First he takes us back to 1976, to “that summer when England reeled, gasping for breath, pole-axed by heat” and then further back to 1939, and the eve of the Second World War. Well, one or the other or all.įor his novel Restless, lucky William Boyd gets to dress up as two women, mother and daughter, and for good measure, live twice. Not for them that aggressive, yet tear-stained parading of deficiencies beloved of Bridget Jones and followers. He may be right, he may be wrong, but his women are testimony to the pleasure of cross-dressing: attractive, intelligent, passionate and deadlier than the male. William Boyd wears literary drag better than any other British novelist.
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