“Fantasies are not harmless escapes from reality; they are dress rehearsals.” So writes Benita Eisler in her sweeping account of Lord Byron, the Romantic poet and much lionized English nobleman. The statement, at once as informed as it is troublesome, comes well into Byron: Child of Passion, Fool of Fame—p. 732 to be exact, when Byron is waiting in Metaxas for what will become the last act of his life: his martyrdom, at the age of thirty-six, for the cause of Greek freedom—an act which, if Don Juan, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, "Darkness," “She Walks in Beauty Like the Night” and a myriad other works were not enough, forever sealed the poet in the annals of romantic history and in the hearts and minds of idealists worldwide.
Eisler presents a narrative arc of Byron’s life that is at once compelling, astute and deeply engaging, and yet at the same time, perhaps for its very completeness and reliance on psychoanalytic theory and storytelling methods, may be as problematic as it is satisfying. It is neither the range of scholarship nor its certitude that trouble me, but rather the book's all-too-perfect arc. By presenting Byron’s life in heroic, near-fatalistic, almost fairy tale-like terms, and doing so through the archetype-creating lens of psychoanalysis and the smoothing balm of storytelling tricks*, the biography manages to operate at the level of a kind of dream or self-fulfilling prophesy, substituting Byron the life and man with Byron the explication of mythic hero and quest.
What's missing from this is Byron the poet: his aesthetics, his training, his belief systems, what he felt about inspiration and order and words, who and what influenced him, how and when and why he wrote, his feelings about other poets or poetic systems, and most important, how he assimilated and distilled these various influences and interests into the genius of his poesy. Despite more than 780 pages of extraordinarily well-researched and magisterially written prose about the poet, it is amazing that more space is not dedicated to his genius, talents and work habits. Indeed, hardly an image of Byron writing poetry is included in the biography, and yet what pages to each and every one of his purchases and scrapes!
Don't get me wrong: this is a *wonderful* book for background on Lord Byron. It would make a terrific gift for a poet if one is so fortunate to know or have one in the family who has not already read Eisler's biography cover to cover. Her readings of Byron's life and work are sympathetic and mostly convincing. I was especially intrigued by her positioning of the poet as first chronicler of modern warfare and a modernist. The biography, although it leaves something to be desired for explaining Byron's poetics, is still a first-rate primer on his life. I recommend it with qualifications.
*I mean this in a good way: Eisler is a master storyteller.