Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Now that we have Argentina

herself to our google map, it's
possible to hope that we might 
move on from American politics,
and get about the serious bus-
iness of play at this page, in
lamentably short supply since
the medical distractions of late
winter. How splendid it is, of
Argentina to return on the heels
of Quixote and of Ishmael, yet

Now, can you stand it, there
are people who will say, there
is not the slightest excuse for
anything in this posting: not
one shred of contribution to
the vitality of the mind, much
less of any nobler organ of op-
inion. But there you are: we
who argue, for a fact-based im-
pression of the world, are well
advised to project one without
remorse, and let the Edict of
Aunts try to find us. So, allow
me to level with you, and drive
you completely nuts in the bar-

There is a satirist named Edward
St Aubyn, who is the likelier son
of the writer of Lucky Jim and
Girl, 20 than the massively bril-
liant Brooklynite who surely is.
Mr St Aubyn is dangerously funny,
in almost the only way funny ever
can be, whose latest venture caps
a quintet of novels chronicling a
gloriously extended Tory boyhood,
At Last to the death of his parent
of great financial hope.

If, in short, we are to lay aside 
the cudgels of political fratricide
in favour of delight, St Aubyn's
substitution of failed infanticide,
suicide, and gladder sides of beef
can not have come into print for a
higher purpose, or reached America
at a timelier moment. I realise, 
too, there are Argentines who've
not laughed since the last Waugh,  
and I celebrate their elating re-
turn with a probitive turn of our
laughter's priceless estate. 

Edward St Aubyn

The Patrick Melrose Novels
  Never Mind, Bad News,
  Some Hope, Mother's Milk
Farrar, Straus & Giroux
  Picador Press, 2012©

At Last
Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2011©

No comments:

Post a Comment