Brian Sewell (1931–2015)

Opening line: Mr B, a wiry little man of fifty with white hair was sitting in the back of a big white Land Rover when he saw the donkey.
The television documentary filmmaker leaps out and comes to the rescue of the poor animal which is laden with a burden far too heavy for her tiny frame. They are in Pakistan and scheduled to leave the next day, but Mr B will not leave without the donkey and declares he will walk back to England if necessary. And so, he sets out, with a knapsack filled with a few essentials and one change of clothes, and his large white umbrella for shade.

This is a charming fable of one man’s devotion. Along the way Mr B and Pavlova (so named because of her long legs) encounter kind strangers and a few sketchy criminal types. Still, everyone seems enthralled with the little donkey and the crazy Englishman’s determination. A pharmacist treats Pavlova’s wounds, a lorry driver offers a lift, a merchant opens his home and garden, even the drug smuggler gives them a lift.

It was an engaging, gentle read, with a totally satisfying ending. A perfect escape from the hectic and stressful present day situation.… (meer)

This first volume of Brian Sewell's memoirs takes him through school, National Service in the Army, his studies at the Courtauld Institute and his career at Christie's, concluding with his departure from that company in 1967. Startlingly and refreshingly frank, this is a beautifully-written evocation of London and the art trade in the 1950s and 1960s: a world that has now virtually disappeared. Sewell is brutally honest not only about his contemporaries but also about himself, discussing the impact of his illegitimacy and homosexuality and his efforts to find a place in the world where he belonged. He is at his absolute best when discussing art, and for me this was an exciting glimpse into a time when student art historians could rub shoulders with such characters as Anthony Blunt, A.E. Popham, Philip Pouncey and John Pope-Hennessey. Sewell is sometimes angry, sometimes shocking, sometimes romantically nostalgic, but never anything less than a thoroughly engaging storyteller. As someone who doesn't read memoirs very often, I was entirely won over and will be going eagerly in search of the recently-published second volume.

For a longer review and thoughts on other books, please visit my blog:
http://theidlewoman.blogspot.com/2013/01/outsider-always-almost-never-quite.html… (meer)