A review by checkie
Don't Tell Alfred by Nancy Mitford
3.5
I didn't know what to expect from this, the third book in Nancy Mitford's Pursuit of Love trilogy as it is widely accepted as the weakest novel in the series. Whilst I agree that it doesn't live up to the previous two books, I still relished the return of familiar, hilarious characters such as the health-obsessed Davey, who has recently received a third, spare kidney and the outrageous Uncle Matthew who has discovered a taste for cocktail parties, providing he doesn't have to interact with any of the other guests.
A lot has changed between the previous two books, set 20 years earlier, and this book which sees the Montdore family in the 1950s. No longer the rebellious youth herself, the novel sees Fanny and her husband Alfred deal with the antics of their four sons who all seem to exhibit the symptoms of the youth movements of the swinging sixties to come. In particular 'Bearded David' and his wife Dawn seem to anticipate John and Yoko with their 'Zen' attitude and tendency to lie in bed in the comfort of the English Embassy in Paris.
It felt almost anachronistic to read Nancy Mitford satirise the fifties when I so strongly associate her with the twenties and thirties and the Bright Young Things, but her satire was no less effective for being of a different period, with a particularly amusing episode being the mania caused by a pop sensation Yanky Fonzy arriving in Paris and giving a concert from a balcony.
Whilst I can't pretend this novel surpasses the hilarity of The Pursuit of Love or Love in a Cold Climate, it is still worth the read for any who cannot get enough of Nancy Mitford's humour.
A lot has changed between the previous two books, set 20 years earlier, and this book which sees the Montdore family in the 1950s. No longer the rebellious youth herself, the novel sees Fanny and her husband Alfred deal with the antics of their four sons who all seem to exhibit the symptoms of the youth movements of the swinging sixties to come. In particular 'Bearded David' and his wife Dawn seem to anticipate John and Yoko with their 'Zen' attitude and tendency to lie in bed in the comfort of the English Embassy in Paris.
It felt almost anachronistic to read Nancy Mitford satirise the fifties when I so strongly associate her with the twenties and thirties and the Bright Young Things, but her satire was no less effective for being of a different period, with a particularly amusing episode being the mania caused by a pop sensation Yanky Fonzy arriving in Paris and giving a concert from a balcony.
Whilst I can't pretend this novel surpasses the hilarity of The Pursuit of Love or Love in a Cold Climate, it is still worth the read for any who cannot get enough of Nancy Mitford's humour.