Moving on to biographies. Please ignore my wretched ceiling. I had nothing to do with it. I also lost the top shelf of my bookshelves when I moved here in February. Still room for a row of books though. I don’t mess around.
So here we have:
Gerald Clarke’s still definitive biography of Capote: Capote: A Biography
. I wrote about it here.
Morton Cohen’s embarrassingly defensive bio of Lewis Carroll. Lewis Carroll: A Biography
. I wrote about my issues with it here. At one point, Cohen refers to Carroll as a “red-blooded normal male” or something to that effect, and I thought: Dude. You cannot get around the nude photos of little girls and you shouldn’t even try. You don’t have to condemn, because that’s not necessarily the job of a biographer, but you do need to provide context. Just tell us what happened. Don’t get all feathers-ruffled and insecure-about-masculinity on us. If anyone has recommendations for a better one please let me know. You shouldn’t read a biography and get embarrassed for the author.
Then comes the only biography really of Joseph Cornell: Utopia Parkway: The Life and Work of Joseph Cornell
, by Deborah Solomon. I wrote about it here. I read it obsessively during the year I was involved in a theatre project where a small cast – plus a director and a playwright – developed a script about Cornell. We were all PAID, too. (Some photos of that experience here.) You know what Cornell’s last words were? “I wish I had not been so reserved.” Heart-crack.
Nancy Milford’s in-depth – and essential – bio of poor Zelda Fitzgerald. Zelda: A Biography
. I wrote about it here. I love Milford’s work. I’ll follow her wherever she goes.
Joan Schenkar’s magnificent biography of Patricia Highsmith. The Talented Miss Highsmith: The Secret Life and Serious Art of Patricia Highsmith
. (Wrote about it here.) All I can say is: do NOT miss this one. It’s unlike any other biography I’ve ever read.
Noah Dietrich’s fascinating little memoir on his life with Howard Hughes: Howard: The Amazing Mr. Hughes
.
Richard Ellmann’s James Joyce bio: James Joyce
– the greatest biography of the 20th century, with David McCullough’s John Adams
a close second. The Joyce bio is a towering high watermark at any rate, no matter the arbitrary ranking. I wrote about it here. I’m so glad I read it while my Dad was here. I loved talking about it with him
My battered and falling-apart copy of A. Scott Berg’s Lindbergh bio, Lindbergh
– which also deserves a spot on any Great 20th Century Bios list. I wrote about it here. He was such a complicated man. Or maybe he was a very simple man. Either way: a riveting figure.
I love the crazy gossipy book about the crazy Mitford sisters, The Sisters: The Saga of the Mitford Family
, by Mary Lovell. Can’t get enough of those wacko eccentric fascist/Communist/Hiter-loving/Hitler-hating/writing sisters. I still need to read the collection of Decca’s letters, and also the collection of all of their letters.
Timothy Egan’s biography of Thomas Meighan, The Immortal Irishman: The Irish Revolutionary Who Became an American Hero
. Meighan was an “Alexander Hamilton” type figure – a war hero, a writer, a pamphleteer, a visionary, a guy who did everything and seemed to BE everywhere – in Irish and then American politics. What a life.
And then Ron Chernow’s incredible and essential Titan: The Life of John D. Rockefeller, Sr.
. I wrote about it here. Not only is it wonderfully insightful on the man himself, it is also a great history of the Industrial Revolution, the birth of the barons – oil, railroad, steel, and the Anti-Trust laws that followed. (See my recent post on Ida Tarbell, the woman who almost single-handedly brought down Rockefeller. (I highly recommend all of Chernow’s stuff – not just the Hamilton bio. He has a way of making insanely complex financial wheelings and dealings comprehensible to a woman like myself, who has a Checkings & Savings account, a tiny little 401K plan, and that’s pretty much it.)
And peeking in on the right is Nancy Milford (again) with her bio of Edna St. Vincent Millay, Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay
. I love Millay’s poetry (see here) but while I was reading the book, I found a lot of it kind of shocking (and it’s hard to shock me), and I kept thinking, “My my my what an adorable little sociopath.”
