Source of book: Borrowed from the library.
When it became obvious that Covid-19 would shut down most non-essential
things in my town, I realized I should probably grab a few books to keep me
occupied until the library reopens. One of those books was this biography of
Philip Larkin, which sat there on the new books shelf tempting me for a few
weeks.
One of Philip Larkin's numerous photographic self portraits.
While Larkin’s skill as a poet has never really been in doubt, at least
during my lifetime, his reputation as a person has been much more dubious. So
therefore, one of the key questions any biography is expected to answer is,
“How much of a prick was Philip Larkin?” Having read this book, I think one
obvious answer is, “Not nearly as much of a prick as Kingsley Amis.”
But actually, I am not convinced Larkin deserves his bad reputation.
There are a few things which contributed to his reputation as a bit of a jerk.
First was that toward the end of his life, he “performed” his character in
interviews and the like - his role as the crusty old man, librarian and poet.
This included acting as if he was a reactionary conservative, which is,
ironically, rather the opposite of his actual political views.
The second problem for Larkin is that he corresponded extensively with
various friends and relations, and these letters were mostly preserved. Thus,
when he writes to Kingsley Amis, he will often make a tasteless sexist joke
(like they would have made at school in the 1930s). He might make a racist
statement to a friend in a context that was probably understood to be
sarcastic, but which scans poorly by itself.
The third issue I think has perhaps faded along with changes in
society. Larkin never married, although he was in a long term sexual and
romantic relationship with Monica Jones, while having quasi-romantic, romantic,
or sexual relationships here and there with other women. His refusal to marry
(and he most certainly did not wish to - he was clear on that), has been read
as being a character flaw, which seems more unfair now that marriage is no
longer considered the only reasonable choice for people.
All of this came to head in Andrew Motion's biography published soon after Larkin's death. Booth's more recent biography seems written in significant part to correct the picture of Larkin as a monster that Motion painted.
There is plenty of evidence that Larkin was a better man than his
reputation as well. Those who worked with him, the women in his life, and his
friends had positive things to say about him. One that particularly struck me
was his reputation in his day job, Librarian at the University of Hull. In an
era when professors routinely ogled and harassed the female staff, Larkin was
notable for not doing so, treating his co-workers and underlings with respect
and fairness. Far from being the cantankerous old man, he was a great boss with
a sense of humor, excellent work ethic, and considerate of his staff.
James Booth worked with Larkin near the end of his life, and conducted
extensive interviews in writing this book. His background in poetry led to the
decision to include a decent amount of poetic analysis in the book, as well as
the biographical details. The book is well written and rather fascinating to
read, although not everyone will find Larkin as interesting, I suppose. I enjoy
poetry (as this blog makes pretty clear…), and like reading about complex
personalities.
Larkin is notable for being one of the very few 20th century poets who
held a nine-to-five job with no expectation that he would ever write for a
living. The other that the book mentions is Wallace Stevens,
the insurance executive. This reality was both positive and negative for
Larkin. He resented that he felt tied to his job, and became increasingly overworked
and frustrated as budget cuts and new technology added to his stress. On the
other hand, he was clearly very good at his job: people who knew him primarily
as a librarian have insisted that he was underrated in that capacity. There is
no question that he greatly expanded the Hull library, collecting countless
historically important documents, and organizing the collection.
There are definitely some fascinating details about Larkin in this book
that I did not know. For example, he truly desired to write novels at first,
before he capitulated, realizing his talent was in poetry. But he did write a
few “lesbian fiction” novels under a pseudonym in his early twenties. I was
completely unaware of them - Booth quotes some passages and so on, which was kind
of interesting. I’m not sure I will be seeking them out, but it is definitely a
side of Larkin that isn’t as well known.
Larkin was steadfastly as non-political as possible throughout his
life. He appears to have, at least in part, intended to avoid making the
library appear partisan. But he also disliked politics at a visceral level
(something I feel too), and had complications from his love life that
incentivized a non-partisan approach. Monica Jones was pretty conservative,
while Larkin was to a significant degree liberal. To preserve their
relationship, they stayed away from most discussions.
One exception to this non-political stance was a statement he made in a
letter to his mother during his first major gig, a library position in Ireland.
Larkin was appalled by the jingoistic parades, particularly the “staggering
dullness…& stupefying hypocrisy (‘Civil & religious liberty’...)” As
Larkin noted, the politics behind “civil & religious liberty” in Northern
Ireland was “denying civil & religious liberty to Catholics &
Nationalists, & damn the Pope, etc.”
This is, indeed, the same twisted version of “civil and religious
liberty” that the increasingly dominionist
Evangelical-Industrial Complex believes in. Cram their bigoted interpretation
of an ancient book down the throats of everyone else using the full force and
violence of law and government.
Larkin was a steadfast atheist throughout his life, and was
particularly distrustful of religion as proxy for sectarian politics or as a
way to fleece the faithful. Booth quotes a bit from “Faith Healing,” which is
such a great poem, I decided to quote it in full here:
Slowly the women
file to where he stands
Upright in rimless
glasses, silver hair,
Dark suit, white
collar. Stewards tirelessly
Persuade them
onwards to his voice and hands,
Within whose warm
spring rain of loving care
Each dwells some
twenty seconds. Now, dear child,
What’s wrong,
the deep American voice demands,
And, scarcely
pausing, goes into a prayer
Directing God about
this eye, that knee.
Their heads are
clasped abruptly; then, exiled
Like losing
thoughts, they go in silence; some
Sheepishly stray,
not back into their lives
Just yet; but some
stay stiff, twitching and loud
With deep hoarse
tears, as if a kind of dumb
And idiot child
within them still survives
To re-awake at
kindness, thinking a voice
At last calls them
alone, that hands have come
To lift and lighten;
and such joy arrives
Their thick tongues
blort, their eyes squeeze grief, a crowd
Of huge unheard
answers jam and rejoice—
What’s wrong!
Moustached in flowered frocks they shake:
By now, all’s wrong.
In everyone there sleeps
A sense of life
lived according to love.
To some it means the
difference they could make
By loving others,
but across most it sweeps
As all they might
have done had they been loved.
That nothing cures.
An immense slackening ache,
As when, thawing,
the rigid landscape weeps,
Spreads slowly
through them—that, and the voice above
Saying Dear
child, and all time has disproved.
As an indictment of that particularly American form of religion,
it is surprisingly perceptive. I spent time in the charismatic movement during
my teens, and, while there was a lot I liked (for example the racial
integration and openness to emotion), there was also a troubling culture
surrounding the “healing” stuff that appealed to emotionally damaged women in
particular, and also attracted creepy-ass guys as the “healers.” Not
exclusively, obviously, but to an uncomfortable degree. The last stanza is particularly
intriguing, with Larkin’s empathetic yet damning illumination of the
all-too-easy switch from living a life of love to seeking a cure for being
unloved.
“Faith Healing” isn’t particularly snarky, but Larkin could be pure
acid when he wanted to. One line that particularly caught my eye was from a
letter to Anthony Thwaite, declining to review Robert Graves’ latest book.
“[I]f he says publicly just once more that he has a large family to support, I
shall write to the papers asking whose fault he thinks that is.”
Or how about this one? When he sent a donation to “Friends of Dove
Cottage,” he was informed that he had been made a life member. He replied, “In
fact I was similarly enrolled a few years ago, when I made a similar generous
donation, as you so kindly put it, so I now have the distinction of being a
life member twice over. I very much fear, however, that they will have to run
concurrently.”
These are just a few of the delightfully witty lines in the book.
Larkin was complex, to be sure; more accurately, he was human, with all the
virtues and faults that come with humanity. Reading this book very much made me
eager to dive more deeply into his poetry. Hardbacks of his Complete Poems
are irritatingly expensive, so I will have to either watch for a bargain or
make it a rare splurge.
In any event, I can highly recommend James Booth’s biography for fans
of poetry in general and Larkin in particular.
***
I should note that one of the reasons I got into Larkin in the first place is because of Clive James.
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