Amazon.com Review

With his actor's ear for dialogue, his dead-on pacing, and his talent for social comedy, British playwright Alan Bennett (The Madness of King George) is hardly lacking in literary gifts. The three stories in The Laying On of Hands, two of which have been filmed by the BBC, are funny in different ways. The title piece is a slow-to-ripen satire set at the Anglican funeral service of a handsome young masseur, whose clients turn out to include cabinet ministers, soap opera stars, and the presiding clergyman. The second story, "Miss Fozzard Finds Her Feet," describes the odd relationship a pure-minded middle-aged woman develops with her charming chiropodist (podiatrist). And the final story, "Father! Father! Burning Bright," follows a mousy schoolteacher named Midgley through the self-searching and nurse-hunting days preceding his father's death in Intensive Care. The range and subtle coloration of Bennett's humor will appeal, especially, to readers of Robertson Davies and Muriel Spark. --Regina Marler

From Publishers Weekly

Bennett hits the mark in the title novella of this brief collection, which also features a second, shorter novella as well as a single short story. The funeral of a masseur who serviced British celebrities in a variety of ways becomes the setting for a cheeky comedy of manners in the title yarn, as a young gay priest fails his first big test when he lets the final testimonials turn into an outrageous debate over whether the masseur died of AIDS or contracted an obscure disease while traveling in South America. The punch line falls flat in the second effort, "Miss Fozzard Finds Her Feet," when a woman finds a mutual outlet for her unusual sexual fetish in her ongoing appointments with her podiatrist. The final novella, "Father! Father! Burning Bright," gets off to a murky start as a married, middle-aged schoolteacher struggles to sort through his mixed emotions when a stroke leaves his father at death's door, but the ending, involving the teacher's strange attraction to his father's comely nurse, closes the narrative with a nice satiric twist. Bennett's multileveled approach makes the title story work, as he slowly layers his conceit with observations on the celebrity scene in Britain and the priest's recollections of his romantic interaction with the deceased. Unfortunately, the quality of craft drops significantly in the other two efforts, with the second novella in particular focusing more on manners than comedy.
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Life imitates art in The Lady in the Van, the story of the itinerant Miss Shepherd, who lived in a van in Alan Bennett's driveway from the early1970s until her death in 1989. It is doubtful that Bennett could have made up the eccentric Miss Shepherd if he tried, but his poignant, funny but unsentimental account of their strange relationship is akin to his best fictional screen writing.Bennett concedes that "One seldom was able to do her a good turn without some thoughts of strangulation", but as the plastic bags build up, the years pass by and Miss Shepherd moves into Bennett's driveway, a relationship is established which defines a certain moment in late 20th-century London life which has probably gone forever. The dissenting, liberal, middle-class world of Bennett and his peers comes into hilarious but also telling collision with the world of Miss Shepherd: "there was a gap between our social position and our social obligations. It was in this gap that Miss Shepherd (in her van) was able to live". Bennett recounts Miss Shepherd's bizarre escapades in his inimitable style, from her letter to the Argentinean Embassy at the height of the Falklands War, to her attempts to stand for Parliament and wangle an electric wheelchair out of the Social Services. Beautifully observed, The Lady in the Van is as notable for Bennett's attempts to uncover the enigmatic history of Miss Shepherd, as it is for its amusing account of her eccentric escapades. --Jerry Brotton

Benjamin Britten, sailing uncomfortably close to the wind with his new opera, Death in Venice, seeks advice from his former collaborator and friend, W. H. Auden. During this imagined meeting, their first in twenty-five years, they are observed and interrupted by, among others, their future biographer and a young man from the local bus station. Alan Bennett’s new play is as much about the theater as it is about poetry or music. It looks at the unsettling desires of two difficult men, and at the ethics of biography. It reflects on growing old, on creativity and inspiration, and on persisting when all passion’s spent: ultimately, on the habit of art.**