This article is from the source 'guardian' and was first published or seen on . It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.

You can find the current article at its original source at http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/jun/01/philip-larkin-doris-lessing-literary-party

The article has changed 2 times. There is an RSS feed of changes available.

Version 0 Version 1
Drinking, brawling, mayhem. I loved the parties Philip Larkin called ‘hell on earth’ Drinking, brawling, mayhem. I loved the parties Philip Larkin called ‘hell on earth’
(2 days later)
In the glorious letter just discovered from Philip Larkin to his Oxford friend Rachel Trickett, Larkin asks her not to nominate him as professor of poetry, explaining that he’d rather be dead in a ditch. The sticking point, it seems, was what Larkin calls “a lot of sherry drill with important people”. “My idea of hell on earth … is a literary party.”In the glorious letter just discovered from Philip Larkin to his Oxford friend Rachel Trickett, Larkin asks her not to nominate him as professor of poetry, explaining that he’d rather be dead in a ditch. The sticking point, it seems, was what Larkin calls “a lot of sherry drill with important people”. “My idea of hell on earth … is a literary party.”
Larkin is talking about the Oxford party, but the literary party proper is (I think) on the decline – especially the one to launch a book. Publishers’ margins are tight these days, and the budget tends to go on promotions and author tours, not the splendid bash with canapés in a hired museum. Most authors are lucky to be lent Daunt’s bookshop in Marylebone with a few bottles of white wine.Larkin is talking about the Oxford party, but the literary party proper is (I think) on the decline – especially the one to launch a book. Publishers’ margins are tight these days, and the budget tends to go on promotions and author tours, not the splendid bash with canapés in a hired museum. Most authors are lucky to be lent Daunt’s bookshop in Marylebone with a few bottles of white wine.
Related: Philip Larkin’s submission to the sherry drill | Letters
But God, they were fun. Ever since Mrs Dylan Thomas, at a literary party, stuck her elbow into the bowl of ice cream that TS Eliot was eating from, before presenting it to the great poet with the instruction to “Lick it off,” these things have been democratic, argumentative and often memorable. Did I really come across a great novelist lying incapacitated through drink, supine in the centre of a crowd? And once he was levered up, did it really emerge that there was another, much smaller, even more drunk man lying underneath him? Once a complete stranger came up to me, bleeding profusely, and said “Someone’s just fucking punched me because they thought I was you.” Oh, the shameless days before cameraphones and instant tweeting.But God, they were fun. Ever since Mrs Dylan Thomas, at a literary party, stuck her elbow into the bowl of ice cream that TS Eliot was eating from, before presenting it to the great poet with the instruction to “Lick it off,” these things have been democratic, argumentative and often memorable. Did I really come across a great novelist lying incapacitated through drink, supine in the centre of a crowd? And once he was levered up, did it really emerge that there was another, much smaller, even more drunk man lying underneath him? Once a complete stranger came up to me, bleeding profusely, and said “Someone’s just fucking punched me because they thought I was you.” Oh, the shameless days before cameraphones and instant tweeting.
Of course, there were the usual bores, complainers, wielders of grudges, Geoff Dyer and people who didn’t know that you move on after six minutes of conversation, tops. Once a well-known novelist who didn’t seem to know anyone pinned me to the wall and told me the plot of every Back to the Future movie, one after the other. But then there were the amusing and clever great men and women, mixing democratically – when still quite a baby novelist, I engaged Doris Lessing by asking her whether she thought the quality of elastic in M&S men’s underpants had declined. (She had strong views.) One of the nice things about English literary life was that everyone knew everyone else, pretty much, because they had all shared taxis from one piss-up to another on a Thursday night. These days they know each other if they’ve debated on a platform or shared a seminar room. Larkin should have taken the opportunity for some washing sherry, as he calls it, while he could.Of course, there were the usual bores, complainers, wielders of grudges, Geoff Dyer and people who didn’t know that you move on after six minutes of conversation, tops. Once a well-known novelist who didn’t seem to know anyone pinned me to the wall and told me the plot of every Back to the Future movie, one after the other. But then there were the amusing and clever great men and women, mixing democratically – when still quite a baby novelist, I engaged Doris Lessing by asking her whether she thought the quality of elastic in M&S men’s underpants had declined. (She had strong views.) One of the nice things about English literary life was that everyone knew everyone else, pretty much, because they had all shared taxis from one piss-up to another on a Thursday night. These days they know each other if they’ve debated on a platform or shared a seminar room. Larkin should have taken the opportunity for some washing sherry, as he calls it, while he could.
Trophy huntersTrophy hunters
The Impac prize has announced that it’s searching for a new sponsor. Impac itself disappeared some years ago, but the trust fund only ran dry last year. Dublin city council is funding it this year, which may be its last. This is the third major prize in this situation. The Folio prize, established two years ago, and the Samuel Johnson prize for non-fiction are also seeking new sponsors.The Impac prize has announced that it’s searching for a new sponsor. Impac itself disappeared some years ago, but the trust fund only ran dry last year. Dublin city council is funding it this year, which may be its last. This is the third major prize in this situation. The Folio prize, established two years ago, and the Samuel Johnson prize for non-fiction are also seeking new sponsors.
There’s pots of money out there, and the slight unwillingness may be down to the tendency of literary folk to denounce the sources of prize funds, once you give them dinner and a microphone to speak into. I quite like a prize, but there may be an excess of them. Would it really be so awful if some of them came to a dignified end? I can’t think anyone has ever bought a book on hearing that it won the Impac prize, though it’s nice of them to hand over 100,000 euros on the say-so of a lot of librarians. After all, the way that the prize culture encourages us to mistake novelists for participants in the World Crown Green Bowling Competition 2015, gagging for a four-foot trophy in silver-gilt is, in the end, rather silly.There’s pots of money out there, and the slight unwillingness may be down to the tendency of literary folk to denounce the sources of prize funds, once you give them dinner and a microphone to speak into. I quite like a prize, but there may be an excess of them. Would it really be so awful if some of them came to a dignified end? I can’t think anyone has ever bought a book on hearing that it won the Impac prize, though it’s nice of them to hand over 100,000 euros on the say-so of a lot of librarians. After all, the way that the prize culture encourages us to mistake novelists for participants in the World Crown Green Bowling Competition 2015, gagging for a four-foot trophy in silver-gilt is, in the end, rather silly.