Lord Byron’s Pistol Club

This grand tour of mine is not being frittered away on dramas concerning body hair and chips, no no. As I mentioned in my previous post, I like to read on holidays. So far, I have been doing so with some success.

Among the literary line up was Kingsley Amis’s Lucky Jim, which I got really very excited about. It reminded me of how rarely one gets the chance to read a clever and funny – laugh out loud funny – book. Once you start studying books in college, the hilarity content of one’s reading tends to dip sharply. All you can usually manage are gasps and snorts of incredulity – “He gets his sight back after holding a baby!” “He gets pushed down a well, crawls out of it, lets everyone believe he’s dead, flees to Australia, only to return some years later to discover his wife is a bigamist!” “Oh Don Juan, what are you doing in that harem!” – along with the occasional wry chuckle at Austen, or Rushdie, before the hero turns into a mute and starts wandering around the jungle having dreams.

Lucky Jim though, well Lucky Jim is laugh-like-you’re-a-bit-special funny. This chap agrees with me, and he gives examples. As for myself, well, I just wish Bill Atkinson was my best friend – when you read it, you’ll understand.