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In David Lodge's last novel, THINKS... the novelist Henry James was invisibly present in quotation and allusion. In AUTHOR, AUTHOR he is centre stage, sometimes literally. The story begins in December 1915, with the dying author surrounded by his relatives and servants, most of whom have private anxieties of their own, then loops back to the 1880s, to chart the course of Henry's 'middle years', focusing particularly on his friendship with the genial Punch artist and illustrator, George Du Maurier, and his intimate but chaste relationship with the American writer Constance Fenimore Woolson. By the end of the decade Henry is seriously worried by the failure of his books to 'sell', and decides to try and achieve fame and fortune as a playwright, at the same time that George Du Maurier, whose sight is failing, diversifies into writing novels. The consequences, for both men, are surprising, ironic, comic and tragic by turns, reaching a climax in the years 1894-5. As Du Maurier's Trilby, to the bewilderment of its author himself, becomes the bestseller of the century, Henry anxiously awaits the first night of his make-or-break play, Guy Domville... Thronged with vividly drawn characters, some of them with famous names, others recovered from obscurity, AUTHOR, AUTHOR presents a fascinating panorama of literary and theatrical life in late Victorian England, which in many ways foreshadowed today's cultural mix of art, commerce and publicity. But it is essentially a novel about authorship - about the obsessions, hopes, dreams, triumphs and disappointments, of those who live by the pen - with, at its centre, a characterisation of one writer, rendered with empathy.… (more)
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Despite such difficult starting points, the book manages to be an intellectual, satisfying read. Set in the late nineteenth century, the bulk of the story follows James's career as he attempts to become a playwright. During this time he comes into contact with names that were later to become the leading thinkers of the age. James himself is portrayed as pompous, self-absorbed and snobbish, a self-appointed judge of literature whose vanity and lumbering seriousness often make him ridiculous. Yet despite this, the portrayal of James is not without sympathy; Lodge may add some knowing smiles in the middle of James's brooding about his lack of success, but this is the closest the character gets to two-dimensional. Flawed and sensitive, James's stubborn elitism (however scathing in private) rarely becomes unkind words, and his self-righteous is tinged by a sneaking suspicion that he may just be right - and his own gloomy surveys of his own behaviour.
Author! Author! could never be a page-turner in the traditional sense, but as a gentle piece of intellectual nourishment it is a definite success.
Lodge has done plenty of research and makes use of quotes from actual letters and diaries. I think he was imitating James in the broad social sweep of his work – it's a portrait of a group rather than an individual – and also to a certain extent in his style, although this is largely through long sentences.
But – with the exception of the chapter about the ill-fated play, which explains very well how the debacle actually happened – for most of the book I was wondering what the point was.
James comes across as a man prone to embarrassment and awkwardness who finds it difficult to make the emotional commitment, especially to women, that underlies a real connection. But he doesn't make a very human character and I found it hard to care about him. (From what I remember of The Master, which I read 18 months ago, that Henry James is more sympathetic because he is more keenly aware of his failings).
Unfortunately, I struggled to finish the book. Again, it was well written, and I typically love writings set in the late 19th century, but it failed to capture my full attention. Likely by biggest distraction is that I have never read anything by Henry James. As the book progresses, it become clear that certain events described earlier in the book end up being the plot devices for works he later writes. Since I didn’t know the works, I missed the build-up. As a result, I failed to see the point of the book for about the first half. Now the flipside of that, since I have no knowledge of his works, it was always a surprise to me when one was successful or a failure. It’s like reading about a war and not knowing who’s going to win.
The end of the book picked up, and I found a strong desire to see how it would end. But overall, it was a mediocre experience – possibly better enjoyed by someone with a more refined literary background than my own.