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jeffhall's review against another edition
2.0
Denton Welch's Journals are not essential even for the most dedicated fan of his autobiographical fiction, but they're an interesting read anyway. Welch was an uncompromisingly honest writer, and his journals reveal him at his most uncensored, expressing both the beautiful and the ugly parts of his personality.
At his worst, he's hard to sympathize with, as he spends an inordinate amount of time speculating as to which of his acquaintances are likely to remember him in their wills, and whether or not their bequests will be stingy. And then there's his ongoing dissatisfaction with everyone else's taste in everything from clothes to beverages to home furnishings.
At his best, he's a charming philosopher of ordinary life, informed by his status as an outsider who was not especially bitter about the difficulties he sometimes experienced as an invalid, a homosexual, and an unapologetic snob. The fiction is still the better read, but the Journals do add an undeniable dimension to the appreciation of this singular English writer.
At his worst, he's hard to sympathize with, as he spends an inordinate amount of time speculating as to which of his acquaintances are likely to remember him in their wills, and whether or not their bequests will be stingy. And then there's his ongoing dissatisfaction with everyone else's taste in everything from clothes to beverages to home furnishings.
At his best, he's a charming philosopher of ordinary life, informed by his status as an outsider who was not especially bitter about the difficulties he sometimes experienced as an invalid, a homosexual, and an unapologetic snob. The fiction is still the better read, but the Journals do add an undeniable dimension to the appreciation of this singular English writer.
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