The house of literature is in its usual state of disrepair. Poetry is depressed, the novel remains in the shadow of James, Joyce and Proust, and an aging Tennessee Williams is still the greatest living playwright. But wait: there is a light burning in the attic window. Biography is alive, well, and scribbling away, better than ever. The banners may not be waving in college English departments and the critics may not be cheering quite as much as they should, but we are now in a golden age of biography. Indeed, all but half...
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