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A review by terrypaulpearce
The Line of Beauty by Alan Hollinghurst
5.0
Alan Hollinghurst is a wizard; he uses language like a card sharp, sometimes you can see exactly what he's done, other times you are just swept away by the effect, but either way, it's deeply magnificent. Moments are drawn out in unexpected ways, the atmosphere in a room, the emotion behind an expression or a sigh. It's quintessentially English genius, and very traditional storytelling.
I know he's won the Booker, but I'm not sure he's highly regarded enough. If he were writing sixty years earlier (and perhaps if he weren't writing so much about gay sex, which every third review on here seems to have an immense problem with), I think we'd be holding him up (at least as far as this book goes, I've read no others yet) with the absolute literary greats. I certainly can't think of a single person who writes the drama of an English household so well.
And the connection I felt to Nick, the flow of the story... I don't want to reveal too much here but it is so perfectly paced and managed, hurtling in its quiet way, carried languidly on the wings of the most sublime prose, to a devastating conclusion. And the insights, the insights into those little doubts and trains of thoughts and what lies behind a moment. And the times, it captures the times so well. And class, good old English class and our deep-seated dreads. I can't rapture on quite enough about this book, and I think I've ran out of adjectives that even get within touching distance, so I'll stop now.
I know he's won the Booker, but I'm not sure he's highly regarded enough. If he were writing sixty years earlier (and perhaps if he weren't writing so much about gay sex, which every third review on here seems to have an immense problem with), I think we'd be holding him up (at least as far as this book goes, I've read no others yet) with the absolute literary greats. I certainly can't think of a single person who writes the drama of an English household so well.
And the connection I felt to Nick, the flow of the story... I don't want to reveal too much here but it is so perfectly paced and managed, hurtling in its quiet way, carried languidly on the wings of the most sublime prose, to a devastating conclusion. And the insights, the insights into those little doubts and trains of thoughts and what lies behind a moment. And the times, it captures the times so well. And class, good old English class and our deep-seated dreads. I can't rapture on quite enough about this book, and I think I've ran out of adjectives that even get within touching distance, so I'll stop now.