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Loading... The Ordeal of Gilbert Pinfold (1957)by Evelyn Waugh
Waugh’s fictionalized account of the time he went crazy on a cruise due to reckless self-medicating should be pretty entertaining, right? Wrong. Waugh just describes his paranoid delusions in detail. Why should we care? I’ll never know because I gave up a quarter of the way through. A semi-autobiographical novel relating an episode of Waugh's middle age, specifically an experience of auditory hallucinations whilst under the influence of booze and sleeping pills. Neither particularly amusing nor particularly reflective with regard to the apparent self-loathing(and full-scale persecution complex) that the voices reveal. There is some bit of acknowledgement of Waugh's apparently unendearing personality, but the pat ending (the voices cease when he simply ceases taking the little grey pills) is an unsatisfying end to an unsatisfying read. A short book, not short enough. amazon PD: AN INABILITY TO CONTROL HIS FANTASIES SENDS GILBERT PINFOLD, A WELL-KNOWN AUTHOR, CRUISING ON A CEYLON-BOUND LINER TO RECUPERATE. BUT TO HIS HORROR THE HALLUCINATIONS INCREASE AND LIFE ON BOARD BECOMES VERY EMBARRASSING. THIS CURIOUS AND DIVERTING NOVEL THROWS NEW LIGHT ON EVELYN WAUGH'S REMARKABLE TALENT. ME: This 1962 editions also includes love among the ruins and tactical exercise. amazon PD: AN INABILITY TO CONTROL HIS FANTASIES SENDS GILBERT PINFOLD, A WELL-KNOWN AUTHOR, CRUISING ON A CEYLON-BOUND LINER TO RECUPERATE. BUT TO HIS HORROR THE HALLUCINATIONS INCREASE AND LIFE ON BOARD BECOMES VERY EMBARRASSING. THIS CURIOUS AND DIVERTING NOVEL THROWS NEW LIGHT ON EVELYN WAUGH'S REMARKABLE TALENT.
[T]he first part of [the novel] is first-rate. Its "portrait of the artist in middle age," before he sets forth on his tedious journey, is a genuine gothic horror, a gargoyle to terrify anyone who has ever contemplated a literary career. Mr. Pinfold is publicly successful; he is so prosperous that he does not write as much as he could, because the tax-gatherer would only take his earnings away from him; but privately he is in such advanced decay that even the most long-standing habits of self-congratulation have failed. The acid bath so often prepared for others has now found its way into his own tub. This [Penguin ed.] is a terrific edition of a mildly neglected classic. It is an uncomfortable book: not only is it the most faithfully autobiographical of Waugh's novels, it is about Waugh's own period of madness.
References to this work on external resources.
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But the audiobook reader (Michael Cochrane) does an excellent job bringing all those voices to life, with distinct tones and accents, and the result is not unlike an old-fashioned radio play. I doubt I've learned any profound life lessons, but I did enjoy myself for 5 hours. (