Customer Reviews

Diaries: Volume 1, 1939-1960 (Isherwood, Christopher Diaries)

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4 star:		(4)
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1 star:		(3)

 

 

I found this book compelling for a number of reasons. Like at least two reviewers here, as an Isherwood fan, I found his accounts of the early years fascinating. More interesting perhaps, one of the reasons I found them fascinating was because they were often banal, tedious, (but were they ever malicious?) full of frality and the soft vanities of an aging man. Surrounded by vain and often shallow people, his struggle to find spirituality in his work and in his friends was admirable, even if at times it did shock. In the end it is the humility of some of these entries that struck me, the fear that the best was behind, that ahead lay only decline and darkness. Finally, the genre of the diary is a peculiar entity. I am not sure it can be read like a book. It requires to be read in small bits, and always with an eye to the odd disjuncture of privacy and the public domain. Isherwood would not have been ashamed by this work, he might well have seen it as a parody of St Augustine: please make me celebite, but not yet.

This title should be read by all fans of Isherwoods' novels and stories for insight into the man's character and life-style during his middle years after he emigrated to the United States. I was particularly interested in his committment to Vedanta and how that developed during these years, as well as the gradual development of his relationship with the very young Don Bachardy about whom we have so little information otherwise. Bachardy was and is a very private person. Isherwood emerges as a complex man and, like most diaries, this book shows him with all his personality warts as well as the ups and downs of his daily life. He suffered acutely at various times from very human maladies; boredom, writers' block, lonliness and hypochondriacal concerns. I think this has to be remembered when reading someone's diaries or letters. It's like seeing a person undressed; you get to view the good, the bad and the ugly. There is surprisingly little of Isherwood's sexual views or life included here however; certainly not much that is explicit, and his occasional bitchy remarks about Hollywood personalities is refreshingly candid. I would compare these diaries to those of Evelyn Waugh although Isherwood was far less the curmudgeon that Waugh was and lacked Waugh's crusty mean spiritedness.

Not sure why some people reacted so strongly to this book. Yes, at times it reads like a secretary's account of some very dull meeting - but that is also its charm. There's an utter lack of pretense or self drama. Rather, it is a very meticulous accounting of the people Isherwood meets and his struggles to achieve a spiritual balance. This is like watching time pass while sitting on a curb where nothing much happens - only the view is of another's world and time. I enjoyed the gentleness of this man although his experiences and spiritual struggles are far from my own.

As an ardent fan of Isherwood's novels, I am, perhaps, the ideal consumer for these lengthy diaries. I left the book on my bedside table, only to be read at night, and for three months enjoyed the author's observant, witty, spiritual, intelligent and sometimes banal entries with thankful adoration. Covering as they do a span of time that allows for great personal change, as well as an ever-shifting political climate, the Diaries open a window into a beloved author's day-to-day, while painting a fascinating backdrop that moves from Hollywood glamour to Pennsylvannia Quakerism to Eastern Spirituality and back. Isherwood's writing is always crisp, and wise without condescension. Through his devotion to searching out self-awareness, I found myself re-examining my own creative production levels. Put simply, the book is truly inspirational. I can't wait for the next installment.

This is the first volume of Christopher Isherwood's diaries, covering the period 1939-1960. In it he describes his move from England to America, his working life, his spiritual struggles, his friendships and his personal dramas. It's not a day-by-day record; sometimes there are gaps of months or years which have only been filled in sketchily after the event. Also, it's obvious that a number of significant events didn't make it into these diaries at all, which is a touch frustrating. However, Isherwood tried to add to his diary at least twice a week and the editor has provided a great deal of additional information, so the thread of the narrative is rarely lost altogether.

You could read this book for, or at least mine it for information on, a number of topics: Isherwood's own literary output, working in the movies, pacifism and the Quakers during World War II, the Vedanta movement, the growth of Los Angeles. All sorts of famous literary and Hollywood figures are recorded by Isherwood. But I enjoyed it most for the writing - some of the descriptive passages, for example, are just beautiful - and Isherwood himself. I found his struggles to better himself by pursuing the spiritual life, live up to his talent and hold obviously-broken relationships together quite moving. Similarly, I felt really pleased for him when he got the job, bought the house, enjoyed a visit with friends, found happy domesticity with Don Bachardy. I can appreciate that not everyone wants to read about such ordinary matters. For some reason, though, it all appealed to me. A feature I especially liked were the little snippets Isherwood recorded simply because they stuck in his mind or appealed to his sense of humour: conversations overheard on a bus, amusing advertisements and the like. The picture of him gloomily stuffing himself with marshmallows in the evenings because Don's gone out and he's all alone is priceless.

When people appear and disappear from such a long narrative and may only be referred to by their first names, the index and extensive glossary become vital. The glossary contains more information on certain individuals than the diaries themselves do, giving the reader a fuller appreciation of them, and Katherine Bucknell's introduction provides a useful framing perspective on the diaries. The length of the book is a problem (surely it could have been published in two volumes?), and you might find your commitment starting to waver. Sometimes I did let names just wash over me because I found it too hard to remember who everyone was.

Can you ever truly know someone from their diary? I doubt it. A diary reveals some aspects of the person but can't contain contain the whole, and since Isherwood let a number of people read his diaries and seems to have had publication in mind, a certain amount of self-consciousness in his portrayal of himself seems inevitable. Does that matter? For me, it didn't. Definitely a worthwhile read.

great day by day accounts of life...before and during ww II. Isherwood is a gay man..but with incredible insight. And he knew and mingled with the greats of Motion Picture History...iconic people like Garbo, Chaplin...he took breakfast with these people and went for walks with them....as just "friends"...and during a very interesting time in America's and the world's history. WW II.

Admirers of Isherwood's novels will be outraged by this venomous assault aimed at many of the people, including writers, who championed the author during his lifetime. Whether or not intended for publication when written--and it's possible the author himself would be appalled--this posthumous journal does a great disservice to the author, who will now be remembered at least in part for this distorted account. Much of what is here would be more appropriate in trashy tabloids. It dishonors the memory of a wonderful stylist.

Admirers of Isherwood's novels will be outraged by this venomous assault aimed at many of the people, including writers, who championed the author during his lifetime. Whether or not intended for publication when written--and it's possible the author himself would be appalled--this posthumous journal does a great disservice to the author, who will now be remembered at least in part for this distorted account. Much of what is here would be more appropriate in trashy tabloids. It dishonors the memory of a wonderful stylist.

This was the most astoundingly boring read I've ever (and I read ALL the time) set myself up for. Full of self-absorbed nonsensical verbage which could easily be called "garbage" for all it's content and readability, this book was impossible to finish, despite my hoping that something interesting would happen just around the next page. Isherwood could have described the era, his life and lifestyle, his celebrity friends, the movie business, with so much more panache... instead, he sounds as bored as the reader will undoubtedly be in trying to get through this parody of a book. In my lifetime, I've only come across 3, maybe 4, unreadable books - this is one of them. An utter waste of time and money. And a shame, since this man's life MUST have been more interesting than this collection of diary entries. I'd recommend The Warhol Diaries if you are interested in a diarist's view of life in an interesting time. Unfortunately, the Isherwood Diaries is vague, ill-defined, faux-philosophical, pseudo-intellectual and pretentious in its language. Ick!