Reread Vile Bodies recently, apropos of an interest in the Bright Young Things phenomenon, and found it so mean-spirited that I abandoned plan to reread rest of Waugh’s fiction. But I did pick up his diary and read it in sections, interspersed with his travel books, and found this a more rewarding experience. Waugh reveals himself as a bit of a shit, undeniably, and an alcoholic from early on, but with a vulnerable side which is not unattractive. And a lifelong dedication to his literary vocation. Certainly the diaries should be a must-read for fans of Waugh’s novels, but they have independent interest as a “portrait of the artist” and of course the literary and social circle in which he moved.