MixedLos Angeles Review of BooksThe earlier books were more empathetic with their subject than the present one. Wilson, for instance, keenly observes the striking destruction of Patricia Highsmith’s initially beautiful face: a walking, talking, gin-guzzling picture of Dorian Gray ... What is the use of yet another life of Highsmith? With little sympathy for his subject, Richard Bradford sees the origin of Highsmith’s plots in her destructive relationships with women of higher social standing. It’s possible, but who could ever solve the mystery of creation? It may be relationship drama, or a childhood trauma, or a dream, or a fleeting impression: a face glimpsed in a crowd, a moth circling a light bulb. What makes the present biography poignant, is that there’s no redemption for a life of restlessness, despair, and torturous, doomed affairs. All the pain that drove Highsmith into that no-woman’s-land of loathing and loneliness might have indeed inspired her books. Regardless, here is a life—and, finally, an art—consumed by alcohol and isolation, a reminder that things don’t necessarily work out in the end, even for the most talented among us.
Mircea Eliade trans. Christopher Bartholomew
PositiveLos Angeles Review of BooksAlthough the literary value of novels written so early in life is rarely exceptional, their value as a historical and psychological document cannot be underestimated ... The young Eliade both makes himself and writes himself with a fury.
