Customer Reviews

The Naked Civil Servant (Plume)

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Quentin Crisp truly embodies the expression "to thine own self be true." But his life bumped up against another cliche, "don't frighten the horses." As a young man in London during the 1920s and 1930s, he lived openly as an effeminate, homosexual man, not closeted, but, as he says in these witty memoirs, "brazening it out" and willing to take the social and other lumps associated with such visibility.

Actually, his sexuality seems to be the least of his problems in these sharply observed autobiographical accounts. An eccentric in the true British tradition, he refused ever to dust his bedroom, observing that after the first three years the dust didn't get any worse . . . and at bedtime he slipped beneath the seldom-washed sheets ensconced in cold cream like a cocoon in its chrysalis.

Corporate life had its own bewilderments and intrigues for Mr. Crisp, who was silly enough to take literally what he was told to do. When asked to buy his employer a pair of scissors, he went to a good stationery store and spent one shilling sixpence (eighteen pence, pre-decimalization, about US$.50 at that time) for a good pair of office scissors. This frightened his office colleague no end, who had expected him to pick up a cheap pair at Woolworth's for sixpence. Crisp facetiously suggested denominating the more costly pair "paper shears" and was aghast when she accepted his notion all too happily. His droll take on the mismatch between his mentality and the corporate life shows us that his ego demands no grandiosity, no sense of who is "right" and who is "wrong," but simply a perpetual befuddlement at two mindsets that can never understand each other.

Along with such everyday satires of circumstance, much of the pleasure of *The Naked Civil Servant* lies in its prose style and tone, which are conversational and chatty, but also clever and occasionally arch. Perhaps like a pleasant, purring pussy cat who gets its back up once in a while, but is never indignant -- not at us, anyway. As an inducement to stay in town and leave the family alone, Crisp mentions receiving the proceeds of "GUILT"-edged securities, a pun on the British term "gilt-edged" securities, or what we Americans would call "blue-chip stock."

But of course, interwar gay life had its stereotyping and role-playing. The he-man types were expected to be the sexual aggressors, and the nellies the submissives. In one section Crisp complains that he and his friends "camped it up all over the place" but their virile new acquaintances were too dense to figure out what they wanted in bed.

Because of this book, Mr. Crisp's services (as an author and savant) became greatly in demand on this side of the pond, and he became a favorite in lecture halls and as author of such books as *Manners From Heaven.* His Wildean sensibility was evident -- when he panned a movie he'd say something like "it was as boring as real life." But Crisp was never a bore, and there was never a book like this. First-rate all the way, full of surprises, and interesting glimpses of an interwar England not usually mentioned in the usual histories.

Mr. Crisp's story should not be read as the folly of a man whose personal behavior was too far afield to be successfully reconciled with acceptable social standards. Quentin Crisp did not dress flamboyantly merely because he wanted attention or abuse; he dressed his way because he felt he HAD to. In being himself, he was obeying the most fundamental law of human existence: to thine own self be true. And in doing so at the risk (and indeed the consquence) of complete social ostracism and peril of his life. How, I would like to know, can anybody see Quentin Crisp as anything but a hero in the greatest, noblest sense of word? He did not compromise his sense of honesty or his personal integrity, no matter how violently the tides of societal ignorance and hatred swept against him. A hero stands his ground, never retreats, and presses on with what he knows in his heart to be right; he fights for truth, he fights with courage. Quentin Crisp fought hard, without the comforting knowledge that one day his sacrifices would lay the groundwork for new understanding between persons of conventional and alternative lifestyles. In every generation there is always one person who cannot be content with the way things are, who challenges society, bucks the establishment, shakes the boat. In his pursuit of happiness, Quentin did just that. Not because he WANTED to, but because he HAD to.

By far, one of the funniest books I've ever read, and I read quite a bit. The writing is dry and witty, like Sedaris in ME TALK PRETTY or McCrae in BARK OF THE DOGWOOD, and Crip's insights into things are at once hysterical and also tinged with sadness.

My favorite quote in the book? "My parents hated me chiefly because I was expensive." Or something along those lines.

Do yourself a favor and read this. Like CONFEDERACY OF DUNCES or NAKED this is one you'll want to keep on your bookshelves to pull out from time to time when you need a good laugh. Highly recommended.

Rereading "The Naked Civil Servant" after many years, I find Quentin Crisp's melancholy wit just as bracing as I did when I first encountered the book. The chiseled perfection of Crisp's aphorisms recall Oscar Wilde (though Crisp's distaste for Wilde was famous; Wilde's hubris and subsequent downfall made life that much harder for the gay men, such as Crisp, who came after him). One famous example: "I would have been tempted to say that he was ill did I not know that health consists of having the same diseases as one's neighbors." Another: "'Immaturity' is one more word that requires definition. To men it means the inability to stand on one's own two feet. A woman flings it at anyone who doesn't want to marry her. Here I find myself for once inclined toward the masculine view." Yet despite the humor, the overwhelming mood of "The Naked Civil Servant" is of loneliness. Crisp, who outed himself flamboyantly forty years before Stonewall, presents himself as a wildly contradictory character: exhibitionistic yet inherently and Englishly modest, too honest to present himself as anything other than he was, yet realizing fully the opprobrium and loss of companionship he would suffer by doing so. Reading his autobiography shows a younger generation of gay men precisely the mindset a hidebound society instilled in homosexuals in the early 20th century. Crisp, despite his flamboyance, was not immune to it: "Homosexuals were ashamed. They resented not being in the mainstream of life. The feeling varied from irritation to the anguish of irrevocable exile. It had little to do with God or the neighbors or the police. It was private and irremediable." In subsequent years--he lived to be ninety, outliving the publication of "The Naked Civil Servant" by three decades--Crisp found a measure of public acceptance and acclaim he would have thought impossible in the 1930s. Yet the loneliness and melancholy never really left him. To read "The Naked Civil Servant" is to be impressed by a great personality and a brilliant, acute observer of sex and society. But, at the same time, you wish he could have found a little more happiness for himself.

"This is an unusually riveting, exuberant autobiography of a man who, in 1931, 'came out' in the streets of London as a self-confessed and self-evident homosexual. At a time when the slightest sign of homosexuality aroused immediate disgust, Quentin Crisp made the courageous decision to be true to his nature. He adopted an outrageously effeminate manner and appearance ('I wore makeup at a time when even on women eye shadow was sinful'), and his flamboyant exhibitionism, henna-dyed hair, and unconventional behavior shocked London society of the thirties. Though he was harassed, ridiculed, and beaten, he was determined to spread the message that homosexuality did not exclude him or anyone else from the human race. ¶ Quentin Crisp has become a cult celebrity since the highly acclaimed dramatization of The Naked Civil Servant was first aired on American television. His is a unique life story. One feels the strength and humor of an honest man, determined to face the world with the truth about himself."--© zebraz

What kind of title is that? Well, for 35 years, he was a nude model for art classes. So there you go. A naked civil servant. Now there's a career choice my high school guidance counselor never told me about.

Quentin is the quintessential outsider. He outed himself as flamboyantly gay in 1931, and manages to be both sincere and parody at the same time. Forget the gay part. Focus on the outsider part. His writing style is quite crisp, ho ho!

Time to scan the cover again, as opposed to being original.

"His wit is brilliant, his observations acute, his self-mockery undiluted by the need to sentimentalize."

"'As soon as I stepped out of my mother's womb... I realized that I had made a mistake,' Quentin declares, giving a small hint of the witty and wry approach he takes toward the life he describes with undiluted exuberance in this classic autobiography, which is both a comic masterpiece and a unique testament to the resilience of the human spirit."

"His hilarious descriptions of encounters with parents, friends, employers, soldiers and sailors, and the law reveal the strength and humor of an honest man, determined to face the world with the uncensored, unapologetic truth about himself."

"A work of great wit, intelligence and sensitivity."

Quite.

Written in what the author describes as his "Havisham twilight," Quentin Crisp set the literary world on it's head when he published this ribald memoir. A man of estimable spirit and courage, Crisp has documented his early life with great wit. By living openly and honestly despite the often negative consequences, Crisp was a pioneer in the gay rights movement. Perhaps this was not his intention at the time, but his willingness to share his life with us in this most enjoyable momoir, has served to embolden an entire generation.

"When the telegram announcing my father's death arrived, I felt nothing except irritation at the thought of having to go home, attend the funeral, and come back."

Quentin Crisp is not a likeable human being. About one quarter way into this book, I was tempted to throw it aside for good. But given its generally favorable reviews, I felt I should give it another chance. And a peculiar thing happened. Although Crisp does nothing to present himself in a more favorable light - if anything, he goes out of his way to make the point that the reader's approval matters nothing to him - by the two-third mark, one cannot help but develop a grudging admiration for the man.

It's hard to know why this happens - perhaps just a case of sympathy for the underdog. Crisp was born in a time when homosexuality really was the love that dare not speak its name, and made his mark by never obliging those who would have him live life in a shadow, instead choosing to flaunt his difference. This book is an account of the price exacted. While the reader may be moved toward a grudging admiration for Crisp's refusal to be ground down by the prejudice and cruelty surrounding him, it's impossible to feel any real sympathy for the man. Because, ultimately, this is the autobiography of a narcissist. Reviews of this book invariably mention its wit and brilliant self-mockery, qualities I found singularly absent. Given a 200-page book in which no other character appears as remotely human, as anything other than a sketch or cipher, and in which the author admits to never having loved, or been loved, the final effect of this strangely empty memoir is bleak indeed. I feel a certain admiration for Quentin Crisp. But I can't say that I enjoyed spending time in his company.

...well, okay, YES he preferred the company of men, and he cringed at the thought of carnal relations with women, but I'd argue that *The Naked Civil Servant* isn't actually about anything as obvious as sexuality. It's clearly more about living on the fringes of mainstream society--even on the fringes of a fringe society, as the homo subculture was in Mr. Crisp's salad days (and still is, in some places).

Throughout the book, Crisp makes it quite clear that he's not your average gay man. The makeup, the hair, the nails: these bits of frippery aren't for every homo. In fact, he talks at length about the fact that many of his gay friends wouldn't even be seen with him during the day because of his flambuoyant appearance. Crisp was doing his own thing.

In the end (if you'll pardon the expression), Crisp wasn't out to champion gay rights. Rather, he was arguing for widespread tolerance of individuals who don't live up to the hegemonic standard. Whether that means tolerance of three-headed Siberian pygmies or of flaming, screechingly effeminate creatures such as himself, I don't think his arguments would change much.

It made me laugh and kept my attention. It is so sad that the hatred and violence that Quentin Crisp experienced years ago is still around today. I did feel lik I really knew the man after reading the book. He is very honest and very dry. A good read.