The Lady Who Liked Clean Restrooms

by J. P. Donleavy, Elliott Banfield (Illustrator)

Overview

Not since The Ginger Man has J.P. Donleavy succeeded in both delighting and irking his readers as he has with The Lady Who Like Clean Restrooms. This stylish novella tells the tale of Jocelyn Guenevere Marchantiere Jones, whose Scarsdale life comes to an abrupt end when her husband goes in search of a bit of "fresh flesh." Soon she is fending for herself in New York City, where finding a clean restroom will prove to be the least of her concerns.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780312187347
Publisher:	St. Martin's Publishing Group
Publication date:	06/15/1998
Edition description:	REV
Pages:	128
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.30(d)

About the Author

J.P. Donleavy (1926-2017) is the author of the acclaimed novel The Ginger Man, as well as The Onion Eaters, A Singlar Man, The Lady Who Liked Clean Restrooms and many others. A Bronx, New York native, he lived in Dublin, Ireland.

Editorial Reviews

Fans of J.P. Donleavy-and newcomers to his antics-can rejoice at his latest, rich, ribald, and touching creation.” —The New York Times Book Review

“A charming, irrelevant novella.” —American Way

“Donleavy has created a character of enormous force and dignity...It cheers me up, this book. It is not conventional.” —Los Angeles Times

“[A] marvelously sophisticated, scatological, acerbic, and entertaining novella.” —The Washington Times

From the Publisher

The famed author of "The Ginger Man" shows—in this angst-and-arsenic-laced little bonbon—that there's plenty of wit and heart in the writer yet.

At 42, beautiful Mrs. Steve Jones lives a splendid life indeed in her fine mansion at number 17 Winnapoopoo Road in Scarsdale—or does, that is, until husband Steve leaves her for a bimbo: at which time Mrs. Jones, who's been born, bred (in a southern state), and educated always and only to be the finest and most tasteful and discriminating of ladies, washes her hands of him for keeps in exchange for the mansion itself and a cool hundred-sixty-five thousand. And? Well, a downward spiral follows, sadly, as inept and dishonest brokers lose huge gobs of Jocelyn's money (full name, if needed for reference: Jocelyn Guenevere Machantiere Jones), as classy neighbors begin to snub her, as she starts to drink more, and as she feels increasingly like the mad girl across the road who appears at the window from time to time, in handcuffs. Selling the mansion (after first shooting her TV set with a priceless shotgun) gives her money enough to survive by moving to an apartment in a lesser neighborhood—then to another in a still lesser neighborhood—and to continue doing the only thing she really wants, which is to make train trips into the city to visit the art museums and find clean bathrooms to pee in. One clean bathroom she knows of happens to be in a funeral parlor and—by now she's falling into true, suicidal despair—her chancing to use it at just a certain moment will have a huge effect (and at the same time none at all) on her fate.

A brilliantly brief, gloriously irreverent, perfectly raunchy, wonderfully hilarious—and sad, melancholy, tearful look at one woman's life.

Kirkus Reviews