A marvellous collection of short stories by James Lasdun, this is increasingly compulsive as you read on, from one finely judged story to the next. Lasdun's stories can span decades, as with 'A Bourgeois Story', where a man receives a letter from a friend he knew in the 1970s when his politics were very different from what they are now. Meeting again the fiery revolutionary, Dimitri, the narrator discovers he must live with the guilt he irrationally(?) feels and is punished when his friend's defiance erupts in a terrible simile:
"I read a book about ants recently," he said. "Made me think of you. There's a species called Honey Pot ants who feed off honey-dew. They have a whole class called `repletes' - compulsive eaters who've evolved this pouchy gullet that can be distended to gigantic proportions. The workers hoist them up and hang them upside down from the roof by their back claws, and in the dry season just tap them for a snifter whenever they're thirsty, by stroking their heads. Easy as shoving a tumbler up an optic." (Nb. Narrative shortened for review purposes)
Gloriously right-on although this story is, the fierce Marxist Dimitri has equally few humane qualities, still living in a squat, selling pamphlets with his pride vauntingly intact. Yet the simile haunts. Bankers/Politicians - put forward your own favourites for the `repletes' of the current crisis.
These stories are deeply, often brilliantly perceptive of their subjects and the writing is superb. Never lavish with descriptive moments, when they do come in a story, you pay attention - as here from 'Totty': "His hands were very large; the long, angular fingers each with a glint of gold hair below the knuckle, the upper joints bending a little backwards, as in the hands of angels in old paintings, as he pressed and twisted the lemon halves on the ridged glass cone of the squeezer."
You do not get too much, with James Lasdun in this collection. What you get is exactly the right amount of everything.