A Handful of Dust

A Handful of Dust by Evelyn Waugh at first seemed to be a light, witty and satirical novel that pokes fun at the upper class of Britain during the time between the wars. However, as the story developed into the disintegration of a marriage, the author revealed the cynicism and bleakness that gave this story it’s brilliant edge.

While much of the story has it’s roots in Waugh’s own life, A Handful of Dust is a perfect blend of comedy and tragedy that captures the self-absorption of the English upper class and the total disregard they had for others. It also struck me how cleverly Waugh turned the tables on his characters by making first one than another the “villain” of the piece. For me, however, the character of Brenda was show more the worst of the lot. She is the bored, slightly resentful wife that takes up with a society wastrel whose only purpose seems to be that of being the perfect “extra man” that society hostesses can call upon at the last minute. Brenda’s husband, Tony is overly complacent and seems to be fonder of his home than he is of his wife but the resolution of his story could either be considered good or bad, depending on how one feels about Charles Dickens.

Elegant, sophisticated, lively and chilling, A Handful of Dust was quite the read and has me looking forward to reading more of this author. show less

Brilliant, but its sparkle is ice cold.

It's clever that the naive and saintly Tony is seamlessly recast as the villain of the piece - not just by his wife Brenda, but by most of their friends too.

But Brenda is the evil one, most dramatically demonstrated by a misplaced "Thank God". It sounds innocuous, but in context, it's one of the most chilling lines I've ever read.

Reading Dickens in the jungle for eternity: would that be heaven or hell?

A Handful of Dust draws heavily from the collapse of Waugh’s first marriage which might explain why it is unusually bitter even by his standards. It begins jauntily enough, appearing to promise more satirical fun at the expense of the upper classes in the manner of his earlier novels. Gradually, though, it develops into something much darker and more unsettling. Despair is the key word here and the quote from Eliot’s most despairing poem entirely appropriate. But this book is much more than fictionalised autobiography and Waugh’s anguish at the failure of his marriage opens out into a bleak portrait of - as he saw it - a failed society: the landed gentry are going broke and being usurped by the materialistic upper middle class; show more people are facile, amoral, and rarely what they seem; religion, at least in its Anglican form, is a threadbare and meaningless joke. Ugliness is everywhere, in Gothic mansions, chromium-plated soulless flats, and, above all, the human heart. Better perhaps for a good man to be trapped forever in the Amazon than remain free in this godless wasteland.

A vision of Hell disguised as a comedy of manners: short, nasty, and quite brilliant. show less

Tony and Brenda Last seem to have a lovely marriage, living in the English countryside in Tony's ancestral, albeit slightly dreary, estate. But Brenda is easily bored and decides on what can only be described as a whim, to start an affair with a weasely momma's boy from London, whom no one else in society thinks worthy of any social status. The marriage doesn't survive the whim, and some of the characters suffer for it while others continue on their asinine, societal ways.
It sounds grim, and in part it is, but it's also a romp of a satire, and takes some surprising and interesting turns. I loved it, even though not many of the characters are likeable, because the plot and the writing were fantastic.

I first read this book years ago and yet it has stuck with me due to being so completely insane. Everyone in it is a terrible person to one degree or another and its cruel and funny in its depiction of London social life. It then takes a very odd turn and we are suddenly in the Amazon surrounded by madness and Dickens. I did thoroughly enjoy how awful everyone is, especially Brenda.

The first time I read A Handful of Dust, I had only read Brideshead Revisited and Scoop. This struck me as a combination of the two. It starts off as an English country house drama, and ends up as an adventure story in the jungle. Huh? I was entertained but confused.

When I reread it almost 20 years later, I had read Waugh more extensively. I had reread Brideshead yet again. More to the point, I had read many more of his satirical novels and came to appreciate and understand his dark humor. The second time around, I thought Handful was hilarious. I loved it.

In this dark cold winter of turbo-COVID-induced lockdown number three, while struggling to sleep and starting a new job from my living room, I am finding it very difficult to read or review books. Rather than wholly break the habit of more than seven years, though, I'll phone this one in. I found 'A Handful of Dust' mordantly funny. It started slowly with annoying men, then continued with more interesting and energetic women making dubious decisions. Indeed, everyone's decision making was doubtful. Waugh reminded me of Muriel Spark in his witty depictions of people's foibles, although he throws in more racism and antisemitism, as well as a perceptibly more conservative pre-WWII class sensibility. Nonetheless, the bleak humour and show more arbitrary tragedy are brilliantly sharp. Details and dialogue make it memorable; I particularly loved the economics course as a cover story for marital infidelity. The characters have such convincing flaws that one cannot help suspecting Waugh was inspired by his own circle of unbearable interwar aristocracy. If that was the case, I can imagine a fair bit of offense being taken by those who recognised elements of themselves. No-one comes off well, but I was much amused by their doings. show less