*The Grass Beneath the Wire by John Pollock (Anthony Blond, 1966)

 

I'm not exactly sure why, but I loved reading this book -- I didn't want to put it down and didn't want it to end.  The characters are not sympathetic and the books is thoroughly dark and depressing, but its forthright and unapologetic tone is fascinatingly seductive.

The Grass Beneath the Wire is the story of Michael Richmond, a young English gentleman.  It is set in 1943, in the midst of WWII, and Michael is intent upon not serving in the army.  He fails to report for duty, leaves Oxford for London so he can be with John Batchelor, the young man he is hopelessly in love with.  He keeps John by cashing bad checks in the nightclubs and restaurants they frequent all day and night, moving along a circuit dictated by closing and opening times, along with a crowd of similarly alcoholic and amoral young people.

This gin-sodden good time is ended when Michael is court-martialed for being  AWOL and for his criminal check-cashing, and he is sent to military prison, where the middle third of the book takes place.  He spends his time in prison performing tedious and useless tasks like plucking the grass from behind the electric wires that encircle the camp, and polishing pots that are then left outside to rust so that they can be polished again.  He sleeps with a beautiful boy named Alf, and in a violent brawl in his hut he loses an eye, which invalids him out of the army.  He returns to Oxford where he quickly amasses gambling debts, so he returns to London and borrows 500 pounds from Mary Arbuthnot, who had been keeping John Batchelor in his absence.  Once again (seemingly) solvent, he regains John's affection and companionship, but when the borrowed money runs out he resigns himself to either kiting checks or prostituting himself, learning absolutely nothing from his dark journey.

Almost everyone behaves selfishly, stupidly, and badly in this book, but the characters are so vividly depicted that they become almost irresistible and the descriptions of days in bars and evenings in nightclubs are trenchant and funny.  The lack of moral judgement and the unhesitatingly frank portrayals of homosexuality are surprisingly candid and bracing and the picture, though dark, is clear and thrilling.