It’s not France, food and magic. It’s not chocolate-scented passion, nor the timelessness of mother-daughter love. This time, it is chalk dust and paper planes; Latin lessons and green playing fields; practical jokes and crime, both petty and serious. But it tastes just as good.
Set within the sprawling mellowed stone of St. Oswald's Grammar School for Boys, Joanne Harris’ Gentlemen & Players is a classic closed society ‘whodunnit’, driven by dramatic irony and skeletons in the stock-cupboard. And for the reader, it is nose-buried-deep-in-the-pages delight.
Gentlemen has two narrators: the gruff romantic and veteran Latin master, Roy Straitley, and the faceless impostor, ‘Mole’, bent on crumbling St. Oswald's to its very foundations. Amidst proliferating vermin, weird traditions, staff-room idiosyncrasy and sudden death, the story unfolds – a hugely enjoyable lesson on the consequences of envy and elitism.
Set within the sprawling mellowed stone of St. Oswald's Grammar School for Boys, Joanne Harris’ Gentlemen & Players is a classic closed society ‘whodunnit’, driven by dramatic irony and skeletons in the stock-cupboard. And for the reader, it is nose-buried-deep-in-the-pages delight.
Gentlemen has two narrators: the gruff romantic and veteran Latin master, Roy Straitley, and the faceless impostor, ‘Mole’, bent on crumbling St. Oswald's to its very foundations. Amidst proliferating vermin, weird traditions, staff-room idiosyncrasy and sudden death, the story unfolds – a hugely enjoyable lesson on the consequences of envy and elitism.
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