On the one hand this sounds like just my sort of thing.
Ah, the Oxbridge college. The plink of croquet balls, the twist of black ties, the splash of the Cam over your punt pole. Some might wish that world had passed into distant memory. One look at that Bullingdon Club photo of Cameron, Johnson et al, reminds you that they're still alive and inbreeding.
Ivo Stourton's debut is for readers of a tweedy sensibility. Loved The Line of Beauty, mooned over Brideshead, lapped up The Secret History? Then this one's for you. James, a thirtysomething, Hoxton-dwelling city lawyer with a shelf-full of porn and a little black book filled with escort agency numbers, receives an unexpected visit from Jessica, an old university chum. Over the course of one night's reminiscences, we hear the story of his undergraduate years and how, as a fresher at Tudor College, he was enchanted by his social superiors. One climbs in through the window of his rooms, evading the porters on a midnight scramble over the college rooftops. In no time at all, James has inveigled himself into the milieu of weekend hunt balls, secret dining societies and coke-fuelled daredevil stunts.
On the other hand, do we need another version of The Secret History?
Posted by armand at September 29, 2007 02:02 PM | TrackBack | Posted to Books