Frances Partridge, now recognised as one of the great British diarists, at the age of 101, decided to publish her seventh volume of diaries, which cover her life between the years of 1972 and 1975. Despite over ten years having passed since the deaths of both her husband Ralph and son Burgo, their presence still hovers over these diaries. But never one to give up on life or to wallow in sadness, Frances turns to her friends for sustenance and distraction. She is, as ever, passionate about good conversation and argument, and in this volume there is plenty to the crises in Heath's government, the miners' strike, Bertolucci's new film LAST TANGO IN PARIS, the growing industry of writing about Bloomsbury, and the gradual emergence of drug-taking among the young people she knows.
Frances Partridge CBE was the last surviving member of the Bloomsbury Group. She is most known for her diaries.
Her father was William Cecil Marshall, architect and runner-up in the very first Wimbledon tournament. She was the sister of Ray Garnett and Thomas Marshall.
I have read a lot of biographies and diaries over the years and Frances Partridge's diaries are beyond anything the best I have read. Her use of language and description is so alive and interesting. Not a boring sentence in the entire book. Life is so short and I am unlikely to get back to rereading this book and I am trying to savour every bite by underlining. I cannot remember when I have underlined so much in a book in my life. I just want to somehow gobble it up and retain it and reread it and hold it somehow make it into mine. Her writing is lyrical, expressive.
This is the last of the published diaries, although the author died in 2004. In the Forward, she mentions other unpublished diaries kept in a French wardrobe - will these ever be published? (My copy of this edition has 350 pages.)
The final installment in her series of lifetime journals, and were there more I don't feel I could tackle another anytime soon, if at all. I suppose Bloomsbury fans might find all that name-dropping of interest; I had a great deal of difficulty keeping track of the players (even with copious footnotes and a Cast of Characters), giving up on sorting out all those self-absorbed golden lads and lasses near the end entirely.