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The Angry Island: Hunting the English
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The Angry Island: Hunting the English

by A. A. Gill

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The default setting of England is anger. The English are naturally, congenitally, collectively and singularly livid much of the time. They're incensed, incandescent, splenetic, prickly, touchy, and fractious. They can be mildly annoyed, really annoyed and, most scarily, not remotely annoyed. They sit apart on their half of a damply disappointing little island, nursing


The default setting of England is anger. The English are naturally, congenitally, collectively and singularly livid much of the time. They're incensed, incandescent, splenetic, prickly, touchy, and fractious. They can be mildly annoyed, really annoyed and, most scarily, not remotely annoyed. They sit apart on their half of a damply disappointing little island, nursing and picking at their irritations. The English itch inside their own skins. They feel foreign in their own country and run naked through their own heads.

Perhaps aware that they're living on top of a keg of fulminating fury, the English have, throughout their history, come up with hundreds of ingenious and bizarre ways to diffuse anger or transform it into something benign. Good manners and queues, cul-de-sacs and garden sheds, and almost every game ever invented from tennis to bridge. They've built things, discovered stuff, made puddings, written hymns and novels, and for people who don't like to talk much, they have come up with the most minutely nuanced and replete language ever spoken -- just so there'll be no misunderstandings.

The Angry Island by turns attacks and praises the English, bringing up numerous points of debate for Anglophiles and anyone who wonders about the origins of national identity. This book hunts down the causes and the results of being the Angry Island.

Editorial Reviews

Michiko Kakutani
Though all this ranting about the English can get pretty tendentious, The Angry Island is happily a lot more than one long whine: The book not only evolves into a surprisingly evocative meditation on England and the English, but it also showcases Mr. Gill's gifts as a writer of rude invective, hyperbolic description and splenetic asides—a writer who seems to have inhaled the prose styles of Auberon Waugh, Clive James and Alexander Theroux and come up with an idiosyncratic voice all his own.
—The New York Times
Publishers Weekly

He writes for the London Sunday Timesand lives in Britain, but rapier-wit social critic Gill wants readers of this provocatively perceptive dissection of English cultural mores to know he was born a Scotsman, thank you very much, and is most definitely not an "enigmatically indecipherable" Englishman. In 16 defiantly abrasive essays, Gill bristles with outrageous originality about cliched topics like England's class system ("unfair, cruel, and above all smug"); gardening ("the great English cultural expression"); British accents ("a never-ending source of subtle snobbery"); and kindness to animals ("gives them an excuse to patronize, bully, and be psychologically spiteful to other people"). Elsewhere, he balances droll bombast with surprising outbursts of admiration for the British way. He's a fan of the nation's war memorials, praising them, without a hint of sarcasm, as sublime expressions of the "exhausted relief" that shrouded England after the First World War. And he admires the country's propensity for queues, concluding that the Second World War was won-or not lost-through the orderly evacuation by both navy destroyers and rowboats after the disastrous battle of Dunkirk. Gill's caustic ruminations often veer into over-the-top hyperbole, but these essays, brimming with incendiary certitude, also offer nuggets of truth. (June)

Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information
Kirkus Reviews
A look at bewildering behavioral patterns of the English. Though he's a critic for the London Sunday Times as well as a travel writer (A.A. Gill is Away, 2005), the London-based author is Scottish, a fact he mentions as often as possible in an attempt to separate himself from the peculiar creatures he writes about. Chapter headings like "Class," "Sport," "Gardens" and "Queues" give some idea of matters covered in this "collection of prejudice," as Gill points out evidence of "anger . . . the thing that seems impermeably English." The book, a series of comical vignettes, provides many hilarious examples of inexplicable angry outbursts from the English, and while the logic behind these eruptions may sometimes be baffling, in Gill's hands they're uproariously funny. One encounter with an English couple he met while on vacation got off to a bad start when the author, thinking they were annoyed to no longer be the only Brits staying in their hotel, immediately apologized to them for his presence. The baffled couple couldn't figure out why he was apologizing, and the comedy of errors that ensued ultimately led to Gill apologizing for his apology-he claims there's nothing the English like less than being apologized to for no apparent reason. Make a note. An amusing diversion.
From the Publisher
"Utterly bloody rude."
-- Terence Blacker, The Daily Mail (London)

"One can only admire the zest of the writing and applaud its splendid lack of political correctness."
-- Beryl Bainbridge, Mail on Sunday (London)

"To be fair, it's funny, erudite, hurtful and scathing but, sadly, his observations about us do have a horrible ring of truth.... Think about it -- he might be right, damn him!"
-- Western Daily Press

"[Gill's] writing is appealing and amusing in that way that is especially acceptable on a Sunday morning. Mr. Gill is a polemicist, and he polemically attacks aspects of England that he finds tiresome.... One is frequently forced to concede that he has a point."
-- Simon Heffer, The Daily Telegraph (London)

"[A. A. Gill is] a wildly colorful generaliser."
-- Peter Lewis, The Daily Mail (London)

"At various times caustic, hyperbolic, acerbic, juvenile, indignant, and solipsistic...[Gill] is also one of the most astute and entertaining observers of human cultures in recent years."
-- Amy Farley, The New York Sun

"Imagine Evelyn Waugh reborn as one of Nick Hornby's endearingly superficial protagonists, and you have London's Sunday Times television and restaurant critic Gill: droll, astute, irritable, irritating and always cleaver-sharp."
-- Publishers Weekly

Product Details

Simon & Schuster
Publication date:
Product dimensions:
5.70(w) x 8.70(h) x 1.00(d)

Read an Excerpt

The Angry Island

Hunting the English
By A.A. Gill

Simon & Schuster

Copyright © 2007 A.A. Gill
All right reserved.

ISBN: 9781416531739


This is a collection of prejudice. Opinions based on a lifetime's experience. Identifying what it is that makes a nation a people and not just a random collective of individuals who happen to share the same geography is a risky business, but we all know that nations are recognizable and different from each other. It's almost too obvious to dispute that Canadians are not like Brazilians and the Irish are not synonymous with the Jews. A national character, when self-defined, is the stuffing of patriotism and pride. It is also the source of umbrage when the observation is made by foreigners.

The English are the most enigmatically indecipherable people when seen from outside. Even from the inside, what is definable isn't always understandable. Their homespun enigma is itself part of the carefully engineered English mythology. When I was first considering writing this book, an American said: Oh God, please, write an owner's manual for the English. We look at them and they're so familiar, but so alien and weird. I have no idea how you make or repair an Englishman.

This isn't quite an owner's manual, but it is a series of observations drawn from having lived amongst the English but never having felt one of them. This is not a book of facts. Facts are inert things. Facts are whatpedantic, dull people have instead of opinions. Opinions are always interesting. What people deduce and make out of their own lives is what attracts and informs. Never mistake a fact for the truth. The English, of course, are inordinately fond of facts -- they hoard them and throw them through the windows of home truths. But facts are only the scaffolding, the trellis up which bright opinions are grown. So don't look for proofs here, there's precious little forensic evidence. This is just what I know to be true.

Copyright © 2005 by A. A. Gill


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Meet the Author

A.A. Gill was born in Edinburgh, but has lived in London for most of his life. He is a contributing editor at Vanity Fair.

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