THE NEW STATESMAN MAGAZINE (March 19, 2025):
Nick Guest, from Alan Hollinghurst’s The Line of Beauty, is a consummate English protagonist: both an insider and an outsider, embarrassed by his provincial past, unsteady on his feet among the upper echelons of society, open in his distaste for the elite while desperate to be one of them. He has just graduated from Oxford with a first in English literature, and finds himself in the private library of Lord Kessler for a glittering moment of mid-bourgeois insecurity. Feeling “disqualified by his complete ignorance of money and aesthetic prejudice” Nick muses on his literary horizons: “Sometimes his memory of books he pretended to have read became almost as vivid as that of books he had read and half-forgotten.”
I haven’t pretended to have read something since I got caught out at college by a teacher over Aristotle’s Physics, Volume II. (Extraordinarily hard to blag your way through that one.) Still, I am sympathetic to Nick’s instincts. He is well read, and mildly anxious to admit to Kessler that he doesn’t know so much about the Victorian novelist Anthony Trollope. In the centuries-deep Western literary canon, Trollope might be a defensible blind spot for a 21-year-old. But in a universe in which Nick cannot signal aristocratic insideriness (he is from a run-of-the-mill market town) nor impress with wealth (his father is an antiques salesman), the literary realm has to suffice as his key-card to the British elite. The sound you hear is me cracking the spine of The Way We Live Now with studied determination.
———————————–
But there are more antagonists than ever to contend with: the internet, performative anti-intellectualism, suspicion of intellectual ambition. I suspect the solution is to accept these forces exist and to carry on anyway, as though the ghost of Harold Bloom is haunting me: come on, young lady, Ulysses will not read itself!
Finn McRedmond is a commissioning editor and writer at the New Statesman.