Callow, Philip.

"In November 1919 D. H. Lawrence arrived in Venice, thirty-four years old, a big name with a banned book behind him, scraping by on very little but with a zest for life undiminished by shaky health. He had had a bleak war - hounded out of Cornwall, humiliated in army medical exams - and was now overjoyed to be free and on the move, a twentieth-century English exile who would remain passionately English to the end of his days.". "Philip Callow's account of Lawrence's last years - his tempestuous relationship with Frieda and his relentless travels between New Mexico, Europe, and England - brings the great writer to life in intimate detail. As Lawrence's disgust with the Western world grew more intense, his rage ebbed and flowed erratically, but between the rages he knew rapture. He relished his workingman's aptitude, but what sustained him was his writing. "Without it," he once said, "I would have been dead long ago."". "His anger finally found an outlet that earned him money: he wrote Lady Chatterley's Lover and broke the taboo against explicit sex in literature. In poetry, novellas, travel writing, and the painting of visceral canvases, Lawrence continued to respond to the demands of his art. And, to the end, he clung to his wife, the fundamentally married man he had always been. In Body of Truth, Philip Callow gives us a revealing story of the artist at life's end."--BOOK JACKET.

Examining Chekhov's life within the context of his art, Mr. Callow finds him astonishingly modern: the new kind of man, uncomfortable in the world and refusing to sentimentalize his unease. But the love theme that is central to his biography and his art, which Mr. Callow explores with a novelist's skills and sensitivities, has been somehow slighted by Chekhov scholars. It is the hidden ground from which his work sprang and on which his divided life stood. We must constantly remind ourselves that Chekhov was for years a doctor first and a writer second, seeing writing as a frivolous, irrelevant activity. He exhausted himself with this double life and was soon in bad health. Mr. Callow's portrait reveals a puzzlingly elusive man who constantly surprises us: a modest genius who finds the whole nature of fame unseemly; a man furious at injustice who is apolitical; a humorist in despair before the mediocrity, stupidity, and cruelty of the world; a generous spirit unable to stop working to improve the lot of others, incapable of turning anyone away, who remains stubbornly apart and hidden.

Only now can we see Paul Cezanne as the invisible genius at the very inception of modern art. Philip Callow's life of the great painter, the first in more than a quarter-century, offers a vital reassessment. Drawing on contemporary sources and on Joachim Gasquet's newly translated firsthand account, Mr. Callow employs his exceptional skills and a poetic prose to follow the twists and turns of an outwardly uneventful life that was filled with inner anguish. He traces Cezanne's bitter struggle to overcome personal inadequacies and the insults of the critical community, and examines with new insights Cezanne's relationship with Emile Zola, the most profound friendship of the painter's career. For all of Cezanne's weakness and despair, Lost Earth is the story of a transcendent artist who was passionately committed to a tradition he would one day transform. His love of the outdoors enabled him to paint the universe in an apple and to change the landscape behind us.

In From Noon to Starry Night, published on the 100th anniversary of Walt Whitman's death, the great Poet of democracy has at last found his biographer. Philip Callow brings to Whitman's extraordinary life the skills and sensitivities of novelist, poet, and biographer. Here is the life of America's poet - beguiling, surprising, in some ways magical - a wonderfully detailed portrait, lyrically told. More successfully than any earlier biography, Callow's has captured Whitman's elusive truth. The shadows of Whitman's life hide "the actual person, if we can only find him, smiling evasively in his thicket of identities," Callow writes. "He is curious, a great puzzle...He lives on so many levels: learns a trade, lives with mates as a skilled man, and then in the heavy weather of buccaneer journalism, the daily Politics of local issues. A psychological oddity, he loves the ebb and flood of crowds, yet is fundamentally a solitary, with a weird sexual fluidity that remains a riddle to this day, carefully hidden from others as it is from himself. "Fearing intimacy he becomes an enchanter, a stubborn innocent branded an obscene immoralist, shocking contemporaries with his candor. His health shattered by the 'butcher' wards of the Civil War hospitals, he experiences transactions of love there which are the most satisfying of his life. We seem to know everything and yet nothing about this baffling subject. Contradictory to the last, he affirms life and is inspired by death." Drawing upon a broad range of sources, and quoting liberally from Whitman's poems, Callow has re-created the poet's life in all its roundness and intricate corners. In a compelling blending of fact and interpretation, he gives us the man behind America's "first genuine voice...The sheer certainty of this voice can still astonish us - the passage of time has done nothing to dull it." Democracy was Whitman's great subject. He was, Callow observes, a democrat who set out to imagine the life of the average man in average circumstances changed into something grand and heroic. "To draw close to Whitman is to come to grips with our own doubts and dreams and absurdities," Callow writes. "If we are to believe in a future, in democracy, in individual regeneration as the measure of the world's worth, we should look again at a poet who wanted his poems to circulate as a 'coarse but warm blood' and be a testament to our common humanity." When Whitman died he was largely unknown in his own country. It was Kafka who later wrote, "His life is his real masterpiece." He comes alive again in Philip Callow's perceptive and evocative biography.