If you ever see me at a party, I’ll probably be standing off to the side, looking slightly lost, staring at my drink. Maybe you’re like that too: introverted, awkward, thirsty. Delighted to meet you. And since we’re here, can I introduce you to my friend Philip? Or maybe you’ve already met.

The posthumous publication of Larkin’s letters revealed him to be something uglier than a garden curmudgeon. The private expressions of misogyny, anti-Semitism and xenophobia that he shared with his friends have tarnished his reputation in the years since his death.

If he has not been completely canceled, it may be because his gift of self-cancellation makes such censorship superfluous. Larkin writes from the perspective of someone who is disconnected, out of sync, and moody, with himself and everyone around him. He’ll never be part of the party and you might wonder why anyone invited him in the first place.

Still, it’s good to see him there. On the one hand, it’s nice to know that someone may be having a worse time than you. He even has a theory about why some people have a better time than others; in fact, he is an expert on the subject.

Misery loves company, and this wretch turns out to be just the companion you’re looking for, at least until you find another drink.