ENDERBY

As even admirers of Mr. Burgess will acknowledge, he is not only a taste to be acquired but an appetite to be sated. Enderby is one of his rowdier romps with all the verbal sight gags and sound effects (Brrrrrps. . . orrfffs. . . etcccccccc.) one has come to expect of Burgess, Joyce's most devoted and enlightened expositor. Enderby is a "boor Joyce"—a balding, toothless, corpulent and flatulent poet who, when in the grip of his muse, commits himself wholly to his verse. Usually in the lavatory, where he also keeps mice in the bathtub. One of his more graphic catalysts is his hatred of his stepmother, and the bloodied skinning of a hare propels him to a lyrical improvisation of her murder. . . . Briefly, Enderby, after winning and repudiating a small award, is taken in hand by a Vesta Bainbridge of Fern magazine: after a tinkling tea in London, she marries him, civilizes him, but he leaves her—unconsummated. On with Enderby, from Italy, to Spain, to Morocco, from an airplane stewardess who again converts his libido into further poetry to Rawcliffe, a failed composer and dealer in pornography. The novel is picaresque, obstreperous, hugely vital with an energetic comic gift. It derives its hypermanic strength from one redolent character and Mr. Burgess' own prowess with words which could easily fell any trained lexicographer. . . . Strong publisher promotion as his work most likely to succeed with a wide audience.