Torn

I first heard that Jonathan Bate was writing a biography of Ted Hughes some three or four months ago, at which point there was no question of said work being classified as an auto-buy in my world, at least when it would emerge in paperback. I thought Bate's book on the Bard, The Genius of Shakespeare, was an exceptional read and know that the prof is held in very high regard in academia. (In fact, I've got a feeling he's written another well-received Shakespeare-oriented tome since, though I could be wrong. I'm not entirely sure of the title above, in truth, but can't be bothered to look it up.) And I've been waiting for something of real substance to be published on Hughes, in contrast to all the Plath-oriented volumes that bedevilled the Hughes family.  

And now I'm not so sure, the reason being Janet Malcolm's devastating review of Bate's Ted Hughes: The Unauthorised Life in the February NYRB. I read this in the copy of the magazine I picked up the other day at Holland Village rather than on-line as I offer it to you here. It was the first thing I turned to and took me very much by surprise. Janet Malcolm's book on Plath has for quite some time seemed to me to be the sanest, most judiciously balanced word on the subject, and I suppose I thought I'd be reading a similarly balanced account of a biography that would be seeking to somehow do right with regard to all concerned in the tragedies suffered in the poet's life. It seems that's not the case.

I'm sure there's going to be some kind of reply by Prof Bate to Ms Malcolm's trenchant criticisms, and it's going to sound reasonable. But I'm not sure I want to read it or anything more about Hughes's life, or Plath's life. I felt guilty reading the line in the review concerning how, Readers, in their curiosity, encourage them [biographers, like Bate] in their impertinence, since I am exactly that kind of reader.