Customer Reviews

A Handful of Dust

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You know that when you see a passage from Eliot's THE WASTE LAND appearing before the title page that you are not headed for 300 pages of fun and games. Sure there is the usual stock of Waugh humor, wit, and snappy dialogue to be had here, but this ranks as amongst his darkest novels. It's tragicomedy at its finest. It's also one of the most beautifully written novels I've ever read, perfect in pitch, cadence, wording, razor sharp characterization, mood, you name it.

Like a number of his novels, it is set primarily in England, between the wars, bouncing back and forth between London and an Estate in the country. The plot boils down to the break up of a marriage and the decline and fall of the central character, Lord of the manor and eventual "Explorer," Anthony (Tony) Mast.

Tony means well. He really does. It's just that he's so fixated on maintaining Hetton, his hereditary estate, that he doesn't even notice when his lovely wife Brenda engages in an affair with an inconsequential and boorish young society chap to whom Waugh assigns the inglorious name, John Beaver.

Waugh's customary drollery comes to the fore as he depicts the cavalier attitudes towards the affair on the part of Tony's and Brenda's social circle. They are rather like actors in a Restoration play, whose moral compasses have become entirely skewed. Though not as moralistic as some of Waugh's late novels, A HANDFUL OF DUST definitely offers a portrait of a very decadent society, indeed. These are not sympathetic characters. Even the two children who enter into the plot are hardly what one would call likeable.

This novel definitely takes some unexpected turns, leading us eventually to a denouement in the Amazon Jungle. The ending has to rank as one of the greatest in literature.

I can't recommend this book highly enough. The English are greatest satirists and Waugh was the master of the genre amongst 20th century writers. I've got a couple more Waugh books on my list, but will go with VILE BODIES next, as it's already on my shelf.

This edition has print large enough that I didn't need my reading glasses. It's the quickest 300 page novel I've ever read. It only took about 6 hrs cover to cover, and I am not a fast reader. I really was so transfixed that I had to read it straight through, which I don't usually do these days.
BEK

This odd, clever, scathingly bitter satire seems a patchwork of various pieces of fiction--and, as its history attests, it is. A little over halfway through the novel, "A Handful of Dust" veers, rather unexpectedly, from a bitter reflection on an unfaithful wife and her upper-crust coconspirators to a Conradian parody of explorers in the Brazilian wilderness.

To explain this incongruity, The Everyman's Library edition of this fascinating work features a must-read introduction by William Boyd, but (as such introductions often do), it contains so many "spoilers" that readers are warned to wait until afterwards to peruse it. Boyd's essay does, however, summarize two salient aspects of the novel that are prerequisite to understanding (and perhaps enjoying) it.

Waugh's first marriage to Evelyn Gardner ended acrimoniously in 1929; four years later (and the year before he wrote "A Handful of Dust") his heart was broken a second time when Teresa Jungman turned down his proposal of marriage. Knowing this, it's hard not to read the fictional account of Tony and Brenda's marriage, as Boyd does, as "Waugh's own exploration of betrayal and sexual humiliation and . . . a form of revenge against the damage inflicted on his psyche by Evelyn Gardner. . . . It is an unyieldingly cruel and vicious portrait of a worthless woman. . . . The novel is full of hate and scorn, not just for Brenda, but also for the society in which she moves." There is no denying that the novel reads like an act of vengeance, and this contempt takes many forms: Brenda, at first charming and innocent, quickly and inexplicably devolves into vapidity and selfishness; Tony's closest friends hide from him their knowledge that Brenda is having an affair; and--at the book's most memorable, pivotal, venomous moment--Brenda shows more concern for her lover than for her only son.

Waugh published two entirely different endings, both of which are included in many editions. (Make sure you get a copy that has both versions.) Boyd explains: after writing "the first two-thirds of this novel at great speed," Waugh was unsure how to end it, knowing only that he wanted "a sad end." For the British edition, he appended, with minor alterations, an earlier short story, "The Man Who Liked Dickens," about an aristocrat trapped by a madman in Brazil. Yet he had to write a second ending for the serial publication for Harper's Bazaar in the United States, because he had previously published the "Dickens" story in a competing magazine. While the British ending is satisfying (and devious) on its own, it nevertheless seems out of place; readers who feel that they have suddenly picked up another story about a different character in the opposite hemisphere will feel some vindication learning that, in a sense, they have done exactly that.

I agree with Boyd that the American version, while simpler, is "truer to the novel's potent undercurrents than the short story Waugh recycled to finish off his sombre, disturbing tale of adultery." Other readers, obviously, disagree, and find the alternate ending too pat, too cynical, top predictable. (I, personally, enjoyed both endings for different reasons, but found both a little unsatisfying, each belying the book's claim to cohesiveness.) Yet the fact that Waugh could write two endings over which future readers and critics would war only attests to his brilliance.

This novel is not satirical, but dead-on accurate in its observations of a certain stratum of English society which is no longer shamed or shocked by its own actions. Brenda is put off by the "monstrous way" Tony has behaved -- namely, not allowing her to continue as the "victim" of the divorce proceeding. Her "friends" aid and abet her philanderings while gossiping behind her back, and allowing her to become penniless while they go off on holiday. Mrs. Beaver, whose son is the amoral, parasitic lover, is interested in the affair only by what can be gained monetarily from it.

The astonishing twist in the story line, following Tony's harrowing adventures in the Amazon jungle, is perplexing to some readers, but in fact serves as an interesting comparison of the two totally different environments Tony has had to deal with, one of "civilized" society, and the other of the jungle. The more "civilized" people in the jungle (all the English-speaking characters) create just as many problems for Tony as the bats and mosquitoes. (Perhaps some of the previous reviewers could have thought a little more along these lines before writing a bad review.)

Also, one has to think how Tony could have avoided his misfortunes. He is undone by his staidness, until it is too late. Perhaps Waugh is commenting on the English gentry in general(?) Waugh also pointedly observes how the upper-class children are brought up by nannies and stablehands, while the parents remain aloof to their daily activities.

A great novel causes the reader to think on several levels, while also being an entertaining read. This novel accomplishes both goals. Every word and action has its significance in a great work such as this one!

In this book, the protagonist is Tony Last, an Englishman who would much rather tend to his beloved estate in th country than join his wife on trips to see their arrogant and aristocratic friends in London. Brenda, the wife, becomes bored with their quaint life, has an affair, and Tony's son dies in an accident. In a strange twist, on a trip to South America near the book's end, he ends up in the dense jungle in the care of an illiterate man who promises to let him go but instead forces him to read aloud from Dickens. The main idea is that betrayal follows Tony wherever he goes-- from his wife in England to the enigmatic man in the jungle. It's a enormously humorous satire of the London aristocracy,in which the people treat their "friends' misfortunes as entertainment. In fact, they gossip about the affair his wife is having in his own house, during a party he is throwing. The jungle is a parable for London-- seemingly harmless at first, but with dark undercurrents of backstabbing, lies, and treachery. A terrific novel by a Waugh, a brilliant writer.

This if probably my favorite of Evelyn Waugh's novels. While it is not as sophisticated as Bridshead Revisited and its characters are not as well developed, it provides the reader with a fantastic example of the literary form that Waugh specialized in - bitter, caustic satire. Waugh elegantly and effortlessly provides us with the dark, mean-spirited social commentary that the French New Wave movement brought to film thirty years later. A Handful of Dust is peopled with nothing but caricatures, but they are so finely crafted that the book lacks the clumsiness that I've found in some of his other satires like Scoop or Decline and Fall. With them, Waugh has generated a powerful indictment of Britain's idle class during the post WWI era. I always find it fun to read a P.G. Wodehouse novel after Waugh to get opposite ends of the spectrum. Following Waugh's society of complete moral bankruptcy with Wodehouse's good-natured buffoonery makes you wonder just what on earth was going on in England between the wars. I must agree with many of the other reviewers that the ending is a disappointment (as are the endings to Bridshead Revisited, Decline and Fall, and The Loved One). If Waugh is trying to create an analogy between Brenda's imprisonment in a dull marriage to Tony's plight of spending the rest of his days in the jungle reading to his illiterate captor, I think he has performed it in a rather inelegant manner. It is almost as if he had an idea for a short story that he tacked on the end of this novel. Nonetheless, this does not keep A Handful of Dust from being on of Waugh's finest novels.

Evelyn Waugh's powers of prose were never more on display than in this shameless, nasty, witty novel that reads like lightning and scorches like flame.

At one point near the end, our sort-of-hero, Tony Last, learns about native customs in the Amazon by a dicey explorer named Dr. Messinger: "They buried me up to the neck in mud and all the women of the tribe spat on my head. Then we ate a toad and a snake and a beetle and after that I was a blood-brother."

Not exactly enticing, but compared to the culture Tony has thus far been immersed in, London between the wars, it sounds too lovely to pass up. "A Handful Of Dust" is as dark a critique of civilized mores as one can imagine, and though it comes off at times as far-fetched, the view of life is even more disturbing, and blackly humorous, for being true.

A rural nobleman who only wants to live in his Gothic manor with his family, Tony finds himself the victim of his wife Brenda's sudden bout of unfaithfulness. She sets off, rather inexplicably, with a Mommy-coddled cheapskate named Beaver. For her, it's something to do. For her cosmopolitan circle, it's a cause not for concern but merry gossip. "You know, you're causing a great deal of trouble," her sister Marjorie confides. "You've taken London's only spare man."

If cruel social satire is your cup of tea, you won't go wrong with "A Handful Of Dust." Waugh is not working from the heart here, but from the spleen, but once you allow for the fact caring is out the window for the reader and the cast, what you get is a pretty thorough and, in its upside-down way, satisfying exposition on the petty viciousness of cheating hearts. If you've ever come across a real heartbreaker in life, and who hasn't, this book offers a perverse form of solace.

While Brenda's heartlessness is milked in depth, it's really the enabling connivance of her kinfolk and friends that Waugh sends up so masterfully. It's what makes his novel a treat. Tony, we understand, is a stick and a bore, but he not only cares for his wife but trusts her blindly, which makes her adultery and her circle's abetting of it particularly cruel. No doubt to point up the amoral nature of secular London's high society, the Catholic Waugh gives us dialogue that ricochets back heavily on the speakers, as they wonder why Tony doesn't just accept his losses, sell his manor to satisfy Brenda's exorbitant alimony demands, and not be such a bore about it.

The drawback in this book, as other reviewers here note, is in the ending, not because it is sour but so out of left field. Even though there's a nice juxtaposition of the Amazon and London, Tony's strange expedition, and its resolution, don't add to the proceedings so much as push them in another direction that seems to add Waugh himself to Last's already-thick stable of tormentors. It's not a bad ending, but it doesn't maintain the drama or the subtlety of what passed before.

But there's plenty to enjoy here, like the dialogue, the odd mix of characters, and sublime moments of balmy nonsense, like the vicar who recycles ill-fitting sermons from a long-ago India sojourn. Waugh writes about Tony's manor with a zest that makes architecture seem witty, while even the harshest moments have a cold, brave beauty about them. This is a book difficult to put down, and impossible to forget.

Written by Evelyn Waugh in 1934, this British novel is a biting satire of the silly lives of the upper class. The author is master of the nuanced barb and he uses them with seeming delight and controlled rage. It is an unpleasant book to read and I know I would hate the author if I met him in person, and yet I can appreciate his skill in creating the discomforting atmosphere, his fascination with things that go wrong, and the dark side of human nature.

Tony Last, an aristocrat who devotes himself to the upkeep of his expensive ancestral home is blind to the infidelities of his wife Brenda, who parties in London with her sycophantic lover. There's a whole cast of vapid characters, each exquisitely developed with revealing detail. When tragedy strikes it's like a piece of chalk scraped upon a blackboard, and as the story continues to unfold, and Tony travels to the jungles of Brazil, the plot swerves into a painful absurdity. It's all one big farce and yet there is no comic relief. And by the end of the book, only sadness prevails.

I must give this book a high ranking however because of Mr. Waugh's skill and his uncanny ability to uncover some painful human truths that I'd rather not see. I can therefore only recommend it to students of human nature who are willing to be tormented in the same way the author torments his characters. Just be forewarned.

Many seem to think that the ending of this novel is merely tacked on, when, in fact, nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, it is the rest of the novel that is tacked on. "A Handful of Dust" began life as a short story entitled "The Man Who Liked Dickens". That short story provided the genesis and for, and later half of, this novel, as Waugh became interested in the idea of how the condemned man ever came to be in that situation.

This is a novel about savagery. Tony, a romantic and faithful man who cannot imagine that anyone might actually wish to knowingly betray him, moves from the savagery of civilization into the wilds of Brazil, looking for the "city" within the savagery of the jungle. If civilization isn't civilized, then maybe civilization actually lies within the world's darkest corners.

In the end, the cycle begins again with the next generation, who have failed to learn the lessons no one thought to teach them.

First of all if you are determined to purchase a copy of "A Handful of Dust," click thee away from this page and hie thee to the page for the Penguin Twentieth-Century Classics version, which is far superior. Unfortunately I can't myself find the page on Amazon, but it's gotta be here somewhere. . .

THAT version has copious (at times even insulting) footnotes, text variants, an enormously useful introduction, and both endings (there are two, in case you don't know).

THIS book is just the naked text (featuring, incidentally, the "reading Dickens ad nauseum" ending) The thing is handsomely printed, but that's about it. Lazy, lazy publisher!

A Handful of Dust has to be one of the most disturbing books I have read. Waugh's satire is incisive and merciless. Calling this work "tragicomedy" is misleading. While comedic in the early stages of the novel, the dark subject matter ultimately dominates and subdues any elements of humor.

Waugh paints too convincing of a picture of the empty and meaningless world of the aristocracy of England between the Wars. Another reviewer brought up a comparison of PJ Wodehouse - honestly I never would have made any connection between the entertaining farce of Wodehouse and the stark portrayal by Waugh. Where Wodehouse is good-natured, Waugh is pitiless. But therein lies the difference between the two authors, for Wodehouse is just entertainment. Waugh forced me to look under the cover of the seemingly apathetic or depraved aristocracy to see how good manners and money mask a vile depravity that consumed the souls of its victims.

In some respects, the portrait is not too different from that of the Dedlocks and their social circle portrayed in Dickens' Bleak House - a self-important, detached cultural elite that is effectively preyed upon by an outer ring of semi-noble and mercantile parasites. But where Dickens allows even the vapid Lord Dedlock a core of nobility, Waugh denies nobility to all his characters. It is not just shocking to middle-class sensibilities, but to human sensibilities.

Ultimately it's a novel that I'm glad I read, but I will never be able to read again. This is unfortunate, particularly because I invested in this fine Everman's Library edition rather than a disposable paperback.