The Simply Irresistible Poet-Lover
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Happy the poet whose life and work remain so well-remembered that his name becomes an adjective.
George Gordon Byron, sixth baron of that title, is certainly a poet who stands in that rarefied company, though it's hard to believe that even the linguistic laurels represented by the now commonplace modifier "Byronic" would have made this protean artist and contradictory – frequently appalling – man content for very long.
Edna O'Brien, the distinguished Irish writer, is Byron's latest biographer, and she defines "Byronic" as denoting "excess, diabolical deeds and rebelliousness." It also connotes a certain impetuous and passionate intensity, which isn't a bad description of the spirit that animates O'Brien's own work. The fascination she finds in that implicit kinship is one of the things that makes "Byron in Love: A Short Daring Life" such a pleasure to read. This is a book not only for those who value perceptive, independent intelligence, but also for those who treasure lovely writing for its own sake. At this stage in her long career – and who can believe that O'Brien is now in her 79th year? – this is an author who seems incapable of composing a clumsy or uninteresting sentence.
With more than 200 Byron biographies already on the shelves – including Leslie Marchand's magisterial three-volume life, and recent efforts by Fiona MacCarthy and Martin Garrett – it's fair to ask why anyone really needs another. O'Brien's response is that there's value to be had in one artist evaluating another, as for example, "Rilke on Rodin, addressing that mysterious mediation between the life and the art." There's also a relief to be had from an intelligent life of a major cultural figure told with brevity. O'Brien's earlier life of her first aesthetic mentor, James Joyce, is a model of this genre, and "Byron in Love" is a more than worthy successor.
In both instances, one of the biography's great strengths is that O'Brien approaches the other artist not as a subject – as a scholar would – but as a character, which is what any great novelist – as she surely is – would do. Thus, while the poems themselves hardly make an appearance in this life of Byron, O'Brien has copiously mined his correspondence, particularly the incomparable love letters, and the diaries of his last – and, one senses, most important – lover, Teresa Guiccioli, the Italian countess with whom he finally found the contentment that accompanied the composition of his masterpiece, "Don Juan." As O'Brien writes, "for all his swagger and bravado, Byron's real theme was love."
June 22, 2009
Copyright © 2009 Los Angeles Times
