Such a darling, well-mannered Dodo
Patrick Reade
A JOHN VERNEY COLLECTION introduced by Craig Brown
The Alastair Press, £7.95, pp. 96
Sit John Verney is a man for whom self-depreciation is a part of good manners and the theme that runs through his life is an alliance of good manners and under- statement. Given a compliment, he airily waves a dismissive hand in the direction of his paintings and declares that they are the happy consequence of a chance observa- tion and scratching around in his studio. Without waiting for the next word of flattery to fall from the lips, he regales you with tales where the breech of pompous etiquette is raised to the status of art.
The composition of his persona is dedi- cated to the pursuit of relaxed enjoyment, especially when equipped with a flagon of red wine and his vade mecum of increasing- ly mild cigarettes. In his jacket sporting a few splashes of paint, and a tie from which a decade of grandchildren have hung, he presents an image of benign rural retreat. Yet from this station he is able to beguile both in pen and person because of the sum of things which have gone before — joining a cavalry regiment, trying to make films in their heyday, fighting with the SAS and, above all, years working as an artist.
This collection of pieces is a typical Verney confection — easy to consume with the waifer qualities of cartoon and carica- ture demonstrating a legerdemain matched by the gentle wit of his short stories. There is no doubt this book will find its natural home in the guest bedroom or the loo, where visitors can spend a few minutes being transported to a world of penuried culture. Despite the title, despite Eton and Christ Church, there is no exhibition of class; rather, there is a sense of the dislocation that an artist suffers from in- stitutions, the army, embassy life, the giant film corporations and from society, high and low.
The stories are often predicated by the notion of Verney as underdog — not so much victim, more the opponent whose measure you hadn't got. He is certainly a survivor from a hard war and captivity.
In the most rudimentary conditions he draws comfort during his midwinter escape in the Abruzzi from the courage and generosity shown to him by the simplest Italian farmer. He is always able to ack- nowledge decent human behaviour and is quick to deflate any swollen ego — some- times his own. The pleasure the cartoons bring are quite different, for here he characterises with his pen sexual innuendo and a great number of linguistic jokes transmuted into visual wit.
It is typical that he should be best known for his annual desk-top diary in which the principal motivating form is the Dodo. John Verney plays the role of Dodo, and in some way the part is appropriate, for this country does not support many artistic soldiers who have endured a degree of low life following their first-class education. All this is the prefix to his creative work in film and illustration. But the painting baronet with a couple of gongs is fairly Dodesque and this is the chance to catch sight of the creature before someone steals the last egg.
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