There are many Stevensons behind the initials RLS, but the one that has endeared him to readers for so long is surely the fighter, battling to stay alive. Jorge Luis Borges described his brief life as courageous and heroic. In Philip Callow's absorbing new biography, one can see why. Doctors, called repeatedly to what should have been his deathbed, would find a scarecrow, twitching and alive. A sickly child, Louis became in turn a bohemian dandy, a literary gypsy traipsing through the mountains of France with a donkey, and at twenty-eight the lover of an American woman ten years his senior, the fabulous Fanny. He escaped his Scottish town, his family, his friends who had mapped out a literary career for him in London, and instead went chaotically across the Atlantic and overland to California in poverty and despair to reach his beloved, whereupon he escaped into marriage and committed himself to being a nomad. He sailed the Pacific and dreamed of being an explorer; his restlessness was Victorian. With the power of a novelist and the grace of a poet (of which he is both), Philip Callow captures this great writer and his many contradictions. He was a born exile longing for home; a northerner who thrived on tropic sunshine; a near atheist who organized Sunday services for his Samoan workers. He has been called Scotland's finest writer of English prose, a more economical Walter Scott. As an essayist he equaled Hazlitt. In emotional crises he wept openly, to the embarrassment of his wife. “His feelings are always his reasons,” said Henry James, and caught in a sentence the secret of Stevenson's popularity as one of the last of the classic storytellers. Louis brings him alive. With 8 pages of black-and-white photographs.
The biographer Callow is also a novelist; this fact probably explains why he chose to use foreshadowings and flashbacks as he presented the life of RLS to us. After an initial fit of confusion, I "got my sea legs" and it was smooth sailing to the end. I enjoyed Callow's prose and his choice of content; he, however and for what it's worth, touts McLynn's biography of RLS, which is almost twice as large as this one, as "definitive."
RLS's story is a compelling one because he manages to write some immortal novels in between chronic episodes of coughing up blood and intrepid travels on rail and ship. It is interesting how critics of his work have been so contradictory concerning its literary value. Callow spent some time discussing the various viewpoints of RLS held by his contemporaries as well as debunking some of the heartless conjectures of later writers like Bruce Chatwin.
Robert Louis Stevenson is one of my favorite writers. I was very interested in reading about the man himself. This bio was very good in that it told you about the man. However, there isn't much about his writings and how they were accepted. In fact, it is mostly about his illness and his relationship with his wife. The two of them seemed to not be a match made in heaven. Still, I knew that he was a very ill person so I guess I should not have been surprised. He is considered one of Scotland's greatest writers even though he didn't live very long or write as much as some other writers.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I thought I could never tire of anything to do with my beloved RLS, but I tired of this biography. Too many sloppy errors ("Edward" Gosse? Edinburgh's "Princess" Street?), too many defensive protestations of heterosexuality, too many irrelevant comparisons with DH Lawrence, and way, way too many uses of the term "half-caste". It's a testament to RLS's luminosity that he shone throughout the book all the same.
"There is but one art, to omit!" If only.... at times excellent but too often bogging down in minute details of relatives and acquaintances, of whom I cared little. If he had stuck closer to the course, to the thoughts and letters and works of RLS as the core of it, this would have been far richer. He filled in the periphery of the canvas at the expense of the center. Perhaps a metaphor unto itself regarding Stevenson. But still edifying. I found the tenacity and courage of the subject, a prodigious literary output despite major illness, to be inspirational. 3.5 stars truly.