Hangover Square by Patrick Hamilton

This is one of those books that I felt obliged to read because it's a 'classic' and it seemed like just my thing; 1930s London, hopeless love, sadness, etc. Plus I really liked Hamilton's Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Sky. This novel is really really good, and indescribably depressing. I'm really regretting having read it, because I spent the entire time reading it in just a bubble of anxious sadness and cried at least once. The main characters is so incredibly pathetic that I wanted to simultaneously have hysterics and throw the book into the river. It felt like the entire story was a continuous ending; it's full of encounters that it emphasises will never be repeated, of last times of doing things and going places, of the recollection of past events and people. One of the most important people in the main character's life, his sister Ellen, has been dead for years, and he seems to be trying to find her again. I also found the experience of reading this slightly bewildering, because I'm one of those people who has one glass of red wine and is ready to have a good cry and go to bed, while the people in this novel just drink seemingly continuously, having one drink after another. I just can't wrap my head around how anyone can consume that much alcohol. Almost every part starts with a quote from Milton's Samson Agonistes (which I had to read this year), and I'm not sure exactly what that was for, but it was a very interesting device, putting the story of a mentally ill alcoholic into the framework of a seemingly heroic story. I'd have to think a lot more before I can say what I think the meaning of that is, and I frankly don't want to think about this book for another second longer.