I tried to read this one. I really did. It had a great first line: “‘Take my camel, dear,’ said my aunt Dot, as she climbed down from this animal on her return from High Mass.” It was supposed to be “fantasy, farce, high comedy, lively travel material, delicious japes at many aspects of the frenzied world, and a succession of illuminating thoughts about love, sex, life, organized churches, and religion”.

It put me to sleep.

Not just once, mind you. Once would mean I just had a bad night, and need a few more hours sleep. But several times. Every time I picked up the book, I found myself nodding off. Even sentances like this: “Death is awful, and one hates to think about it, but I suppose after all those years of it the dead take it for granted” couldn’t keep me awake.

If someone with a higher ability to stay awake while reading profound books written in the 1950s cares to read this book, let me know how it goes.