Fiction of Gay Interest

Late Call
Angus Wilson
Publisher: Book Club
London, UK

Year


1964       first publ: 1964
Cover / size: hardback / h 19 cm * w 13.2 cm / 280 pp

Dustjacket?   yes

ISBN: n/a

Arbery Ref:   000716

Condition Good

Jacket: damage to edges, including tears; discolouring, particularly of spine, back and tops of flaps. Boards (green with black lettering): slight fading and wear of edges. Book leans forward slightly and binding loosening so that pages bulge. Page edges dusty and lightly stained. Front endpapers: slight browning, stamp "WITHDRAWN" (but no other indications of library use), erased pencil inscriptions. Rear endpaper: browning and slight damage.Pages browning slightly but otherwise clean.

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Wilson: Late Call

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Plot / Content:                              Rating: N

"Late Call abounds in richly observed characters, but the picture is dominated by Sylvia and by her husband, the scrounger, the tall-story teller, the ludicrous would-be womaniser who remains the only person she lives. We can expect from Mr Wilson satire and high comedy, awareness of the frailties of human nature. In Late Call these qualities are matched by compassion."

(from the jacket)



Background / Biography:

Sir Angus Frank Johnstone Wilson, CBE (11 August 1913 – 31 May 1991) was an English novelist and short story writer. He was awarded the 1958 James Tait Black Memorial Prize for The Middle Age of Mrs Eliot and later received a knighthood for his services to literature. Continued on Wikipedia

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Reviews:






"Everywhere the clayey soil was baked as hard as rock, even in the farmyard and the pigsties where normally the least shower of rain kept the usual thick seas of mud churning. Great cracks had appeared in the flower bed that faced the front door of the farmhouse - an oval filled with bedded-out pansies and small pink begonias. Even the short stretch of gravelled drive that led to the cart track that in turn led to the roadway was fissured as though the many creatures beneath the earth's surface had at once decided to break their way through to the air above them. The dust pervaded everything: it was scratched up by the speckled and buff hens and raised into clouds as the sows rolled on their backs; it was puffed into brown, gritty smoke plumes as the disconsolate white ducks twisted their beaks in the almost dried-up pool, grubbing for deeply hidden worms; it filled the whole air as Derek Longmore sailed round and round the flower bed, doing bumpy wonders on his new bicycle."

opening paragraph




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