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A cult classic in the United Kingdom since its first publication there in the 1970s, Don’t Point That Thing at Me is the first of a series of hilarious and dark-humored crime thrillers featuring the Honorable Charlie Mortdecai, degenerate aristocrat, amoral art dealer, seasoned epicurean, unwilling assassin, and acknowledged coward.With his thuggish manservant, the incomparably named Jock Strapp, Mortdecai endures all manner of nastiness involving stolen paintings, a vintage Rolls Royce, show more secret police, a whirlwind trip to the United States, a dead client, and a ravishing and wealthy young widow—all just to make a dishonest living. He’s not one to pass up a drink, and he prides himself on being stylishly dressed for whatever occasion may present itself, no matter how debauched. Don’t miss this brilliant mixture of comedy, crime, and suspense.
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Don't Point that Thing at Me reads like nothing else. The closest approximation isn't in print: It's the televised Blackadder series, which has a similar misanthropic anti-hero who can't get a break. The hilarious misadventures of amoral, cowardly, selfish but brilliant Charles Mortdecai (get it? death and decay right in the name) is the antidote to any overly saccharine British cozy.
I've just finished Kyril Bonfiglioli's dark debut novel, and I can't wait to read the sequel, After You with the Pistol. Too bad there are only three novels in the series!
I've just finished Kyril Bonfiglioli's dark debut novel, and I can't wait to read the sequel, After You with the Pistol. Too bad there are only three novels in the series!
Don’t Point That Thing At Me (1972) by Kyril Bonfiglioli. There is a tradition in British writing for the past hundred years or so, that of the titled man (Lord so and so or the Earl of Witsend) and his manservant. The pair make up a team. The titled character, in this case some far detached member of the royal family, has larceny in his heart, soul and every other part of him. He is Charlie Mordecai, part time dealer in “shady provence” art, full time drinker, womanizer when possible, and always looking for quick money. But he is also a “good” guy, funny, not as charming as he thinks, and usually ready to take a chance.
His manservant is named Jock Strapp (you can start to see the kind of humor this series is built around) show more and Jock manages to be a bit smarter than Mordecai, faster on the pick-up in daring situations, and ready to lend his large physical presence to the situation when needed.
It might remind you of Jeeves and Wooster, with a more larcenous Wooster, and you would be right. This author freely admits to the coincidence of character, but admitting is one thing and having the characters be duplicates is another. This pair might be images from a fun house mirror.
The thin plot consists of Mordecai getting his hot little hands on a stolen painting by Goya and then trying to foist it on the wrong rich American. There are some dirty British cops who might be helping him, or perhaps they want the painting for their own ends. The story ends up somewhere in the desert southwest of the U.S. after plowing through a short selection of locations along the way. There is also a murder, a fabulous Rolls-Royce, a beautiful young woman (naturally) and whiskey, whiskey, whiskey.
You don’t read this book for the story but for the characters as this is entirely character driven. Mordecai is smart, witty, and daring, but he is none of those things to the degree he thinks he is. There is a lot to be said for the rude, unconsciously funny and almost always desperate lead, but he is such a twist on the leading man trope that it is no wonder Johnny Depp played him in the movie Mordecai.
If you want to try and wedge this book into a genre, good luck with that. It isn’t a comedy nor a drama, a caper story or a nobility tale, or just about any one thing. It is several categories at once but the main thing that it is, is fun. You read this to hear about a scoundrel doing the thing he THINKS he does best and mostly ignoring the realities of the situation unto the point he gets conked on the head or his life is truly threatened. Just rise the tide and enjoy the twisted humor you find in Mordecai.
If you like this, seek out the follow-up stories about this character. show less
His manservant is named Jock Strapp (you can start to see the kind of humor this series is built around) show more and Jock manages to be a bit smarter than Mordecai, faster on the pick-up in daring situations, and ready to lend his large physical presence to the situation when needed.
It might remind you of Jeeves and Wooster, with a more larcenous Wooster, and you would be right. This author freely admits to the coincidence of character, but admitting is one thing and having the characters be duplicates is another. This pair might be images from a fun house mirror.
The thin plot consists of Mordecai getting his hot little hands on a stolen painting by Goya and then trying to foist it on the wrong rich American. There are some dirty British cops who might be helping him, or perhaps they want the painting for their own ends. The story ends up somewhere in the desert southwest of the U.S. after plowing through a short selection of locations along the way. There is also a murder, a fabulous Rolls-Royce, a beautiful young woman (naturally) and whiskey, whiskey, whiskey.
You don’t read this book for the story but for the characters as this is entirely character driven. Mordecai is smart, witty, and daring, but he is none of those things to the degree he thinks he is. There is a lot to be said for the rude, unconsciously funny and almost always desperate lead, but he is such a twist on the leading man trope that it is no wonder Johnny Depp played him in the movie Mordecai.
If you want to try and wedge this book into a genre, good luck with that. It isn’t a comedy nor a drama, a caper story or a nobility tale, or just about any one thing. It is several categories at once but the main thing that it is, is fun. You read this to hear about a scoundrel doing the thing he THINKS he does best and mostly ignoring the realities of the situation unto the point he gets conked on the head or his life is truly threatened. Just rise the tide and enjoy the twisted humor you find in Mordecai.
If you like this, seek out the follow-up stories about this character. show less
Don't Point That Thing at Me is the first of a series of novels about the Hon. Charles Mortdecai, a dissolute and amoral art "dealer" (read "thief") who lives in Piccadilly with his thuggish valet Jock. Mortdecai comes from the landed gentry but is more likely to be involved with far more disreputable and often illegal activities.
In this first instalment, Mortdecai gets his hands on a stolen Goya on behalf of a wealthy and shady American client. This client has also decided to go in for a bit of blackmail, the consequences of which rebound on the unsuspecting Mortdecai and spectacular and often painful fashion.
The plot is wildly improbable from start to finish, but Mortdecai is a brilliant character that the reader warms to readiy. The show more narration is droll and arch, with some acid comments on matters such as the aristocracy, sex and airline food that provoke sputtering laughter. The Mordecai books are not easy to find, but worth seeking out. show less
In this first instalment, Mortdecai gets his hands on a stolen Goya on behalf of a wealthy and shady American client. This client has also decided to go in for a bit of blackmail, the consequences of which rebound on the unsuspecting Mortdecai and spectacular and often painful fashion.
The plot is wildly improbable from start to finish, but Mortdecai is a brilliant character that the reader warms to readiy. The show more narration is droll and arch, with some acid comments on matters such as the aristocracy, sex and airline food that provoke sputtering laughter. The Mordecai books are not easy to find, but worth seeking out. show less
This picaresque novel is narrated by the Hon. Charlie Mortdecai, an art dealer who usually operates on the shady side of the law. In the opening scene he is visited by Inspector Martland (of a secret branch of the British police) in connection with a stolen Goya. Mortdecai claims to know nothing of the matter, but he cheekily admits to the reader that it is hidden under the floorboards. After Martland's visit, Mortdecai knows he must unload the painting, but his mission is complicated by the murder of one of his associates. Even worse, someone seems to want Mortdecai dead as well -- so he strikes a bargain with Martland to get diplomatic passage to America, where he hopes to make good his escape. There he encounters a variety of show more adventures, from constant surveillance by men in blue Buicks to the sexual aggressiveness of a rich American widow. Through it all, Mortdecai maintains a cheerful unconcern as he matches wits with several dangerous opponents.
I have very conflicting feelings about this book. On the one hand, I don't think I understood the plot at all; there's definitely a painting involved, and a valuable antique Rolls Royce, and various people who want Mortdecai dead, but I was always a bit confused about what was actually going on. On the other hand, Mortdecai has a delightful narrative voice -- very reminiscent of Bertie Wooster, if Bertie were an art thief with a crasser mode of expression. (For example, Mortdecai's valet/bodyguard is called Jock Strapp, which is either funny to you or it isn't.) So the book does provide a lot of laughs, but in the end I'm not really sure what to think of it. The novel is first in a series, and I may check out the others at some point. The movie "Mortdecai," which comes out today in the U.S., is also based on this series, and I'm interested to see how it deviates from the book. Johnny Depp seems like a very odd casting choice, for starters, but I'm nevertheless intrigued! show less
I have very conflicting feelings about this book. On the one hand, I don't think I understood the plot at all; there's definitely a painting involved, and a valuable antique Rolls Royce, and various people who want Mortdecai dead, but I was always a bit confused about what was actually going on. On the other hand, Mortdecai has a delightful narrative voice -- very reminiscent of Bertie Wooster, if Bertie were an art thief with a crasser mode of expression. (For example, Mortdecai's valet/bodyguard is called Jock Strapp, which is either funny to you or it isn't.) So the book does provide a lot of laughs, but in the end I'm not really sure what to think of it. The novel is first in a series, and I may check out the others at some point. The movie "Mortdecai," which comes out today in the U.S., is also based on this series, and I'm interested to see how it deviates from the book. Johnny Depp seems like a very odd casting choice, for starters, but I'm nevertheless intrigued! show less
The first of the Mortdecai novels though fun was a little slower in pace than I expected and with sidetracks and wanderings as without restraint as Mordecai himself. I’ve never read what someone ate or the copious amounts someone drank (made my liver wince) to such a degree in a novel. Still, this is undeniably classic and I couldn’t help warming to Charlie Mortdecai and loving his thug of a servant, Jock.
Imagine if you will a book similar to The Thirty-Nine Steps being written by P.G. Wodehouse and you'll be somewhere in the region of how this one reads. Charlie Mortdecai is an art dealer who isn't too unfamiliar with the shady side of his profession. In fact, he's just come into possession of a hot little number that he needs to ship across the Atlantic to a wealthy American collector. Opportunity presents itself in the way of a blackmail case being handled by the secretest of secret police and a classic Rolls Royce that also needs to be shipped to said collector. Armed with a brand new diplomatic passport off he sets to deliver the painting, the Rolls and a nasty case of death to a client who's tried to blackmail the wrong kind of show more person.
You could probably drive several of those Rollers abreast of one another through the holes in the plot but that's not really what this book is about. The plot is just there for convenience sake and to allow a vehicle for Charlie to tell his story of these and subsequent events. The humour is of the unsubtle kind, if I tell you that the thuggish manservant's name is Jock Strapp then maybe you'll get what I mean, and often comes at you in acidic form. I did chuckle at the odd turn of phrase but there were no moments that caused me to laugh out loud. show less
You could probably drive several of those Rollers abreast of one another through the holes in the plot but that's not really what this book is about. The plot is just there for convenience sake and to allow a vehicle for Charlie to tell his story of these and subsequent events. The humour is of the unsubtle kind, if I tell you that the thuggish manservant's name is Jock Strapp then maybe you'll get what I mean, and often comes at you in acidic form. I did chuckle at the odd turn of phrase but there were no moments that caused me to laugh out loud. show less
Really, really funny for anglophiles who catch pre-1971 references at a brisk yet verbose pace. Might be obtuse and dated for everyone else. If you appreciate a mix of pure irreverence with humor that ranges from straight to black (in which even sex. torture, and violent murder are given the ha-ha treatment); if you love Wodehouse, Inspector Morse, Jerome K. Jerome, and Austin Powers, you should feel right at home in the Charlie Mortdecai crime series. In this first novel in the series, Mortdecai finds himself in America on a fake diplomatic mission to assassinate a blackmailer on behalf of another criminal, who just tried to murder Mortdecai, only Mortdecai is on a criminal mission of his own. . .oh, it's all far too confusing to show more explain. I was sad when the Ghost died. show less
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- Original title
- Don't Point That Thing at Me
- Original publication date
- 1972
- People/Characters
- Hon. Charlie Mortdecai; Jock; Chief Superintendent Martland
- Epigraph
- "So old a story, and tell it no better?" Robert Browning, Pippa Passes
- First words
- When you burn an old carved and gilt picture frame it makes a muted hissing noise in the grate -- a sort of genteel fooh -- and the gold leaf tints the flames a wonderful peacock blue-green.
- Quotations
- Bed is the only place for protracted telephoning. It is also execellently suited to reading, sleeping and listening to canaries. It is not a good place for sex: sex should take place in armchairs, or in bathrooms, or on lawns... (show all) which have been brushed but not too recently mown, or on sandy beaches if you happen to have been circumcised. If you are too tired to have intercourse except in bed you are probably too tired anyway and should be husbanding your strength.
The coffee having arrived (how hard it is to write without the ablative absolute!), we guzzled genteelly for a while.
To be on foot in the United States is only immoral, not illegal. Unless you're a bum, of course. It's just like in England, really: you can wander abroad and lodge in the open air so long as you've a home to go to; it's only ... (show all)an offence if you haven't one - on the same principle that ensures you cannot borrow money from a bank unless you don't need any. - Last words
- (Click to show. Warning: May contain spoilers.)You see that, don't you?
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