Re-Reading ‘Lucky Jim’
Note: This review contains spoilers.
I’m a big fan of re-reading, a sovereign cure for Life’s Disappointments. Whenever you injure your foot at the start of a walking holiday, or your team gets relegated, or the school bully turns up again as your new line manager, there’s one guaranteed restorative: re-reading a favourite story. And not just any favourite story: for my money, it’s got to be either a galloping adventure story, or a comic novel. (Notice I don’t say ‘favourite author:’ Stevenson’s ‘Treasure Island,’ or ‘Kidnapped,’ definitely fall into the ‘sovereign cure’ category, but don’t ever pick up his ‘St Ives’).
When it comes to comic novels, it’s best to have a few candidates to draw on, because even the best jokes can become a little stale with very frequent repetition. My current list (there have been a few deletions over the years) consists of the following: Stella Gibbons’ ‘Cold Comfort Farm;’ Stanislaw Lem’s ‘The Star Diaries;’ David Lodge’s ‘Changing Places;’ J. K. Jerome’s ‘Three Men in a Boat;’ Alexander Kinglake’s ‘Eothen;’ and, last but not least, Kingsley Amis’ ‘Lucky Jim.’
Kingsley Amis (1922-95) published ‘Lucky Jim’ in 1954. It was his first novel. He published a lot of other stuff after that, characterised by an increasing misanthropy. When ‘Lucky Jim’ came out, Amis was lumped with a group of UK authors with the title, The Angry Young Men. In Amis’ case, I’m afraid the angry young man transitioned into grumpy old git. But that shouldn’t detract from our enjoyment of his debut novel.
Lucky Jim is Jim Dixon, a temporary junior lecturer in history at the (thinly disguised) Swansea University, where Amis also taught. Dixon is much put upon. His head of department, Professor Welch, is a vague, absent-minded, near-killer driver and devotee of late medieval music, whom Jim must try and impress in order to secure an extension to his contract of employment. His salary is insufficient for his simple needs – his only savings are the anticipated deposits on his small collection of empty beer bottles. The woman he yearns for is the girlfriend of a pretentious modernist painter, Bertrand, the son of Professor Welch.
Jim lurches from one disaster to another. An invited guest to a medieval music weekend at Chez Prof Welch, en route, as a passenger in Welch’s car, Jim seeks to avert death or serious injury, by whipping off his glasses and rolling himself into a ball. On arrival, he discovers the musical weekend entertainment involves participation in a choir; he feels unable to confess that he can’t read music. As the evening proceeds, he slips away through the french windows to the local pub, where he celebrates in style his blessed release.
The most famous part of the book is the first paragraph of Chapter 6, where Jim wakes up the next morning in a guest bedroom at Chez Welch. No less an authority than The New Yorker described it as the best description of a hangover in world literture:
“Dixon was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a summary, forcible ejection. He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider-crab on the tarry shingle of the morning. The light did him harm, but not so much as looking at things did; he resolved, having done it once, never to move his eyeballs again. A dusty thudding in his head made the scene before him beat like a pulse. His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, he’d somehow been on a cross-ciuntry run and then been expertly beaten up by secret police. He felt bad.”*
His state of mind further deteriorated when he discovered that his previous failure to extinguish a late-night cigarette had resulted in a largish burnhole in a bedsheet, a blanket, and an expensive-looking rug, plus some superficial damage to the bedside table. He knows that he will be quite unable to confess this to the tiger-ish Mrs Welch. He ponders the mess then uses a razorblade to remove the discolouration around the burnholes, believing that the result might – for a second or two – be misinterpreted as the work of ravaging moths.
Further disasters follow fast. All things conspire against him, including the local public transport system. But needless to say, Jim wins through in the end, he gets the woman of his dreams and a splendid job in London, the city of his dreams. It can’t truly be a comic novel without a happy ending.
I imagine that you can tell that I’ve re-read ‘Lucky Jim’ recently. Well, during that re-reading, I realised that there is another great fugitive benefit to re-reading that is worth mentioning, namely that of pleasurable anticipation. From time to time, you find yourself turning a page quite eagerly. Because you know that there’s a really good bit coming up…
*Kingsley Amis, ‘Lucky Jim,’ Penguin Books, 1976, p.61
literally stories 
Mick
That is a top notch hangover description. I also reread books after many years. I read three or so, a bit here, a bit there. One will always be a reread. Most usually hold up and improve, but once in a while I wonder what it was I liked in the first place (currently re-reading Antony and Cleopatra after decades; Will never goes sour.)
Thank you for the review and I have included this on my reading list.
Leila
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Leila,
It doesn’t get better than Antony and Cleopatra, unless it be Romeo and Juliet, or David and Bathsheba from the King James Bible (or Leonard Cohen’s version, “Hallelujah.”)
Also, awesome to hear you saw Muddy open for Clapton. I’ve seen Clapton, but never Muddy, although I lived in the same suburb as Muddy for a while, and now live not far from where he’s buried. (Our Westminster Abbey is scattered across thousands of miles.)
Ironic that Muddy was opening for Clapton. Clapton is great, but Muddy belongs beside Billie Holiday, Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry, and Elvis himself, which I believe Clapton would agree with in his heart of hearts.
D
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Hi Dale
Yes Shakespeare always gets better. I agree that Muddy was not a mere opening act and to Clapton’s credit he lauded the man to no end. I heard that Johnny Winter toured with both but not that time around.
Hoochie Coochie Man!
I also saw Chuck Berry at the Seattle Bumbershoot festival in 1982. Flash Cadillac was his for hire band. I believe Bruce and his fellows supported Chuck once before hitting it big
Thank you!
Leila
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Leila, Me too, I also read 3 books at the same time (actually, 4 or 5 if you count the one in the toilet and the one that’s in the coat pocket for dentists’ appointments, etc). But I beat myself up about that, because inevitably at least one of the three never gets read to the finale and ends up cluttering the bedside table. And you’re right that sometimes a re-read goes sour, although I find that more frequently with previously fondly remembered films.
Impressed that you’re re-reading Shakespeare. Perhaps I choked on Will at school, but the only one I’ve re-read since is Macbeth, which has local connections – Dunsinane and Birnam Hill are both just a short drive away.
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Mick,
I feel like you’re absolutely right, re-reading can be one of the greatest pleasures in the world, if the material is worthy of it. I re-read a lot of things quite frequently, but almost never make it through from end to end. Dipping and dropping in here and there, and reading a while, until one loses interest, are my most preferred re-reading methods. You remember the rest of the story so you’re able to focus on favorite sections without having to worry about following the plot, etc.
For instance, I love re-reading Williams’ “A Streetcar Named Desire,” starting out at the parts where the “real” Blanche begins getting revealed to everyone (even though Stanley figured it out earlier). Right up to the line, “Whoever you are, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” (Blanche reminds me so much of a woman I know and haven’t seen in five years, I just reread that part of the play last night, again for the hundredth time!).
I know of Amis from his friendship with Philip Larkin, who’s one of my favorite writers, but I’ve never read “Lucky Jim.” Thanks for shining a light on this novel. The hangover scene reminds me why I don’t drink any more!
I met Martin A. for a few minutes one time at a book reading he did here in Chicago for his novel “Night Train,” I think it was. He talked about Saul Bellow, which was great.
Thanks again!
Dale
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You’re dead right, Dale. Another advantage of re-reads is that you can skip the boring bits.
If you’re a Larkin fan, maybe you’d like my one Larkin anecdote… An old friend of mine (now deceased) was a lecturer at Hull University when Larkin was the University Librarian back in the 1950s. It became known that in the library there was a locked cabinet containing books with restricted access. There was a row about it (‘free speech’ etc). Larkin refused to back down. A vote in the University Senate required him to capitulate. Larkin couldn’t find the key. The key was found. The books within had titles like ‘My six months in Red Russia.’
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Mick
Thanks for the Larkin anecdote! It shows him to be a complex and ambivalent guy, a bit sly and with some occasionally noxious opinions that thankfully never made it into his poems! At least he didn’t burn the books!
As with Shakespeare, in PL’s poems, you can’t tell what his political or other opinions were, at all. I know from the biographies that Larkin also used the “N” word frequently in his letters, when writing to people who he thought would approve, while also being one of the biggest fans of jazz and black artists England had at that time, which he repeatedly expressed in his public writings. He was also sneaky and noncommittal in his love life, which some politically correct feminists in academia have really given him hell for (including banning him from reading lists in some cases). If his poems, especially his later poems, have a major flaw, it’s that they are absolutely clouded by his alcoholic, depressive frame of mind.
Totally cool that you live close to where Macbeth took place! Thanks again for the thought-provoking review of Lucky Jim, great choice and great words about it. I know Larkin also called Amis his best friend.
Dale
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Thanks, Dale. Some strange wordpress quirk doesn’t allow me to reply to your thoughts on Larkin’s politics in the correct place, so inserting my reply here. I read somewhere that Larkin’s dad in Coventry was a vocal fascist before the war (even attending a couple of Nuremburg rallies!). This couldn’t have made the Larkins very popular when the Luftwaffe flattened Coventry city centre. I imagine that would’ve inoculated son Philip against any public political utterances. Couldn’t blame him for that.
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I’m also a great big fan of re-reading. Great post. Like you mention, the pleasurable anticipation and turning the page quite eagerly.
I often think will my emotions and feelings of what I experienced be the same as the last time I read the story? Will I discover something I hadn’t picked up on before? Even with the stories I’ve read more than once. More times than not, the experience is like visiting old friends. Or the comfortable feeling of the familiarity.
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Ah yes, you’re right on both counts. Sometimes there’s the comfortable feeling of visiting old friends. And sometimes (a great feeling) you discover a meaning, a hidden reference, or whatever, that you’d previously missed. And the pleasure of that is greater than if you’d found it the first time. Thanks!
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Good review. The hangover description is hilarious…. and spot on. The idea of pleasurable anticipation when rereading or rewatching a favorite is an excellent observation.
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Thanks, David. Glad you liked it. Yes, I still snort into my cornflakes when I read the line, ‘…having done it once, he resolved never to move his eyeballs again.’
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In the heat of the day down in Mobile Alabama working all day with a steel driving hammer.
LET IT ROCK sent into space
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Hi Doug,
One comma in that and you are a poet!!!
All the very best my interesting friend.
Hugh
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Hugh – As nearly as I can remember those are the lyrics to Let It Rock, a great Chuck Berry but one he didn’t claim to write. It’s been covered by Bob Seger among others. If you want to get your rocks off LET IT ROCK.
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Great review of a great book, and I’m not sure anyone will ever describe a hangover in greater prose. I’m not a huge rereader of books (but perhaps should be) as there always seems to be something else I haven’t read that I want to.
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Thanks, Paul. Pleased that you liked it. And you’re right that there are always more great books and great authors for us still to discover: I’m reading a great new book right now about gangsters and their molls in late-forties Hollywood (wonderful dialogue). Maybe I’m lucky that I’m a pensioner and I dont have to earn a living and my time’s my own to spend – so I’ve got the leisure to be able to both read the new and re-read the old. Something for you to look forward to?
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Hi Mick – yes, something for me to very much look forward to! I’m firmly in the Hugh Cron school of thinking when it comes to work!
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Some books I’ve read five or more times, esp. when they’re short. That was indeed a major hangover description, reminded me a little of the visual hangover scenes in the movie “Withnail and I.” Indeed, Lucky Jim went on to overcome his vices. The romance part of the book is quite intriguing. Being young has its advantages. It is said that the eccentric Professor Welch was based on JRR Tolkein
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Thanks, Harrison. Didn’t know of the Tolkien connection, but it sounds plausible. Amis would’ve been taught by Tolkien as an undergraduate and it was said that many of the students loathed being taught Anglo-Saxon literature.
I reckon you’ve outstripped me on the multiple re-readings. I can only think of two that I’ve maybe read five times. Gonna tell me your 5+ re-reads?
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Hi Mick,
I love your passion in these essay type thingies. What you have for History can’t be taught. And when I take into what a cracking writer that you are, everything you do, comes across as infectious!!
I have a problem (Many really!!) but I can count on one hand with two fingers fallen off how many hangovers I have had. (Pernod once, Red Wine, Cider and Jack was another. And a four and a half litre night of red, white and rose Lambrussco (Aye, I know!!) I played golf the next morning with a Tee-Shirt on and that still didn’t stop me sweating in an Arctic West Coast Wind!!! This ain’t a brag, it’s probably a realisation that it will all catch up with me…It is beginning too!!! But what the fuck – Gwen and alcohol have been two of my friends throughout life. I don’t think I’ve ever been an arsehole drunk. HAH!!! I’m more one with less tolerance when I’m sober!!!!!!!!!
Sorry I’m off on a tangent. You, as always have made me interested. What I loved about this was one line that did make me spurt out my whisky, (I gave up on what I have already mentioned!) not so much that it was so funny but it was something that I had forgotten and you made me remember…Cigarette burn-holes in the blankets!!!
If my auld granny or papa was ill and we took them in a cup of tea to their bed, there was all these jaggy holes that were from cigarettes. I’m sure you might remember the ‘Don’t Watch Alone’ films on TV, early seventies. My mum used to wake me up to watch this with her as she was a tad scared. I didn’t mind, I loved horror and she made me a cup of coffee made with milk and two Digestive Biscuits and butter – Sorry, off on a tangent again! My point was, me at seven year old would go upstairs to wake my dad up for his nightshift. I had to shake him, stick a fag in his mouth and light it. When he started puffing, I could leave the room as I knew that he was awake…But maybe not quite as there was always a few knew ciggie burns on the duvet the next night!!!!!!!!!!
Excellent as always my fine friend and I hope one day to be referred to as ‘Lucky Shug’!!!
But fuck me – That ain’t going to happen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hugh
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Lucky Shug (may I be the first to so address you), not to have hangovers. I’ve only known one other – thank your lucky genes.
May’ve got this wrong, but smoking in bed seems to me to have gone entirely out of fashion. Like pisspots under the bed. And there’s something faintly ludicrous about vaping in bed.
Thanks, as always, for your generous, supportive comments, Hugh.
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Hi Mick,
Thanks so much for the title ‘Lucky Shug’ – Although it will only be said in irony as it is truly a contradiction in terms!!!! I will write my memoirs some day and folks will be watching ‘Bambi’ and ‘Schindlers List’ to chear themselves up!!!
I hope Leila sees this as she is a proud smoker which I have no issues with!! I hate the ‘Don’t do that Nazis!!!’ Leila PLEASE if you see this and you have one wee cigarette burn in a blanket or duvet, let us see it!!!!!
You will bring my auld Gran and Papa (I know Leila hates that term but that is what we called them) back for a few seconds!!!!!
Mick, you made me remember, maybe not what you were going for but that is the whole point of your musings!!
I can’t thank you enough, I still have a smile on my face and a tear in my eye.
Lucky Shug…Just bought a Scratch-Card…I lost!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Hugh
Just saw this!
My cigarette burns are exclusively to my clothing. And only the good stuff. Once I managed to set the inside of my coat pocket on fire because an open matchbook somehow rubbed another matchbook and poof! But it didn’t last long. My non smoking friend said it would never have happened if I didn’t smoke (I don’t use lighters). Told her that the only reason why some people were still alive was due to my smoking habit!
I do use a vape pen at work; they actually aren’t that bad. Still I am a traditional person
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Me too, Lucky Shug: I too have fond memories of my grandparents. In my case, it can happen every time I catch sight of myself in a mirror, because I’m now the spitting image of my grandad.
Keep buying the scratch cards.
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