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Loading... The Letters of Nancy Mitford and Evelyn Waugh (original 1996; edition 1997)by Charlotte Mosley (Editor) nog | Jun 2, 2024 |   I found that the letters became more interesting and moving in the latter half of the book. By this point (approximately 1951) Mitford and Waugh were discussing their respective writing in some detail, as well as analysing changes in the use of words and phrases they’d noticed. Both were unapologetic snobs, steeped in an aristocracy that seems alien (to me at least) a generation after their deaths. By this point, both felt that the modern world was encroaching on their preferred way of life. This lends a melancholy air to these later letters, which is especially notable in Mitford’s as a contrast to her earlier extreme ebullience. Overall I found the letters entertaining and inspiring. This year I’ve begun to write letters again and found that I am extremely rusty at it. (I am old enough to have had penpals before email became available.) Mitford and Waugh demonstrate how to sustain a bitchy, fascinating, and informative correspondence for twenty-two years. Their letters reveal a lot about their writing and themselves, but what struck me most powerfully was the strength of their friendship. (  ) annarchism | Aug 4, 2024 | Most of these letters consist of gossip about other English upper-class snobs, which sometimes becomes malicious. In particular, they (mostly Waugh) revel in tormenting Cyril Connelly. The two letter writers think themselves witty and superior; they are such a perfect match that one wonders why they didn’t just divorce their spouses and get it on. Were they always this way, or was it the success of Brideshead Revisited and The Pursuit of Love that bloated their egos so? How much further can I read before I have had enough? Especially Waugh. It’s almost as if he converted to Catholicism as a stunt that would peeve all those Church of England stalwarts. His letters make clear that he is not a particularly devout Christian, and his heart-on-his-sleeve misanthropist rantings, lack of love for his children, annoyance at Christmas, etc. makes one wonder if his Catholicism is theoretical rather than one that is actually practiced. Nancy, however, comes across as essentially and cheerfully Godless. She tends toward socialism, whereas Waugh leans just to the left of outright fascism. But they aren’t that political, deep down. One suspects it’s just another accessory that one dons that keeps them interesting to others in those rarified social gatherings. Ms. Mitford, for her part, is perhaps the better person. Still, she doesn’t get off the hook with her references to gay friends as “pansies.” She had an irrational hatred of Americans (not having visited the US, by the way). Mitford as cinema critic: “It [Brief Encounter] is both dreary & unrealistic, unlike our books.” For someone who lived in Paris for decades and called herself a Francophile, is it not unseemly to refer to various French as “frogs” in her letters? Waugh is your I-hate-everyone-sort, and can’t seem to resist pointing out that someone who annoyed him is a “jew” (I use his lower-case). I kept wondering if it wasn’t fatiguing to be so relentlessly “superior”? Elsewhere he says that only jews and lunatics buy the paintings of Cubists. These letters have been excised of potentially libelous statements (even the oldest from the mid-1940’s). The two of them have strong opinions about artists (perhaps more than the art itself). Both Picasso and Matisse are dissed, for instance. Waugh cannot stand the French (especially everything they have been for the last two hundred years). Rule, Britannia! I longed to hear something catty about the Royals. What did they think of them? (  ) nog | Jun 2, 2024 |  ) nmele | Oct 9, 2023 | ) Karen74Leigh | Sep 4, 2019 | wealhtheowwylfing | Feb 29, 2016 | Nancy Mitford and Evelyn Waugh were two of the most popular and respected authors of the early and mid-20th century; they were also lifelong friends who kept up a correspondence lasting more than two decades. This book is a collection of their letters to each other, which are full of jokes, literary allusions, and most of all gossip. They each had a very pointed, satirical sense of humor that was frequently directed at members of their own social set -- and quite often at each other. In many ways they couldn't be more different: Waugh was very conservative, old-fashioned, and staunchly Roman Catholic, while Mitford was a spiritually indifferent socialist living as an expatriate in Paris. But their correspondence reveals that they understood one another and shared a deep, affectionate friendship. Through their discussions of current events, important people, and of course books (both their own and other people's), Mitford and Waugh's letters provide a unique window into their age. It's taken me a long time to write this review, because how can one "review" a collection of letters that weren't (necessarily) meant to be public? All I can say is that I enjoyed reading them. I've read a few books by each of these authors -- Mitford's The Pursuit of Love and Love in a Cold Climate, Waugh's Brideshead Revisited and A Handful of Dust -- but otherwise I didn't know much about either of them. I do think some level of familiarity with their work is helpful, but you definitely don't have to be an expert in order to enjoy these letters. They're often hilarious (how I shrieked, as Nancy would say) and also have some interesting discussions about literature. I want to read more of their books now! Of course, their chatter about mutual friends and acquaintances was hard to follow, although the editor did a fairly good job of identifying people in footnotes; but I still enjoyed this collection overall. If you're interested in early- and mid-20th-century literature, this might be a good book to seek out. christina_reads | Feb 6, 2014 |  ) Jaylia3 | Aug 19, 2009 | |
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Most of these letters consist of gossip about other English upper-class snobs, which sometimes becomes malicious. In particular, they (mostly Waugh) revel in tormenting Cyril Connelly. The two letter writers think themselves witty and superior; they are such a perfect match that one wonders why they didn’t just divorce their spouses and get it on.
Were they always this way, or was it the success of Brideshead Revisited and The Pursuit of Love that bloated their egos so? How much further can I read before I have had enough?
Especially Waugh. It’s almost as if he converted to Catholicism as a stunt that would peeve all those Church of England stalwarts. His letters make clear that he is not a particularly devout Christian, and his heart-on-his-sleeve misanthropist rantings, lack of love for his children, annoyance at Christmas, etc. makes one wonder if his Catholicism is theoretical rather than one that is actually practiced.
Nancy, however, comes across as essentially and cheerfully Godless. She tends toward socialism, whereas Waugh leans just to the left of outright fascism. But they aren’t that political, deep down. One suspects it’s just another accessory that one dons that keeps them interesting to others in those rarified social gatherings.
Ms. Mitford, for her part, is perhaps the better person. Still, she doesn’t get off the hook with her references to gay friends as “pansies.” She had an irrational hatred of Americans (not having visited the US, by the way). Mitford as cinema critic: “It [Brief Encounter] is both dreary & unrealistic, unlike our books.” For someone who lived in Paris for decades and called herself a Francophile, is it not unseemly to refer to various French as “frogs” in her letters?
Waugh is your I-hate-everyone-sort, and can’t seem to resist pointing out that someone who annoyed him is a “jew” (I use his lower-case). I kept wondering if it wasn’t fatiguing to be so relentlessly “superior”? Elsewhere he says that only jews and lunatics buy the paintings of Cubists.
These letters have been excised of potentially libelous statements (even the oldest from the mid-1940’s). The two of them have strong opinions about artists (perhaps more than the art itself). Both Picasso and Matisse are dissed, for instance. Waugh cannot stand the French (especially everything they have been for the last two hundred years). Rule, Britannia!
I longed to hear something catty about the Royals. What did they think of them? (