Powys was born in Shirley, Derbyshire, where his father was vicar. His mother was descended from the poet William Cowper, hence his middle name. His two younger brothers, Llewelyn Powys and Theodore Francis Powys, also became well-known writers. Other brothers and sisters also became prominent in the arts.
John studied at Sherborne School and Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, and became a teacher and lecturer; as lecturer, he worked first in England, then in continental Europe and finally in the USA, where he lived in the years 1904-1934. While in the United States, his work was championed by author Theodore Dreiser. He engaged in public debate with Bertrand Russell and the philosopher and historian Will Durant: he was called for the defence in the first obscenity trial for the James Joyce novel, Ulysses, and was mentioned with approval in the autobiography of US feminist and anarchist, Emma Goldman.
He made his name as a poet and essayist, moving on to produce a series of acclaimed novels distinguished by their uniquely detailed and intensely sensual recreation of time, place and character. They also describe heightened states of awareness resulting from mystic revelation, or from the experience of extreme pleasure or pain. The best known of these distinctive novels are A Glastonbury Romance and Wolf Solent. He also wrote some works of philosophy and literary criticism, including a pioneering tribute to Dorothy Richardson.
Having returned to the UK, he lived in England for a brief time, then moved to Corwen in Wales, where he wrote historical romances (including two set in Wales) and magical fantasies. He later moved to Blaenau Ffestiniog, where he remained until his death in 1963.
Lots of stars for rightly recognizing the genius and importance of DR. Slightly less for too much pontificating on what is "male" writing and what "female"...Essentialism aint my bag baby.
Also he is right to situate her as a sort of "female Proust" in some ways - and that the huge differences in their writing and their subject matter has a lot to do with the difference between the realities of the two genders. He is also right to describe her as doing something more extreme, more experimental, braver than Woolf...
Anyway - all I really want to do here is say that if any fans of JCP are reading this, you should know he thought DR a genius and her books some of the most important written in his lifetime. So you should probably give them a read...
This is a pretty hefty book-review of an obscure and largely forgotten Bloomsbury novelist, the first whose writing was described as "stream of consciousness," who wrote a "Proust-like" series of books revolving around a single character. JCP likes to overpraise certain obscure novelists, Remy de Gourmont being another one of them, although I agreed with him on Vincent O'Sullivan, Onions, and some others. What is most interesting about the book is how it reflects on JCP's theories of male and female literature, calling Richardson a female "Proust". In fact most of what he writes in this little book is brilliant and his comprehensive reading and literary "name-dropping" is at its best here. JCP has enormous value as a literary critic, even if in the end you don't agree with his views, there is value in trying to understand him.
Interestingly, the Wikipedia article about Dorothy Richardson has several references to JCP's book, but she does not seem to have gotten the attention of other critics. She led an interesting bohemian life, was even a lover of H.G. Wells. Comparing her to Joyce or Dostoyevsky and as the superior to Woolf or Eliot seems a bit ridiculous, you can put me on the list of people who find her work boring, I've never been able to get very far, maybe I will try again, but I really think JCP is overstating the case here.
I borrowed this from my University library to aid with my understanding of Dorothy Richardson's life; prior to this, I knew very little about her, if I'm honest. It is incredibly slight; standing at just 48 pages, I wasn't entirely sure if it would be able to give me a full picture of Richardson. It wasn't overly in-depth, and presented barely anything of Richardson as a woman; rather, it provides a critique of her Pilgrimage series, and how its techniques veer away from the traditional. Regardless, it is very intelligently written, and Powys clearly admires Richardson. I would recommend it as an introduction into her work, but I'm sure there must be a more thorough and authoritative biography out there somewhere.