Timeless Classic, 30 Jan 2008
This is the story of a young man, Smith, who lives on the wrong side of the law. He lands up in borstal for theft. Once he is inside the governor sets him the challenge of winning the long distance runner cup for his prison. It's during his cross-country training sessions that Smith feels most free and tells the reader of his life, of the crime that led to his sentence and how his father died. He eventually loses the important race, but not because he was incapable of winning, but deliberately, in order to spite the authorities and maintain his independence. A timeless classic that has stood the test of time for me with this re-read.

Birthday is Alan Sillitoe's eagerly awaited sequel to his classic novel Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, first published in 1958. The novel transformed post-war English fiction, and gave a new voice to working-class masculinity of the 1950s. In Birthday, Sillitoe returns to the Nottinghamshire of his earlier novel, to explore what happened to the original characters.

Brian Seaton returns to the town of his birth to visit his childhood sweetheart's 70th birthday party, and to see his roguish brother, Arthur. The result is an extremely elegiac, downbeat novel, as Brian and his brother flit between their ageing present and vibrant past. Brian, now a successful scriptwriter based in London, visits his old haunts, reflecting that "no matter how changed, it was an area in which he had no need of maps. Everything was in the past, but an event could leap to mind with such intensity it might have happened in the last five minutes". It is this tone that pervades Birthday. Very little actually happens in the novel, as Brian and Arthur travel around the area, coming to terms with disappointments, disillusions and the now ailing characters that made sense of their younger lives. The story is loosely structured around Brian's tortuous relationship with Jenny, trapped in a marriage to a crippled ex-steelworker. But as the novel progresses, he realises that "they were in love with the past rather than each other".

Birthday is a poignant but very low-key evocation of a world that has been lost forever. It will appeal to those who found Sillitoe's Saturday Night and Sunday Morning a breath of fresh air, but others may question the wisdom of a sequel over 40 years on. --Jerry Brotton

Timeless Classic, 30 Jan 2008
This is the story of a young man, Smith, who lives on the wrong side of the law. He lands up in borstal for theft. Once he is inside the governor sets him the challenge of winning the long distance runner cup for his prison. It's during his cross-country training sessions that Smith feels most free and tells the reader of his life, of the crime that led to his sentence and how his father died. He eventually loses the important race, but not because he was incapable of winning, but deliberately, in order to spite the authorities and maintain his independence. A timeless classic that has stood the test of time for me with this re-read.

Catching up with an old friend, 13 Dec 2003
As an undergraduate at UCLA, I read and re-read Alan Sillitoe's Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, reveling in the antics of the boozing, brawling, working-class character Arthur Seaton. However, as years passed (and I got my Ph.D., married, bought a house and had a kid), I found it difficult to identify with the literary hero of my young adulthood.

Birthday has made Arthur Seaton alive and relevant to me again. What a joy to catch up with Arthur over 40 literary years later and see how an "angry young man" ages gracefully... sort of . Arthur is now a responsible parent, loving husband to a terminally-ill wife, and tender of a vegetable garden in his own home. Yet, he is the same old Arthur: telling outrageous stories, complaining about the uselessness of the government, and half-threatening to kill a young co-worker for wasting food (remember, Arthur Seaton grew up in a war-deprived England).

Birthday alludes to many moments from Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Sometimes, the results are hilarious: A 60-year-old Arthur, for example, finds himself counseling a spitting-image son who has visions of blowing up Parliament and telling his boss off -- the same fantasies Arthur professed as a young man. Often, the past references are touching. See the recently-widowed Arthur frolic with his grandson (and re-engage in life) the way he used to with his young nephew back in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.

Fans of Saturday Night beware: much of Birthday focuses on Arthur's brother Brian and his weary struggle with existential issues and regret. The subplots with Arthur, however, really crackle with energy and good humor. I felt great after reading this book. If Arthur Seaton can remain vital through older adulthood, then maybe so can I. Cheers, Arthur!

Timeless Classic, 30 Jan 2008
This is the story of a young man, Smith, who lives on the wrong side of the law. He lands up in borstal for theft. Once he is inside the governor sets him the challenge of winning the long distance runner cup for his prison. It's during his cross-country training sessions that Smith feels most free and tells the reader of his life, of the crime that led to his sentence and how his father died. He eventually loses the important race, but not because he was incapable of winning, but deliberately, in order to spite the authorities and maintain his independence. A timeless classic that has stood the test of time for me with this re-read.

Catching up with an old friend, 13 Dec 2003
As an undergraduate at UCLA, I read and re-read Alan Sillitoe's Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, reveling in the antics of the boozing, brawling, working-class character Arthur Seaton. However, as years passed (and I got my Ph.D., married, bought a house and had a kid), I found it difficult to identify with the literary hero of my young adulthood.

Birthday has made Arthur Seaton alive and relevant to me again. What a joy to catch up with Arthur over 40 literary years later and see how an "angry young man" ages gracefully... sort of . Arthur is now a responsible parent, loving husband to a terminally-ill wife, and tender of a vegetable garden in his own home. Yet, he is the same old Arthur: telling outrageous stories, complaining about the uselessness of the government, and half-threatening to kill a young co-worker for wasting food (remember, Arthur Seaton grew up in a war-deprived England).

Birthday alludes to many moments from Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Sometimes, the results are hilarious: A 60-year-old Arthur, for example, finds himself counseling a spitting-image son who has visions of blowing up Parliament and telling his boss off -- the same fantasies Arthur professed as a young man. Often, the past references are touching. See the recently-widowed Arthur frolic with his grandson (and re-engage in life) the way he used to with his young nephew back in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.

Fans of Saturday Night beware: much of Birthday focuses on Arthur's brother Brian and his weary struggle with existential issues and regret. The subplots with Arthur, however, really crackle with energy and good humor. I felt great after reading this book. If Arthur Seaton can remain vital through older adulthood, then maybe so can I. Cheers, Arthur!

One of the Greatest English Novels of the Past 50 Years, 06 Nov 2004
Alan Sillitoe is the voice of England's aspiring working class - and A Man of His Time proves it once again. This isn't just a good book; it's a great book. Born in 1866, Ernest Burton is a man of iron as well as a man of his time. He takes a justly earned pride in his trade as blacksmith and his manhood too: 'I don't take tips, and only touch my cap to a personable woman.' Indeed, he pulls women with as much skill and confidence as he shapes iron. The book's first seduction takes place in a railway carriage with a young widow Burton has just met - 'carmine features contrasting with the black of mourning as she held out her arms.' Sillitoe paints the mystery of desire with honesty and power. If fellow Nottinghamshire writer D.H. Lawrence were still alive, he could learn some lessons from Mr. Sillitoe.
The geography of the novel is confined to a small corner of Nottinghamshire, but the characters are not spared the effects of profound social change. Burton's oldest son dies in the First World War, not from a German bullet, but from the kick of a mad horse. The power of Sillitoe's prose - 'A building on legs, of sheer muscle and flesh coming down...a hoof as big as an anvil splayed wide with lightning suddenness on an unforeseen trajectory, unthinking tons of angry flesh behind.' - has not diminished, but been enhanced by passing decades.
Burton, even his children call him that, is a complex character who is not always likeable - as when he hits his wife or commits adultery with his son's fiancée - but, unlike many other 'men of his time', he is capable of remorse, reflection and change. 'He immediately knew he had done wrong, shouldn't have given even the first, because she was his wife and not a child or animal to be kept in order.' At the end of the book Burton has softened into a much-loved grandfather and husband. As Luftwaffe bombs pour down near their home, there is a moment of great tenderness between the elderly couple: 'You kissed me, Ernest.'
Ernest Burton is one of the most important characters to emerge from the last fifty years of English fiction. He represents, almost like a human oak tree, the pith and heart of central England. Burton could have been one of Chaucer's pilgrims - and would certainly have put smiles on the faces of the Wife of Bath and that Prioress. There is something larger than life about Burton as he rings a bull - a job that requires putting a red-hot poker through a bull's nostril - or cycles home after losing an eye while shoeing pit ponies. He is, of course, too much 'a man of his time' to claim compensation or even visit a doctor.
Burton dies at the age 80, an impressive innings for his class and generation. As always he is fearless: '...he saw with a blacksmith's clarity Old Nick coming towards him on a horse...Never afraid of the dark, he went into it wondering what was there.' Fifty years later, three grandsons - including the irrepressible Arthur Seaton of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - gather at Burton's grave for a boozy commemoration of a great life. Arthur is wearing a 'Rohan garment from a car-boot sale.' Sillitoe's irony is subtle and telling. Burton would never have dressed like that - he was far too much the cock-of-the-walk.

Timeless Classic, 30 Jan 2008
This is the story of a young man, Smith, who lives on the wrong side of the law. He lands up in borstal for theft. Once he is inside the governor sets him the challenge of winning the long distance runner cup for his prison. It's during his cross-country training sessions that Smith feels most free and tells the reader of his life, of the crime that led to his sentence and how his father died. He eventually loses the important race, but not because he was incapable of winning, but deliberately, in order to spite the authorities and maintain his independence. A timeless classic that has stood the test of time for me with this re-read.

Catching up with an old friend, 13 Dec 2003
As an undergraduate at UCLA, I read and re-read Alan Sillitoe's Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, reveling in the antics of the boozing, brawling, working-class character Arthur Seaton. However, as years passed (and I got my Ph.D., married, bought a house and had a kid), I found it difficult to identify with the literary hero of my young adulthood.

Birthday has made Arthur Seaton alive and relevant to me again. What a joy to catch up with Arthur over 40 literary years later and see how an "angry young man" ages gracefully... sort of . Arthur is now a responsible parent, loving husband to a terminally-ill wife, and tender of a vegetable garden in his own home. Yet, he is the same old Arthur: telling outrageous stories, complaining about the uselessness of the government, and half-threatening to kill a young co-worker for wasting food (remember, Arthur Seaton grew up in a war-deprived England).

Birthday alludes to many moments from Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Sometimes, the results are hilarious: A 60-year-old Arthur, for example, finds himself counseling a spitting-image son who has visions of blowing up Parliament and telling his boss off -- the same fantasies Arthur professed as a young man. Often, the past references are touching. See the recently-widowed Arthur frolic with his grandson (and re-engage in life) the way he used to with his young nephew back in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.

Fans of Saturday Night beware: much of Birthday focuses on Arthur's brother Brian and his weary struggle with existential issues and regret. The subplots with Arthur, however, really crackle with energy and good humor. I felt great after reading this book. If Arthur Seaton can remain vital through older adulthood, then maybe so can I. Cheers, Arthur!

One of the Greatest English Novels of the Past 50 Years, 06 Nov 2004
Alan Sillitoe is the voice of England's aspiring working class - and A Man of His Time proves it once again. This isn't just a good book; it's a great book. Born in 1866, Ernest Burton is a man of iron as well as a man of his time. He takes a justly earned pride in his trade as blacksmith and his manhood too: 'I don't take tips, and only touch my cap to a personable woman.' Indeed, he pulls women with as much skill and confidence as he shapes iron. The book's first seduction takes place in a railway carriage with a young widow Burton has just met - 'carmine features contrasting with the black of mourning as she held out her arms.' Sillitoe paints the mystery of desire with honesty and power. If fellow Nottinghamshire writer D.H. Lawrence were still alive, he could learn some lessons from Mr. Sillitoe.
The geography of the novel is confined to a small corner of Nottinghamshire, but the characters are not spared the effects of profound social change. Burton's oldest son dies in the First World War, not from a German bullet, but from the kick of a mad horse. The power of Sillitoe's prose - 'A building on legs, of sheer muscle and flesh coming down...a hoof as big as an anvil splayed wide with lightning suddenness on an unforeseen trajectory, unthinking tons of angry flesh behind.' - has not diminished, but been enhanced by passing decades.
Burton, even his children call him that, is a complex character who is not always likeable - as when he hits his wife or commits adultery with his son's fiancée - but, unlike many other 'men of his time', he is capable of remorse, reflection and change. 'He immediately knew he had done wrong, shouldn't have given even the first, because she was his wife and not a child or animal to be kept in order.' At the end of the book Burton has softened into a much-loved grandfather and husband. As Luftwaffe bombs pour down near their home, there is a moment of great tenderness between the elderly couple: 'You kissed me, Ernest.'
Ernest Burton is one of the most important characters to emerge from the last fifty years of English fiction. He represents, almost like a human oak tree, the pith and heart of central England. Burton could have been one of Chaucer's pilgrims - and would certainly have put smiles on the faces of the Wife of Bath and that Prioress. There is something larger than life about Burton as he rings a bull - a job that requires putting a red-hot poker through a bull's nostril - or cycles home after losing an eye while shoeing pit ponies. He is, of course, too much 'a man of his time' to claim compensation or even visit a doctor.
Burton dies at the age 80, an impressive innings for his class and generation. As always he is fearless: '...he saw with a blacksmith's clarity Old Nick coming towards him on a horse...Never afraid of the dark, he went into it wondering what was there.' Fifty years later, three grandsons - including the irrepressible Arthur Seaton of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - gather at Burton's grave for a boozy commemoration of a great life. Arthur is wearing a 'Rohan garment from a car-boot sale.' Sillitoe's irony is subtle and telling. Burton would never have dressed like that - he was far too much the cock-of-the-walk.

A writer still at the height of his powers!, 06 Dec 2001
Alan Sillitoe came to deliver a public lecture in Wrexham recently and I read this book as a preface to that event.

'Broken chariot' has all the trade marks of the more famous 'Saturday night, Sunday morning'but this time it focuses on Herbert, an upper middle class lad who adopts the character of Bert the working class man. The complexities and struggles between the two personna and what they reperesent form the essence of the book.

The descriptions of 1950's Nottingham and life in the factory are brilliant, you can almost smell the smoke! I loved the character(s) of Herbert/Bert, although in many ways he is an anti hero. I almost felt sorry for him at times.

Having met the author I am sure that there are many glimpses of him and his experience of life in this book.

If you enjoyed 'Saturday night Sunday morning' you will love this, it is a really good read.

Blind war veteran Howard inhabits two worlds. There's the pampered, stable existence he shares with wife Laura and then there's the world he escapes to--the enigmatic, ever-changing world of the radio waves. From the bewitching rhythms of Morse Code, Howard sculpts an alternative reality for himself, one where he is God, eavesdropping on the secrets of the sighted world. Beguiled by a mysterious dialogue between two lovers, Howard gradually withdraws from life. Laura's efforts to reach him send their cosy existence spinning into chaos. She introduces him to the debonair Richard, a smuggler whose interest in Howard's radio knowledge is anything but innocent. A chilling adventure unfolds, of ruthless drug barons, perilous sea journeys and a desperate scramble for survival.

Sillitoe has created a gripping tale, which retains its satisfying twists until the very last line. At the same time, he inhabits the world of his blind narrator with a precision and an empathy that are fascinating--and humbling--to read. "If you're blind, you have to be in love all the time, with life, just to keep going", says Howard. It's impossible to read this book without feeling similarly compelled. --Matthew Baylis

Timeless Classic, 30 Jan 2008
This is the story of a young man, Smith, who lives on the wrong side of the law. He lands up in borstal for theft. Once he is inside the governor sets him the challenge of winning the long distance runner cup for his prison. It's during his cross-country training sessions that Smith feels most free and tells the reader of his life, of the crime that led to his sentence and how his father died. He eventually loses the important race, but not because he was incapable of winning, but deliberately, in order to spite the authorities and maintain his independence. A timeless classic that has stood the test of time for me with this re-read.

Catching up with an old friend, 13 Dec 2003
As an undergraduate at UCLA, I read and re-read Alan Sillitoe's Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, reveling in the antics of the boozing, brawling, working-class character Arthur Seaton. However, as years passed (and I got my Ph.D., married, bought a house and had a kid), I found it difficult to identify with the literary hero of my young adulthood.

Birthday has made Arthur Seaton alive and relevant to me again. What a joy to catch up with Arthur over 40 literary years later and see how an "angry young man" ages gracefully... sort of . Arthur is now a responsible parent, loving husband to a terminally-ill wife, and tender of a vegetable garden in his own home. Yet, he is the same old Arthur: telling outrageous stories, complaining about the uselessness of the government, and half-threatening to kill a young co-worker for wasting food (remember, Arthur Seaton grew up in a war-deprived England).

Birthday alludes to many moments from Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Sometimes, the results are hilarious: A 60-year-old Arthur, for example, finds himself counseling a spitting-image son who has visions of blowing up Parliament and telling his boss off -- the same fantasies Arthur professed as a young man. Often, the past references are touching. See the recently-widowed Arthur frolic with his grandson (and re-engage in life) the way he used to with his young nephew back in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.

Fans of Saturday Night beware: much of Birthday focuses on Arthur's brother Brian and his weary struggle with existential issues and regret. The subplots with Arthur, however, really crackle with energy and good humor. I felt great after reading this book. If Arthur Seaton can remain vital through older adulthood, then maybe so can I. Cheers, Arthur!

One of the Greatest English Novels of the Past 50 Years, 06 Nov 2004
Alan Sillitoe is the voice of England's aspiring working class - and A Man of His Time proves it once again. This isn't just a good book; it's a great book. Born in 1866, Ernest Burton is a man of iron as well as a man of his time. He takes a justly earned pride in his trade as blacksmith and his manhood too: 'I don't take tips, and only touch my cap to a personable woman.' Indeed, he pulls women with as much skill and confidence as he shapes iron. The book's first seduction takes place in a railway carriage with a young widow Burton has just met - 'carmine features contrasting with the black of mourning as she held out her arms.' Sillitoe paints the mystery of desire with honesty and power. If fellow Nottinghamshire writer D.H. Lawrence were still alive, he could learn some lessons from Mr. Sillitoe.
The geography of the novel is confined to a small corner of Nottinghamshire, but the characters are not spared the effects of profound social change. Burton's oldest son dies in the First World War, not from a German bullet, but from the kick of a mad horse. The power of Sillitoe's prose - 'A building on legs, of sheer muscle and flesh coming down...a hoof as big as an anvil splayed wide with lightning suddenness on an unforeseen trajectory, unthinking tons of angry flesh behind.' - has not diminished, but been enhanced by passing decades.
Burton, even his children call him that, is a complex character who is not always likeable - as when he hits his wife or commits adultery with his son's fiancée - but, unlike many other 'men of his time', he is capable of remorse, reflection and change. 'He immediately knew he had done wrong, shouldn't have given even the first, because she was his wife and not a child or animal to be kept in order.' At the end of the book Burton has softened into a much-loved grandfather and husband. As Luftwaffe bombs pour down near their home, there is a moment of great tenderness between the elderly couple: 'You kissed me, Ernest.'
Ernest Burton is one of the most important characters to emerge from the last fifty years of English fiction. He represents, almost like a human oak tree, the pith and heart of central England. Burton could have been one of Chaucer's pilgrims - and would certainly have put smiles on the faces of the Wife of Bath and that Prioress. There is something larger than life about Burton as he rings a bull - a job that requires putting a red-hot poker through a bull's nostril - or cycles home after losing an eye while shoeing pit ponies. He is, of course, too much 'a man of his time' to claim compensation or even visit a doctor.
Burton dies at the age 80, an impressive innings for his class and generation. As always he is fearless: '...he saw with a blacksmith's clarity Old Nick coming towards him on a horse...Never afraid of the dark, he went into it wondering what was there.' Fifty years later, three grandsons - including the irrepressible Arthur Seaton of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - gather at Burton's grave for a boozy commemoration of a great life. Arthur is wearing a 'Rohan garment from a car-boot sale.' Sillitoe's irony is subtle and telling. Burton would never have dressed like that - he was far too much the cock-of-the-walk.

A writer still at the height of his powers!, 06 Dec 2001
Alan Sillitoe came to deliver a public lecture in Wrexham recently and I read this book as a preface to that event.

'Broken chariot' has all the trade marks of the more famous 'Saturday night, Sunday morning'but this time it focuses on Herbert, an upper middle class lad who adopts the character of Bert the working class man. The complexities and struggles between the two personna and what they reperesent form the essence of the book.

The descriptions of 1950's Nottingham and life in the factory are brilliant, you can almost smell the smoke! I loved the character(s) of Herbert/Bert, although in many ways he is an anti hero. I almost felt sorry for him at times.

Having met the author I am sure that there are many glimpses of him and his experience of life in this book.

If you enjoyed 'Saturday night Sunday morning' you will love this, it is a really good read.

One of the Greatest English Novels of the Past 50 Years, 06 Nov 2004
Alan Sillitoe is the voice of England's aspiring working class - and A Man of His Time proves it once again. This isn't just a good book; it's a great book. Born in 1866, Ernest Burton is a man of iron as well as a man of his time. He takes a justly earned pride in his trade as blacksmith and his manhood too: 'I don't take tips, and only touch my cap to a personable woman.' Indeed, he pulls women with as much skill and confidence as he shapes iron. The book's first seduction takes place in a railway carriage with a young widow Burton has just met - 'carmine features contrasting with the black of mourning as she held out her arms.' Sillitoe paints the mystery of desire with honesty and power. If fellow Nottinghamshire writer D.H. Lawrence were still alive, he could learn some lessons from Mr. Sillitoe.
The geography of the novel is confined to a small corner of Nottinghamshire, but the characters are not spared the effects of profound social change. Burton's oldest son dies in the First World War, not from a German bullet, but from the kick of a mad horse. The power of Sillitoe's prose - 'A building on legs, of sheer muscle and flesh coming down...a hoof as big as an anvil splayed wide with lightning suddenness on an unforeseen trajectory, unthinking tons of angry flesh behind.' - has not diminished, but been enhanced by passing decades.
Burton, even his children call him that, is a complex character who is not always likeable - as when he hits his wife or commits adultery with his son's fiancée - but, unlike many other 'men of his time', he is capable of remorse, reflection and change. 'He immediately knew he had done wrong, shouldn't have given even the first, because she was his wife and not a child or animal to be kept in order.' At the end of the book Burton has softened into a much-loved grandfather and husband. As Luftwaffe bombs pour down near their home, there is a moment of great tenderness between the elderly couple: 'You kissed me, Ernest.'
Ernest Burton is one of the most important characters to emerge from the last fifty years of English fiction. He represents, almost like a human oak tree, the pith and heart of central England. Burton could have been one of Chaucer's pilgrims - and would certainly have put smiles on the faces of the Wife of Bath and that Prioress. There is something larger than life about Burton as he rings a bull - a job that requires putting a red-hot poker through a bull's nostril - or cycles home after losing an eye while shoeing pit ponies. He is, of course, too much 'a man of his time' to claim compensation or even visit a doctor.
Burton dies at the age 80, an impressive innings for his class and generation. As always he is fearless: '...he saw with a blacksmith's clarity Old Nick coming towards him on a horse...Never afraid of the dark, he went into it wondering what was there.' Fifty years later, three grandsons - including the irrepressible Arthur Seaton of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - gather at Burton's grave for a boozy commemoration of a great life. Arthur is wearing a 'Rohan garment from a car-boot sale.' Sillitoe's irony is subtle and telling. Burton would never have dressed like that - he was far too much the cock-of-the-walk.

Timeless Classic, 30 Jan 2008
This is the story of a young man, Smith, who lives on the wrong side of the law. He lands up in borstal for theft. Once he is inside the governor sets him the challenge of winning the long distance runner cup for his prison. It's during his cross-country training sessions that Smith feels most free and tells the reader of his life, of the crime that led to his sentence and how his father died. He eventually loses the important race, but not because he was incapable of winning, but deliberately, in order to spite the authorities and maintain his independence. A timeless classic that has stood the test of time for me with this re-read.

Catching up with an old friend, 13 Dec 2003
As an undergraduate at UCLA, I read and re-read Alan Sillitoe's Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, reveling in the antics of the boozing, brawling, working-class character Arthur Seaton. However, as years passed (and I got my Ph.D., married, bought a house and had a kid), I found it difficult to identify with the literary hero of my young adulthood.

Birthday has made Arthur Seaton alive and relevant to me again. What a joy to catch up with Arthur over 40 literary years later and see how an "angry young man" ages gracefully... sort of . Arthur is now a responsible parent, loving husband to a terminally-ill wife, and tender of a vegetable garden in his own home. Yet, he is the same old Arthur: telling outrageous stories, complaining about the uselessness of the government, and half-threatening to kill a young co-worker for wasting food (remember, Arthur Seaton grew up in a war-deprived England).

Birthday alludes to many moments from Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Sometimes, the results are hilarious: A 60-year-old Arthur, for example, finds himself counseling a spitting-image son who has visions of blowing up Parliament and telling his boss off -- the same fantasies Arthur professed as a young man. Often, the past references are touching. See the recently-widowed Arthur frolic with his grandson (and re-engage in life) the way he used to with his young nephew back in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.

Fans of Saturday Night beware: much of Birthday focuses on Arthur's brother Brian and his weary struggle with existential issues and regret. The subplots with Arthur, however, really crackle with energy and good humor. I felt great after reading this book. If Arthur Seaton can remain vital through older adulthood, then maybe so can I. Cheers, Arthur!

One of the Greatest English Novels of the Past 50 Years, 06 Nov 2004
Alan Sillitoe is the voice of England's aspiring working class - and A Man of His Time proves it once again. This isn't just a good book; it's a great book. Born in 1866, Ernest Burton is a man of iron as well as a man of his time. He takes a justly earned pride in his trade as blacksmith and his manhood too: 'I don't take tips, and only touch my cap to a personable woman.' Indeed, he pulls women with as much skill and confidence as he shapes iron. The book's first seduction takes place in a railway carriage with a young widow Burton has just met - 'carmine features contrasting with the black of mourning as she held out her arms.' Sillitoe paints the mystery of desire with honesty and power. If fellow Nottinghamshire writer D.H. Lawrence were still alive, he could learn some lessons from Mr. Sillitoe.
The geography of the novel is confined to a small corner of Nottinghamshire, but the characters are not spared the effects of profound social change. Burton's oldest son dies in the First World War, not from a German bullet, but from the kick of a mad horse. The power of Sillitoe's prose - 'A building on legs, of sheer muscle and flesh coming down...a hoof as big as an anvil splayed wide with lightning suddenness on an unforeseen trajectory, unthinking tons of angry flesh behind.' - has not diminished, but been enhanced by passing decades.
Burton, even his children call him that, is a complex character who is not always likeable - as when he hits his wife or commits adultery with his son's fiancée - but, unlike many other 'men of his time', he is capable of remorse, reflection and change. 'He immediately knew he had done wrong, shouldn't have given even the first, because she was his wife and not a child or animal to be kept in order.' At the end of the book Burton has softened into a much-loved grandfather and husband. As Luftwaffe bombs pour down near their home, there is a moment of great tenderness between the elderly couple: 'You kissed me, Ernest.'
Ernest Burton is one of the most important characters to emerge from the last fifty years of English fiction. He represents, almost like a human oak tree, the pith and heart of central England. Burton could have been one of Chaucer's pilgrims - and would certainly have put smiles on the faces of the Wife of Bath and that Prioress. There is something larger than life about Burton as he rings a bull - a job that requires putting a red-hot poker through a bull's nostril - or cycles home after losing an eye while shoeing pit ponies. He is, of course, too much 'a man of his time' to claim compensation or even visit a doctor.
Burton dies at the age 80, an impressive innings for his class and generation. As always he is fearless: '...he saw with a blacksmith's clarity Old Nick coming towards him on a horse...Never afraid of the dark, he went into it wondering what was there.' Fifty years later, three grandsons - including the irrepressible Arthur Seaton of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - gather at Burton's grave for a boozy commemoration of a great life. Arthur is wearing a 'Rohan garment from a car-boot sale.' Sillitoe's irony is subtle and telling. Burton would never have dressed like that - he was far too much the cock-of-the-walk.

A writer still at the height of his powers!, 06 Dec 2001
Alan Sillitoe came to deliver a public lecture in Wrexham recently and I read this book as a preface to that event.

'Broken chariot' has all the trade marks of the more famous 'Saturday night, Sunday morning'but this time it focuses on Herbert, an upper middle class lad who adopts the character of Bert the working class man. The complexities and struggles between the two personna and what they reperesent form the essence of the book.

The descriptions of 1950's Nottingham and life in the factory are brilliant, you can almost smell the smoke! I loved the character(s) of Herbert/Bert, although in many ways he is an anti hero. I almost felt sorry for him at times.

Having met the author I am sure that there are many glimpses of him and his experience of life in this book.

If you enjoyed 'Saturday night Sunday morning' you will love this, it is a really good read.

One of the Greatest English Novels of the Past 50 Years, 06 Nov 2004
Alan Sillitoe is the voice of England's aspiring working class - and A Man of His Time proves it once again. This isn't just a good book; it's a great book. Born in 1866, Ernest Burton is a man of iron as well as a man of his time. He takes a justly earned pride in his trade as blacksmith and his manhood too: 'I don't take tips, and only touch my cap to a personable woman.' Indeed, he pulls women with as much skill and confidence as he shapes iron. The book's first seduction takes place in a railway carriage with a young widow Burton has just met - 'carmine features contrasting with the black of mourning as she held out her arms.' Sillitoe paints the mystery of desire with honesty and power. If fellow Nottinghamshire writer D.H. Lawrence were still alive, he could learn some lessons from Mr. Sillitoe.
The geography of the novel is confined to a small corner of Nottinghamshire, but the characters are not spared the effects of profound social change. Burton's oldest son dies in the First World War, not from a German bullet, but from the kick of a mad horse. The power of Sillitoe's prose - 'A building on legs, of sheer muscle and flesh coming down...a hoof as big as an anvil splayed wide with lightning suddenness on an unforeseen trajectory, unthinking tons of angry flesh behind.' - has not diminished, but been enhanced by passing decades.
Burton, even his children call him that, is a complex character who is not always likeable - as when he hits his wife or commits adultery with his son's fiancée - but, unlike many other 'men of his time', he is capable of remorse, reflection and change. 'He immediately knew he had done wrong, shouldn't have given even the first, because she was his wife and not a child or animal to be kept in order.' At the end of the book Burton has softened into a much-loved grandfather and husband. As Luftwaffe bombs pour down near their home, there is a moment of great tenderness between the elderly couple: 'You kissed me, Ernest.'
Ernest Burton is one of the most important characters to emerge from the last fifty years of English fiction. He represents, almost like a human oak tree, the pith and heart of central England. Burton could have been one of Chaucer's pilgrims - and would certainly have put smiles on the faces of the Wife of Bath and that Prioress. There is something larger than life about Burton as he rings a bull - a job that requires putting a red-hot poker through a bull's nostril - or cycles home after losing an eye while shoeing pit ponies. He is, of course, too much 'a man of his time' to claim compensation or even visit a doctor.
Burton dies at the age 80, an impressive innings for his class and generation. As always he is fearless: '...he saw with a blacksmith's clarity Old Nick coming towards him on a horse...Never afraid of the dark, he went into it wondering what was there.' Fifty years later, three grandsons - including the irrepressible Arthur Seaton of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - gather at Burton's grave for a boozy commemoration of a great life. Arthur is wearing a 'Rohan garment from a car-boot sale.' Sillitoe's irony is subtle and telling. Burton would never have dressed like that - he was far too much the cock-of-the-walk.

A writer still at the height of his powers!, 06 Dec 2001
Alan Sillitoe came to deliver a public lecture in Wrexham recently and I read this book as a preface to that event.

'Broken chariot' has all the trade marks of the more famous 'Saturday night, Sunday morning'but this time it focuses on Herbert, an upper middle class lad who adopts the character of Bert the working class man. The complexities and struggles between the two personna and what they reperesent form the essence of the book.

The descriptions of 1950's Nottingham and life in the factory are brilliant, you can almost smell the smoke! I loved the character(s) of Herbert/Bert, although in many ways he is an anti hero. I almost felt sorry for him at times.

Having met the author I am sure that there are many glimpses of him and his experience of life in this book.

If you enjoyed 'Saturday night Sunday morning' you will love this, it is a really good read.

Timeless Classic, 30 Jan 2008
This is the story of a young man, Smith, who lives on the wrong side of the law. He lands up in borstal for theft. Once he is inside the governor sets him the challenge of winning the long distance runner cup for his prison. It's during his cross-country training sessions that Smith feels most free and tells the reader of his life, of the crime that led to his sentence and how his father died. He eventually loses the important race, but not because he was incapable of winning, but deliberately, in order to spite the authorities and maintain his independence. A timeless classic that has stood the test of time for me with this re-read.

Catching up with an old friend, 13 Dec 2003
As an undergraduate at UCLA, I read and re-read Alan Sillitoe's Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, reveling in the antics of the boozing, brawling, working-class character Arthur Seaton. However, as years passed (and I got my Ph.D., married, bought a house and had a kid), I found it difficult to identify with the literary hero of my young adulthood.

Birthday has made Arthur Seaton alive and relevant to me again. What a joy to catch up with Arthur over 40 literary years later and see how an "angry young man" ages gracefully... sort of . Arthur is now a responsible parent, loving husband to a terminally-ill wife, and tender of a vegetable garden in his own home. Yet, he is the same old Arthur: telling outrageous stories, complaining about the uselessness of the government, and half-threatening to kill a young co-worker for wasting food (remember, Arthur Seaton grew up in a war-deprived England).

Birthday alludes to many moments from Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Sometimes, the results are hilarious: A 60-year-old Arthur, for example, finds himself counseling a spitting-image son who has visions of blowing up Parliament and telling his boss off -- the same fantasies Arthur professed as a young man. Often, the past references are touching. See the recently-widowed Arthur frolic with his grandson (and re-engage in life) the way he used to with his young nephew back in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.

Fans of Saturday Night beware: much of Birthday focuses on Arthur's brother Brian and his weary struggle with existential issues and regret. The subplots with Arthur, however, really crackle with energy and good humor. I felt great after reading this book. If Arthur Seaton can remain vital through older adulthood, then maybe so can I. Cheers, Arthur!

One of the Greatest English Novels of the Past 50 Years, 06 Nov 2004
Alan Sillitoe is the voice of England's aspiring working class - and A Man of His Time proves it once again. This isn't just a good book; it's a great book. Born in 1866, Ernest Burton is a man of iron as well as a man of his time. He takes a justly earned pride in his trade as blacksmith and his manhood too: 'I don't take tips, and only touch my cap to a personable woman.' Indeed, he pulls women with as much skill and confidence as he shapes iron. The book's first seduction takes place in a railway carriage with a young widow Burton has just met - 'carmine features contrasting with the black of mourning as she held out her arms.' Sillitoe paints the mystery of desire with honesty and power. If fellow Nottinghamshire writer D.H. Lawrence were still alive, he could learn some lessons from Mr. Sillitoe.
The geography of the novel is confined to a small corner of Nottinghamshire, but the characters are not spared the effects of profound social change. Burton's oldest son dies in the First World War, not from a German bullet, but from the kick of a mad horse. The power of Sillitoe's prose - 'A building on legs, of sheer muscle and flesh coming down...a hoof as big as an anvil splayed wide with lightning suddenness on an unforeseen trajectory, unthinking tons of angry flesh behind.' - has not diminished, but been enhanced by passing decades.
Burton, even his children call him that, is a complex character who is not always likeable - as when he hits his wife or commits adultery with his son's fiancée - but, unlike many other 'men of his time', he is capable of remorse, reflection and change. 'He immediately knew he had done wrong, shouldn't have given even the first, because she was his wife and not a child or animal to be kept in order.' At the end of the book Burton has softened into a much-loved grandfather and husband. As Luftwaffe bombs pour down near their home, there is a moment of great tenderness between the elderly couple: 'You kissed me, Ernest.'
Ernest Burton is one of the most important characters to emerge from the last fifty years of English fiction. He represents, almost like a human oak tree, the pith and heart of central England. Burton could have been one of Chaucer's pilgrims - and would certainly have put smiles on the faces of the Wife of Bath and that Prioress. There is something larger than life about Burton as he rings a bull - a job that requires putting a red-hot poker through a bull's nostril - or cycles home after losing an eye while shoeing pit ponies. He is, of course, too much 'a man of his time' to claim compensation or even visit a doctor.
Burton dies at the age 80, an impressive innings for his class and generation. As always he is fearless: '...he saw with a blacksmith's clarity Old Nick coming towards him on a horse...Never afraid of the dark, he went into it wondering what was there.' Fifty years later, three grandsons - including the irrepressible Arthur Seaton of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - gather at Burton's grave for a boozy commemoration of a great life. Arthur is wearing a 'Rohan garment from a car-boot sale.' Sillitoe's irony is subtle and telling. Burton would never have dressed like that - he was far too much the cock-of-the-walk.

A writer still at the height of his powers!, 06 Dec 2001
Alan Sillitoe came to deliver a public lecture in Wrexham recently and I read this book as a preface to that event.

'Broken chariot' has all the trade marks of the more famous 'Saturday night, Sunday morning'but this time it focuses on Herbert, an upper middle class lad who adopts the character of Bert the working class man. The complexities and struggles between the two personna and what they reperesent form the essence of the book.

The descriptions of 1950's Nottingham and life in the factory are brilliant, you can almost smell the smoke! I loved the character(s) of Herbert/Bert, although in many ways he is an anti hero. I almost felt sorry for him at times.

Having met the author I am sure that there are many glimpses of him and his experience of life in this book.

If you enjoyed 'Saturday night Sunday morning' you will love this, it is a really good read.

One of the Greatest English Novels of the Past 50 Years, 06 Nov 2004
Alan Sillitoe is the voice of England's aspiring working class - and A Man of His Time proves it once again. This isn't just a good book; it's a great book. Born in 1866, Ernest Burton is a man of iron as well as a man of his time. He takes a justly earned pride in his trade as blacksmith and his manhood too: 'I don't take tips, and only touch my cap to a personable woman.' Indeed, he pulls women with as much skill and confidence as he shapes iron. The book's first seduction takes place in a railway carriage with a young widow Burton has just met - 'carmine features contrasting with the black of mourning as she held out her arms.' Sillitoe paints the mystery of desire with honesty and power. If fellow Nottinghamshire writer D.H. Lawrence were still alive, he could learn some lessons from Mr. Sillitoe.
The geography of the novel is confined to a small corner of Nottinghamshire, but the characters are not spared the effects of profound social change. Burton's oldest son dies in the First World War, not from a German bullet, but from the kick of a mad horse. The power of Sillitoe's prose - 'A building on legs, of sheer muscle and flesh coming down...a hoof as big as an anvil splayed wide with lightning suddenness on an unforeseen trajectory, unthinking tons of angry flesh behind.' - has not diminished, but been enhanced by passing decades.
Burton, even his children call him that, is a complex character who is not always likeable - as when he hits his wife or commits adultery with his son's fiancée - but, unlike many other 'men of his time', he is capable of remorse, reflection and change. 'He immediately knew he had done wrong, shouldn't have given even the first, because she was his wife and not a child or animal to be kept in order.' At the end of the book Burton has softened into a much-loved grandfather and husband. As Luftwaffe bombs pour down near their home, there is a moment of great tenderness between the elderly couple: 'You kissed me, Ernest.'
Ernest Burton is one of the most important characters to emerge from the last fifty years of English fiction. He represents, almost like a human oak tree, the pith and heart of central England. Burton could have been one of Chaucer's pilgrims - and would certainly have put smiles on the faces of the Wife of Bath and that Prioress. There is something larger than life about Burton as he rings a bull - a job that requires putting a red-hot poker through a bull's nostril - or cycles home after losing an eye while shoeing pit ponies. He is, of course, too much 'a man of his time' to claim compensation or even visit a doctor.
Burton dies at the age 80, an impressive innings for his class and generation. As always he is fearless: '...he saw with a blacksmith's clarity Old Nick coming towards him on a horse...Never afraid of the dark, he went into it wondering what was there.' Fifty years later, three grandsons - including the irrepressible Arthur Seaton of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - gather at Burton's grave for a boozy commemoration of a great life. Arthur is wearing a 'Rohan garment from a car-boot sale.' Sillitoe's irony is subtle and telling. Burton would never have dressed like that - he was far too much the cock-of-the-walk.

A writer still at the height of his powers!, 06 Dec 2001
Alan Sillitoe came to deliver a public lecture in Wrexham recently and I read this book as a preface to that event.

'Broken chariot' has all the trade marks of the more famous 'Saturday night, Sunday morning'but this time it focuses on Herbert, an upper middle class lad who adopts the character of Bert the working class man. The complexities and struggles between the two personna and what they reperesent form the essence of the book.

The descriptions of 1950's Nottingham and life in the factory are brilliant, you can almost smell the smoke! I loved the character(s) of Herbert/Bert, although in many ways he is an anti hero. I almost felt sorry for him at times.

Having met the author I am sure that there are many glimpses of him and his experience of life in this book.

If you enjoyed 'Saturday night Sunday morning' you will love this, it is a really good read.

One of the Greatest English Novels of the Past 50 Years, 06 Nov 2004
Alan Sillitoe is the voice of England's aspiring working class - and A Man of His Time proves it once again. This isn't just a good book; it's a great book. Born in 1866, Ernest Burton is a man of iron as well as a man of his time. He takes a justly earned pride in his trade as blacksmith and his manhood too: 'I don't take tips, and only touch my cap to a personable woman.' Indeed, he pulls women with as much skill and confidence as he shapes iron. The book's first seduction takes place in a railway carriage with a young widow Burton has just met - 'carmine features contrasting with the black of mourning as she held out her arms.' Sillitoe paints the mystery of desire with honesty and power. If fellow Nottinghamshire writer D.H. Lawrence were still alive, he could learn some lessons from Mr. Sillitoe.
The geography of the novel is confined to a small corner of Nottinghamshire, but the characters are not spared the effects of profound social change. Burton's oldest son dies in the First World War, not from a German bullet, but from the kick of a mad horse. The power of Sillitoe's prose - 'A building on legs, of sheer muscle and flesh coming down...a hoof as big as an anvil splayed wide with lightning suddenness on an unforeseen trajectory, unthinking tons of angry flesh behind.' - has not diminished, but been enhanced by passing decades.
Burton, even his children call him that, is a complex character who is not always likeable - as when he hits his wife or commits adultery with his son's fiancée - but, unlike many other 'men of his time', he is capable of remorse, reflection and change. 'He immediately knew he had done wrong, shouldn't have given even the first, because she was his wife and not a child or animal to be kept in order.' At the end of the book Burton has softened into a much-loved grandfather and husband. As Luftwaffe bombs pour down near their home, there is a moment of great tenderness between the elderly couple: 'You kissed me, Ernest.'
Ernest Burton is one of the most important characters to emerge from the last fifty years of English fiction. He represents, almost like a human oak tree, the pith and heart of central England. Burton could have been one of Chaucer's pilgrims - and would certainly have put smiles on the faces of the Wife of Bath and that Prioress. There is something larger than life about Burton as he rings a bull - a job that requires putting a red-hot poker through a bull's nostril - or cycles home after losing an eye while shoeing pit ponies. He is, of course, too much 'a man of his time' to claim compensation or even visit a doctor.
Burton dies at the age 80, an impressive innings for his class and generation. As always he is fearless: '...he saw with a blacksmith's clarity Old Nick coming towards him on a horse...Never afraid of the dark, he went into it wondering what was there.' Fifty years later, three grandsons - including the irrepressible Arthur Seaton of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - gather at Burton's grave for a boozy commemoration of a great life. Arthur is wearing a 'Rohan garment from a car-boot sale.' Sillitoe's irony is subtle and telling. Burton would never have dressed like that - he was far too much the cock-of-the-walk.

Birthday is Alan Sillitoe's eagerly awaited sequel to his classic novel Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, first published in 1958. The novel transformed post-war English fiction, and gave a new voice to working-class masculinity of the 1950s. In Birthday, Sillitoe returns to the Nottinghamshire of his earlier novel, to explore what happened to the original characters.

Brian Seaton returns to the town of his birth to visit his childhood sweetheart's 70th birthday party, and to see his roguish brother, Arthur. The result is an extremely elegiac, downbeat novel, as Brian and his brother flit between their ageing present and vibrant past. Brian, now a successful scriptwriter based in London, visits his old haunts, reflecting that "no matter how changed, it was an area in which he had no need of maps. Everything was in the past, but an event could leap to mind with such intensity it might have happened in the last five minutes". It is this tone that pervades Birthday. Very little actually happens in the novel, as Brian and Arthur travel around the area, coming to terms with disappointments, disillusions and the now ailing characters that made sense of their younger lives. The story is loosely structured around Brian's tortuous relationship with Jenny, trapped in a marriage to a crippled ex-steelworker. But as the novel progresses, he realises that "they were in love with the past rather than each other".

Birthday is a poignant but very low-key evocation of a world that has been lost forever. It will appeal to those who found Sillitoe's Saturday Night and Sunday Morning a breath of fresh air, but others may question the wisdom of a sequel over 40 years on. --Jerry Brotton

Timeless Classic, 30 Jan 2008
This is the story of a young man, Smith, who lives on the wrong side of the law. He lands up in borstal for theft. Once he is inside the governor sets him the challenge of winning the long distance runner cup for his prison. It's during his cross-country training sessions that Smith feels most free and tells the reader of his life, of the crime that led to his sentence and how his father died. He eventually loses the important race, but not because he was incapable of winning, but deliberately, in order to spite the authorities and maintain his independence. A timeless classic that has stood the test of time for me with this re-read.

Catching up with an old friend, 13 Dec 2003
As an undergraduate at UCLA, I read and re-read Alan Sillitoe's Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, reveling in the antics of the boozing, brawling, working-class character Arthur Seaton. However, as years passed (and I got my Ph.D., married, bought a house and had a kid), I found it difficult to identify with the literary hero of my young adulthood.

Birthday has made Arthur Seaton alive and relevant to me again. What a joy to catch up with Arthur over 40 literary years later and see how an "angry young man" ages gracefully... sort of . Arthur is now a responsible parent, loving husband to a terminally-ill wife, and tender of a vegetable garden in his own home. Yet, he is the same old Arthur: telling outrageous stories, complaining about the uselessness of the government, and half-threatening to kill a young co-worker for wasting food (remember, Arthur Seaton grew up in a war-deprived England).

Birthday alludes to many moments from Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Sometimes, the results are hilarious: A 60-year-old Arthur, for example, finds himself counseling a spitting-image son who has visions of blowing up Parliament and telling his boss off -- the same fantasies Arthur professed as a young man. Often, the past references are touching. See the recently-widowed Arthur frolic with his grandson (and re-engage in life) the way he used to with his young nephew back in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.

Fans of Saturday Night beware: much of Birthday focuses on Arthur's brother Brian and his weary struggle with existential issues and regret. The subplots with Arthur, however, really crackle with energy and good humor. I felt great after reading this book. If Arthur Seaton can remain vital through older adulthood, then maybe so can I. Cheers, Arthur!

One of the Greatest English Novels of the Past 50 Years, 06 Nov 2004
Alan Sillitoe is the voice of England's aspiring working class - and A Man of His Time proves it once again. This isn't just a good book; it's a great book. Born in 1866, Ernest Burton is a man of iron as well as a man of his time. He takes a justly earned pride in his trade as blacksmith and his manhood too: 'I don't take tips, and only touch my cap to a personable woman.' Indeed, he pulls women with as much skill and confidence as he shapes iron. The book's first seduction takes place in a railway carriage with a young widow Burton has just met - 'carmine features contrasting with the black of mourning as she held out her arms.' Sillitoe paints the mystery of desire with honesty and power. If fellow Nottinghamshire writer D.H. Lawrence were still alive, he could learn some lessons from Mr. Sillitoe.
The geography of the novel is confined to a small corner of Nottinghamshire, but the characters are not spared the effects of profound social change. Burton's oldest son dies in the First World War, not from a German bullet, but from the kick of a mad horse. The power of Sillitoe's prose - 'A building on legs, of sheer muscle and flesh coming down...a hoof as big as an anvil splayed wide with lightning suddenness on an unforeseen trajectory, unthinking tons of angry flesh behind.' - has not diminished, but been enhanced by passing decades.
Burton, even his children call him that, is a complex character who is not always likeable - as when he hits his wife or commits adultery with his son's fiancée - but, unlike many other 'men of his time', he is capable of remorse, reflection and change. 'He immediately knew he had done wrong, shouldn't have given even the first, because she was his wife and not a child or animal to be kept in order.' At the end of the book Burton has softened into a much-loved grandfather and husband. As Luftwaffe bombs pour down near their home, there is a moment of great tenderness between the elderly couple: 'You kissed me, Ernest.'
Ernest Burton is one of the most important characters to emerge from the last fifty years of English fiction. He represents, almost like a human oak tree, the pith and heart of central England. Burton could have been one of Chaucer's pilgrims - and would certainly have put smiles on the faces of the Wife of Bath and that Prioress. There is something larger than life about Burton as he rings a bull - a job that requires putting a red-hot poker through a bull's nostril - or cycles home after losing an eye while shoeing pit ponies. He is, of course, too much 'a man of his time' to claim compensation or even visit a doctor.
Burton dies at the age 80, an impressive innings for his class and generation. As always he is fearless: '...he saw with a blacksmith's clarity Old Nick coming towards him on a horse...Never afraid of the dark, he went into it wondering what was there.' Fifty years later, three grandsons - including the irrepressible Arthur Seaton of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - gather at Burton's grave for a boozy commemoration of a great life. Arthur is wearing a 'Rohan garment from a car-boot sale.' Sillitoe's irony is subtle and telling. Burton would never have dressed like that - he was far too much the cock-of-the-walk.

A writer still at the height of his powers!, 06 Dec 2001
Alan Sillitoe came to deliver a public lecture in Wrexham recently and I read this book as a preface to that event.

'Broken chariot' has all the trade marks of the more famous 'Saturday night, Sunday morning'but this time it focuses on Herbert, an upper middle class lad who adopts the character of Bert the working class man. The complexities and struggles between the two personna and what they reperesent form the essence of the book.

The descriptions of 1950's Nottingham and life in the factory are brilliant, you can almost smell the smoke! I loved the character(s) of Herbert/Bert, although in many ways he is an anti hero. I almost felt sorry for him at times.

Having met the author I am sure that there are many glimpses of him and his experience of life in this book.

If you enjoyed 'Saturday night Sunday morning' you will love this, it is a really good read.

One of the Greatest English Novels of the Past 50 Years, 06 Nov 2004
Alan Sillitoe is the voice of England's aspiring working class - and A Man of His Time proves it once again. This isn't just a good book; it's a great book. Born in 1866, Ernest Burton is a man of iron as well as a man of his time. He takes a justly earned pride in his trade as blacksmith and his manhood too: 'I don't take tips, and only touch my cap to a personable woman.' Indeed, he pulls women with as much skill and confidence as he shapes iron. The book's first seduction takes place in a railway carriage with a young widow Burton has just met - 'carmine features contrasting with the black of mourning as she held out her arms.' Sillitoe paints the mystery of desire with honesty and power. If fellow Nottinghamshire writer D.H. Lawrence were still alive, he could learn some lessons from Mr. Sillitoe.
The geography of the novel is confined to a small corner of Nottinghamshire, but the characters are not spared the effects of profound social change. Burton's oldest son dies in the First World War, not from a German bullet, but from the kick of a mad horse. The power of Sillitoe's prose - 'A building on legs, of sheer muscle and flesh coming down...a hoof as big as an anvil splayed wide with lightning suddenness on an unforeseen trajectory, unthinking tons of angry flesh behind.' - has not diminished, but been enhanced by passing decades.
Burton, even his children call him that, is a complex character who is not always likeable - as when he hits his wife or commits adultery with his son's fiancée - but, unlike many other 'men of his time', he is capable of remorse, reflection and change. 'He immediately knew he had done wrong, shouldn't have given even the first, because she was his wife and not a child or animal to be kept in order.' At the end of the book Burton has softened into a much-loved grandfather and husband. As Luftwaffe bombs pour down near their home, there is a moment of great tenderness between the elderly couple: 'You kissed me, Ernest.'
Ernest Burton is one of the most important characters to emerge from the last fifty years of English fiction. He represents, almost like a human oak tree, the pith and heart of central England. Burton could have been one of Chaucer's pilgrims - and would certainly have put smiles on the faces of the Wife of Bath and that Prioress. There is something larger than life about Burton as he rings a bull - a job that requires putting a red-hot poker through a bull's nostril - or cycles home after losing an eye while shoeing pit ponies. He is, of course, too much 'a man of his time' to claim compensation or even visit a doctor.
Burton dies at the age 80, an impressive innings for his class and generation. As always he is fearless: '...he saw with a blacksmith's clarity Old Nick coming towards him on a horse...Never afraid of the dark, he went into it wondering what was there.' Fifty years later, three grandsons - including the irrepressible Arthur Seaton of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - gather at Burton's grave for a boozy commemoration of a great life. Arthur is wearing a 'Rohan garment from a car-boot sale.' Sillitoe's irony is subtle and telling. Burton would never have dressed like that - he was far too much the cock-of-the-walk.

A writer still at the height of his powers!, 06 Dec 2001
Alan Sillitoe came to deliver a public lecture in Wrexham recently and I read this book as a preface to that event.

'Broken chariot' has all the trade marks of the more famous 'Saturday night, Sunday morning'but this time it focuses on Herbert, an upper middle class lad who adopts the character of Bert the working class man. The complexities and struggles between the two personna and what they reperesent form the essence of the book.

The descriptions of 1950's Nottingham and life in the factory are brilliant, you can almost smell the smoke! I loved the character(s) of Herbert/Bert, although in many ways he is an anti hero. I almost felt sorry for him at times.

Having met the author I am sure that there are many glimpses of him and his experience of life in this book.

If you enjoyed 'Saturday night Sunday morning' you will love this, it is a really good read.

One of the Greatest English Novels of the Past 50 Years, 06 Nov 2004
Alan Sillitoe is the voice of England's aspiring working class - and A Man of His Time proves it once again. This isn't just a good book; it's a great book. Born in 1866, Ernest Burton is a man of iron as well as a man of his time. He takes a justly earned pride in his trade as blacksmith and his manhood too: 'I don't take tips, and only touch my cap to a personable woman.' Indeed, he pulls women with as much skill and confidence as he shapes iron. The book's first seduction takes place in a railway carriage with a young widow Burton has just met - 'carmine features contrasting with the black of mourning as she held out her arms.' Sillitoe paints the mystery of desire with honesty and power. If fellow Nottinghamshire writer D.H. Lawrence were still alive, he could learn some lessons from Mr. Sillitoe.
The geography of the novel is confined to a small corner of Nottinghamshire, but the characters are not spared the effects of profound social change. Burton's oldest son dies in the First World War, not from a German bullet, but from the kick of a mad horse. The power of Sillitoe's prose - 'A building on legs, of sheer muscle and flesh coming down...a hoof as big as an anvil splayed wide with lightning suddenness on an unforeseen trajectory, unthinking tons of angry flesh behind.' - has not diminished, but been enhanced by passing decades.
Burton, even his children call him that, is a complex character who is not always likeable - as when he hits his wife or commits adultery with his son's fiancée - but, unlike many other 'men of his time', he is capable of remorse, reflection and change. 'He immediately knew he had done wrong, shouldn't have given even the first, because she was his wife and not a child or animal to be kept in order.' At the end of the book Burton has softened into a much-loved grandfather and husband. As Luftwaffe bombs pour down near their home, there is a moment of great tenderness between the elderly couple: 'You kissed me, Ernest.'
Ernest Burton is one of the most important characters to emerge from the last fifty years of English fiction. He represents, almost like a human oak tree, the pith and heart of central England. Burton could have been one of Chaucer's pilgrims - and would certainly have put smiles on the faces of the Wife of Bath and that Prioress. There is something larger than life about Burton as he rings a bull - a job that requires putting a red-hot poker through a bull's nostril - or cycles home after losing an eye while shoeing pit ponies. He is, of course, too much 'a man of his time' to claim compensation or even visit a doctor.
Burton dies at the age 80, an impressive innings for his class and generation. As always he is fearless: '...he saw with a blacksmith's clarity Old Nick coming towards him on a horse...Never afraid of the dark, he went into it wondering what was there.' Fifty years later, three grandsons - including the irrepressible Arthur Seaton of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - gather at Burton's grave for a boozy commemoration of a great life. Arthur is wearing a 'Rohan garment from a car-boot sale.' Sillitoe's irony is subtle and telling. Burton would never have dressed like that - he was far too much the cock-of-the-walk.

Catching up with an old friend, 13 Dec 2003
As an undergraduate at UCLA, I read and re-read Alan Sillitoe's Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, reveling in the antics of the boozing, brawling, working-class character Arthur Seaton. However, as years passed (and I got my Ph.D., married, bought a house and had a kid), I found it difficult to identify with the literary hero of my young adulthood.

Birthday has made Arthur Seaton alive and relevant to me again. What a joy to catch up with Arthur over 40 literary years later and see how an "angry young man" ages gracefully... sort of . Arthur is now a responsible parent, loving husband to a terminally-ill wife, and tender of a vegetable garden in his own home. Yet, he is the same old Arthur: telling outrageous stories, complaining about the uselessness of the government, and half-threatening to kill a young co-worker for wasting food (remember, Arthur Seaton grew up in a war-deprived England).

Birthday alludes to many moments from Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Sometimes, the results are hilarious: A 60-year-old Arthur, for example, finds himself counseling a spitting-image son who has visions of blowing up Parliament and telling his boss off -- the same fantasies Arthur professed as a young man. Often, the past references are touching. See the recently-widowed Arthur frolic with his grandson (and re-engage in life) the way he used to with his young nephew back in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.

Fans of Saturday Night beware: much of Birthday focuses on Arthur's brother Brian and his weary struggle with existential issues and regret. The subplots with Arthur, however, really crackle with energy and good humor. I felt great after reading this book. If Arthur Seaton can remain vital through older adulthood, then maybe so can I. Cheers, Arthur!