Wonderful Sphinx by Julie Speedie (1993)

Through no fault of her own, Speedie is on theoretically dangerous ground with me here. This is because Ada Leverson, the subject of this biography, is a particular favourite of mine. However, I am happy to report that this is a seriously illuminating book, at least in one sense. It has two main streams, the first of which is a standard biography of the late 20th century type made famous by Victoria Glendinning, Michael Holroyd, Claire Harman, Winifred Gerin and many others. The second is an element of literary criticism - more about which later. In neither of these elements is this book astounding, but its biographic part is full of fantastic detail. Speedie has clearly had access to a great deal of correspondence, and done a large swathe of original research, so we get all sorts of insights into her subject, and those illuminati with whom she corresponded - basically the entire world of 1890s wit. Oscar Wilde, whom she helped significantly after his trial, figures strongly in the early part; Robert Hichens comes out surprisingly well, and not as dismissably as has sometimes been made out; one can also re-enter the worlds of lesser lights at this distance, but those who, at the time, were central to the operation of the scene, like Franks Richardson and Harris, and Francis Burnand too, crucial editor of Punch. One gets an idea of Ada at this period of the height of her influence as being confidante, inspiration, social centre, muse and virtual collaborator, existing as a writer in her own right only in journals and magazines. But the thing about her of course is that, after Wilde's demise, she entered an entirely new phase, publishing her six extraordinary novels after her husband left her and emigrated to Canada in 1902. That husband, Ernest Leverson, is still such an enigmatic figure, so tied into the whole of the scene in the 1890s, and suddenly so far out of it so soon after - some work still needs doing to establish him clearly in his place in affairs of the time. As soon as Ada publishes her first novel in 1907, the second stream of this book pushes to the forefront, and, for me, not for the better. I can only say that Speedie takes a great deal of time over each of the novels, as though she wasn't sure if she wanted to write her projected full biography to promote Ada, or conversely her big literary critical reassessment in order to promote Ada. I find her a better biographer than literary critic - talking about personages in the novels as 'unnecessary characters' is not very perspicacious, for example. If Ada's many lesser characters needed to be there, the whole sense of jeu d'esprit disappears, the delight in her bursts of inconsequent invention lessens significantly. So, in the period of 1907-1916, there is far too much explication of plots and characters, and nowhere near enough of life lived. It almost feels like we lose sight of Ada a little, becalmed in her works, wonderful things though they are. After this, we are treated to another enigma - her illness at the end of the Great War, and the strong sense of her retreating, lost a little in deafness, a little repetitive and islanded in quaintness as modernity swept 'her' era into history. Speedie handles this well, giving a confirmed picture of a woman dressed entirely in black with a very veiling large-brimmed hat, hanging on to her old ways, and yet still intrigued with writers and writing, including the young up-and-coming ones like Osbert Sitwell, about whom she was liable to become a bore. This is a good portrait, with lots of delicious detail, marred a little by lit crit.