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The Angry Island: Hunting the English

par A. A. Gill

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21410126,285 (3.4)18
Foreigner Adrian Gill (a Scot) goes in search of the essence of England and the English The English are naturally, congenitally, collectively and singularly, livid much of the time. In between the incoherent bellowing of the terraces and the pursed, rigid eye-rolling of the commuter carriage, they reach the end of their tethers and the thin end of their wedges. They're incensed, incandescent, splenetic, prickly, touchy and fractious. They sit apart on their half of a damply disappointing little island, nursing and picking at their irritations. Perhaps aware that they're living on top of a keg of fulminating fury, the English have, throughout their history, come up with hundreds of ingenious and bizarre ways to diffuse anger or transform it into something benign. Good manners and queues, roundabouts and garden sheds, and almost every game ever invented from tennis to bridge. They've built things, discovered stuff, made puddings, written hymns and novels, and for people who don't like to talk much, they have come up with the most minutely nuanced and replete language ever spoken - just so there'll be no misunderstandings. In this hugely witty, personal and readable book, A.A. Gill looks anger and the English straight in the eye.… (plus d'informations)
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» Voir aussi les 18 mentions

Affichage de 1-5 de 10 (suivant | tout afficher)
Having occasionally read Gill's newspaper columns, I didn't expect to like his book, but I've been repeatedly surprised at the clever and insightful writing in each one. ( )
  sfj2 | Mar 10, 2024 |
Done. I can pretty much predict what he will say at this point and it is not worth my time to read anymore. I just don't want to spend any more time with this writer. I got this book out of the library and it looks like it has been on the shelves for 13 years and while people check it out, they send it back. I like a clean library book more than most but sometimes the ones that are grimy are grimy because everyone who checks them out loves them to pieces. Others may disagree but I have so many interesting books to read that I am moving on. ( )
  KateSavage | Mar 29, 2019 |
From the very beginning you know you are going to laugh out loud at least once or twice while reading Angry Island. Right in the preface Gill starts off with, "Facts are what pedantic, dull people have instead of opinions." Well okay! He later states "the national character of the English is anger." At the time of this writing he was a food and travel critic so he was required to be a little...well...critical. It was expected of him. In The Angry Island his snarky essays cover all kinds of topics from language to war memorials, from sports and animals to drinking. Needless to say, he has a well-barbed opinion about everything. My big question is this, if he was born in Scotland and considers himself Scottish and hates England, why stay there? Why didn't he move away? He has even less of an opinion about America but that (or Ireland or Australia) would have been an option for an English speaking bloke, especially one with a sharp tongue. ( )
  SeriousGrace | Jun 19, 2018 |
A. A. Gill is a very biting, clever man. And he can be very cruel.
But my goodness, is he ever funny.
This is a look at what makes England England. Although he's definitely an insider, having lived there since he was a baby, he looks at England as an outsider (he was born in Scotland) and his observations make for a very enjoyable read. ( )
  quiBee | Jan 21, 2016 |
Writer and critic Gill was born in Scotland and considers himself wholly Scottish despite having lived in England almost his entire life. It gives him a viewpoint of being an outsider who sees both the good and the bad in the English character, with much of his time spent on the flaws.
Gill writes about city people moving to the Cotswolds to lead what they think will be romantic lives, the deeper meaning of queues, the many reasons the English will say "sorry", the anger that political correctness has caused, and most of all, the need to see themselves as fair and funny. His essay on English humor, in which he theorizes that the basis is anger, is hilarious, as he visits tiny stand-up clubs and sits through painfully unfunny comedy acts.

"All I want to do during a stand-up act is heckle. I don't want to shout obscenities, or offer wit. I just want to ask what they think they're really doing. What is it all about? Is it about being ugly and unappreciated? Is it a sort of endurance thing, like climbing a cliff? Because it's obviously got nothing to do with the audience or the money or the approbation. It's like watching someone have a cathartic moment of self-loathing, auto-humiliation. I never do heckle, of course, but I'm always on the side of the heckler. Whatever they shout, I think: they're actually paramedics trying to talk someone down." ( )
1 voter mstrust | Jan 1, 2015 |
Affichage de 1-5 de 10 (suivant | tout afficher)
Stow-in-the-Wold is the worst place in the world, and I say that without exaggeration as someone who has visited Darfur. It's full of Agas and 4x4s, though I'm not sure where this is leading anymore. Still, the English always say sorry in an angry fashion, so I make no apologies for wasting your time.

Like many writers running short of material, I went back to visit my school in Letchworth Garden Town, so I'd better write something about how Fascistically angry the English garden is, and while I'm on the subject of me, I should point out I used to be an alcoholic - though I was a top-up drinker, not an angry, objectionable binge drinker like the English.

The English like queues, losing at sport and nostalgia. All classic Jungian signs of anger. Indeed, left to themselves, the English are destined to be remembered as little more than a cul-de-sac in history. Much like this book.

The Digested read, digested: AA puts the English on the couch but merely exposes himself.
 
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This book is for my mother, Yvonne Gilan, without whose good breeding and astute timing I might well have been born one of them.
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And when, in a distant millennium, a child stands with his arms crossed and a face like thunder, stubbornly refusing to budge, his mother will look at him with incomprehension and say, "I'm sure I don't know where he gets it from."
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Foreigner Adrian Gill (a Scot) goes in search of the essence of England and the English The English are naturally, congenitally, collectively and singularly, livid much of the time. In between the incoherent bellowing of the terraces and the pursed, rigid eye-rolling of the commuter carriage, they reach the end of their tethers and the thin end of their wedges. They're incensed, incandescent, splenetic, prickly, touchy and fractious. They sit apart on their half of a damply disappointing little island, nursing and picking at their irritations. Perhaps aware that they're living on top of a keg of fulminating fury, the English have, throughout their history, come up with hundreds of ingenious and bizarre ways to diffuse anger or transform it into something benign. Good manners and queues, roundabouts and garden sheds, and almost every game ever invented from tennis to bridge. They've built things, discovered stuff, made puddings, written hymns and novels, and for people who don't like to talk much, they have come up with the most minutely nuanced and replete language ever spoken - just so there'll be no misunderstandings. In this hugely witty, personal and readable book, A.A. Gill looks anger and the English straight in the eye.

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