The Company You Keep

At last, in serious company in the window of Waterstone's in Camden High Street, London!

Sybille Bedford Centenary

The novelist Sybille Bedford (1911-2006) who would have been 100 tomorrow, has been getting a lot of coverage in the papers recently.  One of those stylish and elegant writers who have a following but who never seem quite to capture the "mass literary fiction" market, to coin an unpleasant phrase, Sybille Bedford was a great friend of the novelist Aldous Huxley and even more so his wife, Maria, and became Huxley's first official biographer, her two volumes appearing in 1972-3.  When, thirty years later, I came to write the next full biography of Huxley [Aldous Huxley: An English Intellectual (2002)] I beat a path to her door in Chelsea.  I have written about this in a long piece for the magazine Areté [No 20, Spring/Summer 2006, not online] and also a shorter tribute in the memorial volume: Sybille Bedford: In Memory (2007).  Sybille, notorious for her acid way with people she didn't like, was extremely kind and helpful to me with my biography of Huxley and gave me a great deal of valuable information and insight when we spoke together over a glass of wine in her dark (she had problems with her eyesight) Chelsea basement flat on several occasions.  I have been struck by the recent tributes to her which have tended in the main to consist of posh literati reminiscing about posh Sybille (she was of Austrian blue blood) but I am not posh and it is worth recording that she could not have treated me with more generosity and respect.  Some of her novels are being reissued this week but they are easy to find second hand as Penguin Modern Classics (not all that neglected then).  Good old Sybille.

A Time for Outrage: Stéphane Hessel

The surprise best-seller in France last year was a pamphlet from the Montpellier-based Indigène éditions, who specialise in giving a voice to third world and other "natives" closer to home, those who challenge the consensus, or as their slogan has it: "Ceux qui marchent contre le vent."  This little publishing house suddenly found itself with a success on its hands that sold over 600,000 copies in the run-up to Christmas where people seemed to be giving it to each other as a stocking filler.  The author, Stéphane Hessel, 93, a survivor of Buchenwald, a member of the French Resistance, and one of the drafters of the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and an international diplomat, issued this passionate call to arms (I would translate it as: Get Angry!) particularly addressed to the young, to resist once more the negative political forces of our time.  He is the polar opposite of crass right wing media stars like Niall Fergusson and he seems to have struck a chord in France.

Now he is published in Britain as A Time for Outrage and it will be very interesting to see how he fares in a politically comatose country where even the Governor of the Bank of England is baffled at our failure to be more angry at what the bankers have done to us.   Already there have been sneers against Hessel to the effect that it is all words and no programme.  But this is to miss the point.  He is not a policy wonk, he is a man who is enraged, and wants us to be enraged.  He is trying to inspire.  He is invoking a spirit of resistance, of nay-saying, of dissent.  This doesn't play well in Britain where, slumped in front of our computer screens, we have got out of the habit of fighting back – though it's good news that a majority of people, according to a recent poll, are already bored to death with the idea of the fatuous Royal Wedding.

A personal footnote: I used a quotation from Indignez-vous! as the epigraph to my new verse broadside against the coalition government, Get Real!  

Get both!

The Red Sweet Wine of Youth: the British First World War Poets Launched in London

Tomorrow night in London at King's College in The Strand I will be in conversation with Max Saunders, biographer of Ford Madox Ford, talking about my new book about the British poets of the First World War: The Red Sweet Wine of Youth (Little, Brown).  This event takes place in The Anatomy Museum so bring your intellectual scalpels along at 6.30pm.  It's free and there are refreshments.  The book, just published, has already been reviewed favourably in The Financial Times and The Wall Street Journal though I have to say, for the world of global finance, it doesn't have any special message that I can work out!  See also this and this from Dermot Bolger.  I am also very pleased to have been recommended by the War Poets blog of Tim Kendall, a leading British expert on war poetry and Professor of English at Exeter University.

Oscar Wilde Week Begins!

Over at the always excellent Baroque in Hackney blog news of the start of Oscar Wilde Week in conjunction with Esoteric London blog.  Go to!

We approve very much of Wilde here at BB so more power to their joint elbows.

Another piece of scintillating news.  After rejecting Twitter and flouncing out of its room 18 months ago, claiming that it was a waste of time, I have now slyly crept back in as @bloomsburyman.  I am going to give it another go but equally determined not to let it take over my trivia-time.

Get Real!

Today's Times Literary Supplement has an item about my new satirical broadside Get Real! (Rack Press) aimed at those nice people in the coalition Government.  In the diary column the notoriously stringent critic, "J.C." is very complimentary.  Details of how to order this can be found at the Rack Press website.  If you live in London you can buy it over the counter at the London Review Bookshop in Bury Place or Bookmarks in Bloomsbury Street.

The Red Sweet Wine of Youth: the British First World War Poets

Today is publication day of my new book on the British poets of the First World War, The Red Sweet Wine of Youth and I am writing this on a train to Liverpool where Radio Merseyside is to have the privilege of being the first to talk to me about it.  This is my fourteenth (or twelfth, depending on how you categorise a couple of publications that are hardly book-length) since my first book was published in 1993 and maybe it's time to pause for breath...well, until after the weekend at any rate.

Like most of my fellow-writers of more-or-less-serious books the struggle to survive gets harder. Reading The Author, the journal of the Society of Authors, is a sort of mediaeval penance, a glum self-scourging, and most writers I know are ducking and diving, teaching and preaching, hustling for some tossed coin of fugitive income.  Delightful reviews, the positive responses of one's friends, even the fleeting sight of one of one's books in a branch of Waterstone's, never seem to make any inroads into penury.

But it's fun to write, or we wouldn't be doing it, and the spectacle of writers bleating is never an edifying one.

News that a reprint of TRSWOY (as the emails now have it) of 2000 hardback copies, was ordered even before publication day is heartening.  I hope you enjoy it.

Update: a review from the Financial Times of 12 February 2011