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Works on Paper
Works on Paper is a selection by one of today's leading biographers from his lectures, essays, and reviews written over the last quarter of a century—mainly on the craft of biography and autobiography, but also covering what Michael Holroyd describes as his "enthusiasms and alibis".
Opening with a startling attack on biography, which is answered by two essays on the ethics and values of non–fiction writing, the book goes on to examine the work of several contemporary biographers, the place of biography in fiction and of fiction in biography, and the revelations of some extravagant autobiographers, from Osbert Sitwell to Quentin Crisp—to which he adds some adventures of his own, in particular an important and unpublished piece The Making of GBS, a riveting story of internecine literary warfare.
The book ends with a series of satires, celebrations, apologias and polemics which throw light not only on Michael Holroyd's progress as a biographer, but also his record as an embattled campaigner in the field of present–day literary politics.
Opening with a startling attack on biography, which is answered by two essays on the ethics and values of non–fiction writing, the book goes on to examine the work of several contemporary biographers, the place of biography in fiction and of fiction in biography, and the revelations of some extravagant autobiographers, from Osbert Sitwell to Quentin Crisp—to which he adds some adventures of his own, in particular an important and unpublished piece The Making of GBS, a riveting story of internecine literary warfare.
The book ends with a series of satires, celebrations, apologias and polemics which throw light not only on Michael Holroyd's progress as a biographer, but also his record as an embattled campaigner in the field of present–day literary politics.
- GenresNonfictionBiography
336 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2002
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39 people want to read
About the author
Michael Holroyd
139 books46 followersMichael Holroyd is the author of acclaimed biographies of George Bernard Shaw, the painter Augustus John, Lytton Strachey, and Ellen Terry and Henry Irving, as well as two memoirs, Basil Street Blues and Mosaic. Knighted for his services to literature, he is the president emeritus of the Royal Society of Literature and the only nonfiction writer to have been awarded the David Cohen British Prize for Literature. His previous book, A Strange Eventful History, won the James Tait Black Memorial Prize for biography in 2009. He lives in London with his wife, the novelist Margaret Drabble.
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
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May 21, 2018I am, I confess, something of a biography junkie. Being naturally nosy, I like few things better than reading about the lives of people more interesting and talented than myself. Traditionally I have always bought at least one ‘major’ biography for myself for Christmas, biography being for me the literary equivalent of a luxurious box of chocolates.
I’m particularly partial to biographies of my favourite fiction writers, and have read a few truly great ones, such as Richard Ellmann’s study of Oscar Wilde, and Carole Angier’s on Jean Rhys. But I am occasionally troubled by a feeling of prurience. As revealing as it can be to learn about a writer’s journey towards publication, how they wrote, what fed their writing, I find myself just as interested in the ‘facts’ of these lives that have little or no bearing on the writing. If, as Barthes claims, only the text matters and not the author, where does that leave literary biography?
Whilst it is easy to fall into the trap of reading far too much biographical detail into the works of some writers, is it not also natural for the reader to have some curiosity about the person who created the work? Barthes might wish the author (metaphorically, at least) dead, but without the author, there is no book.
Michael Holroyd’s ‘Works on Paper’ is an exploration of the craft of biography. Many of the articles in the book are reviews of specific biographies, but he begins by setting out the case for and against biography writing. He starts out by playing devil’s advocate, questioning the ethics and purpose of biography, dealing also with the thorny question of how far literary executors should take into account the wishes of authors who request that their papers should be destroyed after their death. Holroyd’s view that ‘Our posthumous selves very likely have different priorities from our living selves. So I do not support the deliberate destruction of papers’ is not entirely convincing. Where authors make specific requests concerning what happens to their papers posthumously, I feel it only ethical that these should be respected.
But Holroyd is right to criticise people whose opinion of their favourite authors alters as a result of reading biographical material (and I have in the past been guilty myself of doing just this). He says, ‘I can remember that when Robert Gittings’s life of Hardy came out many readers were dismayed by the unpleasantness of Hardy’s character, especially in relation to his first wife. Some said they would think less of Hardy as a novelist in future, or feel their enjoyment when reading him clouded. Yet surely this is a very sentimental way of reading literature, a very naïve view of the creative process?’
On the subject of biography generally, Holroyd makes some interesting observations, not least that ‘biography these days is used in the armoury of feminists like Claire Tomalin who have made an art of rediscovering the female experience lost in a male-dominated culture’ and, more generally, that ‘The biographer…attempts to bring [the] hidden life into view. Between the lines of the text lie the invisible lives of the writers. An examination of those blank streams across the page may disturb the text in a surprising way’. Barthes, I’m sure, would disagree, but there are many readers like me who find it illuminating and enriching to learn something of the lives behind their favourite books. This, I think, is an entirely natural and human desire.
‘Works on Paper’ also includes a selection of essays on what Holroyd describes as ‘Enthusiasms and Alibis’. There are essays on Public Lending Rights, Bloomsbury, Holroyd's television habit, a visit to America, and separate essays on Augustus and Gwen John. Holroyd’s style is very readable and un-pretentious. I immediately warm to anyone who describes their schooling thus: ‘Educated at Eton College and Maidenhead Public Library’. [April 2007]
I’m particularly partial to biographies of my favourite fiction writers, and have read a few truly great ones, such as Richard Ellmann’s study of Oscar Wilde, and Carole Angier’s on Jean Rhys. But I am occasionally troubled by a feeling of prurience. As revealing as it can be to learn about a writer’s journey towards publication, how they wrote, what fed their writing, I find myself just as interested in the ‘facts’ of these lives that have little or no bearing on the writing. If, as Barthes claims, only the text matters and not the author, where does that leave literary biography?
Whilst it is easy to fall into the trap of reading far too much biographical detail into the works of some writers, is it not also natural for the reader to have some curiosity about the person who created the work? Barthes might wish the author (metaphorically, at least) dead, but without the author, there is no book.
Michael Holroyd’s ‘Works on Paper’ is an exploration of the craft of biography. Many of the articles in the book are reviews of specific biographies, but he begins by setting out the case for and against biography writing. He starts out by playing devil’s advocate, questioning the ethics and purpose of biography, dealing also with the thorny question of how far literary executors should take into account the wishes of authors who request that their papers should be destroyed after their death. Holroyd’s view that ‘Our posthumous selves very likely have different priorities from our living selves. So I do not support the deliberate destruction of papers’ is not entirely convincing. Where authors make specific requests concerning what happens to their papers posthumously, I feel it only ethical that these should be respected.
But Holroyd is right to criticise people whose opinion of their favourite authors alters as a result of reading biographical material (and I have in the past been guilty myself of doing just this). He says, ‘I can remember that when Robert Gittings’s life of Hardy came out many readers were dismayed by the unpleasantness of Hardy’s character, especially in relation to his first wife. Some said they would think less of Hardy as a novelist in future, or feel their enjoyment when reading him clouded. Yet surely this is a very sentimental way of reading literature, a very naïve view of the creative process?’
On the subject of biography generally, Holroyd makes some interesting observations, not least that ‘biography these days is used in the armoury of feminists like Claire Tomalin who have made an art of rediscovering the female experience lost in a male-dominated culture’ and, more generally, that ‘The biographer…attempts to bring [the] hidden life into view. Between the lines of the text lie the invisible lives of the writers. An examination of those blank streams across the page may disturb the text in a surprising way’. Barthes, I’m sure, would disagree, but there are many readers like me who find it illuminating and enriching to learn something of the lives behind their favourite books. This, I think, is an entirely natural and human desire.
‘Works on Paper’ also includes a selection of essays on what Holroyd describes as ‘Enthusiasms and Alibis’. There are essays on Public Lending Rights, Bloomsbury, Holroyd's television habit, a visit to America, and separate essays on Augustus and Gwen John. Holroyd’s style is very readable and un-pretentious. I immediately warm to anyone who describes their schooling thus: ‘Educated at Eton College and Maidenhead Public Library’. [April 2007]
September 16, 2023
An excellent read.
July 4, 2012
I found Holroyd's commentaries about the craft of biography and the art of memoir to be very helpful.
October 26, 2012
A wwonderful selection of pieces by one of the best biographers of the past century. Highly recommended.
March 18, 2014
Most interesting and Mr. Holroyd has a fabulous vocabulary! I am impressed.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews