Lucky Jim
is a novel by Kingsley Amis, first published in 1954 by Victor Gollancz. It was
Amis's first novel and won the 1955 Somerset Maugham Award for fiction. The
novel follows the exploits of the eponymous James (Jim) Dixon, a reluctant
lecturer at an unnamed provincial English university.
It is
supposed that Amis arrived at Dixon's surname from 12 Dixon Drive, Leicester,
the address of Philip Larkin from 1948 to 1950, while he was a librarian at the
university there. Lucky Jim is dedicated to Larkin, who helped to inspire the
main character and contributed significantly to the structure of the novel.
Time
magazine included Lucky Jim in its TIME 100 Best English-language Novels from
1923 to 2005.
Plot
Jim Dixon
is a lecturer in medieval history at a red brick university in the English
Midlands. He has made an unsure start and, towards the end of the academic
year, is concerned about losing his probationary position in the department. In
his attempt to be awarded a permanent post he tries to maintain a good
relationship with his absent-minded head of department, Professor Welch. To
establish his credentials he must also ensure the publication of his first
scholarly article, but he eventually discovers that the editor to whom he
submitted it has translated it into Italian and passed it off as his own.
Dixon
struggles with an on-again off-again "girlfriend", Margaret Peel, a
fellow lecturer who is recovering from a suicide attempt in the wake of a
broken relationship with another man. Margaret employs emotional blackmail to
appeal to Dixon's sense of duty and pity while keeping him in an ambiguous and
sexless limbo. While she is staying with Professor Welch, he holds a musical
weekend that seems to offer an opportunity for Dixon to advance his standing
among his colleagues. The attempt goes wrong, however, and the drunken Dixon
drops a lighted cigarette on the bed, burning a hole in the sheets.
During the
same weekend Dixon meets Christine Callaghan, a young Londoner and the latest
girlfriend of Professor Welch's son, Bertrand, an amateur painter whose
affectedness particularly infuriates Dixon. After a bad start Dixon realises that
he is attracted to Christine, who is far less pretentious than she initially
appears.
Dixon's
growing closeness to Christine upsets Bertrand, who is using her to reach her
well-connected Scottish uncle and get a job from him. Then Dixon rescues Christine
from the university's annual dance after Bertrand treats her offhandedly, and
takes her home in a taxi. The pair kiss and make a date for later, but
Christine admits that she feels guilty about seeing Dixon behind Bertrand's
back and about Dixon's supposed relationship with Margaret. The two decide not
to see each other again, but when Bertrand calls on Dixon to "warn him off
the grass" he cannot resist the temptation to quarrel with Bertrand, until
they fight.
The novel
reaches its climax during Dixon's public lecture on "Merrie England".
Having attempted to calm his nerves by drinking too much, he caps his uncertain
performance by denouncing the university culture of arty pretentiousness and
passes out. Welch lets Dixon know privately that his employment will not be
extended, but Christine's uncle offers Dixon the coveted job of assisting him
in London. Later Dixon meets Margaret's ex-boyfriend, who reveals that he had
not been her fiancé, as she had claimed. Comparing notes, the two realise that
the suicide attempt was faked as a piece of neurotic emotional blackmail.
Feeling
free of Margaret at last, Dixon responds to Christine's phoned request to see
her off as she leaves for London. There he learns from her that she is leaving
Bertrand after being told that he was having an affair with the wife of one of
Dixon's former colleagues. They decide to leave for London together, and then
walk off arm in arm, outraging the Welches as they pass on the street.
Literary
significance and legacy
When
originally published, Lucky Jim received enthusiastic reviews. In the New
Statesman, Walter Allen wrote, "Mr Amis has an unwaveringly merciless eye
for the bogus: some aspects of provincial culture – the madrigals and recorders
of Professor Welch, for instance – are pinned down as accurately as they have
ever been; and he has, too, an eye for character – the female lecturer
Margaret, who battens neurotically on Jim's pity, is quite horribly well done.
Mr Amis is a novelist of formidable and uncomfortable talent."
W. Somerset
Maugham praised Amis' writing while disdaining the new generation he
represented: "Mr. Kingsley Amis is so talented, his observation is so
keen, that you cannot fail to be convinced that the young men he so brilliantly
describes truly represent the class with which his novel is concerned... They
have no manners, and are woefully unable to deal with any social predicament.
Their idea of a celebration is to go to a public bar and drink six beers. They
are mean, malicious and envious... They are scum."
In response
to Maugham's criticism of the new generation, the New Statesman and The Nation
held contests to get readers to respond to Maugham in the voice of Jim Dixon.
Retrospective
reviews have solidified its legacy as one of Amis' finest novels. Christopher
Hitchens described it as the funniest book of the second half of the 20th
century, writing: "Lucky Jim illustrates a crucial human difference
between the little guy and the small man. And Dixon, like his creator, was no
clown but a man of feeling after all."
Olivia
Laing, writing in The Guardian: "Remarkable for its relentless skewering
of artifice and pretension, Lucky Jim also contains some of the finest comic
set pieces in the language."
Film and
television adaptations
In the 1957
British film adaptation, Jim Dixon was played by Ian Carmichael. Keith Barron
starred in Further Adventures of Lucky Jim, a 1967 seven-episode BBC TV series
based on the character and set in the "swinging London" of 1967. This
was followed by The Further Adventures of Lucky Jim in 1982, but with Enn
Reitel as Jim. In 2003, ITV aired a remake of Lucky Jim with Stephen Tompkinson
playing the central character.
https://www.nyrb.com/products/lucky-jim?variant=1094930121
Regarded by
many as the finest, and funniest, comic novel of the twentieth century, Lucky
Jim remains as trenchant, withering, and eloquently misanthropic as when it
first scandalized readers in 1954. This is the story of Jim Dixon, a hapless
lecturer in medieval history at a provincial university who knows better than
most that “there was no end to the ways in which nice things are nicer than
nasty ones.” Kingsley Amis’s scabrous debut leads the reader through a gallery
of emphatically English bores, cranks, frauds, and neurotics with whom Dixon
must contend in one way or another in order to hold on to his cushy academic
perch and win the girl of his fancy.
More than
just a merciless satire of cloistered college life and stuffy postwar manners,
Lucky Jim is an attack on the forces of boredom, whatever form they may take,
and a work of art that at once distills and extends an entire tradition of
English comic writing, from Fielding and Dickens through Wodehouse and Waugh.
As Christopher Hitchens has written, “If you can picture Bertie or Jeeves being
capable of actual malice, and simultaneously imagine Evelyn Waugh forgetting
about original sin, you have the combination of innocence and experience that
makes this short romp so imperishable.”
PRAISE
Lucky Jim
illustrates a crucial human difference between the little guy and the small
man. And Dixon, like his creator, was no clown but a man of feeling after all.
—Christopher
Hitchens
Mr.
Kingsley Amis is so talented, his observation is so keen, that you cannot fail
to be convinced that the young men he so brilliantly describes truly represent
the class with which his novel is concerned….They have no manners, and are
woefully unable to deal with any social predicament. Their idea of a
celebration is to go to a public bar and drink six beers. They are mean,
malicious and envious….They are scum.
—W.
Somerset Maugham
’After
Evelyn Waugh, what?’ this reviewer asked six years ago….The answer, already, is
Kingsley Amis, the author of Lucky Jim….Satirical and sometimes farcical, they
are derived from shrewd observation of contemporary British life, and they
occasionally imply social morals….Lucky Jimis extremely funny. Everyone was
much amused, and since it is also a kind of male Cinderella or Ugly Duckling
story, it left its readers goo-humored and glowing.
—Edmund
Wilson, The New Yorker, 1956
I was
recommended [Kinglsey Amis’ Lucky Jim] when I was a teenager trying to figure
out how to start reading “serious” books. Great recommendation, because on the
surface it’s nothing of the sort, but it is brilliant.
—Hugh
Dancy, T: The New York Times Style Magazine
Remarkable
for its relentless skewering of artifice and pretension, Lucky Jim also
contains some of the finest comic set pieces in the language.
—Olivia
Laing, The Observer
Remarkably,
Lucky Jim is as fresh and surprising today as it was in 1954. It is part of the
landscape, and it defines academia in the eyes of much of the world as does no
other book, yet if you are coming to it for the first time you will feel, as
you glide happily through its pages, that you are traveling in a place where no
one else has ever been. If you haven’t yet done so, you must.
—Jonathan
Yardley, The Washington Post
Lucky Jim
is an extremely interesting first novel, and parts of it are very funny indeed:
the episodes of the bed-burning and Jim’s public lecture, for instance, mount
to the complexity and tension of certain passages in the Marx Brothers’ films
or in the paper-hanging act one still sees from time to time in pantomime. And
Mr Amishas an unwaveringly merciless eye for the bogus: some aspects of
provincial culture—the madrigals and recorders of Professor Welch, for
instance—are pinned down as accurately as they have ever been; and he has, too,
an eye for character—the female lecturer Margaret, who battens neurotically on
Jim’s pity, is quite horribly well done. Mr Amis is a novelist of formidable
and uncomfortable talent.
—Walter
Allen, The New Statesmen, 1954
Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis
Kingsley
Amis's acerbic debut is a tour de force – but don't read it on the bus, warns
Olivia Laing
Olivia
Laing
Sun 15 Aug
2010 00.05 BSTFirst published on Sun 15 Aug 2010 00.05 BST
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2010/aug/15/lucky-jim-kingsley-amis-classic
Has there
even been a writer so choked with bile as Kingsley Amis? None of his novels
look particularly kindly upon his fellow man, but Lucky Jim, his first, is
driven by a particularly epic disdain for the idiocies, pedantries, mindless
rules and unpleasant personal habits with which humanity is cursed. The titular
Jim Dixon is an academic of a pretty poor sort, a medievalist who only picked
the period because it looked like a soft option. Having clawed his way into a
second-rate university he manages to cram the occasional desultory lecture
around the more urgent business of persuading pretty girls to take his classes.
Despite this non-specific lust, he does have a girlfriend of sorts: the
grotesque Margaret, whose "tinkle of tiny silver bells" laugh will
freeze the heart of any would-be coquette.
Remarkable
for its relentless skewering of artifice and pretension, Lucky Jim also
contains some of the finest comic set pieces in the language. One of the more
brilliant concerns a weekend at the home of a ghastly senior professor. After
an afternoon of enforced madrigals, Jim becomes so horribly drunk that he
inadvertently destroys his host's spare room. His attempts to make good the
damage while labouring under a painfully accurately described hangover is so wildly
funny as to make the book unsuitable for consumption on public transport.
Jim is more
appealing than some of Amis's later heroes; his hatreds – expressed viscerally
through a vast repertoire of grotesque faces – are infectious, while his
increasingly elaborate attempts to dig himself out of trouble rarely have the
desired effect. The result is a novel in the grand tradition of English satire,
in which irritants large and small – rude waiters, manipulative women, cliches,
affectation and the price of beer – conspire to create a comic howl of hatred
of ear-splitting volume and force.
No comments:
Post a Comment