A delicious little read. Why? Because these two salesmen think they're such Casanovas That they can get away with treating their wives any old way they want, and you're just biding your time, enjoying this crafting of lousy characters and waiting for them to get enough rope to hang themselves. ( )

Young businessmen on the make don't change much over the decades, so this entertaining and insightful novel hasn't loss a bit of its relevance - it's "period" and evergreen at the same time. Aficionados of menswear will have a grand time reading this book, from the very first page where the guys are discussing clocked socks and pink shirts with detachable white collars. ( )

It's uncanny when you read a novel that transcends its plot and becomes something else, all in the space of just a handful of pages. "Angels on Toast" is just that kind of literary sustenance, much more a meal than, say, what seems in comparison to be a vapid moment-in-time book, the current social novels I've read recently like "The Emporer's Children" or "All We Ever Wanted Was Everything," novels that offer crumbs of insight and only scant entertainment. I've heard of but had never read any of Dawn Powell's work until I bought this title, and I can see now why she engendered a loyal following. "Angels on Toast" manages to be several things at once: it is a prescient critique of the rise of business and how from that ascent the American Dream is spun from vapor but ultimately falls flat; it is a psychological gender study that examines the plight of the white collar man, his harping and tragic wife (or wives), and the lures of the manipulative but self-preserving mistress. These characters might be stock in the mind of a lesser writer, but Powell achieves, with flair, to painstakingly mold the individual worlds of each of the three main characters so that the stock situation, when met by society's expectations, renders something far beyond a traditional American tragedy or even a comedy of manners. If you're tempted to try "Angels on Toast," pay attention to Powell's focus on light, how it enters the room, how it shines on or evades the scene, whether its source is from nature or incandescence. The lights help us piece together the novel's mysteries of love and desire, even as they are unraveled and laid bare right in front of our eyes. ( )