first two make you think of a cynical mix between G M Fraser and John Buchman. The third one is Conan Doyle, Wodehouse, Somerset M and Schopenhauer all bundled up together.
A real work of genius, that gets you laughing for a couple of hours, and when you have your guard down throws a punch like this in your nose:
A moral coward, you see, is simply someone who has read the fine print on the back of his Birth Certificate and seen the little clause which says 'you can't win'. He knows from then on that the smart thing to do is run away from everything and he does so. But he doesn't have to like it.
The first two make you think of a cynical mix between G M Fraser and John Buchman. The third one is Conan Doyle, Wodehouse, Somerset M and Schopenhauer all bundled up together.
A real work of genius, that gets you laughing for a couple of hours, and when you have your guard down throws a punch like this in your nose:
A moral coward, you see, is simply someone who has read the fine print on the back of his Birth Certificate and seen the little clause which says 'you can't win'. He knows from then on that the smart thing to do is run away from everything and he does so. But he doesn't have to like it.
June 5, 2023
Well, I thought this was supposed to be a comedy. Book three was quite depressing.
August 16, 2016
I should get three books for this in my reading challenge. I've taken my time reading them but it was worth it and very enjoyble. I discovered the character when I happened on the Johnny Depp film on TV. The film was fun. Bonfiglioli is fun too but what a difference!
It would be interesting to do a comparison and pick out what characters and plot motives in the film are also found in the book. What Hollywood wanted and what they didn't. Johanna, for example, Mortdecai's wife is also Krampf's slutty wife - or was - before he died. And what's the story with the mustache? Where does that come from?
The Wodehouse motive is fun to seek out, as are the countless literary references - most of which I assuredly missed- There is also a darker tone as when Mortdecai kicks out Jock's eye - or in... And the last few pages of the trilogy especially are not a lot of laughs; rather sadness and tragedy. Maybe the good Kryil was tired of our hero and didn't want any fans begging for a comeback.
The plots are promethean, labyrinthian, and at times exacting. The second book in particular I found to be a bit too much spy thriller. The first book was groundbreaking - and particularly enjoyable for an ex-American. The final book taught me all I need to know about Jersey.
There is very much that could be said, but I'll stop here and leave Mortdecai to sneak a hearty breakfast - or a late night snack, guzzling good wine and sharing private jokes with Jock while Johanna sleeps. Long may they live.
It would be interesting to do a comparison and pick out what characters and plot motives in the film are also found in the book. What Hollywood wanted and what they didn't. Johanna, for example, Mortdecai's wife is also Krampf's slutty wife - or was - before he died. And what's the story with the mustache? Where does that come from?
The Wodehouse motive is fun to seek out, as are the countless literary references - most of which I assuredly missed- There is also a darker tone as when Mortdecai kicks out Jock's eye - or in... And the last few pages of the trilogy especially are not a lot of laughs; rather sadness and tragedy. Maybe the good Kryil was tired of our hero and didn't want any fans begging for a comeback.
The plots are promethean, labyrinthian, and at times exacting. The second book in particular I found to be a bit too much spy thriller. The first book was groundbreaking - and particularly enjoyable for an ex-American. The final book taught me all I need to know about Jersey.
There is very much that could be said, but I'll stop here and leave Mortdecai to sneak a hearty breakfast - or a late night snack, guzzling good wine and sharing private jokes with Jock while Johanna sleeps. Long may they live.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 13, 2016
It has been said, "After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one's own relations", and so it is with Bonfiglioli: lots of smut; lots to be offended at; lots of unforgivables, but he talks about food and, for me, that covers over a multitude of politically-incorrect sins. He is funny and dances on the line between comedy and tragedy and it is really fun to read this kind of thing. I made sure I ate lots of food while reading the book, too, and that helped.
About food: Bonfiglioli writes, for example, "Before setting out on a lengthy expedition I always have the same lunch which Ratty made for the Sea Rat [in the Wind and the Willows] and which they ate on the grass by the roadside. Ratty, you will remember, literate reader, 'packed a simple meal in which ... he took care to include a yard of long French bread, a sausage out of which the garlic sang, some cheese which lay down and cried, and a long-necked straw-covered flask containing bottled sunshine and garnered on far Southern slopes.' I pity anyone whose saliva does not flow in sympathy with those beautiful lines" (66).
About food: Bonfiglioli writes, for example, "Before setting out on a lengthy expedition I always have the same lunch which Ratty made for the Sea Rat [in the Wind and the Willows] and which they ate on the grass by the roadside. Ratty, you will remember, literate reader, 'packed a simple meal in which ... he took care to include a yard of long French bread, a sausage out of which the garlic sang, some cheese which lay down and cried, and a long-necked straw-covered flask containing bottled sunshine and garnered on far Southern slopes.' I pity anyone whose saliva does not flow in sympathy with those beautiful lines" (66).
February 28, 2015
If I had read only book one of the trilogy, the rating would be much higher. Book one is really funny and Mortdecai, a debauched art dealer with a sharp wit and a huge ability to get himself into trouble, really gets to you (like Hugh Laurie will do much later in the Gun Seller, Bonfiglioli mixes Wodehousian humour with a crime plot, and it does work) . But things get worse in book 2 and completely unbearable in book three, where the lack of sympathy of Mortdecai for the victims of a serial rape case he 's investigating becomes too much even for a sexist, selfish character in an early 70s book. Funny and easy to read anyway, surprising this character hasn't become more popular. I've learned from him because there will be a movie about him with Jonny Depp this year, I'm told, and the description of the novels intrigued me. An entertaining read but not much more.
February 16, 2016
3 stars overall, with only a very grudging 2 stars for the dreadful second book, which brought down the trilogy's final rating.
I may come back later and provide an actual review, but just want to note here that, like many others, I was sorely tempted to give up on these novels and set the books aside permanently when book three opened with a crime that brought out the very worst, most callous and sexist side of the protagonist anti-hero, Mortdecai. I'm really glad I didn't, though, as this third book gradually morphed into something quite dark and rather thoughtful and Mortdecai finally began to show signs of moral growth and the development of something like a conscience. The third book was good enough that I plan to read the fourth-something I certainly didn't think I'd do when I finished the second.
I may come back later and provide an actual review, but just want to note here that, like many others, I was sorely tempted to give up on these novels and set the books aside permanently when book three opened with a crime that brought out the very worst, most callous and sexist side of the protagonist anti-hero, Mortdecai. I'm really glad I didn't, though, as this third book gradually morphed into something quite dark and rather thoughtful and Mortdecai finally began to show signs of moral growth and the development of something like a conscience. The third book was good enough that I plan to read the fourth-something I certainly didn't think I'd do when I finished the second.
December 9, 2013
Full of chauvinism, racism, and annoying British upper class eccentricity-and not the charming kind. The plot was hard to follow and there was so much silly banter and superfluous descriptives (in the style mentioned above) that I couldn't got a clear picture of the story. A waste of time when there are so many other detective novels with charming British characters and locales.
August 23, 2017
I couldn't get into this book at all... the author keeps drawing attention to the fact that I'm reading. Inserting comments nearly every paragraph that takes me out of the story and ruins the experience. Only rarely is the comment funny enough to excuse the interruption. There is a lot going on, but it's hard to follow. The author appears to have a general dislike of writing norms, including grammar and emphasis (not always, but enough to distract).
I couldn't tell what era the book was supposed to be occurring in. That was an advantage in PG Woodhouse's books, but a distinct disadvantage in this one. In the former it made them timeless, in this one, I couldn't get a handle on what time period perspective the character was coming from. I wouldn't have guessed the 1970s.
Perhaps the second biggest reason for stopping the book was the sheer number of cultural references that were made. A minimum of one per page... and I didn't get a single one of them. Maybe they're all British?
In any case, not funny enough to continue reading or intriguing enough to ignore the writing tics.
I couldn't tell what era the book was supposed to be occurring in. That was an advantage in PG Woodhouse's books, but a distinct disadvantage in this one. In the former it made them timeless, in this one, I couldn't get a handle on what time period perspective the character was coming from. I wouldn't have guessed the 1970s.
Perhaps the second biggest reason for stopping the book was the sheer number of cultural references that were made. A minimum of one per page... and I didn't get a single one of them. Maybe they're all British?
In any case, not funny enough to continue reading or intriguing enough to ignore the writing tics.
September 2, 2017
As a trilogy, this is remarkably inconsistent.
The first book, in my opinion, is the strongest, both in terms of plot and character. So much so, in fact, that it reminded me of the writing of Rex Stout, in that our eponymous Mr Mortdecai seemed to combine the culinary and cultural expertise of Nero Wolfe with the whimsy and humour of Archie Goodwin, and I loved it. One also gets the most marked sense of who Mr Mortdecai is: art dealer with a side of intrigue and disrepute. By the third book, the art dealer has faded away, and what we are left with is an alcoholic chauvinist who fancies himself a detective. And let me tell you, a chauvinist investigating a rapist is absurdly horrifying (he calls several women "rapable" etc, and even the knowledge that this book was written decades ago doesn't excuse this sort of shit). Additionally, Mortdecai in the third book just becomes tiresome; the observations and asides which were once flippant and charming just become unbelievably irritating.
Nor is he the only character who suffers as the series continues. His wife, Johanna, is the strongest, most well-rounded character in the second book; she is independent and clever, but her exploits are forgotten by the third book, when she becomes nothing more than a Mortdecai plaything with no backstory of her own. There are also persons who disappear from book to book, with no explanation or resolution to their arcs. It's a bit confusing. Possibly I didn't understand it, nor did I want to, I guess.
There is some brilliant writing, and the soft laughs elicited by it (predominantly in the first book) are not entirely infrequent. But I would not read this again.
The first book, in my opinion, is the strongest, both in terms of plot and character. So much so, in fact, that it reminded me of the writing of Rex Stout, in that our eponymous Mr Mortdecai seemed to combine the culinary and cultural expertise of Nero Wolfe with the whimsy and humour of Archie Goodwin, and I loved it. One also gets the most marked sense of who Mr Mortdecai is: art dealer with a side of intrigue and disrepute. By the third book, the art dealer has faded away, and what we are left with is an alcoholic chauvinist who fancies himself a detective. And let me tell you, a chauvinist investigating a rapist is absurdly horrifying (he calls several women "rapable" etc, and even the knowledge that this book was written decades ago doesn't excuse this sort of shit). Additionally, Mortdecai in the third book just becomes tiresome; the observations and asides which were once flippant and charming just become unbelievably irritating.
Nor is he the only character who suffers as the series continues. His wife, Johanna, is the strongest, most well-rounded character in the second book; she is independent and clever, but her exploits are forgotten by the third book, when she becomes nothing more than a Mortdecai plaything with no backstory of her own. There are also persons who disappear from book to book, with no explanation or resolution to their arcs. It's a bit confusing. Possibly I didn't understand it, nor did I want to, I guess.
There is some brilliant writing, and the soft laughs elicited by it (predominantly in the first book) are not entirely infrequent. But I would not read this again.
July 29, 2022
One big take-away for me was simply learning a few techniques about fine-art restoration, like removing a painting from the canvas it was painted on. Who would have thought! I always enjoy a good snobby English character, and the movie adaptation was one of the few times I was able to stomach Johnny Depp’s usually unbearable acting.
February 26, 2021
Dopo un'oretta di lettura, stop, con un colpo secco ho chiuso questo libro!
Sono sempre stata attratta dai romanzi pieni di humor alla Pino Imperatore e credevo di aver trovato una lettura simili, ma questo tipo di umor non mi è affatto piaciuto e sinceramente non mi ha strappato nessun sorriso.
Sono sempre stata attratta dai romanzi pieni di humor alla Pino Imperatore e credevo di aver trovato una lettura simili, ma questo tipo di umor non mi è affatto piaciuto e sinceramente non mi ha strappato nessun sorriso.
June 6, 2025
I discovered these books when they made a movie starring Johnny Depp as the protagonist. The movie was only so-so but the books are terrific, although #3 could be given a miss, maybe. I still recommend you read them. Good stories, good humour. Worth your time.
June 3, 2017
Tittered all the way through this. The adventures of a reprobate who remains sober enough to narrate his escapades.
Want to read
April 19, 2019Synopsis: three novels featuring unwilling assassin Charlie M. including Don't Point that Thing at Me, and After You with a Pistol.
June 25, 2021
One of my favourites to go back to. Never fails to make me laugh out loud. It is the perfect holiday read or a great companion on a rainy day.
January 8, 2023
Brilliant. "The file was a fat and well handled, as a Welsh barmaid".... Oh you funny fu.....!
January 24, 2023
Books 1 and 2
Want to read
April 8, 2023to-read
June 18, 2019
Read it twice...
November 26, 2019
This is a comic-crime trio of novellas published in one book, written by Kyril Bonfiglioli, about the misadventures of depraved art dealer Charlie Mortdecai, with P.G Wodehouse-esque elements. The books in this book are: Don’t point that thing at me, After you with the pistol, and Something nasty in the woodshed, all originally published between 72-79
The first book is entertaining and witty, full of unusual references (many of which were lost on me), amusing philosophical musings, and delicious words you just don’t see anymore, or have never seen before (borborigmus, deliquescent, squamous)
'I found myself envying them bitterly. It is chaps like them who have the secret of happiness, they know the art of it, they always knew. Happiness is an annuity, or it’s shares in a Building Society; it’s a pension and blue hydrangeas, and wonderfully clever grandchildren, and being on the Committee, and just-a-few-earlies in the vegetable garden, and being alive and wonderful-for-his-age when old so-and-so is under the sod, and it’s double-glazing and sitting by the electric fire remembering that time you told the Area Manager where to get off… Happiness is easy: I don’t know why more people don’t go in for it'
But alas, after Book 1, everything goes misogynistically downhill in a big way. At first I thought, well Bonfiglioli was born in 1929, so what do I expect, and Mortdecai is an anti-hero etc, but as the second book went along its merry way, the sexism became harder to accept until it was just ergh. e.g. Mortdecai gives flippant advice to victims of rape and he refers to a group of 13 year old girls in an art gallery as ‘next year’s gang-bang material’...
Verdict: really dreadful
The first book is entertaining and witty, full of unusual references (many of which were lost on me), amusing philosophical musings, and delicious words you just don’t see anymore, or have never seen before (borborigmus, deliquescent, squamous)
'I found myself envying them bitterly. It is chaps like them who have the secret of happiness, they know the art of it, they always knew. Happiness is an annuity, or it’s shares in a Building Society; it’s a pension and blue hydrangeas, and wonderfully clever grandchildren, and being on the Committee, and just-a-few-earlies in the vegetable garden, and being alive and wonderful-for-his-age when old so-and-so is under the sod, and it’s double-glazing and sitting by the electric fire remembering that time you told the Area Manager where to get off… Happiness is easy: I don’t know why more people don’t go in for it'
But alas, after Book 1, everything goes misogynistically downhill in a big way. At first I thought, well Bonfiglioli was born in 1929, so what do I expect, and Mortdecai is an anti-hero etc, but as the second book went along its merry way, the sexism became harder to accept until it was just ergh. e.g. Mortdecai gives flippant advice to victims of rape and he refers to a group of 13 year old girls in an art gallery as ‘next year’s gang-bang material’...
Verdict: really dreadful
February 7, 2015
In reading a review of the recent monstrously horrible movie I discovered that it was based on a series of books. Apparently the movie turned Charlie Mortdecai into a cousin of Inspector Clouseau. The Mortedecai of the books is a bit different. He's an unprincipled art dealer who is happy to admit that "unprincipled art dealer" is redundant. Mortdecai is also vain, conceited, and a snob. He fancies himself a gourmet and wine expert.
The stories of the three books are backdrops for Mortdecai's first person revelations of the depths of corruption he's happy to embrace. Duplicity, theft, adultery, and gluttony are all in a day's work for Mortdecai. Oddly enough, in spite of his often admitted cowardice and poor physical condition, he's an expert at unarmed combat, which he calls "fighting dirty," and a crack shot.
People often compare Bonfiglioli's style to P. G. Wodehouse. Mortedecai expresses himself in a somewhat Woosterian manner but his charm is entirely different from Wooster's innocence. Mortdecai is an imp, not in the sense of mischievous but cute but in the sense of a servant of Satan who loves his work and has a perverse sense of humor.
Mortedecai is what Flashman should have been. The series would have been longer had not Bonfiglioli died of liver disease resulting from alcoholism in his 50s. I recommend these books to anyone who enjoys a self serving first person account of the adventures of an unashamed liar and cheat.
The stories of the three books are backdrops for Mortdecai's first person revelations of the depths of corruption he's happy to embrace. Duplicity, theft, adultery, and gluttony are all in a day's work for Mortdecai. Oddly enough, in spite of his often admitted cowardice and poor physical condition, he's an expert at unarmed combat, which he calls "fighting dirty," and a crack shot.
People often compare Bonfiglioli's style to P. G. Wodehouse. Mortedecai expresses himself in a somewhat Woosterian manner but his charm is entirely different from Wooster's innocence. Mortdecai is an imp, not in the sense of mischievous but cute but in the sense of a servant of Satan who loves his work and has a perverse sense of humor.
Mortedecai is what Flashman should have been. The series would have been longer had not Bonfiglioli died of liver disease resulting from alcoholism in his 50s. I recommend these books to anyone who enjoys a self serving first person account of the adventures of an unashamed liar and cheat.
July 13, 2014
Very interesting. I came upon the Mortdecai Trilogy quite by mistake and saw a review that said it was a cross between P.G. Wodehouse and Ian Fleming! Amazingly that proved to be a fairly accurate assessment. Bonfiglioli is clearly a Wodehouse fan, the three books are littered with sly references to P.G's works and the main character, Charlie Mortdecai, even has his own butler - Jock. Jock's problem solving methods are a little more direct than those of Jeeves but they're every bit as effective.
These books are great fun. Mortdecai is a loveable rogue and the stories are full of eccentric characters and fairly ludicrous plot lines - but it's all delivered with great aplomb and I thoroughly enjoyed them.
These books are great fun. Mortdecai is a loveable rogue and the stories are full of eccentric characters and fairly ludicrous plot lines - but it's all delivered with great aplomb and I thoroughly enjoyed them.
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