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Anthony Burgess
by Roger Lewis
Product Group: Book
Publisher: Faber and Faber (2003-10-16)
ISBN: 0571217214
EAN: 9780571217212
Dewy Decimal #: 920
Paperback: 480 pages
Edition: New Ed
SKU: B453-1029
Condition: New
Comments: In stock - Immediate despatch from an efficient and professional leading British bookselling firm.
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Customer Reviews
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I Can See Why this Book is Contentious, but Wonderful
Rating  (4)
Date: 2007-07-09
0 out of 1 customers found this reveiw helpful
I loved this book, but I can see in it what those reviewers who reviewed negatively can see. Burgess is a cult author - try finding anything of his (apart from A Clockwork Orange) in a bookshop! - but a wonderful experience for those who love the power and potential of the written word. To most people his self-importance and obsessive word-smithing are presumably not worth the effort, but there are others, Roger Lewis included, who have been, at least at some stage, completely captivated by the exhilaration contained in his work. Roger Lewis seems to have fallen out of love with Burgess' work the more closely he looked into it. I found it difficult to argue with Lewis concerning the flim-flam and verbose identity concealment which characterise both Burgess' books and the way he wanted people to see his life, but it failed to dent my love of the works themselves. I liked this book because, for me, Lewis has caught the spirit of Burgess, and not just his quirky 'faults'. I believe that Lewis is actually full of admiration for his subject, no matter how rigorously he strips away the man's masquerade. I found that the book enhanced my enjoyment of Burgess' books, increasing my understanding of their 'between-the-lines' context without making me feel cheated by those parts of the Burgess self-image that economised with the truth. It spoke to the pedant in me, in much the same way as Burgess' works do. Ths is one for the real Burgess enthusiast, but perhaps not for those who hate to see their idol besmirched!
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Why one literary critic shouldn't write a biography of another?
Rating  (3)
Date: 2007-06-25
You may find this book very disturbing.
Not because of its subject matter, although few would dispute the claim that Burgess himself tried to be disturbing as often as he could.
It's disturbing because this 'biographer' seems to be in direct competition with him, using every weapon in the critic's arsenal to tear Burgess and his work to pieces so as to leave no doubt as to who was the better critic.
Nothing and nobody could ever come out of such a full-frontal literary assault with anything left in the mind of the reader but a curiosity as to why such a pathetic monstrosity had ever put pen to paper, or why anyone ever paid any attention to the ensuing drivel.
In order to answer the questions:
Who won?
Which of them was/is the better writer/critic/human being?
Were the criticisms of Burgess valid?
You would need to employ another writer to do a "double biography" of Burgess and Lewis.
But you'd need to make darned sure that 'third writer' doesn't feel inclined to treat either Burgess or Lewis with the lack of detachment that Lewis demonstrates when he's writing about Burgess, or you'd be none the wiser.
As with many 'contemptuous' (but large) biographies, there is so much genuinely intriguing detail here that it would seem churlish to dismiss it out of hand, either as a work of literary criticism (which in many senses it isn't, it's more of a 'personal criticism') or as a biography, a label which it often seems to be struggling (successfully) to avoid, as it instead indulges itself in (undeniably remarkable and pertinent) reflections and observations (many painstakingly compiled over the decades from sources other than the biographer or their subject) in its case for the prosecution, where the biographer also sets themselves up as Burgess's judge, jury and executioner.
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an egotistical travesty
Rating  (1)
Date: 2007-02-23
1 out of 1 customers found this reveiw helpful
Roger Lewis's mean-spirited and astonishingly egotistical biography is a travesty. It largely refuses to acknowledge Anthony Burgess's protean talent and wide-ranging artistic achievements. Lewis attempts to nail Burgess as an artistic charlatan masquerading as a great writer, and in the process reveals rather too much about his own personal prejudices and, one strongly suspects, writerly envy. Even the most partisan admirers of Burgess would, I'm sure, recognise the problematic nature of describing his legacy (see, for example, Lorna Sage's excellent obituary piece in her volume of Selected Journalism). Although he rests rather awkwardly in the neatly tended garden of post-war British novelists, it is precisely his European sensibility, its breadth and ambition, which makes him so fascinating a literary outsider. And his wearing of masks, both literary and personal, is all part of the creative fun to be celebrated. Tellingly, many of the minor writers who Lewis cites in support of his critical attacks (John Wain, John Baily etc)are products of the narrow Oxbridge academic world Burgess disdained. And this biographer seems ever anxious to position himself alongside Burgess and Richard Ellmann, exceptional men both. Meanwhile, the level of personal abuse aimed at Burgess just seems nasty and irrelevant to the story. As I reread Lewis's book, I was reminded of the compelling anecdotal evidence of Burgess's outstanding generosity as a journalistic book reviewer and as a teacher. I would warmly recommend Andrew Biswell's biography as the first serious and scholarly account of Burgess.
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Onanistic rubbish
Rating (1)
Date: 2006-04-03
5 out of 5 customers found this reveiw helpful
I think this autobiography finds itself wrongly labelled as biography. If you want to know what Roger Lewis (who? Exactly!) thinks about Stephen Fry's portrayal of Oscar Wilde and how Roger Lewis (who? Exactly!) enjoyed many fine dinners in the company of Richard Ellman, then this is just the book for you. Its endless self-referential footnotes sketch a portrait, overburdened with detail of the life and opinions of Roger Lewis (who? Exactly!). All this would be irritating and disappointing by itself but when Roger Lewis (who? Exactly!) goes on to call Anthony Burgess "egotistical" it is too much. I suppose scholarly and objective biography died with Richard Ellman. This piece of trash doesn't deserve the name.
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A Direct Hit
Rating  (5)
Date: 2005-09-17
2 out of 4 customers found this reveiw helpful
It took me several readings, from start to finish, of Roger Lewis' jaundiced biography in order to reach a conclusion about its merit. On the whole, I think it provides numerous insights into the life and career of Anthony Burgess that many conventional biographies might have missed. It is important to stress that this work is at its most valuable when read in conjunction with other texts on the subject, most notably Burgess' own memoirs.Burgess, it cannot be denied, took painstaking measures to construct a mythology about himself as a man and writer. He benefited immensely from this, particularly financially. In contrast to other reviewers, I can see no reason why a biographer such as Lewis should not be entitled to challenge many of Burgess' contentions. An author has no inherent right to be perceived as he or she wishes especially if they have a history of fabrication. Loyal readers have rights too and the truth is more important than an author's self-regard. Lewis may stray over the bounds of decency with his assault on Burgess' character but the ends justify the means. Throughout the book, Burgess is portrayed as a posuer, cuckold, confidence trickster and professional failure. Several key moments in Burgess' life such as the assault on his first wife which inspired A Clockwork Orange and the erroneous diagnosis of a fatal brain tumour which kickstarted Burgess' writing career are deemed apocryphal. On other occasions, Lewis doubts Burgess' sexual capacity and speculates upon the true paternity of Burgess' son Paolo-Andrea. Burgess himself must bear some responsibility for placing these issues inside the public domain. Where Lewis is at his most effective, is when he describes the gradual changes of perception towards the author, that the reader of Burgess' works experiences during mauturation. What begins in adolescence with blind hero-worship, later becomes indifference and even caustic dismissal as the allure of Burgess' garish erudition dissipates with the passing of time. Does Burgess actually deserve this treatment? Possibly not alone but the individual biography remains the best method of sorting myth from reality. For the sake of balance it is to be hoped this isn't the last self-promoting novellist whose life Roger Lewis documents. Ultimately, I may have enjoyed witnessing a former icon being emasculated and degraded but for that Lewis is not culpable. The fault is but my own.
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