Written with the blessing of the Graves family, this is the definitive biography of one of our greatest poets and writers. Robert Graves (1895-1985) was one of the greatest poets and polymaths of the twentieth century, whose long life matched the intensity of his imaginative output. From his distinguished exploits in the First World War, described in his memoir GOODBYE TO ALL THAT, to his dramatic relationships with women, most notably the American poet and essayist Laura Riding, his life was one of he sought pain, took huge emotional risks, and lived as if each day were his last. First published to mark the centenary of his birth, Miranda Seymour's acclaimed biography was written with the full co-operation of the Graves family. Her interviews and correspondence with many people who have not previously discussed Graves in public contribute to a rich and complex portrait of a troubled man and a great creative artist. "I have never been able to understand the contention that a poet's life is irrelevant to his work," Graves said. Miranda Seymour puts Graves's statement to the test in this superb biography and, thrillingly, demonstrates its validity.
I cant help wondering if Miranda Seymour had any idea of the task she was undertaking when she embarked on this biography of Robert Graves, author, poet, and so psychologically unusual that even after these 544 pages devoted to his life I, at least, still didn't get a feeling for who he was and what he was like.
I do know a great deal about what he did, the sequence of his writings and relationships with his two wives (sequential) and the multiple young muses (overlapping with wives but usually sequential in the role of muse) he needed to prompt his poetic spirit. Probably more than I wanted to know, if I'm honest.
When I read White Goddess, I was both challenged and fascinated by it. I've found it almost distressing to read the extent to which Graves pursued the Goddess throughout his life in his relationships with women, especially those whom he cast as Muse. Far too complex to explain here without sounding glib. It's good to know that this biography was written with the full cooperation of the Graves family in bringing Graves' emotional complexity and pain into the public arena.
The Amazon blurb quotes Graves as saying "I have never been able to understand the contention that a poet's life is irrelevant to his work" . Seymour has made this connection acutely clear.
Robert Graves was an amazing character who survived an overbearing Victorian family, hellish English boarding schools and the trenches of WW I to emerge "shell shocked" and barely able to put his brilliant mind to work. His obsession with the female "Muse" led him into the most incredible collection of marriages, and chaotic relationships with viragos, harridans, sex objects and mother figures so he could derive poetry from his torture - which to him was much like the trenches of the great war - a duty to his gift as a poet just as a soldier he had a duty to fight. From these he wrote some of the most readable works of prose I've enjoyed - such as I CLAUDIUS. The term "mad dogs and Englishman" might well have been inspired by his crashing through the china shop of life.
This is an excellent biography. Graves was a fascinating person and led an eventful life which surprised me. For all his charm and talent he was really unstable throughout all of his life. This instability helped him create wonderful poetry but it cost much grief to those near to him. He was oddly vulnerable to rapacious young women who exploited him mercilessly and caused humiliation to his two wives. Their behaviour in turn helped him to create poetry. I hadn't read his poetry before and it is wonderful but I don't feel like reading it now that I know the heartbreak that it came from.
He went from brutal boarding school to the army and World War One and then into his first marriage with Nancy Nicholson who was creative and talented and an ardent feminist. They had too many children too quickly and no money. Their existence was interrupted by the appalling Laura Riding. I only have Miranda Seymour's description of her behaviour and influence but she appears to be one of the few genuinely evil people the world has thrown up.
As Graves wrote books that were successful he gave a lot of his money away or made foolish purchases. He bought up properties in Mallorca where he lived and was exploited by the wily local landowners. Nancy and the children were abandoned and he married Beryl another lovely woman who tolerated and supported him.
I loved the book. I like Goodbye to all That to some extent and I loved Wife to Mr Milton which I read along time ago. And of course I Claudius by way of the mini series. And I loved the poetry that is quoted in this book. But I don't love Graves the man as much as I thought I would.
My only interest in Robert Graves was through Goodbye To All That and the Claudius novels. I have no interest in his poetry - because I am a deeply un-poetic soul. This biography kept me interested in the story of his life all the way through the book - even the bits of poetry (or 'pomes', as we used to say at school). At this rate I'll start reading all of The Lord Of The Rings; not just skipping through the 'hibbidy-jibbidy-jap'...
A splendid book. Go to your nearest library and steal a copy. (I don't really mean that. Property is theft and theft of property is double theft.)
Excellent biography, particularly concerning the early years. She is, perhaps, a little hard on Laura Riding, (who comes over as a really impossible person!) but the description of their relationship is fascinating. Only four stars because Seymour does not write well about Graves as a poet (or about Riding, for that matter). And, after all, that was what he was about: there is only one story worth telling. I recommend John O'Meara's books for a deeper treatment of the poetry.
Astonishing biography of one of the soldier poets of the Great War. He suffered from shell-shock (PTSD) throughout his life. His survivor guilt drove him to submit to suffering voluntarily. It also was the engine that drove his poetry.
I have been curious about Robert Graves dating back to my read of his first book ' Good-Bye to all That' which I really enjoyed and later the novel 'I, Claudius.' Then I read a piece about him in the New Yorker about his relationship with the daughter of a friend of his who he called his muse. Later still I tried reading 'The White-Goddess', a strange rambling account of the prehistory of poetry and ancient poets connection to matriarchal society. All these strands and echoes lead me to read Seymour's biography of Graves.
The bio is written in a clear unadorned style and follows Graves in a straight forward line right to his death at the age of 90. There is very little psychological spec about the why of Graves but there is much about how and what he did with his life. Seymour claims he is one of the U.K.'s great love poets. I don't think so. In fact the poems quoted strike me as stuck in tone and language to the early pre-war period. His quest and need for muses so he can write poetry in his later years is both romantic and foolish but there is also an impish charm in his desire for females muses. His second wife Beryl was a saint.
Graves life and his quest as a poet is ordinary; the drama of his relationships no more or less than other people who are not poets. Although, his pivotal relationship with the American poet Laura Riding was strange in how much he bent himself out of shape for her and his refusal to tolerate any criticism of her. He was , of course, an ass towards many contemporary poets such as Dylan Thomas and Auden and did not treat all his children well. He also courted fame and attention( he wanted to break into film badly) contrary to what most think about literary artists. What is most remarkable about him is his capacity for work which resulted in over 100 books ( fiction, non-fiction, & poetry) and thus sustaining two families on the strength of his writing royalties alone. The other thing that is amazing is how much he was feted from a fairly early age as a poet. The little of what I have read of his poetry has not aged well. I prefer his prose.