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Hangover Square
Hamilton captures the edgy, obsessive and eventually murderous mindset of a romantically frustrated British man in this WWII-era novel. London 1939, and in the grimy publands of Earls Court, George Harvey Bone is pursuing a helpless infatuation with Netta who is cool, contemptuous and hopelessly desirable to George. George is adrift in hell, until something goes click in his head and he realizes that he must kill her.
334 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1941
165 people are currently reading
8375 people want to read
About the author
Patrick Hamilton
89 books288 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
He was born Anthony Walter Patrick Hamilton in the Sussex village of Hassocks, near Brighton, to writer parents. Due to his father's alcoholism and financial ineptitude, the family spent much of Hamilton's childhood living in boarding houses in Chiswick and Hove. His education was patchy, and ended just after his fifteenth birthday when his mother withdrew him from Westminster School.
After a brief career as an actor, he became a novelist in his early twenties with the publication of Monday Morning (1925), written when he was nineteen. Craven House (1926) and Twopence Coloured (1928) followed, but his first real success was the play Rope (1929, known as Rope's End in America).
The Midnight Bell (1929) is based upon Hamilton's falling in love with a prostitute, and was later published along with The Siege of Pleasure (1932) and The Plains of Cement (1934) as the semi-autobiographical trilogy 20,000 Streets Under the Sky (1935).
Hamilton disliked many aspects of modern life. He was disfigured badly when he was run over by a car in the late 1920s: the end of his novel Mr. Stimpson and Mr. Gorse (1953), with its vision of England smothered in metal beetles, reflects his loathing of the motor car. However, despite some distaste for the culture in which he operated, he was a popular contributor to it. His two most successful plays, Rope and Gas Light (1938, known as Angel Street in the US), made Hamilton wealthy and were also successful as films: the British-made Gaslight (1940) and the 1944 American remake, and Alfred Hitchcock's Rope (1948).
Hangover Square (1941) is often judged his most accomplished work and still sells well in paperback, and is regarded by contemporary authors such as Iain Sinclair and Peter Ackroyd as an important part of the tradition of London novels. Set in Earls Court where Hamilton himself lived, it deals with both alcohol-drinking practices of the time and the underlying political context, such as the rise of fascism and responses to it. Hamilton became an avowed Marxist, though not a publicly declared member of the Communist Party of Great Britain. During the 1930s, like many other authors, Hamilton grew increasingly angry with capitalism and, again like others, felt that the violence and fascism of Europe during the period indicated that capitalism was reaching its end: this encouraged his Marxism and his novel Impromptu in Moribundia (1939) was a satirical attack of capitalist culture.
During his later life, Hamilton developed in his writing a misanthropic authorial voice which became more disillusioned, cynical and bleak as time passed. The Slaves of Solitude (1947), was his only work to deal directly with the Second World War, and he preferred to look back to the pre-war years. His Gorse Trilogy—three novels about a devious sexual predator and conman—are not generally well thought of critically, although Graham Greene said that the first was 'the best book written about Brighton' and the second (Mr. Stimpson and Mr. Gorse) is regarded increasingly as a comic masterpiece. The hostility and negativity of the novels is also attributed to Hamilton's disenchantment with the utopianism of Marxism and depression. The trilogy comprises The West Pier (1952); Mr. Stimpson and Mr. Gorse (1953), dramatized as The Charmer in 1987; and in 1955 Hamilton's last published work, Unknown Assailant, a short novel much of which was dictated while Hamilton was drunk. The Gorse Trilogy was first published in a single volume in 1992.
Hamilton had begun to consume alcohol excessively while still a relatively young man. After a declining career and melancholia, he died in 1962 of cirrhosis of the liver and kidney failure, in Sheringham, Norfolk.
He was born Anthony Walter Patrick Hamilton in the Sussex village of Hassocks, near Brighton, to writer parents. Due to his father's alcoholism and financial ineptitude, the family spent much of Hamilton's childhood living in boarding houses in Chiswick and Hove. His education was patchy, and ended just after his fifteenth birthday when his mother withdrew him from Westminster School.
After a brief career as an actor, he became a novelist in his early twenties with the publication of Monday Morning (1925), written when he was nineteen. Craven House (1926) and Twopence Coloured (1928) followed, but his first real success was the play Rope (1929, known as Rope's End in America).
The Midnight Bell (1929) is based upon Hamilton's falling in love with a prostitute, and was later published along with The Siege of Pleasure (1932) and The Plains of Cement (1934) as the semi-autobiographical trilogy 20,000 Streets Under the Sky (1935).
Hamilton disliked many aspects of modern life. He was disfigured badly when he was run over by a car in the late 1920s: the end of his novel Mr. Stimpson and Mr. Gorse (1953), with its vision of England smothered in metal beetles, reflects his loathing of the motor car. However, despite some distaste for the culture in which he operated, he was a popular contributor to it. His two most successful plays, Rope and Gas Light (1938, known as Angel Street in the US), made Hamilton wealthy and were also successful as films: the British-made Gaslight (1940) and the 1944 American remake, and Alfred Hitchcock's Rope (1948).
Hangover Square (1941) is often judged his most accomplished work and still sells well in paperback, and is regarded by contemporary authors such as Iain Sinclair and Peter Ackroyd as an important part of the tradition of London novels. Set in Earls Court where Hamilton himself lived, it deals with both alcohol-drinking practices of the time and the underlying political context, such as the rise of fascism and responses to it. Hamilton became an avowed Marxist, though not a publicly declared member of the Communist Party of Great Britain. During the 1930s, like many other authors, Hamilton grew increasingly angry with capitalism and, again like others, felt that the violence and fascism of Europe during the period indicated that capitalism was reaching its end: this encouraged his Marxism and his novel Impromptu in Moribundia (1939) was a satirical attack of capitalist culture.
During his later life, Hamilton developed in his writing a misanthropic authorial voice which became more disillusioned, cynical and bleak as time passed. The Slaves of Solitude (1947), was his only work to deal directly with the Second World War, and he preferred to look back to the pre-war years. His Gorse Trilogy—three novels about a devious sexual predator and conman—are not generally well thought of critically, although Graham Greene said that the first was 'the best book written about Brighton' and the second (Mr. Stimpson and Mr. Gorse) is regarded increasingly as a comic masterpiece. The hostility and negativity of the novels is also attributed to Hamilton's disenchantment with the utopianism of Marxism and depression. The trilogy comprises The West Pier (1952); Mr. Stimpson and Mr. Gorse (1953), dramatized as The Charmer in 1987; and in 1955 Hamilton's last published work, Unknown Assailant, a short novel much of which was dictated while Hamilton was drunk. The Gorse Trilogy was first published in a single volume in 1992.
Hamilton had begun to consume alcohol excessively while still a relatively young man. After a declining career and melancholia, he died in 1962 of cirrhosis of the liver and kidney failure, in Sheringham, Norfolk.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 595 reviews
February 27, 2021
Once again Patrick Hamilton showed himself as a connoisseur of unrequited love…
He is naively spineless, gullible and lovelorn… She is coldly self-serving, vulgar and loveless…
And also Hangover Square has a touch of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde about it.
The protagonist suffers from spells of dead moods during which he perceives reality differently and when he comes to, he can’t remember anything…
She is just using him and he gets nothing in exchange. But every deception leaves a little teardrop of bitterness…
And when a cup of tears overflows anything is prone to happen…
When meeting her after a parting of any length he never dared to look at her fully, to take her in, all at once. He was too afraid of her loveliness – of being made to feel miserable by some new weapon from the arsenal of her beauty – something she wore, some fresh look, or attitude, or way of doing her hair, some tone in her voice or light in her eye – some fresh ‘horror’ in fact.
He is naively spineless, gullible and lovelorn… She is coldly self-serving, vulgar and loveless…
And also Hangover Square has a touch of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde about it.
The protagonist suffers from spells of dead moods during which he perceives reality differently and when he comes to, he can’t remember anything…
It almost knocked him down. It made him reel. It was as though he had been hit by something. And yet he knew what it was. It was only his head, cracking back. And with the crack everything came flooding, rushing, roaring back – noise, colour, light, the fury of the real everyday world. It was almost more than he could bear. It would settle down, he would adjust himself soon, but for the moment it was too much for him. He leaned against a wall, giddy and faint.
She is just using him and he gets nothing in exchange. But every deception leaves a little teardrop of bitterness…
And when a cup of tears overflows anything is prone to happen…
March 14, 2011
Some books barrel into a room uninvited. They speak loudly and rhetorically about their own greatness while you're trying to enjoy the subtle artistry of a Joel Schumacher film or trim your toenails at the kitchen table. Often these books will tell you, in a voice like Harvey Fierstein's, but louder and less mellifluous, that Susan Sontag is (I mean, was) an enthusiastic fan of it. Perhaps while beating together two large cookie sheets just above your head, for example, the book will inform you [intermittently, between cymbal crashes] that Susan Sontag regarded it as a 'startling antecedent to the poetic ambiguity of postmodernism' or a 'neglected triumph of Latvian dissident literature.' You might endeavor to say, glibly, unfairly, 'Fuck Sontag' because you want to see the end of Flatliners, but that book will drown you out with childish nyah nyah nyah nyahs and other accepted debate techniques. If all else fails, the book will remind you that its primary subject is the holocaust or Stalin's Gulags or the cricket-playing community of New York City after 9/11, so if you aren't interested, maybe you're just morally bad and wrong and evil and mean, in the categorical George W. Bush employment of the words.
Other books, meanwhile, tiptoe into the room. You don't even notice they're there until they whisper in your ear, gently, almost subliminally, to please pass the crackers. Usually these books wear self-deprecating outfits. You know what I mean. The kind of clothes ugly people with low self-esteem wear hoping never to be noticed. A long, voluminous skirt with its hem dragging on the floor. A boxy wool earth-tone sweater that suppresses any indications of gender. Longish, unkempt hair obscuring much of the blushing face. Maybe I'm talking about Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club here. At any rate, this sort of book is unassuming and consequently arouses no suspicion in us (the readers) that it might be great or even very good.
Hangover Square is the Ally Sheedy kind of book. It's not at all what I would expect to like. It's essentially the story of a mentally ill, alcoholic loser named George Harvey Bone, who lives a lonely, desperate life in London (just before WWII), aided only by the fellowship of a few other very nasty alcoholics who delight in using and abusing him. Generally, I've pretty much exhausted my taste for Alcoholic Literature of the British Isles since I took that Irish Literature class in college. (Ireland needs some more literary subjects besides alcoholism, poverty, and religious enmity. Maybe a book about a talking dog or something.)
But wow. Patrick Hamilton can really sneak up on you and scribble out a book that you can't (or don't want to) put down. The Slaves of Solitude was the same way. He makes his characters' psychology so vivid and potent that it's enough to read about them taking out the trash or scrubbing their toilets. They have a vast and very real inner life that gives way to the suspense or the pain or the misery of his novels.
Hangover Square is a peculiar novel—peculiarly successful—in that readers will inevitably root for the protagonist Bone to do something truly awful—morally reprehensible, in fact. We are lulled into an ethical twilight state by Bone's put-upon haplessness and his mental infirmities, which seem to preemptively exonerate him, to whatever extent.
Other books, meanwhile, tiptoe into the room. You don't even notice they're there until they whisper in your ear, gently, almost subliminally, to please pass the crackers. Usually these books wear self-deprecating outfits. You know what I mean. The kind of clothes ugly people with low self-esteem wear hoping never to be noticed. A long, voluminous skirt with its hem dragging on the floor. A boxy wool earth-tone sweater that suppresses any indications of gender. Longish, unkempt hair obscuring much of the blushing face. Maybe I'm talking about Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club here. At any rate, this sort of book is unassuming and consequently arouses no suspicion in us (the readers) that it might be great or even very good.
Hangover Square is the Ally Sheedy kind of book. It's not at all what I would expect to like. It's essentially the story of a mentally ill, alcoholic loser named George Harvey Bone, who lives a lonely, desperate life in London (just before WWII), aided only by the fellowship of a few other very nasty alcoholics who delight in using and abusing him. Generally, I've pretty much exhausted my taste for Alcoholic Literature of the British Isles since I took that Irish Literature class in college. (Ireland needs some more literary subjects besides alcoholism, poverty, and religious enmity. Maybe a book about a talking dog or something.)
But wow. Patrick Hamilton can really sneak up on you and scribble out a book that you can't (or don't want to) put down. The Slaves of Solitude was the same way. He makes his characters' psychology so vivid and potent that it's enough to read about them taking out the trash or scrubbing their toilets. They have a vast and very real inner life that gives way to the suspense or the pain or the misery of his novels.
Hangover Square is a peculiar novel—peculiarly successful—in that readers will inevitably root for the protagonist Bone to do something truly awful—morally reprehensible, in fact. We are lulled into an ethical twilight state by Bone's put-upon haplessness and his mental infirmities, which seem to preemptively exonerate him, to whatever extent.
April 19, 2013
Just because I mostly hated reading this doesn’t mean I can’t give it 4 stars. There are two movies I saw recently (both recommended), Rosetta, a Belgian movie, and Keane, an American indie. Both of them are completely claustrophobic, the camera is jammed up against the main character all the time, we’re in their faces or hanging over their shoulders the whole time, there might be ten seconds here or there where Rosetta or Keane aren’t in the shot, but that will be because we’re looking through their eyes. Hangover Square is like that, we're squashed up close and personal with big goofy dozy daft alcoholic George Harvey Bone who is besotted, I mean quite utterly gaga, with sometime actress and fulltime casually-vicious alcoholic dropdead gorgeous dimwit Netta Longdon (in my mind played by Helena Bonham Carter but maybe that’s just me - do you think we could get her?). George hangs around with Netta and her admirers, none of them have got any jobs or money, they eke and sponge, eke and sponge.
The whole plot – if that is the word - of this thing for 98% of the whole book can be summed up in 2:37 by Frank and Nancy Sinatra:
I know I stand in line until you think you have the time
to spend an evening with me
And if we go someplace to dance, I know that there's a chance
you won't be leaving with me
And afterwards we drop into a quiet little place
and have a drink or two
And then I go and spoil it all, by saying somethin' stupid
like "I love you"
I hope you've never been in a situation like that. Well I got quite impatient, this novel was hammering the same nails in page after page, another round of drinks, another round of humiliations heaped upon poor old George. On and on.
MAYBE WHAT THIS NOVEL IS ABOUT : LOOKSISM
If it’s not about a very particular social milieu (Earl’s Court seediness, 1939 – the war approaches) or mid-level alcoholism, or mental illness, this novel is about the grim truths of looksism. The only think which Netta has going is her looks, and we are given to understand that she’s a total wow, it’s not just George that thinks so. We have our noses shoved into the ineluctable caste system of looksism, which divides the human race into those who have looks and those who can only look. Human beauty, beloved, adored, feared even, lusted after – the 9s go out with the 9s, the 7s with the 7s, it’s a universal rule, except that the ugly men have discovered that if they make enough money then 4s can go out with 8s or even 9s. But do looks make you happy? We who are without them fervently hope they don’t and then feel mean for thinking such thoughts. Maybe that’s why the myth of Marilyn is so cherished – there was a fabulous looker who was one mixed up shook up girl. The sufferings of George Harvey Bone in his complete prostration before Netta’s beauty reminded me hatefully of periods in my own life I would be happy to have removed by the device in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Ugh.
This novel grinds on and on and on, you get hypnotised, towards an inevitable denouement which is pure pathos, so sad and strong and true. If you like bleak, and who doesn’t, you’ll find it here.
The whole plot – if that is the word - of this thing for 98% of the whole book can be summed up in 2:37 by Frank and Nancy Sinatra:
I know I stand in line until you think you have the time
to spend an evening with me
And if we go someplace to dance, I know that there's a chance
you won't be leaving with me
And afterwards we drop into a quiet little place
and have a drink or two
And then I go and spoil it all, by saying somethin' stupid
like "I love you"
I hope you've never been in a situation like that. Well I got quite impatient, this novel was hammering the same nails in page after page, another round of drinks, another round of humiliations heaped upon poor old George. On and on.
MAYBE WHAT THIS NOVEL IS ABOUT : LOOKSISM
If it’s not about a very particular social milieu (Earl’s Court seediness, 1939 – the war approaches) or mid-level alcoholism, or mental illness, this novel is about the grim truths of looksism. The only think which Netta has going is her looks, and we are given to understand that she’s a total wow, it’s not just George that thinks so. We have our noses shoved into the ineluctable caste system of looksism, which divides the human race into those who have looks and those who can only look. Human beauty, beloved, adored, feared even, lusted after – the 9s go out with the 9s, the 7s with the 7s, it’s a universal rule, except that the ugly men have discovered that if they make enough money then 4s can go out with 8s or even 9s. But do looks make you happy? We who are without them fervently hope they don’t and then feel mean for thinking such thoughts. Maybe that’s why the myth of Marilyn is so cherished – there was a fabulous looker who was one mixed up shook up girl. The sufferings of George Harvey Bone in his complete prostration before Netta’s beauty reminded me hatefully of periods in my own life I would be happy to have removed by the device in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Ugh.
This novel grinds on and on and on, you get hypnotised, towards an inevitable denouement which is pure pathos, so sad and strong and true. If you like bleak, and who doesn’t, you’ll find it here.
April 11, 2017
This is a book about endless cycles of drinking binges and hangovers. It also is a book about an unhinged man convinced by some very convoluted logic that he needs to murder a woman - in that it reminded me of Tunnel by Ernesto Sabato (which is a great book and you should read it).
'Hangover Square' opens with a thrilling (even if medically dubious) description of a schizophrenic episode. It's just one of the many that will get much worse as the novel progresses. To achieve a great dissociative effect Hamilton had to resort to constant repetitions when describing those episodes and while annoying at first, eventually they become a hypnotising drumbeat.
The hero and the book's main sufferer is George 'Bone', hopelessly obsessed with a failed actress Netta and on a self-destructive path. The whole book takes places on the eve of World War II and could easily be interpreted as a metaphor of the rise of fascism with Bone possibly representing the United Kingdom, forced to enter the war – that’s an interpretation my Book Club came up with, granted we were on our own drinking binge in one of the Earl’s Court pubs, so we could’ve been talking nonsense at that point. Nonetheless the atmosphere of impending catastrophe is definitely discernible in the book.
And this is all great and was discussed in many other reviews, so I’d like to focus on something else. I propose a feminist reading of ‘Hangover Square’ (whenever I do that in my reviews, it always draws in the best kind of men in the comment section who come and call me ‘dear’, ‘honey’ or any other patronising pet name and proceed to tell me I didn’t ‘get it’.)
Most readers (including yours truly) tend to sympathise with Bone, because deep down inside, he is a ‘nice guy’, while Netta is an evil femme fatale. Additionally, it’s a motif that repeats itself in many of Hamilton’s books and is heavily autobiographical, so obviously it’s presented in a way to make us feel sorry for Bone.
And yet, it is clear Bone pretty much stalks the girl. At first she is somewhat nice to him, but she quickly makes it clear she is not interested. He proceeds to show up at her house, he calls her every day, even though at that point she barely speaks to him or even acknowledges his presence. Yet he is unable to take a hint and he is persistent. He is not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Netta’s only fault is to take money he willingly offers her but she’s hardly leading him on. She is just a broke alcoholic that maybe takes a little bit of an advantage of the guy who is relentlessly pursuing her. She never seeks him out to set him up. Yes, she cancelled on him and lied about where she was going, but on the other hand he is a murderous psycho who is fantasising about killing her, so in real life I’d much rather run into Netta than Bone. Bone is angry because Netta doesn’t want him because he is not rich and doesn’t have connections, which is supposed to make us believe that Netta is a shallow girl. But then why is Bone in love with Netta? It’s clearly not her personality, which he finds despicable, it’s just her looks. Bone doesn’t love Netta. He just wants to possess her, bend her to his will. When Netta is desperate to get the attention of a rich theatrical impresario we find it repulsive. When Bone is desperate to get Netta’s attention, we find it just sad. Very clever, Hamilton. ‘Netta’s thoughts resembled those of a fish’. And what were Bone's thoughts like, eh?
The whole point of the narrative is to convince us that if only there was no Netta, Bone could move to Maidenhead and live a wholesome life. But just as Eddie Carstairs is not the reason Netta will never live the life of a glamourous actress, Netta is not the reason for the way Bone’s life is turning out. They are both fucked because they are raging alcoholics who are never sober long enough to make any changes to improve their lives. Anyway, bottom line is: Netta uses men as much as she is used by them, so let’s cut her some slack, eh?
'Hangover Square' opens with a thrilling (even if medically dubious) description of a schizophrenic episode. It's just one of the many that will get much worse as the novel progresses. To achieve a great dissociative effect Hamilton had to resort to constant repetitions when describing those episodes and while annoying at first, eventually they become a hypnotising drumbeat.
The hero and the book's main sufferer is George 'Bone', hopelessly obsessed with a failed actress Netta and on a self-destructive path. The whole book takes places on the eve of World War II and could easily be interpreted as a metaphor of the rise of fascism with Bone possibly representing the United Kingdom, forced to enter the war – that’s an interpretation my Book Club came up with, granted we were on our own drinking binge in one of the Earl’s Court pubs, so we could’ve been talking nonsense at that point. Nonetheless the atmosphere of impending catastrophe is definitely discernible in the book.
And this is all great and was discussed in many other reviews, so I’d like to focus on something else. I propose a feminist reading of ‘Hangover Square’ (whenever I do that in my reviews, it always draws in the best kind of men in the comment section who come and call me ‘dear’, ‘honey’ or any other patronising pet name and proceed to tell me I didn’t ‘get it’.)
Most readers (including yours truly) tend to sympathise with Bone, because deep down inside, he is a ‘nice guy’, while Netta is an evil femme fatale. Additionally, it’s a motif that repeats itself in many of Hamilton’s books and is heavily autobiographical, so obviously it’s presented in a way to make us feel sorry for Bone.
And yet, it is clear Bone pretty much stalks the girl. At first she is somewhat nice to him, but she quickly makes it clear she is not interested. He proceeds to show up at her house, he calls her every day, even though at that point she barely speaks to him or even acknowledges his presence. Yet he is unable to take a hint and he is persistent. He is not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Netta’s only fault is to take money he willingly offers her but she’s hardly leading him on. She is just a broke alcoholic that maybe takes a little bit of an advantage of the guy who is relentlessly pursuing her. She never seeks him out to set him up. Yes, she cancelled on him and lied about where she was going, but on the other hand he is a murderous psycho who is fantasising about killing her, so in real life I’d much rather run into Netta than Bone. Bone is angry because Netta doesn’t want him because he is not rich and doesn’t have connections, which is supposed to make us believe that Netta is a shallow girl. But then why is Bone in love with Netta? It’s clearly not her personality, which he finds despicable, it’s just her looks. Bone doesn’t love Netta. He just wants to possess her, bend her to his will. When Netta is desperate to get the attention of a rich theatrical impresario we find it repulsive. When Bone is desperate to get Netta’s attention, we find it just sad. Very clever, Hamilton. ‘Netta’s thoughts resembled those of a fish’. And what were Bone's thoughts like, eh?
The whole point of the narrative is to convince us that if only there was no Netta, Bone could move to Maidenhead and live a wholesome life. But just as Eddie Carstairs is not the reason Netta will never live the life of a glamourous actress, Netta is not the reason for the way Bone’s life is turning out. They are both fucked because they are raging alcoholics who are never sober long enough to make any changes to improve their lives. Anyway, bottom line is: Netta uses men as much as she is used by them, so let’s cut her some slack, eh?
July 12, 2024
Hangover Square was published in 1941, at the peak of Patrick Hamilton's fame, which was by that time considerable.
In common with almost all of Patrick Hamilton's novels, the story is in part inspired by incidents from Patrick Hamilton's life. Like protagonist and narrator George Harvey Bone, Hamilton's life was becoming saturated in alcohol; and like Bone he too was obsessed by an unattainable woman, in Hamilton's case she was actress Geraldine Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald is the inspiration for Netta and in a sense could be Hamilton's revenge on her given the unflattering portrait...
She was completely, indeed sinisterly devoid of all those qualities which her face and body externally proclaimed her to have - pensiveness, grace, warmth, agility, beauty ... Her thoughts resembled those of a fish.
However, where the book really succeeds is in its evocation of London as the second world war looms. The book was written under the shadow of the seemingly unstoppable advance of Germany and Nazism. Hangover Square searches for a human metaphor to express the sickness that Hamilton perceived during this period. As a Marxist, he identified the petty bourgeoisie, from which Netta and Peter had sprung, as the enemy. Netta and Peter, along with the stranger who accompanies them to Brighton, are all fascists.
A masterpiece, and Patrick Hamilton's finest novel (although The Slaves of Solitude, Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Sky, Craven House and Rope: A Play are all excellent too).
5/5
In common with almost all of Patrick Hamilton's novels, the story is in part inspired by incidents from Patrick Hamilton's life. Like protagonist and narrator George Harvey Bone, Hamilton's life was becoming saturated in alcohol; and like Bone he too was obsessed by an unattainable woman, in Hamilton's case she was actress Geraldine Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald is the inspiration for Netta and in a sense could be Hamilton's revenge on her given the unflattering portrait...
She was completely, indeed sinisterly devoid of all those qualities which her face and body externally proclaimed her to have - pensiveness, grace, warmth, agility, beauty ... Her thoughts resembled those of a fish.
However, where the book really succeeds is in its evocation of London as the second world war looms. The book was written under the shadow of the seemingly unstoppable advance of Germany and Nazism. Hangover Square searches for a human metaphor to express the sickness that Hamilton perceived during this period. As a Marxist, he identified the petty bourgeoisie, from which Netta and Peter had sprung, as the enemy. Netta and Peter, along with the stranger who accompanies them to Brighton, are all fascists.
A masterpiece, and Patrick Hamilton's finest novel (although The Slaves of Solitude, Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Sky, Craven House and Rope: A Play are all excellent too).
5/5
October 11, 2023
If Georges Simenon was a heavy drinking Londoner in the early 1940s then he could have wrote this novel. Its dark and chilling qualities when it comes to wanting to execute a murder felt very Simenon-esque. Don't know why it's described as darkly comic, as I didn't find anything funny about it. Maybe it was, but I chose not to see. I just found the whole experience a pretty sad one, seeing George Harvey Bone consumed by drink, by solitude, and by black-out schizo episodes; his 'dead moods', where his singular and most important plan of action keeps eluding him. Georges is the butt of all jokes, the glass half empty rather than half full, the deluded loner who is driven mad by love & hate equally for one of the great seductive and immoral female characters I've come across in years - the social climber Netta Langdon. Still, as unforgettable as she was, this is still Georges' novel. His plight will stay with me for a very long time. An intoxicated and wretched walk into oblivion. A fall into an obsessive and murderous abyss. Hamilton captures explicitly well the smoke dense and beer-stained rooms as we move from pub to pub; from flats to lodgings; from one hangover to the next, in a London approaching the cusp of war. Both a taut crime thriller with Marxist undertones, and a tragic psychological character study, I think this just might be one the best British novels I've ever read.
September 7, 2019
Patrick Hamilton's novels focus on those on the margins of life - the world of seedy bedsits, pubs and near poverty. George Harvey Bone spends his time in Earls Court, often meaning to make a new start of things, but drawn to the unpleasant and vicious Netta Longdon. For her part, Netta is a vacuous, pretty and lazy woman, who sponges off men for money and has a half hearted ambition to make it in films. When she first meets George (who she calls 'Bone') she imagines he is rich; once she learns he isn't wealthy, he becomes one of her male admirers, useful for paying bills or being allowed to take her out. During the course of this novel, Netta behaves more and more outrageously, treating George shamefully, while he wallows miserably in his obsessive desire.
This is a bleak novel; both darkly humorous and touchingly sad. You hope that George manages to break free of the awful Netta and his drunken existence, while sympathising with his inability to start afresh. Hamilton is an author who deserves not to be forgotten - he has a deft touch and a real feeling for the underdog. This is a moving read and the characters will stay with you long after you have finished reading.
This is a bleak novel; both darkly humorous and touchingly sad. You hope that George manages to break free of the awful Netta and his drunken existence, while sympathising with his inability to start afresh. Hamilton is an author who deserves not to be forgotten - he has a deft touch and a real feeling for the underdog. This is a moving read and the characters will stay with you long after you have finished reading.
July 7, 2024
A tall, shambling, ungainly, shy, haunting, readily affectionate figure he had been then - a noticeably uncruel boy in that cruel and resounding atmosphere.
Oh, this is bleak and tragic! Hamilton seems to know this world and conveys it unerringly: shabby Earls Court and Brighton in the run-up to war in 1939; the lost and dispossessed George Harvey Bone; the cold and brutal Netta and Peter with their admiration for fascist ideology; and the brief opportunities for love and understanding from an old school friend and a hotel cat that cannot save Bone from himself.
In comparison with his Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Sky and The Slaves of Solitude this feels unrelentingly downbeat and lacks the humour that lifts the other books. But the portraits of characters are astute and as observant as ever. Bone himself with his undiagnosed mental illness (schizophrenia? I'm not sure) reminded me of Septimus Warren Smith from Mrs Dalloway: neither man is portrayed with the kind of romanticism that 'madness' can sometimes engender in literature and both are victims in a society that largely doesn't care about them.
But Bone is also more interestingly complex than just a 'walking wounded' character: his alter ego is more decisive with a kind of twisted logic that tells him that his only chance of survival is in killing his obsession with Netta, and his 'plan' might work if only his conscience located in his other self hadn't intervened.
On one level this book plays into the odi et amo trope ('I hate and I love') from Catullus (at least, if not earlier) forward where a masculine character is in thrall to a worthless but beautiful woman, rendering him abject in the face of this unrequited and humiliating desire. But there's also something contemporary going on here for Netta and Peter are fascist sympathisers. Netta admires the brute strength of Hitler and Mussolini; Peter has been imprisoned already for beating up a left-wing protester.
Intensely claustrophobic, and written in a close 3rd person style that puts us into Bone's head, this is almost unremittingly desolate. There are, though, a few points at which the book underlines the potential life that Bone could have had: a successful game of golf, a birthday party after a theatrical show, and that love of a cat. Nevertheless, he is unable to rescue himself from the grip of his Netta obsession and the fog of alcohol that both temporarily soothes and yet buries him deeper.
As ever, Hamilton's writing is cleverly unobtrusive but he gives poor Bone a kind of tragic grandeur as this ordinary, even mediocre, man is defeated by despair and a self-blaming conscience that might have served him better. Sad, sad, sad.
February 21, 2019
The first thing I did here was to give this book 4 stars, but I changed it to 5 just as soon as I realized that George Harvey Bone is a character that will stay inside my head. I will think of him when I see sad, lonely people, or alcholics, or men or women being bullied and ridiculed. When I see sweetly naive people who really can't cope with the world, but turn to liquor and bad company just to make themselves feel better for a little while, even though it never helps. Maybe George gave me a tiny bit of insight into schizophrenia, for lack of a better word; people who hear voices in their head that tell them do things their "real" personality would never think of.
This is my third Patrick Hamilton novel, and the one thing common to them all is his ability to capture in few words the essence of his characters.
"He looked as though he had been to an inferior public school and would be pleased to sell you a second-hand car". "He seemed to carry his loneliness about him on his person, like someone branded". Both of those sentences describe George, and tell all you need to know. The last seven words of this novel, which I cannot quote, sum up everything that happened in Hangover Square, perfectly and devastatingly.
I wish I could do a better job reviewing this, but it will have to suffice to say thank you to Doug, who introduced me to him. Like Doug, I am on a mission to read all of his novels. This one is darker than the previous novels I read, Craven House and The Slaves of Solitude, and affects me differently, but like I said, I will never forget George Harvey Bone.
This is my third Patrick Hamilton novel, and the one thing common to them all is his ability to capture in few words the essence of his characters.
"He looked as though he had been to an inferior public school and would be pleased to sell you a second-hand car". "He seemed to carry his loneliness about him on his person, like someone branded". Both of those sentences describe George, and tell all you need to know. The last seven words of this novel, which I cannot quote, sum up everything that happened in Hangover Square, perfectly and devastatingly.
I wish I could do a better job reviewing this, but it will have to suffice to say thank you to Doug, who introduced me to him. Like Doug, I am on a mission to read all of his novels. This one is darker than the previous novels I read, Craven House and The Slaves of Solitude, and affects me differently, but like I said, I will never forget George Harvey Bone.
aborted-efforts
February 3, 2009Dear Patrick Hamilton,
I'm just not that into you. Yeah, our first meeting was magnificent, transcendent, life-altering even! But you know what? I was drunk. I mean, really really shithammered, and yeah, so were you.... At our awkward follow-up date, I was pleased to note that you really weren't bad looking, but our conversation stalled a few minutes in, and neither one of us tried hard to save it. Maybe if I'd gotten through those initial long awkward pauses and choked down more sake, things would've been fine, hell, they could've been great.... We could've gone on together and wound up falling in love, having kids, getting married, growing old and cirrhotic and dying together, pickled and bitter and afraid of the void. But when I got up to use the bathroom (I didn't really have to go) and saw the door to the street was right there, I chose the easier path, as I'm known to do.
Yeah, it could've been great, Pat. It probably would've been. But patience is never one of my virtues, and this is an especially bad week.
Please don't hold this against me. I really did love Slaves of Solitude, and I'm sure this is great, too. You're a really wonderful writer! Really: it's not you, it's me.
I'm just not that into you. Yeah, our first meeting was magnificent, transcendent, life-altering even! But you know what? I was drunk. I mean, really really shithammered, and yeah, so were you.... At our awkward follow-up date, I was pleased to note that you really weren't bad looking, but our conversation stalled a few minutes in, and neither one of us tried hard to save it. Maybe if I'd gotten through those initial long awkward pauses and choked down more sake, things would've been fine, hell, they could've been great.... We could've gone on together and wound up falling in love, having kids, getting married, growing old and cirrhotic and dying together, pickled and bitter and afraid of the void. But when I got up to use the bathroom (I didn't really have to go) and saw the door to the street was right there, I chose the easier path, as I'm known to do.
Yeah, it could've been great, Pat. It probably would've been. But patience is never one of my virtues, and this is an especially bad week.
Please don't hold this against me. I really did love Slaves of Solitude, and I'm sure this is great, too. You're a really wonderful writer! Really: it's not you, it's me.
November 12, 2019
Ένα αλληγορικό αμαλγαμα για μια μεθυσμένη, οκνηρή, αφραγκη, νευρωτική, αλαζονική, φτηνιαρικη φάρα που σέρνεται στα μπαρ, σε μια στρουθοκαμηλιζουζα Βρετανία, στις παρυφές του Β Παγκοσμίου Πολέμου.
Πόσο ήσυχα και καταθλιπτικά ήταν σ' αυτό το μέρος του κόσμου
Υπάρχει ο έρωτας όμως που δίνει χρώμα, πάθος, κίνηση.
Ωραία κατάσταση να είσαι τόσο ερωτευμένος μ' ένα κορίτσι, ώστε η θέα και μόνο των παπουτσιών σου να σου ραγίζει την καρδιά
Ποτά, τσιγάρα και η Νεττα
Κ τόσο σύγχρονο τελικά, αναλογιζόμενος την φαυλότητα που τελικά επικρατεί τριγύρω, και το ερώτημα παραμένει αν τελικά μαθαίνουμε από τα μεγάλα μας λάθη ή απλώς είμαστε αυτοκαταστροφικοι όπως ο Τζορτζ...
Πόσο ήσυχα και καταθλιπτικά ήταν σ' αυτό το μέρος του κόσμου
Υπάρχει ο έρωτας όμως που δίνει χρώμα, πάθος, κίνηση.
Ωραία κατάσταση να είσαι τόσο ερωτευμένος μ' ένα κορίτσι, ώστε η θέα και μόνο των παπουτσιών σου να σου ραγίζει την καρδιά
Ποτά, τσιγάρα και η Νεττα
Κ τόσο σύγχρονο τελικά, αναλογιζόμενος την φαυλότητα που τελικά επικρατεί τριγύρω, και το ερώτημα παραμένει αν τελικά μαθαίνουμε από τα μεγάλα μας λάθη ή απλώς είμαστε αυτοκαταστροφικοι όπως ο Τζορτζ...
May 13, 2020
Ένα κλασικό σκοτεινό μυθιστόρημα πάνω στην παράδοση της βρετανικής λαϊκής αφήγησης
αναφορικά με τα κοινωνικοπολιτικά προβλήματα
και τις εμπορικές υφολογικές αναζητήσεις,
ανάμεσα στο αγωνιώδες θρίλερ και την τραγωδία
ενός μοναχικού άνδρα που έζησε χωρίς ζωή.
Η « Πλατεία Χανγκόβερ» μπορεί να χαρακτηριστεί
ως στοιχειωμένο μυθιστόρημα, βυθισμένο μέσα στην παράνοια της σχιζοφρενικής ψυχικής φύσης του (
αντί) ήρωα, όπου η συναρπαγή συναισθηματικών φορτίων και σεξουαλικών εμμονών,
μουσκεμένων στο νοθευμένο αλκοόλ
δημιουργούν τρομακτικές προσεγγίσεις
στην ανθρώπινη ξεχασμένη απελπισία που αναδύεται πάντα με τον εξοπλισμό των δολοφονικών ενεργειών απο τα σκοτάδια της αυτοκαστροφής.
Κλασικό έργο βραδείας καύσης, τρομερά λυπηρό,
με ποικίλες ανθρωπομορφικές πιέσεις παροχής θανάτου.
Πλατεία Χανγκόβερ και αποθεματικά διαφυγής
με έδρα το άθλιο και βρομερό Ερλς Κορτ και το παραθαλάσσιο Μπράιτον κάπου κοντά στο 1939,
κάπου δίπλα στην αρχή του Β´ΠΠ και σίγουρα μέσα
σε μια βαριά ρεαλιστική και άκρως αντί-ρομαντική διάθεση του συγγραφέα των συνειδησιακά αστέγων
που προσφέρονται για κάθε ανθρώπινη χρήση.
Βαθιά ατμοσφαιρικό ψυχογράφημα κατάντιας
και κλειστοφοβικής επάρκειας στο θλιβερό Λονδίνο
με φόντο τη συλλογική μανία απονέκρωσης λογικής και ανθρωπιάς που ζωγρ��φίζει με την μαυρίλα της εμμονικής του ανωμαλίας ο Χίτλερ.
Οι πρωταγωνιστές του βιβλίου είναι εφιαλτικά ολοκληρωμένοι, άμεσοι, ατόφιοι, άψογοι θεατρίνοι, ψυχροί εκτελεστές συμφεροντολογικών παραστάσεων με ευρύτατο κοινό αποδοχής και απάθειας που
επικροτεί χωρίς χειροκρότημα την εκφυλισμένη ρουτίνα τοις, αρκεί να μην πιστώνεται η ανοχή τους,
και γίνονται συνεργοί στην αθλιότητα,
φτάνει μόνο να πληρώνονται τα χρέη των υλικών κενόδοξων ευκολιών και κάθε κραυγή αξιών
και ανθρωπιστικής έννοιας ευρύτερου πλαισίου μεταμορφώνεται αίφνης σε ταινία παρωχημένου βωβού κινηματογράφου μέσα σε άδειες αίθουσες συνειδιασιακής προβολής.
Η πλατεία Χανγκόβερ μυρίζει σαπίλα και ανθρώπινα λιπαρά κατάλοιπα απο την αιθαλομίχλη και την κλεισούρα στα φθηνιάρικα ενοικιαζόμενα δωμάτια
και στα κακόφημα μπαρ που αποπνέουν ανάσες μουχλιασμένης κατάχρησης και μεταχειρισμένων υγρών ηδονής μέσα σε ξινισμένα ποτά και ιδρωμένα τσιγάρα.
Η πλοκή του έργου είναι μια αδυσώπητη κάθοδος σε ένα αναπόφευκτο τέλος.
Σχοζοφρένεια με βαθιές ψυχολογικές ρωγμές που εφορμούν και διαχωρίζουν την ενωμένη διπολική ακρίβεια της εξελισσόμενης αντιμετώπισης των κακόβουλων πληγμάτων.
Τραγικό. Αδύναμο. Εκμεταλλεύσιμο. Ταπεινωμένο. Πλάσμα που αγαπάει το ψέμα μιας πόρνης αλήθειας.
Χειραγώγηση απο γυναικεία νόηση, νωθρότητα, κατάντια, σηψαιμία συναισθηματικής αιμμοραγιας και παρέες που αγαπούν το φασισμό και εξαγοράζουν δανεική επιβιώση στην φυλακή της αλκοολικής κάμψης.
Ένας ασπόνδυλος σαρκοφάγος και θηλαστικός υπόκοσμος, μια βαθιά επηρεασμένη ιστορία μοναξιάς, απογοήτευσης και απελπισίας μέσω της αγάπης.
Ζωές που παγιδεύονται σε διαδρομές χωρίς ελπιδοφόρους προορισμούς σε μια μετουσίωση
προς το αναπόφευκτο, το πεπρωμένο,
προς αυτό που ήταν να είχε γίνει, προς τον μύθο του μέλλοντος.
Αιματηρό έργο ανθρώπινης συνενοχής.
🍒🍒💖💖🍒🍒
Καλή ανάγνωση.
Πολλούς ασπασμούς.
αναφορικά με τα κοινωνικοπολιτικά προβλήματα
και τις εμπορικές υφολογικές αναζητήσεις,
ανάμεσα στο αγωνιώδες θρίλερ και την τραγωδία
ενός μοναχικού άνδρα που έζησε χωρίς ζωή.
Η « Πλατεία Χανγκόβερ» μπορεί να χαρακτηριστεί
ως στοιχειωμένο μυθιστόρημα, βυθισμένο μέσα στην παράνοια της σχιζοφρενικής ψυχικής φύσης του (
αντί) ήρωα, όπου η συναρπαγή συναισθηματικών φορτίων και σεξουαλικών εμμονών,
μουσκεμένων στο νοθευμένο αλκοόλ
δημιουργούν τρομακτικές προσεγγίσεις
στην ανθρώπινη ξεχασμένη απελπισία που αναδύεται πάντα με τον εξοπλισμό των δολοφονικών ενεργειών απο τα σκοτάδια της αυτοκαστροφής.
Κλασικό έργο βραδείας καύσης, τρομερά λυπηρό,
με ποικίλες ανθρωπομορφικές πιέσεις παροχής θανάτου.
Πλατεία Χανγκόβερ και αποθεματικά διαφυγής
με έδρα το άθλιο και βρομερό Ερλς Κορτ και το παραθαλάσσιο Μπράιτον κάπου κοντά στο 1939,
κάπου δίπλα στην αρχή του Β´ΠΠ και σίγουρα μέσα
σε μια βαριά ρεαλιστική και άκρως αντί-ρομαντική διάθεση του συγγραφέα των συνειδησιακά αστέγων
που προσφέρονται για κάθε ανθρώπινη χρήση.
Βαθιά ατμοσφαιρικό ψυχογράφημα κατάντιας
και κλειστοφοβικής επάρκειας στο θλιβερό Λονδίνο
με φόντο τη συλλογική μανία απονέκρωσης λογικής και ανθρωπιάς που ζωγρ��φίζει με την μαυρίλα της εμμονικής του ανωμαλίας ο Χίτλερ.
Οι πρωταγωνιστές του βιβλίου είναι εφιαλτικά ολοκληρωμένοι, άμεσοι, ατόφιοι, άψογοι θεατρίνοι, ψυχροί εκτελεστές συμφεροντολογικών παραστάσεων με ευρύτατο κοινό αποδοχής και απάθειας που
επικροτεί χωρίς χειροκρότημα την εκφυλισμένη ρουτίνα τοις, αρκεί να μην πιστώνεται η ανοχή τους,
και γίνονται συνεργοί στην αθλιότητα,
φτάνει μόνο να πληρώνονται τα χρέη των υλικών κενόδοξων ευκολιών και κάθε κραυγή αξιών
και ανθρωπιστικής έννοιας ευρύτερου πλαισίου μεταμορφώνεται αίφνης σε ταινία παρωχημένου βωβού κινηματογράφου μέσα σε άδειες αίθουσες συνειδιασιακής προβολής.
Η πλατεία Χανγκόβερ μυρίζει σαπίλα και ανθρώπινα λιπαρά κατάλοιπα απο την αιθαλομίχλη και την κλεισούρα στα φθηνιάρικα ενοικιαζόμενα δωμάτια
και στα κακόφημα μπαρ που αποπνέουν ανάσες μουχλιασμένης κατάχρησης και μεταχειρισμένων υγρών ηδονής μέσα σε ξινισμένα ποτά και ιδρωμένα τσιγάρα.
Η πλοκή του έργου είναι μια αδυσώπητη κάθοδος σε ένα αναπόφευκτο τέλος.
Σχοζοφρένεια με βαθιές ψυχολογικές ρωγμές που εφορμούν και διαχωρίζουν την ενωμένη διπολική ακρίβεια της εξελισσόμενης αντιμετώπισης των κακόβουλων πληγμάτων.
Τραγικό. Αδύναμο. Εκμεταλλεύσιμο. Ταπεινωμένο. Πλάσμα που αγαπάει το ψέμα μιας πόρνης αλήθειας.
Χειραγώγηση απο γυναικεία νόηση, νωθρότητα, κατάντια, σηψαιμία συναισθηματικής αιμμοραγιας και παρέες που αγαπούν το φασισμό και εξαγοράζουν δανεική επιβιώση στην φυλακή της αλκοολικής κάμψης.
Ένας ασπόνδυλος σαρκοφάγος και θηλαστικός υπόκοσμος, μια βαθιά επηρεασμένη ιστορία μοναξιάς, απογοήτευσης και απελπισίας μέσω της αγάπης.
Ζωές που παγιδεύονται σε διαδρομές χωρίς ελπιδοφόρους προορισμούς σε μια μετουσίωση
προς το αναπόφευκτο, το πεπρωμένο,
προς αυτό που ήταν να είχε γίνει, προς τον μύθο του μέλλοντος.
Αιματηρό έργο ανθρώπινης συνενοχής.
🍒🍒💖💖🍒🍒
Καλή ανάγνωση.
Πολλούς ασπασμούς.
February 22, 2021
Set in London on the brink of World War II, Hangover Square is a dark tale of loneliness and obsession. It follows the fortunes of George Harvey Bone, a sad-eyed, good-natured individual who is unlucky enough to fall for the beautiful Netta, an unemployed actress. Netta is openly contemptuous of George but happy to exploit him for his money. Along with a number of other loafers, they spend their days drinking in the pubs around Earls Court. George is heartsick from his repeated failure to win Netta's affection. But he also begins to experience some strange mental episodes, a personality shift where his brain clicks and the path to happiness becomes abundantly clear - he must kill Netta at the next available opportunity and escape to Maidenhead.
Never has the despair of unrequited love been so brilliantly evoked. George experiences the whole gamut of emotions in his pursuit of Netta - anger at her inevitable betrayal, followed by relief at his resolution to forget her and move on, until a rare kind word from her sparks a flicker of hope and the whole pathetic cycle starts anew. He is utterly infatuated - hours are spent analysing a single sentence from Netta's lips, probing it for hidden meaning.
The seediness of these London streets is superbly rendered. Its dreary pubs and squalid lodging houses teem with egotistical bores, loudmouth know-it-alls and failed actors. Neither George nor his so-called friends have a job to go to - the objective of every day is to get drunk as soon as possible (or to become completely 'blind' as their slang goes). There is a real sense of foreboding throughout the novel - not just in George's murderous intentions but also in the inevitability of war's outbreak.
Parts of the story are unfortunately autobiographical. Hamilton himself was an alcoholic, turning to drink after becoming disfigured in a car accident. J.B. Priestley described him "as an unhappy man who needed whiskey like a car needed petrol." He was also known to have been a stalker of the actress Geraldine Fitzgerald and the character of Netta is said to be based on her.
Hangover Square was the subject of instant acclaim when it was first published in 1941. I found it an uncomfortable read, but a compelling one. It is an unflinching portrait of an unhinged mind and an enduring depiction of pre-war London.
Never has the despair of unrequited love been so brilliantly evoked. George experiences the whole gamut of emotions in his pursuit of Netta - anger at her inevitable betrayal, followed by relief at his resolution to forget her and move on, until a rare kind word from her sparks a flicker of hope and the whole pathetic cycle starts anew. He is utterly infatuated - hours are spent analysing a single sentence from Netta's lips, probing it for hidden meaning.
The seediness of these London streets is superbly rendered. Its dreary pubs and squalid lodging houses teem with egotistical bores, loudmouth know-it-alls and failed actors. Neither George nor his so-called friends have a job to go to - the objective of every day is to get drunk as soon as possible (or to become completely 'blind' as their slang goes). There is a real sense of foreboding throughout the novel - not just in George's murderous intentions but also in the inevitability of war's outbreak.
Parts of the story are unfortunately autobiographical. Hamilton himself was an alcoholic, turning to drink after becoming disfigured in a car accident. J.B. Priestley described him "as an unhappy man who needed whiskey like a car needed petrol." He was also known to have been a stalker of the actress Geraldine Fitzgerald and the character of Netta is said to be based on her.
Hangover Square was the subject of instant acclaim when it was first published in 1941. I found it an uncomfortable read, but a compelling one. It is an unflinching portrait of an unhinged mind and an enduring depiction of pre-war London.
March 23, 2015
This is an absolutely fantastic novel! I insist you read it now.
In many ways this is a tragic tale. Imagine George Harvey Bone, a gentle giant who is perhaps not the quickest on the uptake, but is fundamentally a decent human being. Sometimes he falls into these “dead moods”, where he seems to switch off from the world around him, but there’s no disguising how nice and vulnerable George Bone is.
Unfortunately, at some point, he’s fallen in with a bad crowd, or more specifically a bad woman. Netta Longdon is an actress of questionable ability and a rancid, scheming personality. Undeniably she is beautiful (although, perhaps in hard way) and Bone has fallen for her looks and created a lovely and glorious personality to match. The real Netta is vain and utterly selfish, and leads Bone along for as long as he’s useful to her. She and her various vicious friends take advantage of him, abandon him, then pick him up once more when he might be useful again. And because he has so pathetically lost his heart and his sense, he keeps following behind with his dreams of an idealised Netta.
This then is a tale of a man who has laid out his deepest emotions unwisely and is paying a terrible price.
However, when George is having his dead moods he doesn’t just switch off, he becomes a whole other person. Even he hasn’t realised that he has a split personality. And this other George Bone is a more decisive and angrier individual, and has geared his mind towards nothing else but killing Netta Longdon.
Patrick Hamilton is like Somerset Maugham (whose ‘The Moon and the Sixpence’ I read last). A writer who was highly successful in his day, but now has his books kept in print by a few devoted followers. When it comes to ‘Hangover Square’, that’s a real shame – as it’s a bloody masterpiece. Despite its setting (London, immediately before The Second World War) there’s something timeless about it. Yes, it’s geographically specific to Earl’s Court and there are references to drinks and food and money which doesn’t exist anymore, but this is a deeply affecting tale of loneliness, thwarted love and lives cut adrift. Of a man who has somehow missed his correct path in life and finds himself trapped on a route with no happy destination. And so even though the denouement is inevitable for nearly every page of the book, it will still give the empathetic reader a shudder of remorse that such a decent character should have such an end.
In many ways this is a tragic tale. Imagine George Harvey Bone, a gentle giant who is perhaps not the quickest on the uptake, but is fundamentally a decent human being. Sometimes he falls into these “dead moods”, where he seems to switch off from the world around him, but there’s no disguising how nice and vulnerable George Bone is.
Unfortunately, at some point, he’s fallen in with a bad crowd, or more specifically a bad woman. Netta Longdon is an actress of questionable ability and a rancid, scheming personality. Undeniably she is beautiful (although, perhaps in hard way) and Bone has fallen for her looks and created a lovely and glorious personality to match. The real Netta is vain and utterly selfish, and leads Bone along for as long as he’s useful to her. She and her various vicious friends take advantage of him, abandon him, then pick him up once more when he might be useful again. And because he has so pathetically lost his heart and his sense, he keeps following behind with his dreams of an idealised Netta.
This then is a tale of a man who has laid out his deepest emotions unwisely and is paying a terrible price.
However, when George is having his dead moods he doesn’t just switch off, he becomes a whole other person. Even he hasn’t realised that he has a split personality. And this other George Bone is a more decisive and angrier individual, and has geared his mind towards nothing else but killing Netta Longdon.
Patrick Hamilton is like Somerset Maugham (whose ‘The Moon and the Sixpence’ I read last). A writer who was highly successful in his day, but now has his books kept in print by a few devoted followers. When it comes to ‘Hangover Square’, that’s a real shame – as it’s a bloody masterpiece. Despite its setting (London, immediately before The Second World War) there’s something timeless about it. Yes, it’s geographically specific to Earl’s Court and there are references to drinks and food and money which doesn’t exist anymore, but this is a deeply affecting tale of loneliness, thwarted love and lives cut adrift. Of a man who has somehow missed his correct path in life and finds himself trapped on a route with no happy destination. And so even though the denouement is inevitable for nearly every page of the book, it will still give the empathetic reader a shudder of remorse that such a decent character should have such an end.
May 23, 2025
Click - George Harvey Bone is in love with a horrible woman.
Click - She is making a fool of him.
Click - No she isn't.
Click - Yes, she is.
Click - Bitch!!
Click - She is making a fool of him.
Click - No she isn't.
Click - Yes, she is.
Click - Bitch!!
September 2, 2019
This book grew on me, just as Craven House did. It is a sad book and it’s creepy. You get inside the head of one who is mentally disturbed. The central character, George Bone who is in his thirties, sinks periodically into deep dark moods. In his head it “clicks” or “cracks” and a shutter is pulled down. He doesn’t remember what he is doing or has done or where he has been. He has crazy ideas and thoughts. Dangerous ideas and thoughts that will certainly get him into trouble if he follows them through. Perhaps what is depicted is a form of temporal lobe epilepsy. In any case, it is frightening what he experiences. When less stressed, he at times appears almost fine, so normal that you can easily get annoyed at his behavior. He and his so-called friends drink incessantly. He’s gullible, he is easily duped, he lets himself be used—you want to shake him and tell himself to have some backbone. It is difficult watching a person who allows himself to be trampled upon. I fluctuated between being annoyed at him and feeling sorry for him.
As you get further and further into the book you get deeper and deeper into his head. You come to fully understand what he is gong through. The author’s ability to show the reader George’s world is what makes the book very good.
The book is set in London at the start of the Second World War in 1939. The setting moves to Brighton and Maidenhead too. Infatuation, unrequited love and the world of the screen and film crowd color the book.
Piers Hampton narrates the audiobook very well. He renders both conversations and thoughts convincingly.
I am not going to recommend this book to everyone. It is dark. It is sad, but it also realistically shows a good person suffering under a mental disability.
*************************
*The Slaves of Solitude 4 stars
*Craven House 4 stars
*Hangover Square 4 stars
As you get further and further into the book you get deeper and deeper into his head. You come to fully understand what he is gong through. The author’s ability to show the reader George’s world is what makes the book very good.
The book is set in London at the start of the Second World War in 1939. The setting moves to Brighton and Maidenhead too. Infatuation, unrequited love and the world of the screen and film crowd color the book.
Piers Hampton narrates the audiobook very well. He renders both conversations and thoughts convincingly.
I am not going to recommend this book to everyone. It is dark. It is sad, but it also realistically shows a good person suffering under a mental disability.
*************************
*The Slaves of Solitude 4 stars
*Craven House 4 stars
*Hangover Square 4 stars
May 30, 2022
People of all shades of wretchedness circling one another like doomed planets around a dying sun -- horrible but compelling and often nightmarishly funny. (Our vacillating protagonist is afflicted with a Jekyll/Hyde strain of schizophrenia, half masochistic daydreamer, half laser-focus automaton, to whom murder is only a matter of rigorous planning.) And it's an exemplary noir: you're not going to like the hapless 'hero', and there never was any feasible means of closure or escape, but you're definitely going to want George Harvey Bone to succeed in his grisly aims, so awful are his nemeses (who, we're invited to understand, he has instinctively collected out of murderous self-loathing).
'Night had fallen now, and there was a faint rain coming down in the cooler air. He felt cooler and happier. He passed through the fairy-lights of Castle Square to the sea, and walked along the glistening front. The sea was rising and pounding against the beach in the freshening breeze; a few stars twinkled in spite of the rain above the high white lamps; and there were little lights on the sea facing the majestic Metropole between the two piers outlined with blazing jewels. He wondered what it was all about – the pounding sea, the beach, the rain, the stars, the lights, the piers, Brighton, Hitler, Netta, himself, everything. Why?…'
'Night had fallen now, and there was a faint rain coming down in the cooler air. He felt cooler and happier. He passed through the fairy-lights of Castle Square to the sea, and walked along the glistening front. The sea was rising and pounding against the beach in the freshening breeze; a few stars twinkled in spite of the rain above the high white lamps; and there were little lights on the sea facing the majestic Metropole between the two piers outlined with blazing jewels. He wondered what it was all about – the pounding sea, the beach, the rain, the stars, the lights, the piers, Brighton, Hitler, Netta, himself, everything. Why?…'
November 25, 2019
είναι από τα βιβλία που ο ήρωας γίνεται φίλος σου,
τον πονάς, διαμαντάκι!
τον πονάς, διαμαντάκι!
May 17, 2015
A masterpiece its own right, Hangover Square is the dark young cousin to Patrick Hamilton’s more mature The Slaves of Solitude. If you’ve read one, you should read the other. (If you haven’t read either, you should!) They share similar themes but they’re markedly different - reverse images of each other, even. One is a dry comedy with tragic elements; the other is a dark tragedy with comic elements. Both focus on the struggles of underdog protagonists in suffocating environments, but The Slaves of Solitude is a twisted social satire and Hangover Square is a twisted psychological thriller.
I was stirred more intellectually by The Slaves of Solitude. Hamilton was a few years older when he wrote it and I think the writing is better: more controlled, more philosophical, more poetic, more elegant, more mature. There are more moments when he telescopes out from the microcosmic action to make a macrocosmic comment. If I had to choose just one of these two book to reread, it’d be this one.
On the other hand, I was hit harder emotionally by Hangover Square. Its protagonist speaks to the lonely social outcast that we all secretly carry in our heads (even if we aren’t all schizophrenic murder-fantasizing virgin man-children alcoholics). When he’s suddenly shown unexpected kindness and genuine respect by a group of socially-important strangers after having been treated like a punching bag by his scummy London “friends” for so long, I cried. I cried a lot. This was the high point of the book for me and it restored my faith in the basic goodness of people. (Well, it restored my faith in the basic goodness of people who aren’t total assholes.) I think those happy scenes were so strong that the novel would actually have been better if it had ended there. It would have been more literary anyhow. In contrast, the final plot points felt a bit “genre porn” and overly gratuitous. A minor quibble. A great read. I highly recommend it.
P.S. Don’t read J.B. Priestley’s spoiler-laden introduction until after you’re done with the book. I’m sure glad I didn’t.
I was stirred more intellectually by The Slaves of Solitude. Hamilton was a few years older when he wrote it and I think the writing is better: more controlled, more philosophical, more poetic, more elegant, more mature. There are more moments when he telescopes out from the microcosmic action to make a macrocosmic comment. If I had to choose just one of these two book to reread, it’d be this one.
On the other hand, I was hit harder emotionally by Hangover Square. Its protagonist speaks to the lonely social outcast that we all secretly carry in our heads (even if we aren’t all schizophrenic murder-fantasizing virgin man-children alcoholics). When he’s suddenly shown unexpected kindness and genuine respect by a group of socially-important strangers after having been treated like a punching bag by his scummy London “friends” for so long, I cried. I cried a lot. This was the high point of the book for me and it restored my faith in the basic goodness of people. (Well, it restored my faith in the basic goodness of people who aren’t total assholes.) I think those happy scenes were so strong that the novel would actually have been better if it had ended there. It would have been more literary anyhow. In contrast, the final plot points felt a bit “genre porn” and overly gratuitous. A minor quibble. A great read. I highly recommend it.
P.S. Don’t read J.B. Priestley’s spoiler-laden introduction until after you’re done with the book. I’m sure glad I didn’t.
November 26, 2019
Τον Οκτώβριο του 2017 διάβασα και πραγματικά απόλαυσα το εξαιρετικό "Οι σκλάβοι της μοναξιάς", ένα βιβλίο που μου δημιούργησε ποικίλα συναισθήματα και με βύθισε σ'έναν κόσμο μελαγχολικό και γκρίζο. Έτσι, ήλπιζα να δούμε κάποια στιγμή στα ελληνικά και άλλα βιβλία του Πάτρικ Χάμιλτον, και ιδιαίτερα το "Hangover Square", που είναι και το πιο πολυδιαβασμένο έργο του. Ε, ήταν μάλλον απίθανο οι εκδόσεις Στερέωμα να μην μου/μας κάνει τη χάρη και να μην το μετέφραζαν κάποια στιγμή. Πέρασαν δυο χρόνια, βέβαια, αλλά κάλλιο αργά παρά ποτέ.
Πεδίο δράσης της ιστορίας είναι κυρίως το Λονδίνο του '38-'39, ουσιαστικά λίγους μήνες πριν την επίσημη έναρξη του Β' Παγκοσμίου Πολέμου, τότε που όλα ήταν ρευστά. Βασικός πρωταγωνιστής είναι ο αλκοολικός, μελαγχολικός και μοναχικός Τζορτζ Χάρβεϊ Μπόουν, ένας κοινωνικά αδέξιος τύπος που κάθε βράδυ τα πίνει σε ρυπαρές παμπ, όντας παράλληλα ερωτευμένος με τη Νέττα, μια ψυχρή και περιφρονητική γυναίκα, μια γνήσια σκύλα που του φέρεται άσχημα και ουσιαστικά τον εκμεταλλεύεται με κάθε τρόπο (και κυρίως οικονομικά). Όμως ο Τζορτζ δεν βάζει μυαλό, είναι κολλημένος στη Νέττα και τις παρέες της. Φυσικά, κάποιες "νεκρές" στιγμές -τότε δηλαδή που το κεφάλι του κάνει "κλικ" ή "κρακ" και κατά κάποιο τρόπο το μυαλό του ταξιδεύει αλλού-, δεν τον βοηθάνε ιδιαίτερα στο να κερδίσει τη γυναίκα των ονείρων του και να ζήσει μια φυσιολογική ζωή...
Το πιστεύετε ή όχι, το βιβλίο αυτό είναι ακόμα πιο γκρίζο, μελαγχολικό και πεσιμιστικό από το "Οι σκλάβοι της μοναξιάς", οπότε προετοιμαστείτε ανάλογα. Ο συγγραφέας αποτυπώνει με τον πλέον ρεαλιστικό τρόπο τον εξαθλιωμένο κόσμο των μπαρ, των φαγάδικων και των φτηνών ξενοδοχείων, όπου κύριοι πρωταγωνιστές είναι κάτι μέθυσοι, άντρες και γυναίκες που τα πίνουν και αμπελοφιλοσοφούν. Η σκιαγράφηση του βασικού χαρακτήρα είναι απίστευτη, προσωπικά ένιωσα οίκτο αλλά και εκνευρισμό για τον κακόμοιρο τον Τζορτζ, καθώς επίσης και αληθινό μίσος για την άθλια ύπαρξη της Νέττα. Με λίγα λόγια, ένιωσα ότι ήταν άνθρωποι με σάρκα και οστά, και όχι χαρακτήρες ενός βιβλίου. Όσον αφορά τη γραφή, είναι πραγματικά εξαιρετική, οξυδερκής και κοφτερή, με φοβερές περιγραφές και ρεαλιστικούς διαλόγους.
Γενικά, έχουμε να κάνουμε με ένα πολύ δυνατό, έντονο και καλογραμμένο κοινωνικό δράμα, που αναδεικνύει μια ολόκληρη εποχή, η οποία πλέον είναι χαμένη για πάντα στη λήθη. Χωρίς αμφιβολία, είναι ένα έξοχο μυθιστόρημα, χαρακτηριστικό δείγμα της Βρετανικής λογοτεχνικής σχολής της εποχή του. Και ο Πάτρικ Χάμιλτον μπορεί να μην είναι τόσο γνωστός και πολυδιαβασμένος όπως είναι, για παράδειγμα, οι Τζορτζ Όργουελ και Γκράχαμ Γκριν, όμως η πένα του θα έλεγα ότι είναι εξίσου δυνατή και κοφτερή με την πένα αυτών των δυο γιγάντων της Αγγλικής λογοτεχνίας.
Υ.Γ. Η ελληνική έκδοση είναι εξαιρετική, με γλαφυρή μετάφραση, προσεγμένη επιμέλεια και πολύ ωραία παρουσίαση. Η τιμή μπορεί να είναι κάπως τσιμπημένη, αλλά κατά τη γνώμη μου το βιβλίο αξίζει το κάθε ευρώ που θα δώσει κανείς για να το αγοράσει!
Πεδίο δράσης της ιστορίας είναι κυρίως το Λονδίνο του '38-'39, ουσιαστικά λίγους μήνες πριν την επίσημη έναρξη του Β' Παγκοσμίου Πολέμου, τότε που όλα ήταν ρευστά. Βασικός πρωταγωνιστής είναι ο αλκοολικός, μελαγχολικός και μοναχικός Τζορτζ Χάρβεϊ Μπόουν, ένας κοινωνικά αδέξιος τύπος που κάθε βράδυ τα πίνει σε ρυπαρές παμπ, όντας παράλληλα ερωτευμένος με τη Νέττα, μια ψυχρή και περιφρονητική γυναίκα, μια γνήσια σκύλα που του φέρεται άσχημα και ουσιαστικά τον εκμεταλλεύεται με κάθε τρόπο (και κυρίως οικονομικά). Όμως ο Τζορτζ δεν βάζει μυαλό, είναι κολλημένος στη Νέττα και τις παρέες της. Φυσικά, κάποιες "νεκρές" στιγμές -τότε δηλαδή που το κεφάλι του κάνει "κλικ" ή "κρακ" και κατά κάποιο τρόπο το μυαλό του ταξιδεύει αλλού-, δεν τον βοηθάνε ιδιαίτερα στο να κερδίσει τη γυναίκα των ονείρων του και να ζήσει μια φυσιολογική ζωή...
Το πιστεύετε ή όχι, το βιβλίο αυτό είναι ακόμα πιο γκρίζο, μελαγχολικό και πεσιμιστικό από το "Οι σκλάβοι της μοναξιάς", οπότε προετοιμαστείτε ανάλογα. Ο συγγραφέας αποτυπώνει με τον πλέον ρεαλιστικό τρόπο τον εξαθλιωμένο κόσμο των μπαρ, των φαγάδικων και των φτηνών ξενοδοχείων, όπου κύριοι πρωταγωνιστές είναι κάτι μέθυσοι, άντρες και γυναίκες που τα πίνουν και αμπελοφιλοσοφούν. Η σκιαγράφηση του βασικού χαρακτήρα είναι απίστευτη, προσωπικά ένιωσα οίκτο αλλά και εκνευρισμό για τον κακόμοιρο τον Τζορτζ, καθώς επίσης και αληθινό μίσος για την άθλια ύπαρξη της Νέττα. Με λίγα λόγια, ένιωσα ότι ήταν άνθρωποι με σάρκα και οστά, και όχι χαρακτήρες ενός βιβλίου. Όσον αφορά τη γραφή, είναι πραγματικά εξαιρετική, οξυδερκής και κοφτερή, με φοβερές περιγραφές και ρεαλιστικούς διαλόγους.
Γενικά, έχουμε να κάνουμε με ένα πολύ δυνατό, έντονο και καλογραμμένο κοινωνικό δράμα, που αναδεικνύει μια ολόκληρη εποχή, η οποία πλέον είναι χαμένη για πάντα στη λήθη. Χωρίς αμφιβολία, είναι ένα έξοχο μυθιστόρημα, χαρακτηριστικό δείγμα της Βρετανικής λογοτεχνικής σχολής της εποχή του. Και ο Πάτρικ Χάμιλτον μπορεί να μην είναι τόσο γνωστός και πολυδιαβασμένος όπως είναι, για παράδειγμα, οι Τζορτζ Όργουελ και Γκράχαμ Γκριν, όμως η πένα του θα έλεγα ότι είναι εξίσου δυνατή και κοφτερή με την πένα αυτών των δυο γιγάντων της Αγγλικής λογοτεχνίας.
Υ.Γ. Η ελληνική έκδοση είναι εξαιρετική, με γλαφυρή μετάφραση, προσεγμένη επιμέλεια και πολύ ωραία παρουσίαση. Η τιμή μπορεί να είναι κάπως τσιμπημένη, αλλά κατά τη γνώμη μου το βιβλίο αξίζει το κάθε ευρώ που θα δώσει κανείς για να το αγοράσει!
November 11, 2013
For want of anything better to say about this quite remarkable classic of pre-war English literature I shall quote Keith Waterhouse, "you can almost smell the gin." In the year preceding Chamberlain's declaration of war George Harvey Bone is loafing about Earl's Court, mooning over a complete bitch and driving himself to an alcoholic rage. Hamilton is famous for his use of slang and conversational tone and ability to evoke his chosen location, notably the London pub, and I certainly wouldn't find myself disagreeing with that assessment. Hamilton's ability to write believably from both aspects of a schizophrenic personality is the most enjoyable and impressive aspect for me, the final chapters causing a torrent of conflicting emotional reactions.
“It was unmistakably obvious that she was decidedly attractive. And because of his connection with Fitzgerald, Carstairs & Scott, Johnnie had an extensive knowledge of the external appearance and different modes of behavior of a great variety of attractive women: they came up to the office in shoals, with their nails dipped in blood and their faces covered with pale cocoa. And some were charming and simple beneath their masks, and some were complex and arrogant. This girl belonged to the latter type, the type which would ignore or stare surlily at him if he spoke to them, until they learned that the actual money came through him, when their manner sweetened wonderfully. This girl wore her attractiveness not as a girl should, simply, consciously, as a happy crown of pleasure, but rather as a murderous utensil with which she might wound indiscriminately right and left, and which she would only employ to please when it suited her purpose.”
July 26, 2016
He was sane enough. If you didn’t count the ‘dead’ moods, he was sane enough. In fact he was probably too sane, too normal.
Hangover Square is a darkly comical, rarely sober, atmospheric trip through the streets and pubs of prewar London.
Despite this book being on my radar for many years, it never made its way into my hands; probably because it was neither an exciting new release, nor a quite-famous-enough classic for me to make it a priority. But the release of this 75th Anniversary Edition made me finally give in to my curiosity. And I really enjoyed it.
The humour is needed to balance out the drunken melancholy and the cast of horrible, manipulative and selfish characters. There was something about this small group of lushes and their lifestyles that reminded me of The Day of the Locust. Both books hover on a precipice, a time of change and realization in their respective societies - a crumbling British Empire on the brink of war, and a Hollywood whose sparkling American Dream glitter fades in the harsh light of day.
In this book, we follow George Harvey Bone, his infatuation with the loathsome Netta, and his "dead" moments - times when his mind slips away from him and he becomes clear on only one thing: he must murder Netta.
George is a strange character, both pitiful and repugnant. His companions constantly mock him, openly insult him and take advantage of him, and we cringe as the reader because he allows them to. He lives in a state of misery, alleviated somewhat by booze and wandering through the foggy streets of Earl's Court. He's the very definition of a loser. And it soon becomes apparent that he is also mentally ill.
We are, in many ways, made to almost want George to get revenge and murder the awful people who use and abuse him. On the one hand, there's a certain delight to be had in these bullies coming to a messy end; on the other, George essentially stalks and harasses a woman who has made it clear she isn't interested, and then proceeds to try and murder her. There's a tempting feminist perspective essay right there.
The ending is predictably bleak. Hamilton's social and political concerns are manifest in the reality of George's arrival in Maidenhead. Throughout the book, Maidenhead represents a hope, an "after", a reward for accomplishing his goals. But, alas, was it all just a shiny dream?
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May 18, 2024
It is said so often: "Yeah, the movie's good but the book is better." That is the particular case with 'Hangover Square'. In fact, if all you know is the 1945 film version, you only know about 1 / 16th of the book.
~ which is not at all surprising, considering that the film is only 77 minutes long; long enough for dispensing some reasonable suspense and thrills but little time for depth.
I had put off reading Hamilton's novel a number of times, partially from the wrongful assumption that the book was most likely fairly close to the movie. But, nope, it ain't. Even the essential specifics of the plot are different.
(Screenwriter Barre Lyndon claimed that the novel was "incomprehensible". It's not. Perhaps its texture threw him. In response, he engaged in cavalier tinkering.)
Subtitled 'The Man with Two Minds', 'HS' is indeed, in part, about mental illness. The film tries to explain the malady by connecting it directly to discordant music, but Hamilton describes the condition minimally as a sort of blackout (a "dead mood"), an epileptic-like episode. Perhaps the lack of a deeper explanation suggests that the story is not, first and foremost, about the mind.
It appears, in fact, to be more about beauty: a study of how incomparable looks, bereft of character and combined with nearly lethal narcissism, can (if allowed) drive an admiring person crazy. Because that's what happens to our 'hero', poor George Harvey Bone. It's as if he is possessed by the preternatural allure of Netta Longdon:
Both film and novel deliver more or less equally in the drama department; the film carries, perhaps, an even richer darkness due to its gothic quality (advanced powerfully via Bernard Herrmann's brilliant score). Still, the book is ultimately more satisfying, thanks to its considerable and clever twists and turns.
~ which is not at all surprising, considering that the film is only 77 minutes long; long enough for dispensing some reasonable suspense and thrills but little time for depth.
I had put off reading Hamilton's novel a number of times, partially from the wrongful assumption that the book was most likely fairly close to the movie. But, nope, it ain't. Even the essential specifics of the plot are different.
(Screenwriter Barre Lyndon claimed that the novel was "incomprehensible". It's not. Perhaps its texture threw him. In response, he engaged in cavalier tinkering.)
Subtitled 'The Man with Two Minds', 'HS' is indeed, in part, about mental illness. The film tries to explain the malady by connecting it directly to discordant music, but Hamilton describes the condition minimally as a sort of blackout (a "dead mood"), an epileptic-like episode. Perhaps the lack of a deeper explanation suggests that the story is not, first and foremost, about the mind.
It appears, in fact, to be more about beauty: a study of how incomparable looks, bereft of character and combined with nearly lethal narcissism, can (if allowed) drive an admiring person crazy. Because that's what happens to our 'hero', poor George Harvey Bone. It's as if he is possessed by the preternatural allure of Netta Longdon:
This girl wore her attractiveness not as a girl should, simply, consciously, as a happy crown of pleasure, but rather as a murderous utensil with which she might wound indiscriminately right and left, and which she would only employ to please when it suited her purpose.It's like hearing someone say, 'Yeah, I'm a knockout. So you owe me. You all do.'
Both film and novel deliver more or less equally in the drama department; the film carries, perhaps, an even richer darkness due to its gothic quality (advanced powerfully via Bernard Herrmann's brilliant score). Still, the book is ultimately more satisfying, thanks to its considerable and clever twists and turns.
January 24, 2018
George Harvey Bone is a down on his luck fellow, infatuated with the lovely, yet heartless Netta Longdon, an actress whose only interest in George is taking advantage of his good natured generosity.
But George has a secret. He's slipping into the grip of schizophrenia, suffering blackouts when he has a completely different attitude towards Netta.....he needs to kill her. What follows is the tale of George's downward spiral, as his sanity degenerates and his mental duality battles for control.
Set in 1930s London, Hamilton offers us a bleak view of the lower classes, the drunks, the unemployed and the shiftless, written in engaging prose that may be some of the finest writing I've encountered in quite some time. While his grasp of the facts about schizophrenia may not be completely accurate, he still manages to capture George's descent into madness with a nightmarish quality that rings true, not to mention his ability to transport readers to the less savory side of Earl's Court as war looms on the horizon.
A true classic that should be on every reader's book shelf.
Highest possible recommendation.
But George has a secret. He's slipping into the grip of schizophrenia, suffering blackouts when he has a completely different attitude towards Netta.....he needs to kill her. What follows is the tale of George's downward spiral, as his sanity degenerates and his mental duality battles for control.
Set in 1930s London, Hamilton offers us a bleak view of the lower classes, the drunks, the unemployed and the shiftless, written in engaging prose that may be some of the finest writing I've encountered in quite some time. While his grasp of the facts about schizophrenia may not be completely accurate, he still manages to capture George's descent into madness with a nightmarish quality that rings true, not to mention his ability to transport readers to the less savory side of Earl's Court as war looms on the horizon.
A true classic that should be on every reader's book shelf.
Highest possible recommendation.
August 16, 2011
Poor dismal schizophrenic George Harvey Bone, in desperate puppy-love with a goldigging woman who loathes him, both part of a hard-drinking, pub-hopping, loafing, late-sleeping circle of acquaintances in squalid Earl's Court, London - on paper, it sounds like something I would hate. But it's so good. Hamilton's writing is lovely; his voice is humane and understanding, and although written in 1941 the novel's dialogue feels less dated than Iris Murdoch's, for example. His portrayal of the awful, manipulative Netta Longdon is one for the ages. Very early on George, in one of his out-of-body, schizophrenic episodes, understands that he is meant to kill Netta, and as the novel unfolds we are kept wondering if, when, and how this will happen. I attempted to pace myself and not read the entire book in two sittings, but I couldn't.
September 27, 2012
SLAYS TWO
FOUND GASSED
THINKS OF CAT
Like Nabokov's Laughter in the Dark, which tells you all and nothing you need to know in the first sentences, the trajectory of George Harvey Bone's life is clear from the start of Hangover Square. The brilliance of Hamilton's writing urges us on. Bone's schizoid personality dominates, but snapshots of other personalities make minor, yet critical appearances. The brief, scintillating peek into the ghastly Netta's subconscious is unforgettable. It's not perfect--the book is needlessly split into eleven parts each unnecessarily prefaced with bits from Roget's Thesaurus and Milton's Samson Agonistes--but it is mesmerizing.
FOUND GASSED
THINKS OF CAT
Like Nabokov's Laughter in the Dark, which tells you all and nothing you need to know in the first sentences, the trajectory of George Harvey Bone's life is clear from the start of Hangover Square. The brilliance of Hamilton's writing urges us on. Bone's schizoid personality dominates, but snapshots of other personalities make minor, yet critical appearances. The brief, scintillating peek into the ghastly Netta's subconscious is unforgettable. It's not perfect--the book is needlessly split into eleven parts each unnecessarily prefaced with bits from Roget's Thesaurus and Milton's Samson Agonistes--but it is mesmerizing.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 12, 2016
I had to read this novel for an elective class I was taking back in the day. In this case 'had to' doesn't imply my lack of desire to do so. In fact, studying literature was marvellous for it provided me with a perfect excuse to spend an insane amount of time with my nose up in books. I didn’t have to feel guilty or unproductive about spending my time reading, as I (sometimes) feel today. Ouch, that was too much information and I can almost feel a start a long digression. Sorry for that, I promise from now on it will all be about the book (i.e. my experience of reading it).
I once wrote a review for this one and I thought the best way to describe this novel would be by calling it ‘A diary of obsession’ because simply that was the first thing that came to my mind at the time. Today I’m not so sure because it feels like more than that. Certainly obsession plays an important part in it, but isn’t it also about other things? About what happens with the person obsessed? Does it not also explore what happens with the person who is the object of obsession? Doesn’t it propose some interesting question? It certainly does and it got me thinking at the time. Who is the real victim? What are dynamics of such a relationship and how do they affect the persons involved? Moreover, the question of other people comes in. Our protagonist and the girl he is head over heels with are not the only characters in this novel.
Indeed, there are always others. How they come in in the story? What is their view on such a relationship? Are they a part of it? Perhaps even initiators? Why do other people have a certain power over us and why do we have it over them? Human relationships are a complex things and when we get down to it, isn’t it one of the things this novel is about? Relationships. The ones we have with others and well as the one we have with ourselves (that one can be a changing one). Yet what really sets things into motion? What is the motivation behind the actions of our protagonist? Isn’t it obsession? Surely it can be said that obsession plays an important part in this novel?
Yes, obsession is an important theme in this one. Love that is gradually turned into something sinister and finally love as a fully blown obsession. Not just love/ hate type of relationship but the kind of obsession that can drive one mad, that is at its root is mad. Written in third person narration, it feels somewhat like a diary because there is so much focus put on the inner state of the protagonist. I wanted to call it a diary of obsession but I realized it is more than that. It is a diary of an individual, a diary that captures wonderfully all the awful desperation that is to be found in his soul. If I’m making it sound like a marvellously depressive read, it is because it really is.
Besides love turned into hate, we have another major catalyst and that one comes in the form of drinking. Our protagonist is addicted to it and in this sense this is also a diary of an addict. The kind of addict you can’t help but feel for. There is something touching in the way our protagonist is described and as bad as things get (and they do get pretty bad) I could never get myself to feel sickened by his actions. I just couldn’t. He is written in a way that is far from banal, that’s all I’m going to say.
You probably won’t love him ( I would be surprised if you did) but you will have to admit that as a character he is pretty credible. Not banal. Not pathetic. Even if what he does is pathetic, you will be able to see more to it. That’s what good writing is about. Those subtle dimensions that matter so much and yet are so hard to describe. The line between a bad novel and a good one can be terribly thin. Fortunately, this novel managed to make the cut. Dark as it is, it is a great read.
The subtitle of the novel is “a story of darkest Earl's Court" and it is certainly dark. If dark is an adjective that can be applied to a novel that opens up with an alcoholic experiencing a click (basically an alcoholic blackout) during which ‘ he remembered, without any difficulty, what it was he had to do: he had to kill Netta….’ Mentioning murder that early in the plot actually doesn’t feel like too much. Not with all that insane drinking! That’s just the beginning, it get worse…but the beginning is actually a pretty good indicator of what is to come. Indeed, for the George the protagonist, things just seem to go downhill. There is something tragic in it and something inevitable. Netta has poor George in her net (as her name indicates), pushing him lower and lower and as readers we just can’t help but to feel for him.
The novel is well written, I concluded that when I read it for the first time and I still hold onto that opinion. It makes the madness of constant drinking very credible. Not that I would know what an alcoholic blackout looks or feels like, but it is all perfectly described. There is enough detailing, there wasn’t a point when I thought there might be too much of it. I would say that the descriptions in this novel are very good. It is not just that you’re provided with a view into the alcoholic mind, but the setting, the time period, people and everything… it all comes together beautifully.
The time line of the story is a bit relative, yet it fits the novel. You read fist chapter and then after a few chapters you see another "first chapter" and before you start saying ‘wtf’ just remember that you kind of have to connect some things for yourself. More than once in the novel, you will have some connecting to do. However, it is not difficult to do it.
As you read over and over again about the same mistakes, you don't really get bored (or I didn't) because the story doesn't lose its interest. Maybe there is something universal about suffering that makes it such a fascinating read. This novel is definitely full of pain and desperation. Although I cannot say that I sympathized with the protagonist in the sense I really connected to him on an emotional level, I have to say that I did feel for him. Moreover, I really enjoyed reading this novel and the fact that he was well portrayed certainly played a part in that.
Maybe I couldn't feel deeply sorry for George because he is so full of self-piety...or because he has fallen so low. Still, it was really fascinating to read about him. George seems to be this novel, meaning that it feels like his diary, an exploration of his soul. I won’t idolize George. As I said, I liked the fact he felt so real. Perhaps too flawed as a person to love, but so well written as a character that it was impossible not to get caught up in the story.
Characterization is one of the strengths of this novel. Netta as a character was well described as was her "gang"...and as for poor George, he feels as real as possible. Somewhere I've read “Hangover Square" being described as a black comedy. Well, I didn't notice anything comic in it. In fact, it felt like too much even for tragicomedy, it felt too heavy even for that.
What I did notice is that there is something nomadic about it, the "atmosphere of homeless" (as it is described in the introduction to the novel), the feeling of desperate desire to get away, of someone trying to escape...
Hamilton has got hold of something for there seems to be something wonderfully honest in his writing. Is it a determination to realistically portray his time? Perhaps it is, but he doesn’t seem to want to take it to an epic scale, he certainly does not in great detail. He sticks with one character and he does it well. Not everyone needs to write an epic novel. I happen to like this novel as it is.
My view is that Hamilton isn’t really trying to write a satire of a particular time period or society. He does touch on that and the creates the atmosphere of that time brilliant. Nevertheless, at least in this novel he seems to be more concentrated on the individual than the society. It is possible to read it as a critique of society. He certainly has a brutal way of showing all human imperfections and weaknesses. He does that with style! In one sense, this novel can be viewed as a critique of a society.
I think it is one of those novels that can take on many readings. I really liked that aspect of it. Nevertheless, I happen to think this one is more about the individual than society. It feels like a diary to me. Not a diary of obsession but a diary in a deeper sense of the world. This is a story that feels very brave and honest. Especially having in mind that the author may have been describing himself (at least to a degree). All in all, it is not an easy read, but if you stick with it, you will find that it is a fascinating novel that is very well written.
I once wrote a review for this one and I thought the best way to describe this novel would be by calling it ‘A diary of obsession’ because simply that was the first thing that came to my mind at the time. Today I’m not so sure because it feels like more than that. Certainly obsession plays an important part in it, but isn’t it also about other things? About what happens with the person obsessed? Does it not also explore what happens with the person who is the object of obsession? Doesn’t it propose some interesting question? It certainly does and it got me thinking at the time. Who is the real victim? What are dynamics of such a relationship and how do they affect the persons involved? Moreover, the question of other people comes in. Our protagonist and the girl he is head over heels with are not the only characters in this novel.
Indeed, there are always others. How they come in in the story? What is their view on such a relationship? Are they a part of it? Perhaps even initiators? Why do other people have a certain power over us and why do we have it over them? Human relationships are a complex things and when we get down to it, isn’t it one of the things this novel is about? Relationships. The ones we have with others and well as the one we have with ourselves (that one can be a changing one). Yet what really sets things into motion? What is the motivation behind the actions of our protagonist? Isn’t it obsession? Surely it can be said that obsession plays an important part in this novel?
Yes, obsession is an important theme in this one. Love that is gradually turned into something sinister and finally love as a fully blown obsession. Not just love/ hate type of relationship but the kind of obsession that can drive one mad, that is at its root is mad. Written in third person narration, it feels somewhat like a diary because there is so much focus put on the inner state of the protagonist. I wanted to call it a diary of obsession but I realized it is more than that. It is a diary of an individual, a diary that captures wonderfully all the awful desperation that is to be found in his soul. If I’m making it sound like a marvellously depressive read, it is because it really is.
Besides love turned into hate, we have another major catalyst and that one comes in the form of drinking. Our protagonist is addicted to it and in this sense this is also a diary of an addict. The kind of addict you can’t help but feel for. There is something touching in the way our protagonist is described and as bad as things get (and they do get pretty bad) I could never get myself to feel sickened by his actions. I just couldn’t. He is written in a way that is far from banal, that’s all I’m going to say.
You probably won’t love him ( I would be surprised if you did) but you will have to admit that as a character he is pretty credible. Not banal. Not pathetic. Even if what he does is pathetic, you will be able to see more to it. That’s what good writing is about. Those subtle dimensions that matter so much and yet are so hard to describe. The line between a bad novel and a good one can be terribly thin. Fortunately, this novel managed to make the cut. Dark as it is, it is a great read.
The subtitle of the novel is “a story of darkest Earl's Court" and it is certainly dark. If dark is an adjective that can be applied to a novel that opens up with an alcoholic experiencing a click (basically an alcoholic blackout) during which ‘ he remembered, without any difficulty, what it was he had to do: he had to kill Netta….’ Mentioning murder that early in the plot actually doesn’t feel like too much. Not with all that insane drinking! That’s just the beginning, it get worse…but the beginning is actually a pretty good indicator of what is to come. Indeed, for the George the protagonist, things just seem to go downhill. There is something tragic in it and something inevitable. Netta has poor George in her net (as her name indicates), pushing him lower and lower and as readers we just can’t help but to feel for him.
The novel is well written, I concluded that when I read it for the first time and I still hold onto that opinion. It makes the madness of constant drinking very credible. Not that I would know what an alcoholic blackout looks or feels like, but it is all perfectly described. There is enough detailing, there wasn’t a point when I thought there might be too much of it. I would say that the descriptions in this novel are very good. It is not just that you’re provided with a view into the alcoholic mind, but the setting, the time period, people and everything… it all comes together beautifully.
The time line of the story is a bit relative, yet it fits the novel. You read fist chapter and then after a few chapters you see another "first chapter" and before you start saying ‘wtf’ just remember that you kind of have to connect some things for yourself. More than once in the novel, you will have some connecting to do. However, it is not difficult to do it.
As you read over and over again about the same mistakes, you don't really get bored (or I didn't) because the story doesn't lose its interest. Maybe there is something universal about suffering that makes it such a fascinating read. This novel is definitely full of pain and desperation. Although I cannot say that I sympathized with the protagonist in the sense I really connected to him on an emotional level, I have to say that I did feel for him. Moreover, I really enjoyed reading this novel and the fact that he was well portrayed certainly played a part in that.
Maybe I couldn't feel deeply sorry for George because he is so full of self-piety...or because he has fallen so low. Still, it was really fascinating to read about him. George seems to be this novel, meaning that it feels like his diary, an exploration of his soul. I won’t idolize George. As I said, I liked the fact he felt so real. Perhaps too flawed as a person to love, but so well written as a character that it was impossible not to get caught up in the story.
Characterization is one of the strengths of this novel. Netta as a character was well described as was her "gang"...and as for poor George, he feels as real as possible. Somewhere I've read “Hangover Square" being described as a black comedy. Well, I didn't notice anything comic in it. In fact, it felt like too much even for tragicomedy, it felt too heavy even for that.
What I did notice is that there is something nomadic about it, the "atmosphere of homeless" (as it is described in the introduction to the novel), the feeling of desperate desire to get away, of someone trying to escape...
Hamilton has got hold of something for there seems to be something wonderfully honest in his writing. Is it a determination to realistically portray his time? Perhaps it is, but he doesn’t seem to want to take it to an epic scale, he certainly does not in great detail. He sticks with one character and he does it well. Not everyone needs to write an epic novel. I happen to like this novel as it is.
My view is that Hamilton isn’t really trying to write a satire of a particular time period or society. He does touch on that and the creates the atmosphere of that time brilliant. Nevertheless, at least in this novel he seems to be more concentrated on the individual than the society. It is possible to read it as a critique of society. He certainly has a brutal way of showing all human imperfections and weaknesses. He does that with style! In one sense, this novel can be viewed as a critique of a society.
I think it is one of those novels that can take on many readings. I really liked that aspect of it. Nevertheless, I happen to think this one is more about the individual than society. It feels like a diary to me. Not a diary of obsession but a diary in a deeper sense of the world. This is a story that feels very brave and honest. Especially having in mind that the author may have been describing himself (at least to a degree). All in all, it is not an easy read, but if you stick with it, you will find that it is a fascinating novel that is very well written.
March 25, 2017
"Sexuality is a form of social hierarchy"
"Only the weak can really worship the strong"
These are some of the famous quotes that were running through my mind while reading Hangover Square. The book is set in England just before World War 2. Bone - a tall, overweight, alcoholic and sensitive man is madly in love with Netta, an aspiring actress. But the cruel Netta has no interest in Bone and viciously humiliates him every chance that she gets while also borrowing money from him.
Hamilton treats us to different points of view. We get the perspective of two well wishers of Bone, who have a great time drinking with him at bars. They are kind to Bone, whom they recognize as a genuinely good person but also terribly weak and prone to getting hurt.
The book is filled with male homo social desire. All the men (except for Bone and Netta's fascist lover Peter) get along well with each other. Was Hamilton suggesting that Bone would have been better off hanging out with the guys? It is while drinking with the guys that Bone has the most fun in the novel. While his courtship of Netta simply leads to one humiliation after the other.
There is a bit of Bone in most of us. I completely identified with this weak and forlorn man, unable to survive in an increasingly cruel world. Netta is supposed to represent the fascists (in fact Hamilton blatantly describes her as one) for whom cruelty is a way of life. While Bone recognizes what Netta really stands for, he is unable to tear himself away from her insidious allure.
I read a few Graham Greene novels this year and most of them involve conflicted men staving off sadness by consuming copious amounts of alcohol. This novel is not too different. Some of these novels that came out near the mid-20th century read like suicide notes.
"Only the weak can really worship the strong"
These are some of the famous quotes that were running through my mind while reading Hangover Square. The book is set in England just before World War 2. Bone - a tall, overweight, alcoholic and sensitive man is madly in love with Netta, an aspiring actress. But the cruel Netta has no interest in Bone and viciously humiliates him every chance that she gets while also borrowing money from him.
Hamilton treats us to different points of view. We get the perspective of two well wishers of Bone, who have a great time drinking with him at bars. They are kind to Bone, whom they recognize as a genuinely good person but also terribly weak and prone to getting hurt.
The book is filled with male homo social desire. All the men (except for Bone and Netta's fascist lover Peter) get along well with each other. Was Hamilton suggesting that Bone would have been better off hanging out with the guys? It is while drinking with the guys that Bone has the most fun in the novel. While his courtship of Netta simply leads to one humiliation after the other.
There is a bit of Bone in most of us. I completely identified with this weak and forlorn man, unable to survive in an increasingly cruel world. Netta is supposed to represent the fascists (in fact Hamilton blatantly describes her as one) for whom cruelty is a way of life. While Bone recognizes what Netta really stands for, he is unable to tear himself away from her insidious allure.
I read a few Graham Greene novels this year and most of them involve conflicted men staving off sadness by consuming copious amounts of alcohol. This novel is not too different. Some of these novels that came out near the mid-20th century read like suicide notes.
December 1, 2016
Set principally in Earls Court and Brighton on the eve of WWII and first published in 1941 the book captures I feel (before my time though!) the smells, sights and sounds of the time; in particular British drinking culture – as the title might imply!
It is the story of the outsider, especially of George, the central character. But all the main characters are outsiders in their own ways. They are set against the backdrop of the heightened tensions in Europe which scarcely seem to elicit a shrug from them. George reminds me in an odd way of Stoner (John Williams) because of his apparent ordinariness. Don't be fooled though! Patrick Hamilton's clever use of quotations of definitions from Roget's Thesaurus guards against this. The first definition to appear in the book holds the “key”, at least to a better understanding of George.
George's relationship with Netta was a source of continual irritation/frustration almost verging on violent thoughts, on my part. I have no doubt that this was fully intended by the brilliant author. I was reminded of Madame Bovary and Of Human Bondage.
Wonderful writing, though I struggled at first with reading the book and felt it could be heading for my “abandoned” list. How pleased I am that I persisted. This is going on my “classics” shelf. A definite re-read.
It is the story of the outsider, especially of George, the central character. But all the main characters are outsiders in their own ways. They are set against the backdrop of the heightened tensions in Europe which scarcely seem to elicit a shrug from them. George reminds me in an odd way of Stoner (John Williams) because of his apparent ordinariness. Don't be fooled though! Patrick Hamilton's clever use of quotations of definitions from Roget's Thesaurus guards against this. The first definition to appear in the book holds the “key”, at least to a better understanding of George.
George's relationship with Netta was a source of continual irritation/frustration almost verging on violent thoughts, on my part. I have no doubt that this was fully intended by the brilliant author. I was reminded of Madame Bovary and Of Human Bondage.
Wonderful writing, though I struggled at first with reading the book and felt it could be heading for my “abandoned” list. How pleased I am that I persisted. This is going on my “classics” shelf. A definite re-read.
June 11, 2017
Three of the last six that I have read followed similar plot lines, all centered around murder. Crime and Punishment -Dostoyevsky, His Bloody Project -Burnet, and now this fascinating English piece by Hamilton. Trying to conceive the thoughts of one determined to take the lives of others remains beyond grasp. The common thread seems to be madness, with a self administered program of brain washing leading up to the act. The logic necessary to justify slaying another is as individual as a snowflake, and equally insubstantial. The murderer must have the logical impetus, but it is self imposed and most likely delusional. My consolation is that only a small percentage of the mentally ill are predisposed to violence. This makes me want to promote Mental Health Awareness and remind everyone to stay on their meds, I promise I will. An ounce of prevention could save a life.
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