What do you think?
Rate this book
The Swimming-Pool Library
Young, gay, William Beckwith spends his time, and his trust fund, idly cruising London for erotic encounters. When he saves the life of an elderly man in a public convenience an unlikely job opportunity presents itself - the man, Lord Nantwich, is seeking a biographer. Will agrees to take a look at Nantwich’s diaries. But in the story he unravels, a tragedy of twentieth-century gay repression, lurk bitter truths about Will’s own privileged existence.
351 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 22, 1988
560 people are currently reading
15.1k people want to read
About the author
Alan Hollinghurst
39books1,602followersAlan Hollinghurst is an English novelist, and winner of the 2004 Booker Prize for The Line of Beauty.
He read English at Magdalen College, Oxford graduating in 1975; and subsequently took the further degree of Master of Literature (1979). While at Oxford he shared a house with Andrew Motion, and was awarded the Newdigate Prize for poetry in 1974, the year before Motion.
In the late 1970s he became a lecturer at Magdalen, and then at Somerville College and Corpus Christi College, Oxford. In 1981 he moved on to lecture at University College London. In 1997, he went on an Asia book tour in Singapore.
In 1981 he joined The Times Literary Supplement and was the paper's deputy editor from 1982 to 1995.
He lives in London.
He read English at Magdalen College, Oxford graduating in 1975; and subsequently took the further degree of Master of Literature (1979). While at Oxford he shared a house with Andrew Motion, and was awarded the Newdigate Prize for poetry in 1974, the year before Motion.
In the late 1970s he became a lecturer at Magdalen, and then at Somerville College and Corpus Christi College, Oxford. In 1981 he moved on to lecture at University College London. In 1997, he went on an Asia book tour in Singapore.
In 1981 he joined The Times Literary Supplement and was the paper's deputy editor from 1982 to 1995.
He lives in London.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 745 reviews
June 22, 2011
i'll start off with a blanket statement: many novels of the Gay Fiction subgenre will fall within two categories.
1. Coming of Age Tales in which the protagonist struggles to come out, often against his unsympathetic surroundings. often tender; occasionally mawkish.
2. a category that i like to call Gay World Novels in which, oh, everyone is pretty much gay. fine. dream on, gays, dream on. if you can't live it...dream it!
to me, the self-relegation of most gay novels between these two categories can be annoying, but i suppose understandable. gays have to come out of the closet and so this intense experience is perfectly paired with the classic coming-of-age tale's structure. and gays are also often rejected by straight society, so why not rejoice in the telling of tales that in turn reject that straight world, that rolls its eyes at it, that have narratives that seem to posit that straights are the actual minority? Swimming-Pool falls squarely within that second category.
the novel is about a repulsive and useless parasite, a shallow and superficial upper-class twit obsessed solely with sex, entirely without any qualities whatsoever except, i suppose, his aristocratic lineage and his apparently smashing good looks and large endowment. unfortunately, the protagonist somehow thinks that he's not a complete waste of space. even more unfortunately, the author seems to think that he's not so bad, that his thoughts and interests and obsessions and general behavior are not completely infantile and boring. well, i beg to differ, hollinghurst!
this is a book of so many wasted opportunities that it becomes truly disgusting. the writer knows how to write: his style is elegant and subtle and full of long, brave sentences and carefully drawn mysteries and surprisingly ambiguous characterization. and he throws it all away by writing about a world THAT CARES ABOUT NOTHING EXCEPT FOR SEX. give me a fucking break, hollinghurst! is this how you see gay people? do they think of nothing but checking people out, eyeing the package of every single dude that crosses their path, rating each body, ignoring all women, living for moments that are only about the interwining of bodies, the randomly chosen hook-up, the spilling of various fluids? do they not have other thoughts, have they no other interests, no other inner or outer life? do their interior monologues consist of nothing but the drooling study of the beauty of the male form? are they incapable of even the slightest depth? do all gays live to celebrate the flesh, and for nothing else whatsoever? when our narrator greets his long-lost lover by ripping his pants down and burying his face in his ass, is this supposed to be palpably romantic rather than absurd and farcical?
the novel wastes a golden opportunity in the story of the elderly and very gay Lord Nantwich, whose diaries the protagonist is working his way through as he considers writing a bio of the lord's life. learning about this elderly gent's story could have been fascinating - a tale of england's colonial past, adventures in africa, a recounting of london during some very interesting times, all seen through the lense of an upper class gay outsider. but 'tis not to be. like the narrator of the present, Lord Nantwich is magically surrounded by gay acquaintances and probably-gay-or-maybe-bisexual african natives. almost every single person that either character meets, past or present, is gay or probably-gay-or-bisexual. and even worse, and much like the narrator of the present, Lord Nantwich is also disinterested in recounting anything whatsoever that isn't about getting off and ogling all the gay chaps around him. such a potentially vivid life and all he is primarily interested in is getting some action? both characters are resoundingly pathetic - and yet hollinghurst appears to think there is something brave about Lord Nantwich and something charming about our feckless, pointless narrator. at one point, the protagonist idly thumbs through his best friend's diary. naturally, his best friend is also obsessed with sex. i guess that's how gays are, right? they simply have no other interests.
there was one thing that consistently amused me, in a good way: the effete and fatuous queen of a lead character is also a rough, tough top. i like that! it is always interesting when expectations and stereotypes are subverted. sadly, those instances are the only examples of any kind of subversiveness.
a part of the novel that struck me as particularly foul was the sexualization of kids. yes, kids can be sexual, i know this of course. but almost an entire chapter devoted to salivating over a junior boxing championship? a short sequence where the narrator describes a family man lovingly patting his child while also lovingly caressing his own hard-on - described as some kind of deep connection...seriously, hollinghurst?
the title is laughable. the narrator's constant presence at the local english equivalent of the ymca swimming pool is metaphorically (?) tied to his dreamy past hooking up with guys in the school swimming pool, both of which are thematically (?) linked up with Lord Nantwich's rather more hedonistic private pool. that is some serious over-reaching there, hollinghurst.
the novel has a deeply creepy obsession with race. specifically, blacks. Lord Nantwich is obsessed by them, both africans and african-american soldiers he meets. this is presented with some slight critical distance, but you know what? "slight critical distance" is not enough when the attitude being presented is so barkingly colonial and condescending that it becomes downright repulsive. our charmless hero also starts out with a black boyfriend and much is made of that character's stereotypical, lower-class 'blackness' and, naturally, his dangerous life in the projects. that's how blacks are, right? they are either innocent, wide-eyed africans or sexy, violent thugs. and of course the best friend also has his own love of black men - well, their dicks, that is. reading all about an insufferable, body-worshipping twit of a protagonist and an elderly upper-class jackass who lives to objectify eventually made me want to commit some bodily harm on both of them. when the narrator eventually gets his ass kicked, i couldn't help but think well finally he is getting a dose of some sort of reality that has nothing to do with worship of the male body or getting fucked.
my gosh, i just hated this novel.
a little self-disclosure here. i'm a bi guy. i was out to a select group in high school. i was out to the world in college. i helped start the second iteration of Act-Up San Diego. when i was younger and better looking, i whored myself out a bit (now there's a fun fact). i used to volunteer for gay men dying of hiv. now i work for an agency whose clientele is well over half gay. i've gone to jail protesting for the right of gay marriage and the rights of gay teachers to teach children. i think my queer credibility is pretty much impeccable. and i say all this, not just to provide personal context, but mainly because i do not want this review to give the impression that there is any kind of lurking, bottled-up self-hate or any negative attitude towards gay sexuality involved in my rejection of this appalling novel. although i am not a big part of the gay community, i celebrate it and of course am a proud member.
but there is nothing to celebrate about this novel. it was a revolting, depressing, infuriating experience for me. apparently The Swimming-Pool Library is considered to be some kind of modern gay classic. that does a profound disservice to the genuinely complex and challenging works and the truly sensitive and moving narratives that exist in this often wonderful subgenre.
1. Coming of Age Tales in which the protagonist struggles to come out, often against his unsympathetic surroundings. often tender; occasionally mawkish.
2. a category that i like to call Gay World Novels in which, oh, everyone is pretty much gay. fine. dream on, gays, dream on. if you can't live it...dream it!
to me, the self-relegation of most gay novels between these two categories can be annoying, but i suppose understandable. gays have to come out of the closet and so this intense experience is perfectly paired with the classic coming-of-age tale's structure. and gays are also often rejected by straight society, so why not rejoice in the telling of tales that in turn reject that straight world, that rolls its eyes at it, that have narratives that seem to posit that straights are the actual minority? Swimming-Pool falls squarely within that second category.
the novel is about a repulsive and useless parasite, a shallow and superficial upper-class twit obsessed solely with sex, entirely without any qualities whatsoever except, i suppose, his aristocratic lineage and his apparently smashing good looks and large endowment. unfortunately, the protagonist somehow thinks that he's not a complete waste of space. even more unfortunately, the author seems to think that he's not so bad, that his thoughts and interests and obsessions and general behavior are not completely infantile and boring. well, i beg to differ, hollinghurst!
this is a book of so many wasted opportunities that it becomes truly disgusting. the writer knows how to write: his style is elegant and subtle and full of long, brave sentences and carefully drawn mysteries and surprisingly ambiguous characterization. and he throws it all away by writing about a world THAT CARES ABOUT NOTHING EXCEPT FOR SEX. give me a fucking break, hollinghurst! is this how you see gay people? do they think of nothing but checking people out, eyeing the package of every single dude that crosses their path, rating each body, ignoring all women, living for moments that are only about the interwining of bodies, the randomly chosen hook-up, the spilling of various fluids? do they not have other thoughts, have they no other interests, no other inner or outer life? do their interior monologues consist of nothing but the drooling study of the beauty of the male form? are they incapable of even the slightest depth? do all gays live to celebrate the flesh, and for nothing else whatsoever? when our narrator greets his long-lost lover by ripping his pants down and burying his face in his ass, is this supposed to be palpably romantic rather than absurd and farcical?
the novel wastes a golden opportunity in the story of the elderly and very gay Lord Nantwich, whose diaries the protagonist is working his way through as he considers writing a bio of the lord's life. learning about this elderly gent's story could have been fascinating - a tale of england's colonial past, adventures in africa, a recounting of london during some very interesting times, all seen through the lense of an upper class gay outsider. but 'tis not to be. like the narrator of the present, Lord Nantwich is magically surrounded by gay acquaintances and probably-gay-or-maybe-bisexual african natives. almost every single person that either character meets, past or present, is gay or probably-gay-or-bisexual. and even worse, and much like the narrator of the present, Lord Nantwich is also disinterested in recounting anything whatsoever that isn't about getting off and ogling all the gay chaps around him. such a potentially vivid life and all he is primarily interested in is getting some action? both characters are resoundingly pathetic - and yet hollinghurst appears to think there is something brave about Lord Nantwich and something charming about our feckless, pointless narrator. at one point, the protagonist idly thumbs through his best friend's diary. naturally, his best friend is also obsessed with sex. i guess that's how gays are, right? they simply have no other interests.
there was one thing that consistently amused me, in a good way: the effete and fatuous queen of a lead character is also a rough, tough top. i like that! it is always interesting when expectations and stereotypes are subverted. sadly, those instances are the only examples of any kind of subversiveness.
a part of the novel that struck me as particularly foul was the sexualization of kids. yes, kids can be sexual, i know this of course. but almost an entire chapter devoted to salivating over a junior boxing championship? a short sequence where the narrator describes a family man lovingly patting his child while also lovingly caressing his own hard-on - described as some kind of deep connection...seriously, hollinghurst?
the title is laughable. the narrator's constant presence at the local english equivalent of the ymca swimming pool is metaphorically (?) tied to his dreamy past hooking up with guys in the school swimming pool, both of which are thematically (?) linked up with Lord Nantwich's rather more hedonistic private pool. that is some serious over-reaching there, hollinghurst.
the novel has a deeply creepy obsession with race. specifically, blacks. Lord Nantwich is obsessed by them, both africans and african-american soldiers he meets. this is presented with some slight critical distance, but you know what? "slight critical distance" is not enough when the attitude being presented is so barkingly colonial and condescending that it becomes downright repulsive. our charmless hero also starts out with a black boyfriend and much is made of that character's stereotypical, lower-class 'blackness' and, naturally, his dangerous life in the projects. that's how blacks are, right? they are either innocent, wide-eyed africans or sexy, violent thugs. and of course the best friend also has his own love of black men - well, their dicks, that is. reading all about an insufferable, body-worshipping twit of a protagonist and an elderly upper-class jackass who lives to objectify eventually made me want to commit some bodily harm on both of them. when the narrator eventually gets his ass kicked, i couldn't help but think well finally he is getting a dose of some sort of reality that has nothing to do with worship of the male body or getting fucked.
my gosh, i just hated this novel.
a little self-disclosure here. i'm a bi guy. i was out to a select group in high school. i was out to the world in college. i helped start the second iteration of Act-Up San Diego. when i was younger and better looking, i whored myself out a bit (now there's a fun fact). i used to volunteer for gay men dying of hiv. now i work for an agency whose clientele is well over half gay. i've gone to jail protesting for the right of gay marriage and the rights of gay teachers to teach children. i think my queer credibility is pretty much impeccable. and i say all this, not just to provide personal context, but mainly because i do not want this review to give the impression that there is any kind of lurking, bottled-up self-hate or any negative attitude towards gay sexuality involved in my rejection of this appalling novel. although i am not a big part of the gay community, i celebrate it and of course am a proud member.
but there is nothing to celebrate about this novel. it was a revolting, depressing, infuriating experience for me. apparently The Swimming-Pool Library is considered to be some kind of modern gay classic. that does a profound disservice to the genuinely complex and challenging works and the truly sensitive and moving narratives that exist in this often wonderful subgenre.
April 6, 2023
Ah, the infamous first person narrator. I’m in his head without a doubt. He’s a protagonist that's difficult to admire, but have such fun in his company regardless. Will and I could never be friends� or could we? Well, to be honest, I don’t think he’d give me the time of day. I wouldn’t be admitted past the front desk of the Corinthian Club (fondly called the Corry) anyway. Besides, that’s not Hollinghurst’s point here.
“It was a place I loved, a gloomy and functional underworld full of life, purpose and sexuality. Boys, from the age of seventeen, could go there to work on their bodies in the stagnant, aphrodisiac air of the weights room. As you got older, it grew dearer, but quite a few men of advanced years, members since youth and displaying the drooping relics of toned-up pectorals, still paid the price and tottered in to cast an appreciative eye at the showering youngsters.�
The early 1980s London gay scene is the setting and much of the action takes place at the Corry or in Will’s upscale flat or in the home of Lord Nantwich, an elderly gay man with an intriguing past who wishes for Will to write his biography for him. But Will is pretty happy with his life of leisure, living in the flat that grandfather helped him acquire, bringing home young men to keep him entertained, and taking off for the occasional swim at the club, perhaps prowling the scene a bit while the young man waits for him back at the flat. I couldn’t help but think of that narcissist, Humbert Humbert while reading this. He too was a brilliant narrator. Not that I’m labeling Will a predator, and yet�
“I resented his ability to resist me, and that I had no power over someone so young.�
There’s a whiff of foreboding throughout this story. Maybe it’s knowing what lies ahead regarding the AIDS crisis; it’s lurking right there in the shadows of the club, in the hotel, in the flat. Having already read The Line of Beauty, I already knew that Hollinghurst was an accomplished writer with some really sharp, literary prose. I laughed (and applauded) how he managed to mix that right in with the coarse and the erotic! Not everyone could follow a sizing up of a bum and a cock with some lovely turns of phrase.
“My life was in a strange way that summer, the last summer of its kind there was ever to be. I was riding high on sex and self-esteem � it was my time, my belle époque � but all the while with a faint flicker of calamity, like flames around a photograph, something seen out of the corner of the eye.�
I don’t know what I was expecting by the end, but there was a little twist I didn’t exactly see coming. It didn’t knock me for a loop, but perhaps it wasn’t meant to. I confess to hoping for a little bit of what goes around comes around. I won’t say whether or not I got my wish, but I admit to a girlish cackle at the very last sentence. I don’t know who I could recommend this book to. I’m in the minority of readership here for sure, but I derived some pleasure even if I did feel a bit grumpy about not meeting a single heterosexual woman in this novel. Would Will really keep someone like me out of his orbit? I can have as much fun as the next person at the disco, dammit! He hurt my feelings� the bastard! This is a “low� four stars while The Line of Beauty was nearly a fiver. I’ll keep making my way through Hollinghurst’s work. I’m a fan.
“When one is beyond love, where does pleasure lie?�
“It was a place I loved, a gloomy and functional underworld full of life, purpose and sexuality. Boys, from the age of seventeen, could go there to work on their bodies in the stagnant, aphrodisiac air of the weights room. As you got older, it grew dearer, but quite a few men of advanced years, members since youth and displaying the drooping relics of toned-up pectorals, still paid the price and tottered in to cast an appreciative eye at the showering youngsters.�
The early 1980s London gay scene is the setting and much of the action takes place at the Corry or in Will’s upscale flat or in the home of Lord Nantwich, an elderly gay man with an intriguing past who wishes for Will to write his biography for him. But Will is pretty happy with his life of leisure, living in the flat that grandfather helped him acquire, bringing home young men to keep him entertained, and taking off for the occasional swim at the club, perhaps prowling the scene a bit while the young man waits for him back at the flat. I couldn’t help but think of that narcissist, Humbert Humbert while reading this. He too was a brilliant narrator. Not that I’m labeling Will a predator, and yet�
“I resented his ability to resist me, and that I had no power over someone so young.�
There’s a whiff of foreboding throughout this story. Maybe it’s knowing what lies ahead regarding the AIDS crisis; it’s lurking right there in the shadows of the club, in the hotel, in the flat. Having already read The Line of Beauty, I already knew that Hollinghurst was an accomplished writer with some really sharp, literary prose. I laughed (and applauded) how he managed to mix that right in with the coarse and the erotic! Not everyone could follow a sizing up of a bum and a cock with some lovely turns of phrase.
“My life was in a strange way that summer, the last summer of its kind there was ever to be. I was riding high on sex and self-esteem � it was my time, my belle époque � but all the while with a faint flicker of calamity, like flames around a photograph, something seen out of the corner of the eye.�
I don’t know what I was expecting by the end, but there was a little twist I didn’t exactly see coming. It didn’t knock me for a loop, but perhaps it wasn’t meant to. I confess to hoping for a little bit of what goes around comes around. I won’t say whether or not I got my wish, but I admit to a girlish cackle at the very last sentence. I don’t know who I could recommend this book to. I’m in the minority of readership here for sure, but I derived some pleasure even if I did feel a bit grumpy about not meeting a single heterosexual woman in this novel. Would Will really keep someone like me out of his orbit? I can have as much fun as the next person at the disco, dammit! He hurt my feelings� the bastard! This is a “low� four stars while The Line of Beauty was nearly a fiver. I’ll keep making my way through Hollinghurst’s work. I’m a fan.
“When one is beyond love, where does pleasure lie?�
September 12, 2019
A wonderful romp around Londontown, arguably the gayest city in all of Europe! The novel is exquisite, very smartly titled (Swimming-pool implies the superficial aspect of the gay scene, Library implies all that is intelligent and witty: the book is a merger of these both). It's at once overly-sensual & incredibly literary.
“The Line of Beauty� seems to be the culmination of Alan Hollinghurst’s steamy/cranial poetics� this then is barely but a stepping stone toward that epic saga (the Booker winner was turned into a monolithic miniseries by the BBC!). This is a novel of paramount importance: it is a historical document which embodies the livid spirit of the gay scene back in the 1980's, before AIDS, before pretty much stuff like this gave homosexuals a bad rap. It is one-of-a-kind, written eloquently, written with a focus on that elusive antihero: our gay leading man.
“The Line of Beauty� seems to be the culmination of Alan Hollinghurst’s steamy/cranial poetics� this then is barely but a stepping stone toward that epic saga (the Booker winner was turned into a monolithic miniseries by the BBC!). This is a novel of paramount importance: it is a historical document which embodies the livid spirit of the gay scene back in the 1980's, before AIDS, before pretty much stuff like this gave homosexuals a bad rap. It is one-of-a-kind, written eloquently, written with a focus on that elusive antihero: our gay leading man.
December 11, 2008
The plot was only intermittently absorbing, but the narrator's tones are utterly addictive. I can't get enough of Hollingburst's style. It can delicately register so many things--shades of emotion, nuances of intellection, as well as symphonies of physical movement, as in the suburban boxing tournament--but never sounds fussy or over-elaborate; very solid and quick, a model for anyone.
I wasn't sure if the rather stark contrast between the rich emotion of Lord Nantwich's old diaries and the senile, muddled form he took during the present-day of the narration was intentional or not. Nantwich never caught on with me, he seemed so blurry and not-there; but as I said, maybe that was the point, Hollinghurst wishing to remind us that complex submerged past lives lie beneath the vague blandness of manner exhibited by the elderly. The samples of Nantwich's diaries can be heartbreaking, especially the scene in prison when he's told of Taha's murder by a smirking warden, and the recounting of the subsequent torpor and despair. It's all so well done. I haven't been struck like that in a long time. And the old home movie of Ronald Firbank walking down an Italian road had me gazing wistfully out the window. The account of the film felt rather tacked-on and random, but it was also one of the more sad and memorable things in the entire book. Amazing how he does it.
I'm so happy that Hollinghurst has two more novels that I have yet to read. He and Richard Yates are my revelations of 2008.
I wasn't sure if the rather stark contrast between the rich emotion of Lord Nantwich's old diaries and the senile, muddled form he took during the present-day of the narration was intentional or not. Nantwich never caught on with me, he seemed so blurry and not-there; but as I said, maybe that was the point, Hollinghurst wishing to remind us that complex submerged past lives lie beneath the vague blandness of manner exhibited by the elderly. The samples of Nantwich's diaries can be heartbreaking, especially the scene in prison when he's told of Taha's murder by a smirking warden, and the recounting of the subsequent torpor and despair. It's all so well done. I haven't been struck like that in a long time. And the old home movie of Ronald Firbank walking down an Italian road had me gazing wistfully out the window. The account of the film felt rather tacked-on and random, but it was also one of the more sad and memorable things in the entire book. Amazing how he does it.
I'm so happy that Hollinghurst has two more novels that I have yet to read. He and Richard Yates are my revelations of 2008.
June 19, 2021
Rich spoilt gay men f**k everything that moves, live a life of excess and have no redeeming features.
Well written but quite boring! I've much preferred everything else I've read by Hollinghurst.
Well written but quite boring! I've much preferred everything else I've read by Hollinghurst.
January 26, 2018
Given the number of sex scenes that Alan Hollinghurst crams into his books (approximately one every other page) you'd think it would be more enjoyable for him as well as the reader to inject a bit of variation. In fact they all follow broadly the same template: lingering description of a younger man's abs/chest/arse; comparative analysis of cock size and appearance; followed by a rough penetration in which the narcissistic central character is invariably in the "active" role. Sometimes if he's feeling particularly expansive he'll throw in a rimming. As a result, the experience of reading The Swimming Pool Library is a bit like flicking through somebody else's Grindr account - vicariously interesting for about five minutes, quickly becoming repetitive and not a little depressing.
In contrast to the excellent Line of Beauty, which takes place at the height of the AIDS epidemic, The Swimming Pool Library is set in the early 1980s at which time it was apparently still possible to have daily unprotected sex with strangers with no adverse physical health effects other than the occasional beating by right-wing skinheads. Not as fun as it sounds if this book is anything to go by.
In fairness to the author, the book's title strongly suggests that this is supposed to be a not entirely flattering portrayal of the superficiality of a certain type of urban, physical beauty-obsessed gay scene. So the joyless repetitiveness and preening self-absorption is clearly deliberate and intended to make a point. Fair enough. But for this reader at least the point had been well made by about the 20% mark, after which the book really needed to go in some new directions. By 70% it still hadn't, at which stage I couldn't summon sufficient interest in the characters to read any further.
In contrast to the excellent Line of Beauty, which takes place at the height of the AIDS epidemic, The Swimming Pool Library is set in the early 1980s at which time it was apparently still possible to have daily unprotected sex with strangers with no adverse physical health effects other than the occasional beating by right-wing skinheads. Not as fun as it sounds if this book is anything to go by.
In fairness to the author, the book's title strongly suggests that this is supposed to be a not entirely flattering portrayal of the superficiality of a certain type of urban, physical beauty-obsessed gay scene. So the joyless repetitiveness and preening self-absorption is clearly deliberate and intended to make a point. Fair enough. But for this reader at least the point had been well made by about the 20% mark, after which the book really needed to go in some new directions. By 70% it still hadn't, at which stage I couldn't summon sufficient interest in the characters to read any further.
March 28, 2012
This book is tricksily misleading on a number of fronts. It has been described as deeply thrilling and darkly erotic. I think I might have missed something then.... at first appearance it's a breezy but self obsessed commentary by flirtatious man about town, William Beckwith; young, moneyed, unscrupulous, charming and gay. The narrative is archly upper class with frequent references to private mens clubs such as the Corinthian and the Athenaeum. The characters are foppish and callow, self serving and frivolous. This is the sort of thing you can get away with when you're hideously moneyed apparently.
The prose is written in such a way that it took me about 50 pages (until the mention of Bucks Fizz - the pop group not the drink), to work out that this book is set in the 1980's. The plumy language and "old school tie" networking really leads you to believe that the setting is the 1920's or 30's and the lives, loves and language would not be out of place in an Evelyn Waugh novel. Or maybe that was just me and I have read too much Waugh and Wilde of late. The principle character is presented as a watered down version of Boy Mulcaster and Anthony Blanche after they've been through a blender together.
However this book has a moral agenda - sort of, a history lesson and hidden depths. William is approached by Lord Nantwich, a man whose life he had previously saved while loitering in a public lavatory, to write his biography and through the research and reading Nantwich's diaries he uncovers elements of a sad and unpleasant past, previously hidden to him.
I've given this book to two gay friends to read. They both hated it but were not able to explain why and while I continued to turn the pages until the very end, it did not have a profound enough effect to make me read any of more of Hollinghurst's work.
The prose is written in such a way that it took me about 50 pages (until the mention of Bucks Fizz - the pop group not the drink), to work out that this book is set in the 1980's. The plumy language and "old school tie" networking really leads you to believe that the setting is the 1920's or 30's and the lives, loves and language would not be out of place in an Evelyn Waugh novel. Or maybe that was just me and I have read too much Waugh and Wilde of late. The principle character is presented as a watered down version of Boy Mulcaster and Anthony Blanche after they've been through a blender together.
However this book has a moral agenda - sort of, a history lesson and hidden depths. William is approached by Lord Nantwich, a man whose life he had previously saved while loitering in a public lavatory, to write his biography and through the research and reading Nantwich's diaries he uncovers elements of a sad and unpleasant past, previously hidden to him.
I've given this book to two gay friends to read. They both hated it but were not able to explain why and while I continued to turn the pages until the very end, it did not have a profound enough effect to make me read any of more of Hollinghurst's work.
April 11, 2021
Sensationally sexy. This queer classic is really a historical snapshot of 20th century homosexuality in England. Hollinghurst masterly uses an amusing cast of characters to explore issues of class, wealth, race, identity and sexuality and its bit of a mystery and quite a lot of fun discovering how connected their lives are.
...
I was first introduced to this book in 1999. At the time, I was living a life of promiscuity quite like the protagonist, Will. One wintry night I found myself at a party with the promise of meeting up with a boy I was “seeing.� However, I found myself chatting much of the evening with the alluring hostess of the party who I recall telling me that I was quite feline in nature. I must admit, I was absolutely sly and very clever in those days so her association was correct. After I made my scores and was saying my goodbyes, the hostess handed me her dog eared copy of The Swimming Pool Library and told me it was a book she was certain I might quite like and she wanted me to have it. A parting gift. Rereading this book twenty+ years later, with a much more introspective mind, I can clearly see how that girl at a party was right.
...
I was first introduced to this book in 1999. At the time, I was living a life of promiscuity quite like the protagonist, Will. One wintry night I found myself at a party with the promise of meeting up with a boy I was “seeing.� However, I found myself chatting much of the evening with the alluring hostess of the party who I recall telling me that I was quite feline in nature. I must admit, I was absolutely sly and very clever in those days so her association was correct. After I made my scores and was saying my goodbyes, the hostess handed me her dog eared copy of The Swimming Pool Library and told me it was a book she was certain I might quite like and she wanted me to have it. A parting gift. Rereading this book twenty+ years later, with a much more introspective mind, I can clearly see how that girl at a party was right.
July 15, 2019
One star, partly as revenge for making me read the phrase "I very much wanted to fuck his big, muscly bum." That wasn't actually the worst line, but the others were too racist to be quite so funny. I really hated this narrator, can you tell?
July 18, 2016
This book is extremely good written.
Very erotic and very gay-ish.
It could have had 50 pages less or 100 pages more, it wouldn't have had any influence on the storyline.
(What a storyline?!)
It doesn't have a typical beginning, culminating and ending.
Here the journey itself is a destination.
It is for sure a book I'd like to re-read some day and invest more time in it.
Very erotic and very gay-ish.
It could have had 50 pages less or 100 pages more, it wouldn't have had any influence on the storyline.
(What a storyline?!)
It doesn't have a typical beginning, culminating and ending.
Here the journey itself is a destination.
It is for sure a book I'd like to re-read some day and invest more time in it.
Shelved as 'aborted-efforts'
October 25, 2009I need to stop doing this thing of, when I'm completely taken with a novel by a writer I've never read before, running out and instantly reading something else by that writer. It's just too much pressure, and I always wind up all pissed-off and disappointed. This has recently happened with Patrick Hamilton, Martin Amis, and now, Alan Hollinghurst � is there something about these Brits that they don’t make good second dates? When I read The Line of Beauty I loved it so much I was sick. Naturally I ran out that week and bought The Swimming-Pool Library, but I think I wanted too much, and was keyed up too high�. maybe it's too much to ask an author's first novel to deliver in the face of those expectations.
All this is not to suggest that The Swimming-Pool Library is not gorgeously written or at all without merit. There were a lot of good things about this book, and his descriptions of the club where he swims were so lovely and evocative that I actually looked into joining the Y, thinking that getting into lap swimming might be the secret to surviving a miserable winter. I'd probably not follow his example to the point of staring hungrily at other gym members' genitals in the shower, but who knows... Anyway, I didn't wind up joining the YMCA, and I've also decided, on page 112, to bail on this book.
To be fair, I've been extraordinarily cranky and picky lately, and nothing I read has satisfied me at all. The issue I had here was with the odious narrator. It's not like I need to become besties with whoever is telling the story, but writing a novel about an unlikeable person is tough, and for me, in this case, it just didn't work. The book is about a rich, lazy, snob who doesn't have to go to work or do anything, who just sort of shambles aimlessly around London reading books, working out, and fucking everything that moves. Since this is more or less how I’d like to live my own life, but can’t, I resented the character, who also seemed like a spoiled egomaniac without redeeming qualities. I wasn't interested in his thoughts or what happened to him, which is usually a deal breaker for loving a novel.
Maybe if I'd stuck with this longer, I would've developed feelings beyond bored irritation. Hollinghurst certainly is a fantastic writer, but for me he was not fantastic enough in 1988 to overcome my desire to smack his main character in the side of the head. I spend enough time already dealing with dull, entitled people who bore me, and I'm not sure why I should subject myself to them in fiction. I suspect that Hollinghurst was aware of potential for this response from readers, as in The Line of Beauty the main character is a striver who doesn’t really belong in the elite world that he describes. Must class resentment interfere with readers� enjoyment of fiction? No, of course not: a lot of my favorite books are about idle rich people. It does require extra authorial skills to effect that empathy, though, and for me, with this book, it just didn’t happen. Also, it wasn’t just that he’s rich, it’s that I really don’t like him.
Again, this book isn’t bad by any stretch of the imagination. However, I’m not enjoying it, so I’m putting it down.
All this is not to suggest that The Swimming-Pool Library is not gorgeously written or at all without merit. There were a lot of good things about this book, and his descriptions of the club where he swims were so lovely and evocative that I actually looked into joining the Y, thinking that getting into lap swimming might be the secret to surviving a miserable winter. I'd probably not follow his example to the point of staring hungrily at other gym members' genitals in the shower, but who knows... Anyway, I didn't wind up joining the YMCA, and I've also decided, on page 112, to bail on this book.
To be fair, I've been extraordinarily cranky and picky lately, and nothing I read has satisfied me at all. The issue I had here was with the odious narrator. It's not like I need to become besties with whoever is telling the story, but writing a novel about an unlikeable person is tough, and for me, in this case, it just didn't work. The book is about a rich, lazy, snob who doesn't have to go to work or do anything, who just sort of shambles aimlessly around London reading books, working out, and fucking everything that moves. Since this is more or less how I’d like to live my own life, but can’t, I resented the character, who also seemed like a spoiled egomaniac without redeeming qualities. I wasn't interested in his thoughts or what happened to him, which is usually a deal breaker for loving a novel.
Maybe if I'd stuck with this longer, I would've developed feelings beyond bored irritation. Hollinghurst certainly is a fantastic writer, but for me he was not fantastic enough in 1988 to overcome my desire to smack his main character in the side of the head. I spend enough time already dealing with dull, entitled people who bore me, and I'm not sure why I should subject myself to them in fiction. I suspect that Hollinghurst was aware of potential for this response from readers, as in The Line of Beauty the main character is a striver who doesn’t really belong in the elite world that he describes. Must class resentment interfere with readers� enjoyment of fiction? No, of course not: a lot of my favorite books are about idle rich people. It does require extra authorial skills to effect that empathy, though, and for me, with this book, it just didn’t happen. Also, it wasn’t just that he’s rich, it’s that I really don’t like him.
Again, this book isn’t bad by any stretch of the imagination. However, I’m not enjoying it, so I’m putting it down.
June 9, 2009
I found Hollinghurst's novel to be very enthralling and wonderfully erotic. It's such a fantastic exploration of what it was like to be a part of the gay community in the early 1980s, before AIDS altered the community and its image forever.
From my perspective, very recently influenced by some serious thought about the West Indian community in London, The Swimming-Pool Library struck me as a fascinating perspective: how did the majority view the other, especially an other that was as highly sexualized as West Indians in London? It seems that both men and women saw found them exotic and highly attractive; but the attraction was more than simply desire--it seemed rapacious and almost imperialistic. Will Beckwith, the main character, has a very lusty, admirable sexual appetite. However, his tendency to exoticize and take advantage of men younger than him--especially young men of color in the London he knows--is something that I can't admire or approve of. Still, this lustiness is something that Hollinghurst attributes to the age and the race of the title character, not necessarily something to be applauded. It needs to be remembered that Will is elitist, rich, unabashedly egotistical and fairly narcissistic, and, as is noted by a character at one of the clubs (if only I had the book with me right now!), it is quite in vogue for the white men in London to score a young West Indian or African man. Will and his boyfriend at the time, Phil (both are in the club), are assumed to be on the prowl for some "brown," as one of Will's former flames refers to the "white hunger" of the time.
I definitely don't think that Hollinghurst was very critical of Will in the text--at least not in an overly visible or emphatic way. However, he certainly expected the reader to be. His sympathetic yet unembellished portrayal of Will is very much done to give the reader the independence to decide on Will's actions and thoughts. Is he nothing but a narcissist? The reader is forced to look critically on Will as an Oxford graduate and as the grandson of a Peer of the British Empire. His boyfriends are all lower class, and he seems to sometimes ruthlessly exploit them. Hollinghurst, as I said earlier, doesn't visibly admonish Will, but he doesn't excuse his actions either.
The scene when Will is gay-bashed is heart-wrenching. Especially because bashing still happens today, the sheer violence and physicality of the scene is astounding. The way that Will zones out lends the scene a surreality that is hard to stomach. In fact, all of the scenes where Hollinghurst delves into discrimination and violence against the gay community is very well written and elicits very, very strong sympathy from me (is it only because these situations hit so close to home for so many of us? would these scenes seem as tragic to a straight person? to a homophobe? to a "love the sinner hate the sin" type?). When Will reads about Lord Nantwitch's arrest and trial, the reader is pulled into a meditation on the genealogy of oppression that has done so much harm to the community. When we arrive at James' arrest and the subsequent removal of any evidence implicating the arresting officer as a fellow--but quite closeted, apparently--gay, we readers are essentially asked to acknowledge and rail against the very blatant and disgusting discrimination.
[Historical note (full disclosure - I had to look this one up to remember it. All I remembered was Ian McKellen's role in the protests): Section 28 was passed in England in 1988, but was proposed, debated, protested, and hotly contested all through the mid 80s. (link: ). Hollinghurst was writing throughout this era (TSPL was published in 1988, as a matter of fact), and it would be fairly ignorant of me to avoid this fact. Interestingly enough, Section 28 ensured that novels like The Swimming-Pool Library wouldn't be distributed by local authorities, and would very likely not be found on public & municipal library shelves.]
The Swimming-Pool Library was without a doubt a very entertaining and enlightening read. It was also exciting to read a book that was very unashamed of its homoeroticism. Finally, a great book that titillates those of us who feel faint (or quite visceral) disgust at heterosexuals slobbering all over each other in literature--take that, straight America! The reason I rated this book a 4/5, though, is that I'm fairly unsure of whether or not every reader will approach the text with a critical eye towards is very prominent--but curiously latent--approach to race and class, which I discussed earlier. But you know what, I've decided to change my review. What a terrible reason to lower a book's rating! As of now, 5/5 for The Swimming-Pool Library!!
From my perspective, very recently influenced by some serious thought about the West Indian community in London, The Swimming-Pool Library struck me as a fascinating perspective: how did the majority view the other, especially an other that was as highly sexualized as West Indians in London? It seems that both men and women saw found them exotic and highly attractive; but the attraction was more than simply desire--it seemed rapacious and almost imperialistic. Will Beckwith, the main character, has a very lusty, admirable sexual appetite. However, his tendency to exoticize and take advantage of men younger than him--especially young men of color in the London he knows--is something that I can't admire or approve of. Still, this lustiness is something that Hollinghurst attributes to the age and the race of the title character, not necessarily something to be applauded. It needs to be remembered that Will is elitist, rich, unabashedly egotistical and fairly narcissistic, and, as is noted by a character at one of the clubs (if only I had the book with me right now!), it is quite in vogue for the white men in London to score a young West Indian or African man. Will and his boyfriend at the time, Phil (both are in the club), are assumed to be on the prowl for some "brown," as one of Will's former flames refers to the "white hunger" of the time.
I definitely don't think that Hollinghurst was very critical of Will in the text--at least not in an overly visible or emphatic way. However, he certainly expected the reader to be. His sympathetic yet unembellished portrayal of Will is very much done to give the reader the independence to decide on Will's actions and thoughts. Is he nothing but a narcissist? The reader is forced to look critically on Will as an Oxford graduate and as the grandson of a Peer of the British Empire. His boyfriends are all lower class, and he seems to sometimes ruthlessly exploit them. Hollinghurst, as I said earlier, doesn't visibly admonish Will, but he doesn't excuse his actions either.
The scene when Will is gay-bashed is heart-wrenching. Especially because bashing still happens today, the sheer violence and physicality of the scene is astounding. The way that Will zones out lends the scene a surreality that is hard to stomach. In fact, all of the scenes where Hollinghurst delves into discrimination and violence against the gay community is very well written and elicits very, very strong sympathy from me (is it only because these situations hit so close to home for so many of us? would these scenes seem as tragic to a straight person? to a homophobe? to a "love the sinner hate the sin" type?). When Will reads about Lord Nantwitch's arrest and trial, the reader is pulled into a meditation on the genealogy of oppression that has done so much harm to the community. When we arrive at James' arrest and the subsequent removal of any evidence implicating the arresting officer as a fellow--but quite closeted, apparently--gay, we readers are essentially asked to acknowledge and rail against the very blatant and disgusting discrimination.
[Historical note (full disclosure - I had to look this one up to remember it. All I remembered was Ian McKellen's role in the protests): Section 28 was passed in England in 1988, but was proposed, debated, protested, and hotly contested all through the mid 80s. (link: ). Hollinghurst was writing throughout this era (TSPL was published in 1988, as a matter of fact), and it would be fairly ignorant of me to avoid this fact. Interestingly enough, Section 28 ensured that novels like The Swimming-Pool Library wouldn't be distributed by local authorities, and would very likely not be found on public & municipal library shelves.]
The Swimming-Pool Library was without a doubt a very entertaining and enlightening read. It was also exciting to read a book that was very unashamed of its homoeroticism. Finally, a great book that titillates those of us who feel faint (or quite visceral) disgust at heterosexuals slobbering all over each other in literature--take that, straight America! The reason I rated this book a 4/5, though, is that I'm fairly unsure of whether or not every reader will approach the text with a critical eye towards is very prominent--but curiously latent--approach to race and class, which I discussed earlier. But you know what, I've decided to change my review. What a terrible reason to lower a book's rating! As of now, 5/5 for The Swimming-Pool Library!!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 5, 2012
You never stop learning a language, which is why I buy two unabridged English novels from Audible every month and listen to them with as much concentration as I can muster. Style is very important. I don't like to listen to bad style. So I choose very carefully what I listen to. Those books become like voices in my head. I absorb every cadence. I internalise, verbalise and repeat.
Finally I have found time for Alan Hollinghurst. He's been on my list for a long time because everybody in the literary establishment says what a fine style he has.
I agree. He has a very fine English style. He also has a delicate sensibility. He has a beautiful sense of irony. He is mischievous, cheeky and arch, while at the same time having a coy vulnerability.
Let's listen in on the secret thoughts of his narrator, William Beckwith, as he goes back to the hotel of his latest pick-up, an athletic young boy called Phil:
I wish I could quote more but already there is a lot going on. Hollinghurst takes a cliché of romantic fiction and gives it several ironic twists. The cliché in this case is that of the serial philanderer who meets our heroine and is reformed by love. Here the philanderer is a gay man. This is a beautiful twist. But he is also the narrator, which is another twist. We are asked to identify with the philanderer. To make it even more piquant, the philanderer is an aristocratic English gentleman who has been brought up in the finest English traditions � the traditions of queazy tums and other feeble excuses.
Hollinghurst's ironies are best enjoyed in longer passages than this. But his ironies would be empty without the delicious observational details �
which make listening or reading to him such a joy.
Excellent English style is not just about vocabulary, word order and syntax. It is about something that is very hard to teach. It is something that perhaps you are born with, I don't know, or that you have to absorb and acquire in the nursery. It's about sensibility.
I'm hoping that having this voice in my head will help me acquire a refined English sensibility.
My only worry is that this particularly wicked, arch and mischievous voice will corrupt me and have me thinking about cocks and bums far more than is good for me.
Finally I have found time for Alan Hollinghurst. He's been on my list for a long time because everybody in the literary establishment says what a fine style he has.
I agree. He has a very fine English style. He also has a delicate sensibility. He has a beautiful sense of irony. He is mischievous, cheeky and arch, while at the same time having a coy vulnerability.
Let's listen in on the secret thoughts of his narrator, William Beckwith, as he goes back to the hotel of his latest pick-up, an athletic young boy called Phil:
I was so lucky in general, so blessed, that my pick-ups were virtually instantaneous: the man I fancied took in my body, my cock, my blue eyes at a glance. Misunderstandings were almost unknown. Any uncertainty in a boy I wanted was usually overcome by the simple insistence of my look. But with Phil I had let something dangerous happen, a roundabout, slow insinuation into my feelings. Though I very much wanted to fuck his big, muscly bum � and several times dropped behind a step or two to see it working as he walked � my stronger feeling was more protective and caressing. It was growing so strong that it allowed doubts not entertained in the brief certainties of casual sex. If I had got it all wrong, if going back to his place meant a drink in the bar, a game of chess, a handshake � 'I've got an early start tomorrow' � the evening would be agony. Already I dreamt up headaches, queazy tums, excuses for dullness and an early escape; and I was so tense that as I did so I even began to feel the symptoms.
I wish I could quote more but already there is a lot going on. Hollinghurst takes a cliché of romantic fiction and gives it several ironic twists. The cliché in this case is that of the serial philanderer who meets our heroine and is reformed by love. Here the philanderer is a gay man. This is a beautiful twist. But he is also the narrator, which is another twist. We are asked to identify with the philanderer. To make it even more piquant, the philanderer is an aristocratic English gentleman who has been brought up in the finest English traditions � the traditions of queazy tums and other feeble excuses.
Hollinghurst's ironies are best enjoyed in longer passages than this. But his ironies would be empty without the delicious observational details �
I very much wanted to fuck his big, muscly bum � and several times dropped behind a step or two to see it working as he walked
which make listening or reading to him such a joy.
Excellent English style is not just about vocabulary, word order and syntax. It is about something that is very hard to teach. It is something that perhaps you are born with, I don't know, or that you have to absorb and acquire in the nursery. It's about sensibility.
I'm hoping that having this voice in my head will help me acquire a refined English sensibility.
My only worry is that this particularly wicked, arch and mischievous voice will corrupt me and have me thinking about cocks and bums far more than is good for me.
December 28, 2010
What a steaming pile of turd. I thought the Line Of Beauty was rubbish, but at least there was darkness hiding amongst the explicit sex. The Swimming Pool Library has nothing of the sort. Described by some as an elegy to the pre AIDS homosexual world, this was a tale without a single likeable character, with no human bases I could touch down with whatsoever. Perhaps it's because there isn't a single woman in this book. Perhaps it's because the main character is one of those awful dying breeds of monied posh sorts who can do nothing with their lives and still live them quite handsomely. Perhaps it's the attitude of "well, if they ban us here, let's just take our exciting news ideas to the sub continent and have our way with people who have no recourse to do anything about it."
There is a plot of sorts, where a rich posh old guy who spent a month in prison leads our wonderful protagonist down the garden track, pretending he wants him to write his memoirs when what he actually wants is for him to find out that his grandfather was the one who threw him in jail. Well goodness gracious, what a dilemma? Never mind, I'll just get back to preying on men below my social station in the shower at my club. That's the gentlemanly thing to do, unlike that nasty Argentinian type with the gimp mask. No class, those South Americans.
The prose is awful, turgid, overcooked so many times that I needed the fire brigade on constant standby. The characters are one dimensional dullards. The glow of so much money, and so little done with it in a time of real social discontent is sickening. It's a very strong word, but I think I actually hated this book. Possibly the worst yet.
There is a plot of sorts, where a rich posh old guy who spent a month in prison leads our wonderful protagonist down the garden track, pretending he wants him to write his memoirs when what he actually wants is for him to find out that his grandfather was the one who threw him in jail. Well goodness gracious, what a dilemma? Never mind, I'll just get back to preying on men below my social station in the shower at my club. That's the gentlemanly thing to do, unlike that nasty Argentinian type with the gimp mask. No class, those South Americans.
The prose is awful, turgid, overcooked so many times that I needed the fire brigade on constant standby. The characters are one dimensional dullards. The glow of so much money, and so little done with it in a time of real social discontent is sickening. It's a very strong word, but I think I actually hated this book. Possibly the worst yet.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 17, 2017
I read this book because it's on a lot of "Best Gay Novel" lists. At first I thought it made the lists because there's a ton of sex in it. Maybe that's part of it.
I ended up feeling like Will Beckwith was a very thought-provoking character. Will has no occupation and no responsibilities. He's rich, young, extremely attractive and overwhelmingly motivated by sex. It's pretty much the only driving force in his life. Consequently, the world through Will's eyes is not just AIDS-free, it's womanless and 95% gay. Kinda weird, but it definitely fit the character.
I can't say I liked Will all that much, but I didn't hate him either. Hollinghurst did an amazing job of empowering the reader to decide how to feel about his protagonist. You can almost always tell exactly how the author wants you to feel about the main character. Not in this case. It's difficult for a writer remain perfectly neutral. You really have to trust the reader. In that way, this book reminds me of .
There was one scene that didn't work for me, but I still thought it was brilliant.
I ended up feeling like Will Beckwith was a very thought-provoking character. Will has no occupation and no responsibilities. He's rich, young, extremely attractive and overwhelmingly motivated by sex. It's pretty much the only driving force in his life. Consequently, the world through Will's eyes is not just AIDS-free, it's womanless and 95% gay. Kinda weird, but it definitely fit the character.
I can't say I liked Will all that much, but I didn't hate him either. Hollinghurst did an amazing job of empowering the reader to decide how to feel about his protagonist. You can almost always tell exactly how the author wants you to feel about the main character. Not in this case. It's difficult for a writer remain perfectly neutral. You really have to trust the reader. In that way, this book reminds me of .
There was one scene that didn't work for me, but I still thought it was brilliant.
November 14, 2015
This has been highly praised as being one of the best British books about gay life.
Not knowing a hell of a lot about gay life or the gay community (in Britain or anywhere else) or British fiction, I feel this is something I can't really comment on.
But as someone outside of this community and - I feel it's safe to say - that type of life (I don't have that much sex or that much money (and I'm not as sociable)), it was a great look into what goes on in a world I don't frequent; how things work and the different dynamics. There was a great contrast between the main character, Will, and his best friend, James. Both showed some of the freedoms and limitations of being gay and being open about it. In many respects gay life is pretty much the same as the lives of everyone else (oh gosh, who knew?). They have the same worries, the same desires, the same dreams. But there's also an extra layer of worry and apprehension, a layer that the different characters use different means to break through. And this is the thing I perhaps had the most questions about, because - I say this with the fear of sounding ridiculous - how do you know, as a gay person, if someone else is also gay? It makes sense how it happens in places that are mostly occupied by gay people. But I mean, Will keeps picking up guys in random places, and how did he know they wanted what he wanted and that he wouldn't get rejected or even ridiculed? It took a while for this to get addressed in the book, and it was driving me crazy, but in the end you sort of understand it, not because it is clearly stated, but because you get to watch Will handle it. I liked that, in the end it gave a much better understanding.
So why only 3 stars? First of all, there isn't actually a swimming pool library in this book (the title being the reason I picked it up in the first place). Had there been, this probably would have automatically been 4 stars.
Secondly, I couldn't quite relate to Will. We're very different in character and personality, and that also lessens my enjoyment of a book. He rarely did things I downright disagreed with, but I didn't feel strongly connected to him either. I guess there were things I didn't understand and didn't share with him.
The one thing that put me off the most though, is how Will was just 'suddenly' in love with Phil. Seriously? I don't get it. I never, not once, got the impression that he was in love with him, or that Phil loved him back. Not once. And that's just... not good, because it makes part of the book unbelievable and unrealistic. The same goes for Will's relationship with Arthur. That is a messed up kind of love, sorry to say. And I have no doubt Alan Hollinghurst tried to make this story something real, something that depicted real life and it was just slightly ruined by how I simply didn't believe Will had ever loved anyone other than James.
Maybe he hasn't, maybe that was the point, but it still fell very flat to me. There were a few scenes similar to that of , but while it was believable and heartwrenching and stunning in that book, it was devoid of any real attachment in this one. Both by me, as a reader, but also by the characters in the book.
Other than that, it was a fairly enjoyable read, and it definitely expanded and broadened my view on some things, but I doubt I'll pick it up again, even if I might benefit from it, as I suspect there were a few things that went over my heard (perhaps because I simply lack the knowledge to properly comprehend them). That's for another time.
Not knowing a hell of a lot about gay life or the gay community (in Britain or anywhere else) or British fiction, I feel this is something I can't really comment on.
But as someone outside of this community and - I feel it's safe to say - that type of life (I don't have that much sex or that much money (and I'm not as sociable)), it was a great look into what goes on in a world I don't frequent; how things work and the different dynamics. There was a great contrast between the main character, Will, and his best friend, James. Both showed some of the freedoms and limitations of being gay and being open about it. In many respects gay life is pretty much the same as the lives of everyone else (oh gosh, who knew?). They have the same worries, the same desires, the same dreams. But there's also an extra layer of worry and apprehension, a layer that the different characters use different means to break through. And this is the thing I perhaps had the most questions about, because - I say this with the fear of sounding ridiculous - how do you know, as a gay person, if someone else is also gay? It makes sense how it happens in places that are mostly occupied by gay people. But I mean, Will keeps picking up guys in random places, and how did he know they wanted what he wanted and that he wouldn't get rejected or even ridiculed? It took a while for this to get addressed in the book, and it was driving me crazy, but in the end you sort of understand it, not because it is clearly stated, but because you get to watch Will handle it. I liked that, in the end it gave a much better understanding.
So why only 3 stars? First of all, there isn't actually a swimming pool library in this book (the title being the reason I picked it up in the first place). Had there been, this probably would have automatically been 4 stars.
Secondly, I couldn't quite relate to Will. We're very different in character and personality, and that also lessens my enjoyment of a book. He rarely did things I downright disagreed with, but I didn't feel strongly connected to him either. I guess there were things I didn't understand and didn't share with him.
The one thing that put me off the most though, is how Will was just 'suddenly' in love with Phil. Seriously? I don't get it. I never, not once, got the impression that he was in love with him, or that Phil loved him back. Not once. And that's just... not good, because it makes part of the book unbelievable and unrealistic. The same goes for Will's relationship with Arthur. That is a messed up kind of love, sorry to say. And I have no doubt Alan Hollinghurst tried to make this story something real, something that depicted real life and it was just slightly ruined by how I simply didn't believe Will had ever loved anyone other than James.
Maybe he hasn't, maybe that was the point, but it still fell very flat to me. There were a few scenes similar to that of , but while it was believable and heartwrenching and stunning in that book, it was devoid of any real attachment in this one. Both by me, as a reader, but also by the characters in the book.
Other than that, it was a fairly enjoyable read, and it definitely expanded and broadened my view on some things, but I doubt I'll pick it up again, even if I might benefit from it, as I suspect there were a few things that went over my heard (perhaps because I simply lack the knowledge to properly comprehend them). That's for another time.
December 6, 2009
I feel like I have nothing to say about this book. Nonetheless I'm going to write a review, because this is what I do. You have been warned.
It took an incredibly long time to get started, during which time I struggled with every page, trying desperately to identify with anyone at all and not get too annoyed with the prose style, which was effortlessly elegant and rich, but also plummy and even a little camp in a rather awfully upper-class too-British way. My reaction to the world of over-monied, over-sexed, hypocritical shiftlessness of the main character varied from a sort of morbid fascination to complete revulsion, bringing out in me a puritanical streak I didn't even know I had. Probably this is most of the reason it annoyed me.
Towards the end I had the impression that Hollinghurst was showing off a dénoument that he was ever so proud of - "What an achievement for a first-time author!" "Didn't see that one coming, didja?" Well, no, I didn't see it coming, actually - I suppose maybe it was clever; a web of connections and intrigue and immorality had been constructed through the whole book, so subtly that I didn't notice it happening, only to be drawn tight at the very last minute. However, this left me feeling not impressed by the author's skill, but confused. Probably this is a fault with me rather than Hollinghurst, but still - bordering on total indifference.
It took an incredibly long time to get started, during which time I struggled with every page, trying desperately to identify with anyone at all and not get too annoyed with the prose style, which was effortlessly elegant and rich, but also plummy and even a little camp in a rather awfully upper-class too-British way. My reaction to the world of over-monied, over-sexed, hypocritical shiftlessness of the main character varied from a sort of morbid fascination to complete revulsion, bringing out in me a puritanical streak I didn't even know I had. Probably this is most of the reason it annoyed me.
Towards the end I had the impression that Hollinghurst was showing off a dénoument that he was ever so proud of - "What an achievement for a first-time author!" "Didn't see that one coming, didja?" Well, no, I didn't see it coming, actually - I suppose maybe it was clever; a web of connections and intrigue and immorality had been constructed through the whole book, so subtly that I didn't notice it happening, only to be drawn tight at the very last minute. However, this left me feeling not impressed by the author's skill, but confused. Probably this is a fault with me rather than Hollinghurst, but still - bordering on total indifference.
June 26, 2024
I adored THE LINE OF BEAUTY (the perfect book), so I was so excited to get to another Hollinghurst. Sorry to say, but this was a huge step down. Repetitive and kinda shallow. The prose was exquisite as to be expected, and there’s a lot of gay sex, but the story didn’t light my ass on fire. This is his debut, so maybe he was just warming up.
July 20, 2014
Ένα μυθιστόρημα στη κατηγορία της gay λογοτεχνίας. Ο συγγραφέας έχει το ταλέντο να διηγείται μαύρες αλήθειες μέσα από ένα ροζ σύννεφο. Όλο το βιβλίο διαπνέεται από μια λεπτή ειρωνεία και αντιμετωπίζει το πρωταγωνιστή του με συγκατάβαση αλλά και αγάπη. Μας δίνει μια inside ματιά της upper class gay κοινότητας του Λονδίνου στις αρχές της δεκαετίας του '80 πριν την επέλαση του aids. Η σύγκριση των δύο εποχών που υπάρχη στο βιβλίο μας δείχνει ότι όλα τριγύρω αλλάζουνε και όλα τα ίδια μένουν. Α! και η εκδίκηση είναι ένα πιάτο που τρώγεται κρύο εώς παγωμένο σε αυτή τη περίπτωση.
January 12, 2020
I read this one back in the day, and didn't remember anything about it. Just re-read it and Wow! Perhaps because "Will" is somewhat unlikeable, I believe that put me off when I first read this book. Now, with a bit more experience under my belt, I recognize the type.
The layers of history here are fascinating, and it is very evocative how Hollingshurst evokes the repeating themes over the different story lines.
The layers of history here are fascinating, and it is very evocative how Hollingshurst evokes the repeating themes over the different story lines.
August 27, 2015
This book was brilliantly written. I loved the snarky, literary writing style. I wasn't attached to any of the characters but the story itself held my attention very closely. Hollinghurst covers a plethora of themes such as homophobia, while comparing homosexuality before and after the gay liberation movement. Will, the main character, is filthy rich and a hopeless whore. He's extremely attractive and doesn't have to work. A big part of this book covers a diary that Will is reading and those events are juxtaposed with events that are happening to Will and his friends. The title the swimming pool library refers to the changing room i.e. a place where Will and his friends would have unauthorized sex. Fascinating the way Hollinghurst put this book together and well worth the read for it's story and themes but also for Hollinghurst's rich, exhaustive writing style.
December 31, 2019
Cuốn sách cuối cùng của thập k� đồng thời là của năm 2019 mình đọc và vừa đ� ch� tiêu 100 cuốn năm nay là cuốn tiểu thuyết đầu tay của một trong những nhà văn đồng tính nổi tiếng nhất, ra đời năm 1984, một thời điểm nhạy cảm khi AIDS bùng n� (mà những người đồng tính với đời sống tình dục buông th� của h� b� quy kết như một trong những nguyên nhân khiến đại dịch lây lan), cuốn sách vấp phải rất nhiều phản đối khi viết v� những cảnh làm tình trần trụi, chớp nhoáng của nhân vật chính - Will - với rất nhiều đàn ông, trong cuốn sách không có một nhân vật n� nào, Will - 25 tuổi, đồng tính, thông minh, đẹp trai nhưng dường như luôn đi tìm kiếm s� thỏa mãn tình dục như cách lấp đầy khoảng trống mênh mông của tâm hồn, lấp đầy những ngày bơ vơ không biết mục tiêu của cuộc đời. Một cuốn sách tinh t�, tuy có nhiều ch� hơi dài dòng và hoa lá cành kiểu Anh Quốc.
July 5, 2018
Certainly one of the best representations of gay people I have ever read in literature and the first time I saw sex depicted so realistically and in full detail. It has aged extremely well considering the fact it was published almost 30 years ago and it has rightfully earned its title as a queer classic.
I knocked off a star because there were moments where I found some of the characters too one dimensional and cartoonish (certainly a Dickensian inspiration there). The main character as well as Lord Natwich are literary characters living in a book and there are very few attempts to make them appear life-like. This is not necessarily a bad thing (Dickens does it all the time) but I wish sometimes some situations would have been handled differently.
I knocked off a star because there were moments where I found some of the characters too one dimensional and cartoonish (certainly a Dickensian inspiration there). The main character as well as Lord Natwich are literary characters living in a book and there are very few attempts to make them appear life-like. This is not necessarily a bad thing (Dickens does it all the time) but I wish sometimes some situations would have been handled differently.
July 15, 2017
I read up until he tries picking up the sixteen year old hustler and because the young man asks him for money, Will dreams of pissing on him or violently taking him by force etc etc. Look, I'm no prude. I've read graphic books and loved them. But this one bores me to death. There's no dept. No plot. No real characters to hang on to. Last thing: Will's narration and Charles's letters are written in the same voice. The book would have been more fun if in the end we find out that Will is actually in a padded room in a mental institution and that all the while he's been reading his own past as a racist colonialist rich prick.
July 30, 2012
Great writing but it felt a bit half-baked at times. Was he trying to touch every base in post-Wilde gay fiction? Does this explain why the story was a little odd at times?
The last chapters brought us to a rather strange place: a "secret" interesting enough to shock a very selfish and generally disinterested young man but not damaging enough for anyone to work very hard to keep and, crucially, not so interesting that any of the young man's friends or family had sought to tell him. That's a funny sort of secret, isn't it?
I'd love to know if the film at the end really exists. Has anyone seen it?
"as he raised his hand to his temples and pushed back his wet hair, his biceps doubled smoothly, sleek as coupling animals."
In the showers:
"In a few seconds the hard-on might pass from one end of the room to the other, with the foolish perfection of a Busby Berkeley routine."
"I also felt a certain pride in what I had done, in a British manner wanting it to be communicated, but in silence."
"'The young man who modelled Sebastian was almost in tears when I showed it to him, it's so lovely.'
'How did you do the arrows?' I interrupted, remembering Mishima's arduous posing in a self-portrait as Sebastian.
'Oh, no arrows, dear; it's before the martyrdom. He's quite unpierced. But he looks ready for it, somehow, they way I've done it.'
'How can you tell its Sebastian, then,' said Nantwich emphatically, 'since the only thing that identified Se-bloody-bastian is that he's got all those ruddy arrows sticking up his arse?' This seemed a fair criticism, but Staines ignored it."
"I did so regret it was the Central Line I used most."
"In his tight white jeans and red-and-white checked shirt he reminded one vaguely of an Italian restaurant."
"...and a sprinkling of those dotty types with monocles and panama hats who seem to exist for ever is some fantastic Bloomsbury of their own."
"'What's he having?' I said, as I watched the wild pink liquid rattle from the shaker into the inverted cone of the glass.
He raised an eyebrow and murmured disgustingly, 'Cunnilingus Surprise.'
'Mmm. Not quite my thing perhaps.'"
February 25, 2009
I totally loved this book and I wish I could write prose as Hollinghurst. His turn of phrase and excellent use of language is stellar.
The story is interestingly told through the eyes of a thirtyish gay man in the prime of his life simply lounging, working out, and having sexual encounters of the various kind. The plot dupes you into regarding the plot as non-existent and that the book will tell the typical tale of a lounger, but the author starts dropping hints to an underlying secret.
I love William's gutsy sexual encounters - even more thrilling than the sex for William seems to be the unknown and the possibility of the situation deteriorating. I have never been up for "cruising" or even chatting up strangers & find the descriptions fascinating. The art of catching signals and wayward glances seems to have been eradicated as the gay rights movement has brought gay sexuality front and center. I assume, also, that the internet has made such casual encounters enter the digital arena vs. the public bathrooms of old. Certain Idaho congressfolks like to stand by traditions, however, and long for an age of old.
The story is interestingly told through the eyes of a thirtyish gay man in the prime of his life simply lounging, working out, and having sexual encounters of the various kind. The plot dupes you into regarding the plot as non-existent and that the book will tell the typical tale of a lounger, but the author starts dropping hints to an underlying secret.
I love William's gutsy sexual encounters - even more thrilling than the sex for William seems to be the unknown and the possibility of the situation deteriorating. I have never been up for "cruising" or even chatting up strangers & find the descriptions fascinating. The art of catching signals and wayward glances seems to have been eradicated as the gay rights movement has brought gay sexuality front and center. I assume, also, that the internet has made such casual encounters enter the digital arena vs. the public bathrooms of old. Certain Idaho congressfolks like to stand by traditions, however, and long for an age of old.
March 25, 2018
Beautifully written. Reams and reams of pretty graphic sex but it works because it's not floridly described and because it's crucial to the theme - the tension between the hedonistic life - cruising, endless meaningless shags, generally not working (our hero Will has come into lots of money), and commitment to work, ideals, friends.
Interesting idea that decriminalising gay activity while obviously very important, took away some of the frisson and excitement from the game of seduction (this coming from a character who spends time in prison for soliciting). Quite brave and ambitious, how it takes in all these things, but also art, class snobbery, racism, while moving back and forth between colonial era Sudan and pre-AIDS London.
Lots of reviews here about how unpleasant Will is, spoiling the enjoyment .... I have very little time for this attitude, and probably not much to add to the debate, but just one thought - maybe empathising with the protagonist is a plus, but also, isn't it a test of empathy to ask you to empathise with a character who has so many faults?
Interesting idea that decriminalising gay activity while obviously very important, took away some of the frisson and excitement from the game of seduction (this coming from a character who spends time in prison for soliciting). Quite brave and ambitious, how it takes in all these things, but also art, class snobbery, racism, while moving back and forth between colonial era Sudan and pre-AIDS London.
Lots of reviews here about how unpleasant Will is, spoiling the enjoyment .... I have very little time for this attitude, and probably not much to add to the debate, but just one thought - maybe empathising with the protagonist is a plus, but also, isn't it a test of empathy to ask you to empathise with a character who has so many faults?
December 3, 2011
This book really absorbed me. How do I write this? Hollinghurst has a way of getting into the subtleties of perception - how the physical environment and the things people say, and the unconscious social messaging that is all around us combine..."He had that look of insincere good behaviour that people have when they are working on their own public relations. As I came in the coppery clack of the shop-bell had all heads turning."
Also, it is full of sex, very graphic sex.
A great read.
Also, it is full of sex, very graphic sex.
A great read.
March 27, 2017
This won the Man Booker?? Doesn't even work as erotica. Gtfo Alan Hollinghurst. You're not even good as a guilty pleasure read. If I must trudge through a sloppy montage of queer Britain through the ages, I'll watch something by Derek Jarman.
November 7, 2011
this is said to be hollinghurst's first novel, completed at about the age of 33
it is clear he pays homage to (or how I say "name-dropping") his inspirations of Firbank and E.M.Forster throughout, his major interest while studying English in school
in an elevator summary, TS-PL opens with the protagonist, Will Beckwith, coming to the aid of an elder gay man, who in turn is a lord with a complex link to his family... Lord Nantwich asks Will to write his personal memoir, and slowly more a more of the characters are reveled by the readings of Lord N.'s diaries which read as a compliation of short stories within the larger story
the most memorable part, aside from the plentiful and unbelievably capricious sexual excursions, is in fact the precise way hollinghurst even discredits the sexual theme his own novel parallels by citing a book our main character picks up near the end
refering to this book that Will's "librarian" friend at the club where he swims "Nigel...had said it was a good one; but I resented its professional neatness and its priapic attempts to win me over. The trouble was that, as attempts, they were half-successful: something in me was pained and removed; but something else, subliterate, responded to the book's bald graffiti"
to me, this sealed the deal on such an eloquent way an otherwise, seemingly trashy novel becomes a timeless work; and in itself, I believe, is something that will be linked to by future novelists
I will come back to this again, as I'm sure I will pick up more of the subtle ironies I missed this first time around
it is clear he pays homage to (or how I say "name-dropping") his inspirations of Firbank and E.M.Forster throughout, his major interest while studying English in school
in an elevator summary, TS-PL opens with the protagonist, Will Beckwith, coming to the aid of an elder gay man, who in turn is a lord with a complex link to his family... Lord Nantwich asks Will to write his personal memoir, and slowly more a more of the characters are reveled by the readings of Lord N.'s diaries which read as a compliation of short stories within the larger story
the most memorable part, aside from the plentiful and unbelievably capricious sexual excursions, is in fact the precise way hollinghurst even discredits the sexual theme his own novel parallels by citing a book our main character picks up near the end
refering to this book that Will's "librarian" friend at the club where he swims "Nigel...had said it was a good one; but I resented its professional neatness and its priapic attempts to win me over. The trouble was that, as attempts, they were half-successful: something in me was pained and removed; but something else, subliterate, responded to the book's bald graffiti"
to me, this sealed the deal on such an eloquent way an otherwise, seemingly trashy novel becomes a timeless work; and in itself, I believe, is something that will be linked to by future novelists
I will come back to this again, as I'm sure I will pick up more of the subtle ironies I missed this first time around
Displaying 1 - 30 of 745 reviews
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get help and learn more about the design.