Clifford Makins

I was prompted to read this novel following reports of the recent death of Ted Dexter, one of the great post-war English batsmen, and a powerful force in the game of cricket. A natural athlete, he was also a notable tennis player, and was reckoned to be within a whisker of securing his Blue at Cambridge for both rugby and tennis. I remember enjoying his contributions to the coverage of Test matches during the 1970s and 1980s, not least for the frequent distant stare that settled on his features in the afternoon, following what had presumably been a liquid lunch.

Alcohol seems to be almost as prominent a feature of this novel, set during the Lords Test in the middle of the Ashes series, as cricket. Scarcely more than a few minutes elapse without one character or another reaching for a drink.

Overall, this book was disappointing. While the depictions of the cricket match against which the story is set are glorious, and resonant with Dexter’s expert insight, the story and the characters are woefully inadequate.… (altro)