Book Review: Charles Dickens: A Life by Claire Tomalin

I've been gazing longingly at this biography since it came out but, apart from anything else, I wanted to boost my knowledge of Dickens's fiction first. After reading and reviewing Oliver Twist, Bleak House and The Old Curiosity Shop since the beginning of this year I thought I was ready. I knew Claire Tomalin to be an excellent biographer after reading her examination of Katherine Mansfield but Charles Dickens: A Life surpassed all my expectations.

One of the problems of writing a Dickens biography are the number of people - family members, friends - who are constantly on the periphery of his life. Tomalin combats this by including a 'Cast List' at the beginning of the book, some sixteen pages long. This comes in very useful throughout, as do the three maps which illustrate where Dickens spent much of his time. These maps are particularly enlightening when considered in the light of things he wished to keep secret, primarily his relationship with actress Nelly Ternan. There are also generous notes at the back of the book meaning that people who only have a cursory knowledge of Dickens will still be able to follow his life with ease.

Tomalin's balanced tone is notable throughout the book. Although it's obvious she is fascinated by her subject, this never translates to hero-worship: she is equally critical of both his actions in his person life and the flaws in some of his novels. However, she highlights the small events in his life which demonstrate the inner man, the two which stick in my head are the meeting on a train with a young girl and the inquest of the death of a baby which Tomalin chooses as her prologue. There are numerous instances of Dickens's compassion throughout but there are also many instances of his stubborn, and sometimes vindictive, nature. As Tomalin writes of his separation from his wife: 'You want to avert your eyes from a good deal of what happened during the next year, 1858.' (p294) You do but you can't. The Dickens who treated his wife so abominably is still the Dickens who created Our Mutual Friend and the tantalising unfinished novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood. The man and his works are linked and, actually, you can see fragments of his life and experiences reflected in all his novels and other works. A fuller understanding of the events of Dickens's life can lead to a more pleasurable reading of his fiction.

Ultimately, Tomalin paints a portrait of a flawed genius. Her descriptions of him, using just the right amount of detail, never verge on boring and she draws on numerous sources along with conjecture to summarise the secretive aspects of the author's life. This book is worth reading for the pages leading up to his death alone. They are compelling pages, intricately detailed and sympathetically written. Then again, so is the whole book. I'd sum this up as a very satisfying biography of a great man.

Book Review: Katherine Mansfield: A Secret Life by Claire Tomalin

I've always been fascinated by Katherine Mansfield, despite never knowing much about her. I came across her when writing my undergraduate dissertation on poet, Charlotte Mew, and promptly bought Mansfield's The Collected Stories at Waterstones. It's an epic volume and I'm sorry to say I haven't yet had the discipline to get through it (for my musings on my short story reading habits take a look here). Nevertheless, after reading Tomalin's book I may be inspired to return to the collection.

Published in 1987, this book followed two other biographies of Mansfield by Jeffrey Meyers and Antony Alpers in 1978 and 1980 respectively. Throughout, when drawing different conclusions about certain events, Tomalin is just to their research. That's important because in some cases when biographers ignore each other the end result can feel artificial, as though the subject is being seen through a lens. Tomalin's account avoids that by her outright admissions on why she's differing from her predecessors. She also doesn't either sentimentalise Mansfield or turn her into a hate figure, both of which are possible with the material available.

Mansfield is probably most famous (outside her writing) for dying at the young age of 34 from tuberculosis. Tomalin attributes her other health problems to complications stemming from gonorrhoea and demonstrates how these debilitating illnesses affected her throughout her life. The image portrayed here is of a woman physically tortured but unwilling to submit to the pain. Tomalin also analyses many of her friends and acquaintances in-depth. The friendships with D.H. Lawrence and Virginia Woolf are shown in the light of her relationships with other people, particularly her second husband, John Middleton Murry.

Murry is not portrayed very sympathetically, though his actions both during her life and after it suggest the negative attitude is justified. Tomalin generally documents without judging, especially when Murry's relationships with other women are concerned. The same can be said when she describes Mansfield's complicated relationship history. However, the feeling that Murry hindered Mansfield shines through the biography, although her connection to him was unshakable until the end.

The person I found most intriguing in this book, almost more than Mansfield herself, was her lifelong friend, Ida Constance Baker, whom she met at school in London. Baker's devoted attitude towards Mansfield, despite being the victim of frequent quarrels with her, is both a joy to read and quite painful. On the one hand, Mansfield desperately needed the stability of friendship Baker offered; on the other, Baker was treated as something of a servant on occasion and certainly deserved more affection than Mansfield showed her at times. Baker was sent away from her friend by her father earlier in life due to their 'unwise attachment'.

Mansfield had relationships with both men and women in her youth, though she developed a dislike of lesbianism later in life. There are mentions of these attachments, including those towards Martha Grace and Edith Bendall. An interesting appendix to the book is a fragment, 'Leves Amores', which is homoerotic and very striking as an example of this 'other' aspect of Mansfield's nature.

There is far too much in this book to be condensed into a review. It's very readable, not exceptionally long but detailed enough to satisfy curiosity. The second appendix offered is an account of Mansfield's apparent plagiarism of Chekhov provided in the form of argumentative letters. This is a wonderfully clear biography that doesn't shirk from showing Mansfield's selfish, careless and occasionally malicious personality, but Tomalin shows, rather than tells, things to which some of her behaviour can be attributed.

As Tomalin sums up: 'At her least likeable, she adopted sentimental postures, and used them as a shield for treacherous malice. Yet how much there is that is admirable about her. She was always more interested in the external world than in her own suffering. She was a worker to her bones, and prized the effort required by craft. She fought, bravely, stubbornly, tenaciously, against two terrifying and incurable diseases that finally destroyed her. If she was never a saint, she was certainly a martyr, and a heroine in her recklessness, her dedication and her courage.'

I read this as part of the LGBT Book Challenge 2011 (see sidebar for details).

The book can be purchased here.