Wednesday, August 06, 2025

Angus Wilson

 


I can't remember where I first encountered that name -- Angus Wilson -- but I'm glad, having now finished one of his early collection of stories, that I did. Published in 1949, The Wrong Set and Other Stories is an exceptional collection: indeed, some of the stories here are among the finest I've read. Which is saying something -- as I often lose my way with short stories. But these are entirely different: whereas short stories often serve as vignettes, Wilson's work functions -- in my reading -- as an attempt at crescendo. Each story in The Wrong Set culminates in a localized crisis, a moment of understanding, or reckoning, or revelation. And then, in most cases, Wilson leaves it there: the crisis speaks for itself; there is nothing more to say because its arrival is so clear, its meaning and implication so obvious. Wilson wrote after Fitzgerald, of course, but there was something reminiscent of the American master here: like Fitzgerald, Wilson wrote well, for instance, of drinking and of social custom. And more: there's an element in Wilson's stories -- as in Fitzgerald's -- of powerful personalities, of local figures made grand: only then, in a moment of weakness or exposure, to be cut down to nothing. The Wrong Set is very much a product of its time: the inter-war period, leading to the Second World War. And in this way, it's more than literature: it's a historical work as well, highlighting facets of British society at this time, and the way they mixed to generate equal measures of beauty and catastrophe.