Esteemed author Paul Bailey, whose life ended last autumn at 87, was celebrated for a comic brilliance, deep empathy extending to his most flawed characters, and a sharpness that never felt cold. His fiction frequently delved into the influence of recollections within personal journeys, propelled by sharp, rhythmic dialogue. Beyond novels, he also excelled as a poet, memoir writer, and additional roles—this is an overview to the volumes he authored.
Paul Bailey proved an outgoing person, a skilled communicator fond of “trivial chit-chat”, according to a fictional persona. Together with companion fellow writer Beryl Bainbridge used to view Coronation Street and debrief by phone. This enjoyment of gossipy exchanges is evident in his books the novel Trespasses (from 1970) and Peter Smart’s Confessions (1977). Both feature a central male figure besieged by humorous, irritating, exaggerated personalities, frequently family members whose impact cannot be avoided. “What’s so great about being normal?” queries Ralph’s mother in Trespasses upon his coming out. Similar to spending time with your wittiest, boldest friend.
Bailey wrote superbly on old age, at both ends of his writing journey. His debut novel At the Jerusalem (from 1967) details the life of Faith Gadny as she adjusts to a nursing home, where fellow residents offer warmth missing from caregivers, whose concern by asking “Why aren’t you ladies watching the television?”. In the novel before his final Chapman’s Odyssey (released in 2011), an aged patient alternates between clashing with physicians (“My wine selection is exclusive”, he insists when scolded for liver results) and confronting past remembrances from his parent, romances, fictional icons like Dickens’s Pip to Austen’s Emma. The two works are filled with funny exchanges however tinged with approaching finality. In Bailey’s fiction, smiles are deceptive. Within At the Jerusalem, “the matron smiled, shut the smile off quickly”; Mrs Gadny laughs nervously if her actions are questioned. Within Chapman’s Odyssey, Harry advises that “my grins are misleading”. Your laughter, nonetheless, is sincere.
Besides novels, Bailey was a skilled autobiographer, issuing two personal accounts. the memoir An Immaculate Mistake (from 1990) is a masterwork of memory, its title derived from his mum’s statement labeling him an “accident” and questioning his presence. (“Elderly, she disclosed hidden truths,” he comments. “This one, she knew, would be of particular interest to me.”) Here we see the origins for confused, affectionate, irritating parental figures in his novels. Additionally, it depicts a moving picture of a homosexual young man in that era, when same-sex acts were criminal, and his kin viewed it as suspicious if a male child gifted blooms to his parent; and of a would-be thespian (Paul Bailey performed preceding his literary career) who memorized Hamlet at 15. His subsequent life story A Dog’s Life (from 2004) centers on life with his mongrel puppy Circe, his previous lover David, his love for Romania—which motivated subsequent books such as Kitty and Virgil, Uncle Rudolf, and The Prince’s Boy—and loads of chatter, including a tale regarding Iris Murdoch dubbing a participant a “foolish person”.
The author’s fiction are mostly concise—the impactful Old Soldiers (1980) is barely 100 pages—yet for an even briefer option, sample his verse in his final phase. The two collections Inheritance (2019) and the title Joie de Vivre (from 2022) display Bailey’s wit, empathy, precision in small packages. These writings contain endings and beginnings. Two romantic motifs repeat: about his parent (“Now I’m closer—/ I have to say—/ than in life”) and for his partner Jeremy Trevathan. In Amazement, he describes the joy of viewing “a silly TV show” as a couple, ending with: “It’s amazing, somehow, to eat cheese and sip wine while the world darkens.”
It is widely accepted that Paul Bailey’s boldest work remains the novel Gabriel’s Lament, a Booker Prize finalist in 1986. (He served as a judge for the award in 1982, a role he disliked.) This work Paul Bailey valued most, even though “it drained me. It took everything out of me”. It relates the tale of Gabriel Harvey, with a missing mother and a father who becomes a intolerable pretentious person after inheriting wealth, with possible connections. It serves as a portrait of London in the 1900s, a tale of emotional unraveling, and equally humorous and sorrowful like his other works. For more, it inspired a sequel, Sugar Cane (from 1993), that he investigated by attending brothels to observe.
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