Written Lives is a twisted triptych, composed of disparate elements, forces which may be at cross-purposes. The first section is a series of slim portraits of established authors. Marias tends to judge favorably on those not burdened with self-importance. He likes the quiet ones, those that shunned self-promotion and didn't think of themselves in terms of immortality. this section has a certain commonality with [b:Cultural Amnesia: Necessary Memories from History and the Arts|262762|Cultural Amnesia Necessary Memories from History and the Arts|Clive James|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1358748675s/262762.jpg|1126436] but more geekily indulgent than James's masterful assemblage: Marias doesn't profess a moral agenda.

The middle section concerns a handful of female authors (there are a number of women in the first section) most of whom I was unaware. Outside of Emily Bronte, most of these people are footnotes in the history of letters. This section proved more evocative, at least to me - it was rather expository.

The final element was an essay on the portraits of authors. This coincides with Sebaldian photographs on every page. This may be the kernel of an abandoned book: an inquiry along the lines of Susan Sontag.

Written Lives was a satisfying diversion, sufficiently steeped with anecdotes for future larding and bereft of anything too harsh.
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A translation of Vidas escritas. Madrid: Siruela, 1992. Collects biographical sketches, ‘brief lives’ (mixing the telling anecdote and the pithy judgment) previously published in the magazine Claves, including ’Robert Louis Stevenson entre criminales’. The title refers to Stevenson’s interest in morally ambiguous lives. Among other comments, Marías says ‘Almost nobody takes the trouble to read Stevenson’s essays, which are among the most penetrating and lively examples from the nineteenth century’.
‘It’s difficult to be moderate about the charm of these brief portraits of Rimbaud, Turgenev, Rilke, Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, Robert Louis Stevenson, Isak Dinesen, Djuna Barnes and a dozen other literary eminences.[…] [A] wry sense of amusement characterizes Marías’s approach. Though he acknowledges the artistic greatness of his chosen writers, he prefers to point out and relish their personal oddities, all those quirks, eccentricities and obsessions that make them neurotically and sometimes pitiably human.’ (Michael Dirda, The Washington Post 5 feb. 2006 )

Brilliant little biographies of famous writers, though each ends on a tragic note since they're all dead.

https://youtu.be/q-cTtGAiyuA ( )

I love Javier Marias, so it wasn't hard for me to read this. There are a number of really interesting entries about famous writers (I didn't know Joseph Conrad was total [but adorable] spazz), but the entries that intrigued me the most were the "Fugitive Women." The exposes on Violet Hunt, Vernon Lee, and Adah Isaacs Menken, reminded me that history regularly glosses over women. I was familiar with Vernon Lee, but I want to seek out everything by Menken and Hunt. Marias makes of his figures seem like sorcerers and jesters, priestesses and captains of the industries of the fantastic. ( )

Marias holds a cigarette, that is nearly burned out, between the index and middle fingers of his left hand--if he holds it for much longer, he'll burn his fingers, but perhaps he's too intent on the viewer to really care. That burn would also match well with what looks like an insect bite on the back of his hand. However, it's doubtful that he would care about that, either, since he seems to be wearing the kind of clothes worn by a man who wears the same kind of clothes every day: white shirt, neat but not overly well cared for, and a dark blazer. His left eye squints at us, while his right is slightly more open, and his mouth is held in such a manner as to suggest that he is investigating us intently. This could be sinister, but his white sideburns and ruffled, longish dark hair give the lie to that--in fact, he's waiting for us to accept his offer of a drink. Sit down--let's talk about writers.

This is a charming collection of jeux d'esprit--biographies and character sketches. It's as if the spies in Your Face Tomorrow were to describe famous writers based on a photograph or two, and some additional biographical information: so, not all that objective, but nonetheless insightful. I was glad to hear that Marias dislikes Joyce, since I dislike him too, but sad to learn that he dislikes Mann, and also to learn that he likes Conrad. I can't help but feel that Marias himself is biased against authors who both i) proclaim themselves geniuses and ii) have elaborate sexual fantasies. Because he dislikes Joyce, Mishima and Mann, but likes many authors who proclaim themselves geniuses (e.g., Nabokov). Maybe if J, M and M had acted more on their sexual urges, rather than writing about them in journals and letters, they would have met with softer treatment.

Anyway, this is for fun, and you should ignore the reviews complaining that it isn't fair, or objective, or scholarly, or wide-ranging enough. It's just for fun. ( )