by Graham Swift (London: Picador, 1996)
“I see him scratch
his neck and reset his cap. I see him light up a snout, dicky chest or no dicky
chest, and breathe out the first drag, bottom lip jutting, then rub his chin
with the tip of his thumb, cigarette between his fingers, then run the ball of
his thumb across his forehead, and I know I do all those things, without
helping it, the same gestures, the same motions.”

Three men,
friends since WWII, have gathered in their local pub to carry out the final
wishes of Jack Dodds, a London butcher who requested that his ashes be
scattered into the sea. Jack’s adopted son Vince drives Ray, Vic and Lenny to the
pier at Margate and as they travel, we learn their history. Each chapter, some
just a page or two long, is narrated by a different person in the form of an
interior monologue but Ray also talks us through the men’s road trip and so
becomes the centre of consciousness in the book. Years of friendship and
resentments lie behind every comment made and as the book progresses, we learn
why none of their wives came along. Winner of the 1996 Booker Prize, Last Orders makes wonderful use of
English working-class slang (snouts, daffs, aint) and tells the story of four
families through an interwoven series of conversations, shifting between times
and tenses, memories and revelations.
Watch a trailer for the film
adaptation of Last Orders here.