Here is an unusual memoir: a memoir of a religious conversion. There is a prologue, apparently designed to put us off, in which he describes this – his first attempt at memoir – as the most ‘suffocatingly subjective’ book he has ever written. I loved this phrase. Everyone acts like our subjective experience is so important, like we should try and understand ourselves, and etc etc – and I just love how he sort of dismisses this whole idea out of hand, as if your own personal experience is self-evidently extremely limiting.
He has other interesting observations. Try:
“Dates are not so important as people believe. I fancy that most of those who think at all have done a great deal of thinking in the first fourteen years.”
And, on what drives some people to fear insects:
“we see fully realized the two things that some of us most dread for own species -the dominance of the female and the dominance of the collective.'”
That’s more ‘interesting,’ than interesting, perhaps.
Let’s get into how much sex there was happening at his high school. The older boys were called Bloods, and we got into a long discussion of a second group, the Tarts:
“A Tart is a pretty and effeminate-looking small boy who acts as a catamite to one or more of his seniors, usually Bloods. . . They were not like slaves, for their favours were (nearly always) solicited, not compelled. Nor were they exactly like prostitutes, for the liaison often had permanence, and far from being merely sensual, was highly sentamentalized.”
He does note how, given he is known as a religious writer, people might be shocked that he is writing of these “impure loves” without condemning them. However, he says “the sin in question is one of the two (gambling is the other) which I have never been tempted to commit. I will not indulge in futile philippics against enemies I never met in battle.”
I love the generosity of this idea, that he won’t comment on sins he has never had to fight against; its unexpectedly humble. He has a lot of bad things to say about the Bloods, who were mostly bullies, but ends the chapter with something rather unexpected. I was not paying attention to my dates, nad did not realize we were in 1914:
Peace to them all. A worse fate awaited them than the most vindictive fag among us could have wished. Ypres and the Somme ate up most of them. They were happy while their good days lasted.
You will see we have not even got to the conversion yet. In the prologue, he says: ‘”I never read an autobiography in which the parts devoted to the earlier years were not by far the most interesting,” and I guess he’s correct. The conversion was in itself quite unspectacular, happening on the top floor of a bus in London one evening in the 1930s. I find something rather beautiful about that. I am sure that bus route is still running. It should get its own blue plaque. I just love the idea of how full London is of dead people’s personal history. I am sure every square of sidewalk has its story of heartbreak and first kisses and murder and etc.