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In This Self Portrait, Told In The First Person, We Follow Villon's Life From Its Earliest Beginnings; As A Gutter Urchin In The Turbulent Medieval Paris Of His Poems.
284 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1962
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About the author
Doris Leslie
39 books2 followersDoris Leslie, the English novelist and historical biographer.
Her first novel, ''The Starling,'' published in 1927, was a success and she produced 13 more. But her reputation rests with her historical biographies, beginning with ''Royal William,'' a study of King William IV that appeared in 1940.
''Polonaise,'' a life of Chopin, was a best seller, as were ''This For Caroline,'' a biography of Lady Caroline Lamb, and ''The Scepter and the Rose,'' the story of Charles II and Catherine of Braganza.
She was married and widowed twice, and had no children. Her second husband was Sir Walter Hannay, who died in 1961.
Her first novel, ''The Starling,'' published in 1927, was a success and she produced 13 more. But her reputation rests with her historical biographies, beginning with ''Royal William,'' a study of King William IV that appeared in 1940.
''Polonaise,'' a life of Chopin, was a best seller, as were ''This For Caroline,'' a biography of Lady Caroline Lamb, and ''The Scepter and the Rose,'' the story of Charles II and Catherine of Braganza.
She was married and widowed twice, and had no children. Her second husband was Sir Walter Hannay, who died in 1961.
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
August 18, 2017
A superb biographical fiction about the life of "the best known French poet of the late Middle Ages", or Wikipedia describes him. This leaves me feeling rather shamefaced that I had never heard of him, but perhaps the shame should belong to my educators! Anyhow, it is an engaging and extremely well-told tale. I loved Leslie's style. Here's a sample:
"All through that golden summer I travelled back and forth along the byways of Poitou...At times, if I'd had a good day, I would sleep at an inn but more to my liking in a dry ditch or a field. And in those sun-warmed evenings I would lie on my back watching the scorched sky fade from flame to rose, from rose to lavender, and a sickle moon swing up among a powdering of stars, till night overlaid the dusk in a silent dream-tranquility....And then my waking to the early sound of bird and beast and toiling men, and the distant laughter of a girl, to bring with it the throbbing ache of memory."
"All through that golden summer I travelled back and forth along the byways of Poitou...At times, if I'd had a good day, I would sleep at an inn but more to my liking in a dry ditch or a field. And in those sun-warmed evenings I would lie on my back watching the scorched sky fade from flame to rose, from rose to lavender, and a sickle moon swing up among a powdering of stars, till night overlaid the dusk in a silent dream-tranquility....And then my waking to the early sound of bird and beast and toiling men, and the distant laughter of a girl, to bring with it the throbbing ache of memory."
Displaying 1 of 1 review