It is time for me to turn to England again, for I sense how these memories gradually fade, and it would be a pity if nothing remained of forty years in that country

Exceedingly perceptive, at times amusing and always unpredictable, this autobiography of Nobel Prize winner Elias Canetti is a fascinating and enjoyable read.Canetti spent many years in London, beginning in 1939, and during which time he moved in elite circles, numbering the great writers, artists, thinkers and politicians of the time among his friends and acquaintances.In this beautifully written and often sensational collection of portraits of those who were meaningful in his life, Canetti is an honest observer of the personalities of those around him: of T.S. Eliot (whom he detested); of Iris Murdoch (with whom he had a torrid affair) and of the English themselves (whose stiff upper lip he both admired and disparaged).
His style is at times staccato, at times elaborately philosophical, but always displays the author's sharp-tongued wit and intelligence.A challenging and rewarding read from the man John Bayley called the godmonster of Hampstead, this is bound to cause a stir.