The least one can say about Kipling is that he was a complex man. Open-minded enough to be at ease evolving among Indian people regardless of their caste, religions, or social status he, nevertheless, loathed the idea of the Indian governing themselves, sneering them as a 'lesser breed' among others. A drum beat for the Empire and the staunchest of Conservatism, he was also a maverick able to praise the USA for their capitalistic entrepreneurship and culture, so at odd with Victorian England. A charming man whose dazzling personality would seduce the literary circles of London, he also had a very dark side indeed; he who was capable of the vilest hate towards the Orientals, the Irish, the Germans, even, the Jews. Was he an hypocrite too? He certainly was quick to denounce the abuse melted upon women by the Hindus, yet saw nothing wrong in denouncing feminism and women battling for equality in Britain. Should we talk, then, about Kiplings rather than a Kipling?
Writing a biography of such a man could be frustrating. It doesn't have to be. Harry Ricketts, in fact, delivers in doing just so, by showing himself as sensible when it comes to the saddest and most tragic parts of Kipling's life (e.g. his abused childhood; the death of his children and the impact of that of his daughter especially) as bluntly honest in his appraisal of his political opinions, many having been nothing but repellent even by the standards of his days. As an achievement, this result is noteworthy enough. But that's not it.
This book is valuable not only for his human approach in trying to get to grip with a complicated persona, but, also, for using Kipling's life trajectory to try and illuminate some of his works. No matter how despicable he was as a person, Kipling remains, after all, one of the best short stories writers in English; a genius when it came to children literature; and, most importantly (at least to me personally!) a brilliant poet whose vernacular and sense of rhythm is still striking to this day, eons away from the pretentious aestheticism of some of his contemporaries. Rickett's reading of Kipling is, here, as noteworthy as his personal approach of the man.
Writing about Kipling is not easy. Here was an author so extreme in his views that assessing him has often led to no less extreme attitudes. Many critics have tended to emphasise his politics to better dismiss his work. Many admirers have tended to sweep his politics under the rug (when not excusing it away!) to better claim that one's work can be separated from one's politics. Harry Rickett, gracefully and thankfully, avoids both pitfalls. His is sensible enough to render the man sympathetic, yet brutally honest when the need for sympathy is frankly unwarranted. Being fair and well-balanced, after all, doesn't mean having to compromise.