A review by bearunderthecypresses
The Swimming-Pool Library by Alan Hollinghurst

3.0

Timidly, albeit with a second glass of complimentary wine, I joined a group of playgoers in the Donmar Warehouse concession lobby before the start of Racine's "Berenice." Their discussion gave this middle-aged group an impression of being articulate, well-read, and very well-cultured to my young, unexposed mind. I gleaned that they were talking about an author and comparing mental notes on his recent writings. A tall, slender man of maybe 42 was standing across from me in our circle, looking entirely intimidating in his clean, black coat and perfectly unwrinkled scarf. Here, despite the social risk presented by my American accent, I asked what other writings of this author were "must-reads." He happily rambled off several titles as I listened, trying to stay conversationally calm as my food-less train ride from Brighton was outweighed by the wine. By the time the group broke up, either for the restroom or their seats, I only remembered one book title from the man's list. I discretely walked to a recently abandoned bar table and wrote "Swimming Pool Library" in my tiny travelling notebook - a reminder for a later date. I glanced at my other notes from the past 5 months and felt accomplished. When the preshow announcements finally sounded, and I rushed to my seat alone in anticipation of seeing Stephen Campbell Moore in person for the first time.

"The point, as I saw it, was that you could take an aesthetic decision to change shape." pg. 90

"My life seemed to go in reverse, and for a month, two months, I was a thing of shadows." pg. 304