Time
to review The Old Devils, by Kingsley Amis, eh? Let me get
some supplies.
First into the cargo space went, in quick time, a carton of
drinkables: twelve-year-old Scotch, classy spring water to put in it, gin,
tonics, a rare bottle of Linie-Aquavit from Oslo, a much commoner bottle of
Bailey’s Irish Cream…one each of Asti Spumante and Golden Sweet Malaga…four
large cold Special Brews in wet newspaper...and a spot of coffee liqueur and
other muck…
That,
my dears, is what the star couple of old devils takes with them on a four-day trip
with one other couple. There is so much drinking in this novel, that I often felt
vicariously dizzy.
The
story is set in motion by the return to Wales of Alun Weaver, Welsh poet and TV
personality, and his wife Rhiannon, after several decades’ absence. Their
arrival stirs up a brew of old loves, losses, and resentments, many of them
acted out in bars and other drunken revelries.
Most of the characters are of retirement age, and the book begins with a careful
description of each main fellow’s morning routine, right down to one’s constant
struggle with constipation. But there are tender moments too, such as insights
into decades-old relationships, as well as brutally honest observations on literary
academia, the role of wives, and the modernization of Wales. I can’t say I got
all the Welsh jokes, but I got enough of the humour to be laughing out loud more
than once. So grab a scotch and tuck in.
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