Afternoon Men by Anthony Powell

By Anthony Powell

Written from a vantage element either excessive and intentionally slim, the early novels of the past due British grasp Anthony Powell however deal within the common issues that will develop into a considerable a part of his oeuvre: satisfaction, greed, and the unusual drivers of human habit. extra explorations of relationships and self-esteem than plot-driven narratives, Powell’s early works demonstrate the stirrings of the unequaled variety, ear for discussion, and eye for irony that might achieve their caustic top in his epic, A Dance to the tune of Time. In Afternoon males, the earliest and maybe so much acid of Powell’s novels, we meet the museum clerk William Atwater, a tender guy stymied in either his specialist and romantic endeavors. Immersed in Atwater’s coterie of acquaintances—a equally unhappy solid of rootless, cocktail-swilling London sophisticates—we examine of the clash among his humdrum paintings lifestyles and louche social scene, of his unrequited love, and, in the course of a visit to the rustic, of the absurd contrivances of right manners. A satire that verges on nihilism and a narrative touched with sexism and equivalent doses self-loathing and self-medication, AfternoonMen has a grim aspect to it. yet its discussion sparks and its scenes grip, and for aficionados of Powell, this primary installment in his literary canon should be a welcome window onto the brain of an outstanding artist studying his craft.

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Sample text

I think, bloodsucker, that since I’m the one with the stake, I get to call you whatever I want. ” My captor moved around in front where I could get a good look at him. I knew him, of course. It’s never the new guy in town who ties you to a chair; it’s always that creepy guy who you’ve seen lurking around the cemetery for a couple weeks. The one that you’re not sure if he was there to mourn, or for some other reason. And of course, it was always some other reason. I’d seen this guy hanging around one of the big oak trees in my cemetery, near the freshest grave in the joint, for a couple of weeks.

It’s hot, with that metallic and salty taste that’s like nothing else in the world. We can live on blood bank supplies, but it’s the difference between a really good rare filet mignon and a frozen hamburger patty. I drank for a couple of minutes, just a couple of pints, and then leaned back next to the yuppie, who was still out like a light. ” I asked my sleeping dinner. He was as silent as I had expected him to be, which was good for both of us. I probably would have flipped out had he woken up at that exact moment, and it’s usually not a good idea to be the human in the back seat of a car with a freaked-out vamp.

I don’t know, Jimmy-boy. I just don’t know what’s worse. ” Greg looked at me disapprovingly. ” Tommy exclaimed. “I’m eighteen, you know. I’m no kid. After all, how old are you guys? ” Tommy looked back and forth between the two of us, confused. “Remember, kid? Vampires? Creatures of the night? We don’t age, moron. We were turned in 1996, and we were both twenty-two then. ” Greg explained, reclaiming his perch on the trunk of the car. ” I said, pulling over a stack of pallets and taking a seat.

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