Anthony Burgess (1917-1993) was often described as a polymath. He wrote novels in a variety of forms (dystopian, comic, satirical, naturalistic, historical, among others), screenplays, poetry, memoirs, and, probably closest to his heart, music. He was born into a secure lower middle class life in Manchester, United Kingdom. An alienating childhood seemed to begin a pattern of Burgess himself upsetting any advantages or positions he possessed, often flouting authority, often getting the short end of the stick, almost always displaying his ferocious intellect and astonishing linguistic skills. He was larger than life, and he cultivated that reputation. Despite his ego, his skill more often than not matched his estimation of himself, and his charm of self-possession would carry the reader along irresistibly. A Clockwork Orange, an uncharacteristic novel if anything could be called that for Burgess, became his calling card, his tag.
The University of Manchester Press, with the cooperation and sponsorship of the International Anthony Burgess Foundation, is carrying out a last wish of his: a fine uniform edition of his complete works. The standards set by the first six are very high: fine binding, excellent introductions, and superb notes and annotations by scholars. A new edition of A Clockwork Orange, perhaps at long last satisfactory to the author even in his afterlife, is now available with a restored text.
Honey for the Bears
Honey for the Bears
"There are so few genuinely entertaining novels around that we ought to cheer whenever one turns up. Continuous, fizzing energy…Honey for the Bears is a triumph." —Kingsley Amis, New York Times
A sharply written satire, Honey for the Bears sends an unassuming antiques dealer, Paul Hussey, to Russia to do one final deal on the black market as a favor for a dead friend's wife. Even on the ship's voyage across, the Russian sensibility begins to pervade: lots of secrets and lots of vodka. When his American wife is stricken by a painful rash and he is interrogated at his hotel by Soviet agents who know that he is trying to sell stylish synthetic dresses to the masses starved for fashion, his precarious inner balance is thrown off for good. More drink follows, discoveries of his wife's illicit affair with another woman, and his own submerged sexual feelings come breaking through the surface, bubbling up in Russian champagne and caviar.