For a writer, voice is the problem that never lets you go. For a reader, voice is a profound mystery. What is it? How does it develop and why should it even matter? How does the reader hear and respond to an authentic voice, and what happens when the cult of personality threatens to subvert it? These are some of the slippery questions The Writer's Voice addresses with confidence and clarity.

Aspiring young writers often confuse voice with stylishness, but the voice that matters has the whole weight of a life, however young, behind it. In this compelling book, renowned poet, author, and critic A. Alvarez defines "voice" as the vehicle by which a writer expresses his aliveness, hooks his readers, and keeps them listening. These powerful reflections from a lifetime's experience belong alongside John Gardner's The Art of Fiction, E. M. Forster's Aspects of the Novel, and William Zinsser's On Writing Well.

Much of the liveliness of Alvarez's story is inspired by an ambiguous fate of being an English Jew. Although the families of both his parents had been settled in London for more than two centuries and in many ways were more English than the English, being Jewish made them always feel like outsiders, foreigners in their own country. Some of them prospered-his mother's family were to become the owners of one of the largest catering operations in the UK-but that didn't stop them from worrying about their place in the scheme of things. Al Alvarez, only son of his line, has written a wonderfully ironic memoir of his troublesome family inheritance and an intensely funny book. From the opening moments, when his shrewd but absentminded mother interprets Hitler's ranting on the radio as a recipe for a favorite dish, it is packed with amusing anecdotes.

Alvarez was sent to Oundle, an English private school with a strenuous regimen that transformed him from a delicate child into a boxer and rugby player. From there he went on to Oxford, where his literary gifts began to flourish, and an academic career beckoned. But Alvarez chose instead to embark on a life as a freelance writer. His famous anthology The New Poetry scandalized the literary community with its selections-and omissions-yet swiftly became part of the curriculum in schools. As poetry editor of The Observer, he introduced British readers to a host of new writers from America and Central Europe-John Berryman, Robert Lowell, Sylvia Plath, Zbigniew Herbert, and Miroslav Holub-all of whom became established names in the literary canon. Meanwhile he climbed mountains, played poker, and wrote books about his pastimes that are now regarded as classics. He also wrote a courageous book about divorce and another about his time in the North Sea oil fields.

Alvarez has rarely done what was expected of him, and in echoing his friend Zero Mostel's cry from The Producers for the title of his book he shows his astonishment that, despite his determination to go his own way, he has somehow contrived to live happily ever after. Where Did It All Go Right? is his memorable, irreverent account of that journey.