Tom Sharpe

Wilt

Henry has been passed over for a promotion yet again at his university job. Things are no better at home with his wife, Eva. Wilt can do nothing about his job, but he realizes he can do something about his wife - as each day passes, his fantasies grow more murderous and more real.

Nelson Zagalo

Comédia inteligente, carregada de sátira e humor negro. O pior são os clichés algo datados dos anos 1970, e os personagens por vezes demasiado previsíveis. Ainda assim envolve-nos bem, a ponto de estar a passear na rua e começar a rir-me sozinho ao recordar sequências do livro. Uma leitura leve, ainda que engenhosa, capaz de nos proporcionar momentos de muito boa disposição.

Liam Byrne 

In 2013, I hated reading ‘Gone Girl’. Whilst eminently a page turner, it left me completely cold by the end. I had no sympathy for either of the main protagonists and thusly didn’t care one jot about what happened. Neither the ending, nor any real interest in ‘what happened next’ could get me past the complete lack of interest I had by the time I read the final page.

Perhaps it is the near-six years removed from this disappointment and the passage of time in my own life turning me into a more beleaguered and bitter middle aged man (or so I – perhaps hyperbolically – believe), but ‘Wilt’ and its complete lack of truly likeable characters works completely in its favour. From Wilt himself, to his wife, to the Pringsheims, the police force and the professors who form the bulk of the moving parts of this novel, everyone is presented in a fashion that rarely lends itself to likeability, yet they are generally grounded enough in reality to at least earn some sort of empathy for the position they find themselves in. The mediocre mundanity of Wilt’s life, the frustrations of Inspector Flint at being outmatched and outmanoeuvred constantly in what feels like an open-and-shut case, the desire for betterment of Eva Wilt that often transcends rational thought; they are all at least understandable, if not empathetical. 

When referring to things being grounded in reality, it is worth noting that this is a complete farce from beginning to end. Any story that hinges primarily on an inflatable sex doll as a core part of the plot couldn’t be anything other than farcical in nature, yet it is the darkness that permeates throughout ‘Wilt’ that lifts it above some of the lazier comedic tales over the years. With an opening chapter that begins with the main character fantasizing about killing his wife, Sharpe sets his stall out early and never really moves away from this mood even when a health concern over a batch of pork pies and an alcoholic priest finds its way into the narrative. It is this combination that makes it feel uniquely British in some ways: there is generally nothing many of us don’t enjoy about a dick or fart joke, nor often one that lands slightly nearer the knuckle.

Though the argument could be made for none of the characters really earning the right to be considered charming or amiable, there are some surprisingly rewarding moments that rise above the slightly more cynical tone that is often set. Seeing Wilt rise above his usual ordinary standing in life to make the most of his unfortunate incarceration is heartening in places, though you get the sense that things will only return to normal in the long term no matter how things are left for the poor sod. Similarly, Wilt and Eve even think fondly of each other for a page or two – absence perhaps making the heart grow fonder – but those thoughts are quickly repressed as normality ensues by the time things have been resolved.

Having finished the book and thoroughly enjoyed it, I feel that the concern for some readers will be singular – to what extent am I Wilt? Though the eponymous antagonist is almost too exaggerated to be representative of a single person, there are enough knowing parts about his nature that I feel many a person might guiltily recognise as a feature of their own personality. By the end of the book, he isn’t far enough away from me for my liking, but that’s what makes Sharpe’s characterisation so effective, even fourty years later.

Wilt

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