These essays from the Colin MacInnes of "City of Spades" and "Absolute Beginners", two brilliant novels about the new, mixed-up, post-war London, are linked by small commentaries from their author.  Their juxtaposition  shows up patches of repetitious boredom, occasional curiosities of emphasis, and a few items uneasily out of focus in a book of this title and general theme. 

The theme is the Face of the Fifties, from teenage clothes, East End Jews, newspaper cartoons and drinking clubs to pops and pimps. 

"When the tabs part," he begins, "you see the Steelmen, his band of four musicians, cavorting in a wild, archaic ragtime manner - pianist playing standing, saxophonist on his knees. In the centre, before the mike, is a gold-haired Robin Goodfellow, dressed in sky-blue jeans and a neon-hued shirting who jumps, skips, doubles up and wriggles as he sings." 

The "gold-haired Robin Goodfellow" is Tommy Steele, and there follows a serious, but lively assessment of one individual in the tinselly world of "rock." 

This is typical of the book:  an eye for the grotesque, a poet's bravado with language, and a sensitive, obviously genuine comprehension of the fashions, entertainments and people sliding away from us. 

This is not smart journalism which Mr. MacInnes gives us, and you do not feel these pieces have been rushed off in tune with, and exploitation of, the latest craze or fad he notes. 

"England, Half English" will be read and admired for many years from now, for it leaps out at you, intrigues, delights and puzzles without asking you to snigger as a stranger. 

     

Dennis Potter

©Mirror Syndication International.