Orwell:
The Authorised Biography by Michael Sheldon. Hardcover book published
by HarperCollins 1991, 497 pages with a few black and white
photographs.
In
his probing and revelatory biography of one of the great prose
stylists of this century, Michael Shelden breaks new ground in the
evocation of George Orwell’s personal life and in our understanding
of his art. Based on original interviews, previously undiscovered
letters and documents, and astute literary detective work by Shelden,
Orwell is the major biography of one of the great yet elusive
literary figures of our time. The Cold War helped make Orwell a
successful author by turning him into an anti- Communist icon, but
Michael Shelden’s biography renews our appreciation of his place in
literary, as opposed to political, history. Few writers have had as
exciting a life as Orwell’s. An Old Etonian and an officer in the
Indian Imperial Police, he was also a dishwasher in a Paris hotel, a
hop picker in Kent, an investigative journalist, a wounded veteran of
the Spanish Civil War, a celebrated novelist, and—like Keats and D.
H. Lawrence before him—a dreamer whose life was cut short by
tuberculosis.
All
literary biographies are equal, but some literary biographies are
more equal than others.
A few
years back I wrote about a biography of Eric's second wife Sonia. I still
stand by my comments regarding my experiences re the selling of
second hand literary Biographies. They don't sell... not on line and
not here in Clunes. So why have I picked up another one?
My
relationship with Orwell goes back a long way. When I was in my
teens my mother kindly and with great insight, bought me a book club
edition of Animal Farm and 1984 in the one volume. It was a
hardcover with the most boring book club dust jacket imaginable.
Fortunately, the contents were of considerably more interest than the
dust jacket and both stories were devoured with gusto. I'll be
honest though, it was 1984 that really struck a chord with me. I
enjoyed Animal Farm but 1984 with all it's bleak, oppressive, cabbage
smelling darkness, was the true eye opener. Orwell's world is grim,
so enticingly grim, that I have reread 1984 at least half a dozen
times in the last 35 years. This may say more about me than it does
about Orwell.
Unlike
Will Self I find
Orwell's work to be far from mediocre and I know i'm not alone.
Simon Scharma's enthusiasm
for Orwell's The Road to Wigan Pier, lead me to track down a copy
which I promptly read ahead of all the other books in the pile
waiting to be read... which is the same pile I ignored earlier this
year when I decided it was time to read 1984 once again. I don't
want to sound trivial but I found that all of the stuff Orwell wrote
about tripe in Wigan Pier to be just as horrific as Winston's
encounter with the rat. Whenever anyone mentions tripe, I think of
Orwell... not that this happens all that often, but it does
occasionally come up in conversation.
It's a
long story which I wont go into any detail about (if you really want
to know click here), but
whilst sitting in a lung clinic waiting room in London many years
ago, breathlessly waiting to see a doctor, I noticed a sign on the
wall with a list of all the famous patients who had visited this
particular clinic... and there on the list was Eric Blair (George
Orwell). Yep, George and I have something in common in that we both
have had lung issues* and have both visited this particular clinic.
OK, it was a few years apart, but I do feel a certain tenuous,
breathless, respiratory connection with him all the same.
So along
comes a biography of someone I feel is not just another hack writer,
but someone who has left an impression on me... and has done this
more than once in my life and I figure that a biography of this bloke
can't be a bad thing. This is why I now have another literary
biography for sale...
*No. I
dont have TB.
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