It seems a pity in a way that Mr Seymour-Smith could not have followed the example of Johnson, who by the custom then prevailing kept his observations on a poet's work quite separate from those on his life. He likewise followed practice in offering few extracts or quotations in his text, and I suppose it might be said that respectable literary criticism ceased at about the time they began to be generally admitted. But they—extracts—are all the rage now, as I said, and anything like that makes a book look more diverting. This is useful in the present case because Graves's life has been for most of its length as boring to be told about, however satisfying to lead, as that of most professional writers...

A difficult man, then, also vain, humorous, warm, brave, not very happy, inquisitive, self-willed and capable of the most passionate absorption in others. Some of these qualities can be seen in Roberta Booth's marvellous jacket photograph, very recent, with the master unshaven of course, in non-glamorous clobber but wearing a special Spanish or Mallorquin hat. Has he overdone the part of poet a little? Maybe, and his personal cult of the Muse and the White Goddess has rightly or wrongly hindered his being accepted where he belongs, in the front rank. But when the events of his life have receded to a blur, his poems will be as clear, as hard-edged and as sound as when they were first written.