The Strings are False: An Unfinished Autobiography by Louis MacNeice

by Louis MacNeice

An autobiography written in the 1940s but set aside, and published for the first time after MacNeice's death in 1965.'This incomplete account of himself is masterly, and the best thing Louis MacNeice ever wrote in prose. In this book he talks about himself freely, most intelligently, incisively, and without self-pity . . . MacNeice's evaluation of himself at Marlborough, Oxford and Birmingham, and in the thirties, exhibits more luminously than any document so far published the effect of that time and its diversely pulling forces within one sensual and acute and honest makar in the upper middle classes.' Geoffrey Grigson, Guardian

Genres: Biography, Poetry, Nonfiction

Paperback

First published November 1, 1965

About the author

Born to Irish parents in Belfast, MacNeice was largely educated in English prep schools. He attended Oxford University, there befriending W.H. Auden.

He was part of the generation of "thirties poets" which included W. H. Auden, Stephen Spender and Cecil Day-Lewis; nicknamed "MacSpaunday" as a group — a name invented by Roy Campbell, in his Talking Bronco (1946). His body of work was widely appreciated by the public during his lifetime, due in part to his relaxed, but socially and emotionally aware style. Never as overtly (or simplistically) political as some of his contemporaries, his work shows a humane opposition to totalitarianism as well as an acute awareness of his Irish roots.

Reviews

[Kitty · Rating 3 out of 5]

This autobiography was written in the 1940s while MacNeice was still only in his thirties; I wonder whether the war prompted such an endeavour, forcing him to consider his own mortality (despite not fighting on the front line) as it is otherwise a somewhat odd time to write one's memoirs, before his reputation as a poet was entrenched and before the drama of the war had really unfolded. He begins (and ends) in 1939 when he was on his lecture tour in America as war broke out in Europe, then leaps back to his childhood. These initial chapters almost put me off as I had no context for his American tour, no idea who the other names he mentions were, so it was like coming on a conversation mid-way through; and then the way he approached his birth was very odd - I decided that the detached, fragmentary, almost abstract prose was closer to poetry (but far less succinct) and that he would have done better to remain a poet! But then the autobiography proper got underway and I loved the very personal descriptions, the visual snapshots, of his childhood in Ireland and schooldays (eating walnut cake with Anthony Blunt in their shared study at Marlborough), his Oxford years alongside the incipient 'Auden circle', youthful marriage to Mariette and early academic career in Birmingham. These reminiscences gave a much fuller, more intimate, understanding of the author and where his poetry came from. I wish there had been a little more analysis of his relationship with his first wife, Mariette - and I could hardly believe how he barely mentioned his son, especially since 'Prayer Before Birth' is so powerful a poem that I had assumed he had been deeply touched by becoming a father. I also wish that he had continued his autobiography later on, as the ending in 1939 was frustratingly abrupt. (There are also appendices with further notes he wrote on his childhood and adolescence, and diary entries from his friend John Hilton from Marlborough and Oxford days which are interesting).

[Daisy H · Rating 2 out of 5]

The author is frequently undermined by additions from his sister who even goes so far as to separate fact from fiction which detracts from the enjoyment of the autobiography as does the illogical sequencing of events and the fact that the author is a massive pompous dickhead.

[Richard · Rating 1 out of 5]

I saw a documentary on MacNeice which referenced this book which spurred me on to read this unfinished autobiography. Just as well because I didn't finish reading it!

[Liam Guilar · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the most enjoyable autobiographies I've read.

In "Autumn Journal" he wrote;

"All that I would like to be is human, having a share
in a civilized, articulate and well-adjusted
community where the mind is given its due
but the body is not distrusted"

Although unfinished at his death this reads like the book such a man might write. Disillusioned, but without bitterness, wryly aware of the failings of himself and his friends, but still managing to celebrate their lives. His prose is very good, it falters slightly when he becomes a Journalist at the tail end of the CIvil War in Spain, but it is never less than interesting. It's a fairly well trodden story; childhood, school, more British public school, Oxford, marriage breakdown, "becoming a writer"...what raises this one is the character of the person telling it and the frequent retellings of dreams as essential to the autobiography as the factual dates and the places and people.

The poetry of the thirties is odd in retrospect. On the evidence presented here, MacNeice was well aware of the trap some of his fellow poets and writers fell into when they because "Politically active" . He pokes gentle fun at the absurdity of Oxford educated sons of the upper classes suddenly becoming obsessed with the "Proletariat",and without the least knowledge of who or what these Proles were deciding that they knew what was good for them thanks to Marx.

[Terry Lynch · Rating 4 out of 5]

**The Strings Are False** – *A Review*

Louis MacNeice’s The Strings Are False is like sitting down with an old friend who has a poet’s soul and a storyteller’s wit. In his memoir, MacNeice gives us a glimpse into his early life and poetic formation, but what lingers most is his unmistakable voice—sharp, self-aware, and tinged with a certain melancholic humor.

The beauty of MacNeice’s prose lies in its honesty. He doesn't sugarcoat the awkwardness of youth or the contradictions of his personality. Instead, he embraces them. His reflections on growing up in Northern Ireland, his time at Oxford, and his early forays into the literary world are filled with moments of insight, but they’re rarely pretentious. MacNeice’s gift for language shines, but it’s the conversational, almost confessional tone that really draws you in.

The Strings Are False is a masterful blend of prose and poetic introspection, and MacNeice’s characteristic elegance makes even the most mundane experiences feel profound. It’s a quiet but deeply resonant read, perfect for those who appreciate the beauty of language and the complexity of the human heart.

4 stars—because sometimes, even in its honesty, MacNeice leaves you wishing for just a bit more clarity on the strings he refused to pull.

[Tarragon Smith · Rating 4 out of 5]

Get past his childhood, like all auto/biographies, and it's lovely reading. He barely mentions his own writing, just living. It is poetry in prose.