"A wickedly witty and iridescent novel" ( Time ) from one of England's greatest satirists takes aim at the generation of Bright Young Things that dominated London high society in the 1920s. In the years following the First World War a new generation emerged, wistful and vulnerable beneath the glitter. The Bright Young Things of 1920s London, with their paradoxical mix of innocence and sophistication, exercised their inventive minds and vile bodies in every kind of capricious escapade. In these pages a vivid assortment of characters, among them the struggling writer Adam Fenwick-Symes and the glamorous, aristocratic Nina Blount, hunt fast and furiously for ever greater sensations and the hedonistic fulfillment of their desires. Evelyn Waugh's acidly funny satire reveals the darkness and vulnerability beneath the sparkling surface of the high life. "It may shock you, but it will make you laugh."― New York Times "A wickedly witty and iridescent novel."― TIME "A hectic piece of savage satire....I laughed until I was driven out of the room."― V.S. Pritchett , The Spectator "Evelyn Waugh is a satirist, no doubt, but not a skeptic, for he believes, and proves, that amusement can be depriced from the most unpromising material, from people, that is, whose one occupation in life is the quest for amusement, people who give and attend parties."― Saturday Review "A savage study in public and private morals....It is uproarious. It is also ferocious."― John K. Hutchens , New York Times "Wonderfully funny."― Jessica Mitford , LIFE Evelyn Waugh (1903-1966), whom Time called "one of the century's great masters of English prose," wrote several widely acclaimed novels as well as volumes of biography, memoir, travel writing, and journalism. Three of his novels, A Handful of Dust, Scoop, and Brideshead Revisited, were selected by the Modern Library as among the 100 best novels of the twentieth century. Vile Bodies By Evelyn Waugh Little, Brown and Company Copyright © 2012 Evelyn Waugh All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-316-21634-0 CHAPTER 1 It was clearly going to be a bad crossing. With Asiatic resignation Father Rothschild S. J. put down his suitcase in thecorner of the bar and went on deck. (It was a small suitcase of imitationcrocodile hide. The initials stamped on it in Gothic characters were not FatherRothschild's, for he had borrowed it that morning from the valet-de-chambre of his hotel. It contained some rudimentary underclothes, siximportant new books in six languages, a false beard and a school atlas andgazetteer heavily annotated.) Standing on the deck Father Rothschild leaned hiselbows on the rail, rested his chin in his hands and surveyed the procession ofpassengers coming up the gangway, each face eloquent of polite misgiving. Very few of them were unknown to the Jesuit, for it was his happy knack toremember everything that could possibly be learned about everyone who couldpossibly be of any importance. His tongue protruded very slightly and, had theynot all been so concerned with luggage and the weather, someone might haveobserved in him a peculiar resemblance to those plaster reproductions of thegargoyles of Notre Dame which may be seen in the shop windows of artists'colormen tinted the color of "Old Ivory," peering intently from among stenciloutfits and plasticine and tubes of watercolor paint. High above his head swungMrs. Melrose Ape's travel-worn Packard car, bearing the dust of threecontinents, against the darkening sky, and up the companion-way at the head ofher angels strode Mrs. Melrose Ape, the woman evangelist. "Faith." "Here, Mrs. Ape." "Charity." "Here, Mrs. Ape." "Fortitude." "Here, Mrs. Ape." "Chastity ... Where is Chastity?" "Chastity didn't feel well, Mrs. Ape. She went below." "That girl's more trouble than she's worth. Whenever there's any packing to bedone, Chastity doesn't feel well. Are all the rest here—Humility,Prudence, Divine Discontent, Mercy, Justice and Creative Endeavor?" "Creative Endeavor lost her wings, Mrs. Ape. She got talking to a gentleman inthe train ... Oh, there she is." "Got 'em?" asked Mrs. Ape. Too breathless to speak, Creative Endeavor nodded. (Each of the angels carriedher wings in a little black box like a violin case.) "Right," said Mrs. Ape, "and just you hold on to 'em tight and not so muchtalking to gentlemen in trains. You're angels, not a panto, see?" The angels crowded together disconsolately. It was awful when Mrs. Ape was likethis. My, how they would pinch Chastity and Creative Endeavor when they got themalone in their nightshirts. It was bad enough their going to be so sick withoutthat they had Mrs. Ape pitching into them too. Seeing their discomfort, Mrs. Ape softened and smiled. She was nothing if not"magnetic." "Well, girls," she said, "I must be getting along. They say it's going to berough, but don't you believe it. If you have peace in your hearts your stomachwill look after itself, and remember if you do