Lucky Jim

“DIXON was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a summary, forcible ejection. He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider-crab on the tarry shingle of the morning. The light did him harm, but not as much as looking at things did; he resolved, having done it once, never to move his eyeballs again. ”

This is an amusing read about class-based prejudice, academia, and the sex lives of college students in post-WWII England. At about 20% through the book, the description of protagonist Jim Dixon’s hangover is resoundingly worth the price of admission. (But you must have had a bad hangover at least once in order to appreciate it, so guess there is a “height requirement” as well.)

The biggest problem with the book is that it is very dated such that I can imagine an entire generation of Playboy readers had this in their lifetime “must/best read” lists. (and even that joke that I have attempted is dated.) It is also a little challenging because of English slang from the 1950s.