A N Wilson, last great man of letters - At 71, the mischievous biographer, novelist and historian has written his memoirs. Roger Lewis is gripped
A N Wilson is the greatest living man of letters. He is proficient equally as a biographer, novelist, historian, essayist, editor and literary journalist. His every utterance is well worth pondering, as he loves to ruffle feathers, especially when it comes to Hitler, Darwin or Queen Victoria. You’d need to go back to the 19th century to find an equivalent – George Saintsbury, perhaps, or Quiller-Couch. Wilson is always accessible – never esoteric, despite the fact he for many years taught medieval poetry and at Oxford took a Second in German Philology, Icelandic and Old Norse, which are surely intended only as punishments. Wilson’s Confessions describes a rather schizoid, lachrymose figure. There is the A N W people assume they are seeing and meeting – confident, breezy, mischievous; the one who was sacked from the Spectator for improving Bel Mooney’s copy and making a joke about Clive James’s ugliness. Then...
I’m afraid this isn’t one of our four free articles available in full, which are set out in the first two rows of the ‘Magazine’ page.
Please click here to find them.
To buy a digital version of this issue for just £2.99, click here
