Gold [Paperback]

"'Hilarious and acutely affecting.' - Independent on Sunday 'Absolutely flawless comic writing. Original, fresh and funny.' - Observer 'Laugh-out-loud funny.' - Heat 'Smashing. Had me snorting like a hippo in mud.' - Sunday Herald"

Any good? Oh, very.

'Lovely, whimsical stuff'

'One of the best writers in the country...excellent, original funny and profound.'

'Absolutely flawless comic writing. Original, fresh and funny.'

'Hilarious and acutely affecting.'

'Hilarious and acutely affecting.' --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.

Miyuki Woodward, lover of pints and Pot Noodles, has been spending holidays in the same Welsh seaside town for years. She loves the wet walks, she loves The Anchor and most of all she loves the pub-quiz.This year, following an act of raw creativity involving some cans of gold spray paint, Miyuki will take part in the most turbulent events the village has seen since Tall Mr Hughes returned from the pub toilet without remembering to button up.

Dan Rhodes was born in 1972. In 2003 he was named by Granta Magazine as one of their twenty Best of Young British Novelists. He is the author of four previous books.

Tall Mr Hughes, short Mr Hughes and Mr Puw were
standing at the bar of The Anchor. `You know what we
would be doing right now if we were alligators?' asked
tall Mr Hughes, who had hardly spoken about anything
but alligators for three consecutive evenings. It had been
alligators this, and alligators that.
`No,' mumbled Mr Puw, looking, but at the same time
not looking, at a row of horse brasses on the far side of
the room.
Short Mr Hughes was staring in the direction of the
pewter mugs that were hanging from one of the beams
behind the bar. He didn't say anything, but he turned
down the corners of his mouth and shook his head.
Tall Mr Hughes drew himself up to his full height, even
allowing his heels to rise a little off the ground. Despite
his name he wasn't particularly tall, just a bit taller than
short Mr Hughes, who wasn't particularly short. They
were each just an inch or two either side of average, and
it was Mr Puw, with his pipe and his big black beard,
who was the shortest of the three by some distance.
Deciding he had kept them in suspense for long
enough, tall Mr Hughes finally revealed his latest alligator
fact. `We would be . . .' he said, `. . . hibernating.'
`Oh,' said Mr Puw, his eyes at last focusing on the horse
brasses. They seemed particularly shiny, and he halfwondered
whether they had been polished since the last
time he had paid attention to them. He had no idea when
that would have been.
Short Mr Hughes carried on staring in the direction
of the pewter mugs. He turned down the corners of his
mouth and nodded, running the fingers of his left hand
over his bristly grey moustache.
`It's winter, you see,' clarified tall Mr Hughes, his rich
baritone filling the room, `and they hibernate in the winter
. . .' He stared at his drink for a while, and when he spoke
again his voice was quieter. `. . . do alligators.' He lowered
his heels, and reached for his drink.
The silence that followed was broken when the bottle
refrigerator's thermostat clicked, and sent it rattling and
rumbling into life. It was a lot louder than it ought to
have been.
`That fridge needs looking at,' said short Mr Hughes.
Tall Mr Hughes and Mr Puw nodded, but neither made
any steps to move the conversation away from alligators
and towards refrigerator maintenance.
These had been long evenings. Sometimes tall Mr
Hughes would state the obvious, telling them that alligators
are, at least for all intents and purposes, carnivores,
or that even though they were crocodilian they weren't
actual crocodiles. Other times he cleared up grey areas,
like whether or not they laid eggs. Short Mr Hughes and
Mr Puw were fairly sure that alligators did lay eggs, but
neither of them would have put money on it, mainly
because they weren't gambling men but also because they
weren't particularly bothered either way. They had had
more than their fill of the subject. Their glazed eyes
betrayed this, but tall Mr Hughes didn't seem to notice.
Drifting back into consciousness, he carried on where he
had left off.
`And come the spring,' he said, over the erratic thrum
of the refrigerator, `we would start to become . . .' He
paused before the grand revelation, and drew himself up
to his full height before looking around to make sure there
weren't any women within earshot. The three of them
were still the only customers and the barmaid had the
night off, leaving the landlord to serve the drinks alone,
but even so, tall Mr Hughes leaned in close to the others
and continued confidentially, `. . . we would start to
become frisky.We would pay special attention to the lady
alligators, if you catch my drift. That's what happens in
the springtime to our plantigrade pals.' --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.