First published in 1964, this is the story of George, an English academic who lectures at a Californian university. Preoccupied by the loss of youth, he appears to be little more than a vain eccentric with a flair for bitchy observation; slowly, however, the true sadness of his empty life is contrasted with the ultra-cool environment he has settled in. Jim, his lover has died while Doris, the woman he shared him with, now lies dying, overseen by cold-hearted nurses. When Doris grips his hand, George observes: "there is no affection in it, no communication. She isn't gripping a fellow creature. His hand is just something to grip". Written largely in the continuous present tense, this deceptively buoyant, dark book explores fear with that engaging humanity typical of Isherwood at his best.
