Fantabulosa!

I picked up The Palace of Varieties by James Lear by virtue of one of those Amazonian moments. Whilst sourcing a recommendation, the legend appeared: other customers who bought this book....

I looked at it and thought, ooooooh! That's a firm bum!

And that was it. Sold to the lady in the red-wine stained pyjamas! And thankee verra much, my good man.

But honestly: isn't this a good cover? It says, I'm vulgar and filthy but also (look at my font for God's sake!) well-written. Trust me. Trusssssst me.

Sometimes it pays to judge a book by its cover.

I looooooooooved this book. It's written as volume 1 of the memoirs of Paul Lemoyne who runs away from home as an eighteen year old, joins the theatre as a stage hand and embarks on a series of eye-poppingly filthy adventures that rattle along an enjoyably exuberant pace.

The book is set in the 1930s, in a vivid, seedy London. It's a London that perhaps contains more than its fair share of cheerfully homosexual and beefily hirsute men who are not averse to engaging in all-male orgies. From the barrow boys of Covent Garden to the highest echelons of society, every man that Paul meets is panting for a bit of bona cartso.

I suppose Paul is a rather unlovely character, selfish, even cruel sometimes. But he has a humour and self-awareness that I liked. He has such a great voice :

What would you have done under the circumstances? Gone home and thought long and hard about your arrogance and ignorance, and realised you'd done someone a great wrong? Or gone out to the nearst queer pub, got pissed and picked up a couple of guardsman? Good for you; I followed the primrose path.

This book is funny, filthy, well-written and extremely hot. And just when I wasn't expecting anything more, Mr Lear delivered a rather sweetly poignant soupcon of romance at the very end when Paul discovers that a man from his past has always loved him *clasps hands, eyes shining*. The final lines suggest that volume 2 of the memoirs - set in the second world war - will be just as vivid and exciting, if a little more serious.

However, disappointingly, I've found no hint on the internet that James Lear is actually writing a sequel.....