Last Curtsey: The End of the Debs By Fiona MacCarthy Faber, �13.40, 305 pps WHO killed off the Debs in the 1960s? I, said the feminist. I killed off the Debs when I burned me bra. Obviously, any woman with anything between the ears would find the idea of posh virgins looking for a rich catch to be abhorrent. Speaking more generally, Princess Margaret said publicly that the practise of debs being presented at court should be ended because "every tart in London was getting in". There are some wonderful descriptions here of what the debs had to go through. One manoeuvre was the Vacani Curtsey. You tiptoed daintily toward the Queen, stopped, locked one ankle behind the other and bowed, as if struggling to lay an egg. Wonderful. That said, though, Irish readers will baulk at the reference to Dublin's RDS Horse Show Week as a "wild Rabelaisian week. . . encouraged bad behaviour of a flair and thoroughgoingness peculiar to Ireland". Really?
The Orange Order By Mervyn Jess O'Brien Press npa 279pps JESS works for BBC Radio Ulster. Some years back, he was covering an Orange March striding down the Ormeau Road, Lambegs, fifes, swords, sashes, ridiculous bowlers, the lot. His BBC colleague Barry Cowan asked down the line: "Do you see any change in the attitudes on the ground?" "Barry, " Jess replied, "the only thing changing up here is the traffic lights." Now all involved admit everything has to change, especially attitudes. This is a highly illuminating and optimistic book, featuring interviews with Orange Grand Master Robert Saulters, Gerry Kelly of Sinn F�in, David Trimble etc, included too, is the qualifications of an Orangeman, parts of which will also have to change. And fast.
Wild Mary: The Life of Mary Wesley By Patrick Marnham Vintage �13.40 289pps FOLLOWING Wilde's dictum, Wesley put the fun first and the work later. Her first novel came out when she was 71, by then she was well-experienced, and all of her novels are, on her own admission, autobiographical. The moniker 'wild' was given to her by her scandalised family because of her affairs. You take their attitude in the context of the times and we are talking here about the a period in a country that was highly constitutional, still with Victorian attitudes to morality, while she was simply unconventional. Her "wildest" years came during the Second World War when people, particularly lovers of combatants, are highly aware of mortality. Indeed, one of her lovers, flying with the RAF, was killed in combat. An entertaining read, its subject would have approved.
The Lying Tongue By Andrew Wilson Canongate �14.99 325pps BIOGRAPHER turned novelist Wilson recently won almost universal approval for his life of Patricia Highsmith and here there are creepy echoes of the lady. No surprise that the protagonist Adam Woods is at first presented as a sympathetic character but is revealed ultimately as repugnant. Yes, that's Ripley all right; amoral and violent. Woods lies to people that he has just completed an art history course in London and, he lies again, is broken-hearted over the break-up of a love affair. Woods finishes up in Venice teaching English to a child of a wealthy family. That falls through and the yarn sparks to brilliant life when he moves into the house of a recluse author. This one will wrongfoot you at every chapter.
The Boy By Germaine Greer Thames and Hudson �25.26 256pps GREER'S point is that women should have the right to "reclaim the visual pleasure" of eyeing-up male nudes. Of course they already have this right. Greer's preference, though, is for the young and compliant and not for the furry-chested beefcake, oiled-all-over male stripper. Instead she rifles through classical art covering everything from athletic Hellenistic bronzes, to cherubic and completely hairless Caravaggio oils, Titians, right up to modernday photography some flagrantly focussing on genitalia. Pleasant dreams, Dr Greer. Both one of the best-presented arguments and produced books I've come across in decades.
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