Tenerife in the banana grove where most of Mr Norris was written.
Christopher Isherwood photographed by Benjamin Britten in the thirties.
Two scenes from the original Group Theatre production of Isherwood and Auden’s The Dog Beneath the Skin at the Westminster Theatre in 1936. Above, ‘Have you seen Sir Francis Crewe?’ Top, opposite, Mad masks in the red-light district of Ostnia.
There was a great deal of publicity about Isherwood and Auden’s departure for China on 19 January 1938, with cameras at Victoria - all thoroughly enjoyed by Christopher.
John Lehmann photographed in 1939, a ‘tall handsome young personage with his pale narrowed quizzing eyes’.
Christopher Isherwood, E.M. Forster and William Plomer at Aldeburgh in June 1948, photographed by Bill Caskey.
A snapshot of Christopher taken in the early fifties. ‘His expression was remarkably boyish, and remained so … There was a twinkle in his eye which he seemed to be able to switch on and off like an actor.’
John Lehmann with his two sisters, Beatrix, the actress, and Rosamond the novelist, photographed in August 1953.
Christopher Isherwood photographed in London, May 1965.
John Lehmann in 1980. ‘Seated behind his desk, John seemed the incarnation of authority - benevolent authority, but authority, none the less.’
Christopher and Don Bachardy in June 1972.
A lithograph of Christopher and Don Bachardy done in 1976 by David Hockney.
XI
C hristopher’s plan to devote the next few months to preparing the ground for his new novel was postponed by a fresh project. He had been offered a contract to write a travel book by both Methuen in London and Random House in New York, and he and Bill Caskey set out for their six months’ wandering in South America on 19 September 1947. He must have written to me a number of letters from various points of stay, but they have mysteriously all disappeared, except for a few postcards. In Buenos Aires he met the famous editor of the literary magazine Sur, Victoria Ocampo, who had already been in correspondence with New Writing for several years; and also, to his surprise, the original ‘German Boy’ of his first adventures in Berlin, Berthold or Bubi, as he then called him. Bubi, now prosperous after many setbacks, was delighted to see Christopher, and proudly showed him a row of his books on the shelves of his living-room - though he couldn’t yet read English.
On their way back they spent several days in Paris, where they chanced to meet Wystan and Chester on their way to Ischia, and made a new friend: Gore Vidal, who was a tremendous admirer of Christopher, and who knew that he had thought very highly of his homosexual novel, The City and the Pillar (which I had published in England, not without difficulty). They remained very good friends to the end, and Christopher dedicated A Single Man to him. They also paid a sad, farewell visit to Denny Fouts, who was seriously ill from drug excesses in Peter Watson’s flat. He died the following year in Rome.
Christopher and Bill spent the latter part of June and early July 1948 in London, and while they were there a new offer of film work arrived from MGM. The job was to revise a script based on Dostoevsky’s The Gambler which had already been worked on by Ladislas Fodor. Christopher found the work difficult, as his own ideas did not blend easily with Fodor’s. He wrote to me from his new address in Santa Monica, 333 East Rustic Road, on 6 November:
My life, since I reached California, has been divided into two phases. The first, before Caskey joined me, was work at the studio, on the Dostoevsky picture, which is now being shot. (Called The Great Sinner - did you know he actually meditated writing a book of that name, the old ham!?) It is not Dostoevsky, but it is somewhat magnificent, owing to $3,000,000 worth of sets, costumes and high-powered talent. Anyhow, I
Christopher Isherwood photographed by Benjamin Britten in the thirties.
Two scenes from the original Group Theatre production of Isherwood and Auden’s The Dog Beneath the Skin at the Westminster Theatre in 1936. Above, ‘Have you seen Sir Francis Crewe?’ Top, opposite, Mad masks in the red-light district of Ostnia.
There was a great deal of publicity about Isherwood and Auden’s departure for China on 19 January 1938, with cameras at Victoria - all thoroughly enjoyed by Christopher.
John Lehmann photographed in 1939, a ‘tall handsome young personage with his pale narrowed quizzing eyes’.
Christopher Isherwood, E.M. Forster and William Plomer at Aldeburgh in June 1948, photographed by Bill Caskey.
A snapshot of Christopher taken in the early fifties. ‘His expression was remarkably boyish, and remained so … There was a twinkle in his eye which he seemed to be able to switch on and off like an actor.’
John Lehmann with his two sisters, Beatrix, the actress, and Rosamond the novelist, photographed in August 1953.
Christopher Isherwood photographed in London, May 1965.
John Lehmann in 1980. ‘Seated behind his desk, John seemed the incarnation of authority - benevolent authority, but authority, none the less.’
Christopher and Don Bachardy in June 1972.
A lithograph of Christopher and Don Bachardy done in 1976 by David Hockney.
XI
C hristopher’s plan to devote the next few months to preparing the ground for his new novel was postponed by a fresh project. He had been offered a contract to write a travel book by both Methuen in London and Random House in New York, and he and Bill Caskey set out for their six months’ wandering in South America on 19 September 1947. He must have written to me a number of letters from various points of stay, but they have mysteriously all disappeared, except for a few postcards. In Buenos Aires he met the famous editor of the literary magazine Sur, Victoria Ocampo, who had already been in correspondence with New Writing for several years; and also, to his surprise, the original ‘German Boy’ of his first adventures in Berlin, Berthold or Bubi, as he then called him. Bubi, now prosperous after many setbacks, was delighted to see Christopher, and proudly showed him a row of his books on the shelves of his living-room - though he couldn’t yet read English.
On their way back they spent several days in Paris, where they chanced to meet Wystan and Chester on their way to Ischia, and made a new friend: Gore Vidal, who was a tremendous admirer of Christopher, and who knew that he had thought very highly of his homosexual novel, The City and the Pillar (which I had published in England, not without difficulty). They remained very good friends to the end, and Christopher dedicated A Single Man to him. They also paid a sad, farewell visit to Denny Fouts, who was seriously ill from drug excesses in Peter Watson’s flat. He died the following year in Rome.
Christopher and Bill spent the latter part of June and early July 1948 in London, and while they were there a new offer of film work arrived from MGM. The job was to revise a script based on Dostoevsky’s The Gambler which had already been worked on by Ladislas Fodor. Christopher found the work difficult, as his own ideas did not blend easily with Fodor’s. He wrote to me from his new address in Santa Monica, 333 East Rustic Road, on 6 November:
My life, since I reached California, has been divided into two phases. The first, before Caskey joined me, was work at the studio, on the Dostoevsky picture, which is now being shot. (Called The Great Sinner - did you know he actually meditated writing a book of that name, the old ham!?) It is not Dostoevsky, but it is somewhat magnificent, owing to $3,000,000 worth of sets, costumes and high-powered talent. Anyhow, I
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