D.J. Enright died soon after putting the finishing touches on this memoir and commonplace book in which he muses upon his own condition and that of the world he knows he is leaving. With his legendary humanity and wit, he contemplates literature, manners, morals, people and especially the English language in all its glories and eccentricities. Among much else, he also recorded his battle against cancer, his relations with computers, charities, classified advertisements, and the National Health Service.
This is a 'commonplace' book, a collection of comments and reflections, witty and incisive, from a writer who was a Literature academic of the old humanist school, profoundly sceptical of the postmodern craze, literary theory and so on. Enright died two weeks after completing the book. His references to his illness are as to a nuisance, as to yet another irritating facet of existence. A book to dip into, refreshing, and sad too for it marks the loss of a voice, and it marks, to me also, the loss of a way of seeing the world and being in it.