Angus Wilson is an example of a once highly regarded writer who has disappeared from view. I read his books when I was a teenager and enjoyed them, but they are now out of print.
I also have fond memories of Dennis Potter's television dramatisation of Wilson's novel Late Call from 1975. Today I discovered that all four parts of it are on YouTube, so I have included the first one here. I've not watched it for 51 years, so apologies if it does not live up to my memories of it.
Margaret Drabble once wrote about the novel:
My most memorable holiday book is Angus Wilson’s Late Call, which I read on holiday in Morocco, or rather on my way to Morocco, for I think I read it on the boat from Marseille to Tangier. I had discovered Wilson’s work while still at university and eagerly read each book as it was published; this novel, which came out in 1964, was as gripping as all the others had been, and very unexpected.
It’s the story of a newly retired hotel manageress trying to adapt to life with her widowed headmaster son in a new town. It’s full of social comedy and human tragedy, and I remember being utterly gripped by the wholly real world Wilson created. It was a perfect companion on a trip that was at times rather unsettling.
I don’t know how a sophisticated and highly educated man such as Wilson can have entered so fully into this woman’s hopes and fears, but he did. It’s also more experimental than it looks in terms of narrative technique. It was made into a TV series in which Dandy Nichols played the main role brilliantly.
Even as a teenager, I recognised there was something special about a novel in which the lead character who grows and makes a new life for herself is an old woman.
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