Bruce Beckham's Blog - Posts Tagged "the-swimming-pool-library"
Suits you, sir
I've just finished The Swimming-Pool Library by Alan Hollinghurst.
This traces a few months in the life of a young, gay, work-shy aristocrat living in central London in the 1980s.
If I comment according to my three S's - style, subject and story - it goes something like this:
Style. To keep up the alliteration, this book is stupendously well written, to a standard that one can only step back and admire. The pure craftsmanship of the language kept me going when the going got turgid, and I certainly learned a few new words - cunctatory being one (though its meaning turned out nowhere near as racy as I'd hoped).
Subject. I have swithered as to how to comment upon the subject matter - I guess for fear of offending anyone. However, the innocuous title gives no clue to the exploits that are reported at regular intervals, and so I think it is worth saying that, if explicit, intimate sex between men is something you don't want to read about, then avoid this novel.
Story. I found the plot - sadly - the weakest aspect of this book, and I would suggest it reads as more of a diary of the protagonist. I had hoped some great mystery would develop and unfold, but in fact the strand that showed the strongest potential in this regard rather withers from the narrative, while a second is left dangling.
Overall I enjoyed reading it - though I found it somewhat eye-watering* at times - a remarkable insight into a world I know little about; it is certainly a very high quality piece of literature.
This traces a few months in the life of a young, gay, work-shy aristocrat living in central London in the 1980s.
If I comment according to my three S's - style, subject and story - it goes something like this:
Style. To keep up the alliteration, this book is stupendously well written, to a standard that one can only step back and admire. The pure craftsmanship of the language kept me going when the going got turgid, and I certainly learned a few new words - cunctatory being one (though its meaning turned out nowhere near as racy as I'd hoped).
Subject. I have swithered as to how to comment upon the subject matter - I guess for fear of offending anyone. However, the innocuous title gives no clue to the exploits that are reported at regular intervals, and so I think it is worth saying that, if explicit, intimate sex between men is something you don't want to read about, then avoid this novel.
Story. I found the plot - sadly - the weakest aspect of this book, and I would suggest it reads as more of a diary of the protagonist. I had hoped some great mystery would develop and unfold, but in fact the strand that showed the strongest potential in this regard rather withers from the narrative, while a second is left dangling.
Overall I enjoyed reading it - though I found it somewhat eye-watering* at times - a remarkable insight into a world I know little about; it is certainly a very high quality piece of literature.
* This is a British euphemism for feeling vicarious pain!
