This account of a biographer's battles to beat his 'authorised' rival is full of illuminating insights
'Innocent and lyrical' … John Gielgud. Photograph: Topham Picturepoint
Here is another example of a flourishing new literary genre: the theatrical revenge memoir. A couple of months ago we had Michael Blakemore's savagely compelling Stage Blood, in which the veteran director delivered the final and conclusive blow in his grudge fight with Peter Hall. Now, Croall, an admirably thorough, sensitive and industrious theatre biographer, is rehearsing his grievances against the late Sheridan Morley, a wayward, unreliable but enjoyably exuberant author, with whom he found himself in unwitting competition when both were attempting to write about John Gielgud. Croall's latest book, In Search of Gielgud: A Biographer's Tale, is an account of his attempts to get to grips with the ever-fascinating actor, then still alive. At the same time as capturing the challenges of trying to write about a living subject, its raison d'etre is the bizarre behaviour of the man he darkly refers to as The Other Biographer. The bizarre behaviour of Croall's publisher, Michael Earley of Methuen, who seems to do everything he can to avoid actually dealing with Croall or responding to his manuscript, provides a further subplot.
The central character in this saga is Croall, who presents himself as a mouse that roars – a solid, diligent, modest chap faced with behaviour that he will not put up with. It is initially a Pooterish self-portrait: he draws up lists, he writes memos to himself, gives himself monthly progress reports. He is delighted when Gielgud somewhat reluctantly agrees to allow him to go ahead with the book ("of course I cannot refuse my consent"), even though Morley had long ago secured the coveted title of authorised biographer. Croall is sceptical of Morley's ability to deliver a proper account of Gielgud's career: his earlier biographies of Coward, Gertrude Lawrence, James Mason, Dirk Bogarde and Morley's actor father, Robert, are peppered with inaccuracies and over-obsessed, Croall feels, with their subjects' private lives.
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The central character in this saga is Croall, who presents himself as a mouse that roars – a solid, diligent, modest chap faced with behaviour that he will not put up with. It is initially a Pooterish self-portrait: he draws up lists, he writes memos to himself, gives himself monthly progress reports. He is delighted when Gielgud somewhat reluctantly agrees to allow him to go ahead with the book ("of course I cannot refuse my consent"), even though Morley had long ago secured the coveted title of authorised biographer. Croall is sceptical of Morley's ability to deliver a proper account of Gielgud's career: his earlier biographies of Coward, Gertrude Lawrence, James Mason, Dirk Bogarde and Morley's actor father, Robert, are peppered with inaccuracies and over-obsessed, Croall feels, with their subjects' private lives.More
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