Monday, April 21, 2025

Angus WIlson's Hemlock and After (#1952Club)

"Dear Sands, I am pleased to be able to tell you that official agreement has been given to the grant for Vardon Hall."

Bernard Sands is a 'Grand Old Man of Letters', perhaps even a 'Grand Enfant Terrible'.  He's in his late 50s and has written a number of successful novels. The old manor house in his English village of Vardon was on the market; it wasn't good enough for the National Trust, and Sands has decided it should become a retreat for young writers. As the novel starts he's just gotten word of his success.

Sands is married with two children he's somewhat estranged from. His son James aspires to a Conservative political career; Sands is a bit closer to his daughter Elizabeth, a journalist.

The reason for the estrangement is that Sands has decided he's homosexual. His wife Ella has had a nervous breakdown, though she's gradually recovering. His son James is worried about the scandal; his daughter feels her mother's injury.

His first affair was with a graphic artist Terence Lambert who aspires to do stage design. That affair is over though they remain on good terms, and Sands is now interested in Eric Craddock who works in a bookshop. Is this grants scheme for young writers just a procurement mechanism? It's not, but the rumours do fly. (And somebody else is running a procurement scheme.) Mr. Greenlees, the first young writer for Vardon Hall, would definitely appear not to be a sex object.

The first high point of the novel, Sands is waiting in Leicester Square for Terence Lambert, when he's approached by a young man who asks him for a light. The young man has clearly got something more on his mind, but Sands isn't interested in cruising. But moments later, the still nameless young man is arrested 'for importuning', and the detective asks Sands if he would like to offer evidence. Sands says, "Certainly not," but he's torn between helping, as if there was anything he could do, and throwing the young man to the dogs to save himself. The stress of it all leads to a heart attack, just as Terence Lambert is arriving.

The second high point of the novel is the speech Sands gives at the opening of Vardon Hall. James and his wife have been inviting Conservative grandees, hoping to make connections, various London homosexuals show up, and, from the neighbourhood, the odious Mrs. Curry--Sands' original rival for Vardon Hall--and her circle appear. The hall is jammed; the weather is an uncharacteristic broiling, and a mad imbroglio breaks out.

The novel is funny and sad both. Those with good intentions act, but mostly don't succeed, though the worst do fall.

Sands may have been a grand old man of letters, but this is Angus Wilson's first novel. It was a success from the start; its open discussion of homosexuality, though not unknown in the English novel--Brideshead Revisited came out in 1945, for instance--was still pretty shocking. I do think from what I've read, his later novels are better. His Anglo-Saxon Attitudes made it to the blog here.

It's the week of Simon and Kaggsy's 1952 Club! My organizing post is here. There's one other 1952 book on the blog, Edmund Wilson's The Shores of Light.

Thanks to Kaggsy and Simon for hosting! I hope to get one or two more books this week.

12 comments:

  1. This sounds very lively! I know little about Wilson but I did think his books are supposed to be funny and this one seems to mix humour and sadness at the same time. Fascinating!

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  2. I'm not familiar with this author, but this sounds interesting.

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    1. After New York Review Books reissued one of his, I got interested in him.

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  3. I loved this book when I read it a few years ago, though my top Wilson so far is probably Anglo-Saxon Attitudes. I'm halfway through his 1964 novel Late Call, which so far is fantastic. Same edition as your Hemlock and After (Panther/Granada, 1982). I was reading it yesterday and spotted some mysterious white spots on my clothes. I was initially concerned that the plaster might be falling off my ceiling, but eventually traced the mysterious substance to the binding of the book - after 43 years the glue has become brittle and is disintegrating. Beware.

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    1. I do think Anglo-Saxon Attitudes is better, and I might also plump for Mrs. Eliot--I've yet to read Late Call, though I have a copy.

      Ha! I have books who've pulled that trick--I tried to reread Hofstadter's GEB six months and the dried glue dissolved over everything. Hemlock held up for this reading, but would it two more times? Hmm...

      In case you see this--I tried commenting on your blog but WordPress has decided to throw my comments into the spam folder (I suspect). It does this every now and again, and then quits again.

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    2. I haven't read Mrs Eliot yet, but probably next year. You were in the spam as predicted; now liberated.

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  4. I'm not familiar with this author either. But the book does sound like an interesting read.

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    1. I've been finding Angus Wilson pretty good.

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  5. I feel as though I often see his books in those golden spinning paperback racks in the occasional second-hand store, but I've never actually read one. For no good reason. Your comment about how the later novels are probably better brought Iris Murdoch to mind; I think that's probably true of her, too, but, all the same, there's a certain directness and energy to the early ones too.

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    1. Once I got interested in him, it wasn't hard to find copies of his books in second-hand stores. As I noted above I've got a copy of Last Call yet to read.

      This one does definitely have zip.

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