This novel is simply marvellous. Written with effortless grace, it is a beautiful paean to Oxford and the academic life, though it does not refrain from sending up the pomposity and internecine plotting of the dons. The Gaudy is the first of a series of five novels which, to my mind, represent the finest roman fleuve in an academic setting.

The novel opens with Oxford alumnus Duncan Pattullo returning to his old college, probably either in the late 1960s or possibly the early 1970s, for the first time in more than twenty years since he graduated. He is there to attend a Gaudy (a celebratory dinner for old members). Right from the start he is overwhelmed with nostalgia, put up in his old rooms and almost immediately bumping into his old tutor. The nostalgia is slightly discomforting, though he soon encounters Tony Mumford, perhaps his closest friend from student days. Oddly, however, they have never met during the intervening twenty years.

Mumford has been very successful since graduating. Having made a fortune in the City he embarked upon a career in politics which has taken him into the House of Lords. On the day of the Gaudy there is a government reshuffle, and the evening news includes an announcement of his elevation to the Cabinet. Mumford does, however, have an ulterior motive in coming back to the college as it transpires that his son, Ivo (possessed of an unrivalled lack of grace) is struggling to pass the end of year exams, and his future in the college hangs delicately in the balance.

Pattullo also encounters Gavin Moggridge, an unremarkable student who had inadvertently embarked on a career of dazzling adventure entirely unexpected of, or even by, him, and Cyril Bedworth, a formerly dim undergraduate, who two decades before had had viewed Pattullo and Mumford with untrammelled admiration. Throughout the formal dinner Pattullo's attention wavers between the present day and his undergraduate days (and even his earlier schooldays in Edinburgh), and his perceptions are constantly re-defined.

The portraits of Albert Talbert, the aging tutor whose grasp on the world around is as lacking in acuity as his name is lacking in euphony, and Edward Pococke, the extraordinarily urbane Provost of the College, are finely drawn yet never succumb to cliché. Plot, the careworn scout on Pattullo's old staircase, and Nick Junkin, the engaging though slightly mentally dislocated undergraduate who now occupies Pattullo's old rooms, are so credible that I feel I know them.

Stewart was a noted academic himself, producing several detailed analyses of early twentieth century literature, and, under the pseudonym Michael Innes, was one of the most dextrous exponents of the ‘cosy’, gentleman detective genre. Yet the sequence that this novel opens was surely the crowning glory of his fruitful career. ( )

Simply marvellous. Written with effortless grace, this novel is a beautiful paean to Oxford and the academic life, though it doesn't refrain from sending up the pomposity and internecine plotting of the dons. This is the first of a series of five novels which, to my mind, represent the finest roman fleuve in an academic setting.

The novel opens with Oxford alumnus Duncan Pattullo returning to his old college, probably either in the late 1960s or possibly the early 1970s, for the first time in more than twenty years since graduating to attend a Gaudy (a celebratory dinner for old members). Right from the start he is overwhelmed with nostalgia, put up in his old rooms and almost immediately bumping into his old tutor. The nostalgia is slightly discomforting, though he soon encounters Tony Mumford, perhaps his closest friend from student days though, oddly, they have never met during the intervening twenty years. Mumford has been very successful and, having made a fortune in the City and pursued a career in politics which has taken him into the House of Lords, on the day of the Gaudy he is appointed to the Cabinet. However, he has an ulterior motive in coming back to the college as it transpires that his son, Ivo (possessed of an unrivalled lack of grace) is struggling to pass the end of year exams, and his future in the college hangs delicately in the balance.

Pattullo also encounters Gavin Moggridge, an unremarkable student who had inadvertently embarked on a career of dazzling adventure entirely unexpected of, or even by, him, and Cyril Bedworth, a dim student, who two decades before had had viewed Pattullo and Mumford with untrammelled admiration. Throughout the formal dinner Pattullo's attention wavers between the present day and his undergraduate days (and even his earlier schooldays in Edinburgh), and his perceptions are constantly re-defined.

The portraits of Albert Talbert, the aging tutor whose grasp on the world around is as lacking in acuity as his name is lacking in euphony, and Edward Pococke, the extraordinarily urbane Provost of the College, are finely drawn yet never succumb to cliche. Plot, the careworn scout on Pattullo's old staircase, and Nick Junkin, the engaging though slightly mentally dislocated undergraduate who now occupies Pattullo's old rooms are so credible that I feel I know them.

Stewart was a noted academic himself, producing several detailed analyses of early twentieth century literature, and, under the pseudonym Michael Innes, was only of the most deft exponents of the "cosy", gentleman detective genre. Yet the sequence that this novel opens was surely the crowning glory of his fruitful career. ( )

See my review of Vanderlyn's Kingdom by the same author. ( )

Simply marvellous. Written with effortless grace this novel is a paen to Oxford and the academic life, though it doesn';t refrain from sending up the pomposity and internecine plotting of the dons. This is the first of a series of five novels which, to my mind, represent the finest roman fleuve in an academic setting. ( )

2706 The Gaudy, by J. I. M. Stewart (read 12 Feb 1995) Though this book was not unfailingly absorbing it often was. People who went to Oxford I would think would be absorbed. ( )