Assuming that a biography is worth writing in the first place, it is often asserted that after 20 years or so another look at the same subject is justified. It is nearly 20 years now since Selina Hastings’s subtle and perceptive account of Nancy Mitford appeared; and so even if the heart sank at the thought of revisiting Mitford country – the Hons’ cupboard, the ‘sewers’, the shrieks, ‘do tell’ – it seemed only fair to approach this new book about her in a positive, hopeful spirit. After all, it was possible, if not very likely given the assiduous cultivation in recent years of the Mitford literary estate, that Laura Thompson had found some new material, or at least scanned the old material with fresh eyes.
Unfortunately, the heart sinks further within the first two or three pages.
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