An Angel at my Table

By Janet Frame

Book Overview

The autobiography of New Zealand's most significant writer New Zealand's preeminent writer Janet Frame brings the skill of an extraordinary novelist and poet to these vivid and haunting recollections,... This description may be from another edition of this product.

• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0807612596
• ISBN13: 9780807612590
• Release Date: January 1991
• Publisher: George Braziller
• Length: 434 Pages
• Weight: 1.58 lbs.
• Dimensions: 1.3" x 6.1" x 9.2"

Customer Reviews

Creativity beyond reasoning

The second volume of Janet Frame's autobiography traces her development as a writer from teacher training days, through her short-lived teaching career (ending with her walking out of class and never looking back, with which I can wholeheartedly empathise) to her being mentored twenty-four hours a day by the established New Zealand writer, Frank Sargeson. Despite her failure to understand his homosexual leanings, the warmth of her relationship and appreciation of his friendship are transparent. An Angel At My Table is a worthwhile read for any aspiring author first setting out - Janet's way of writing is described with humour and insight. We are even told how Frank Sargeson seemed to be rather taken aback by the relative ease of her writing, not realising that, whenever he came within earshot she would start typing `This is the forest primeval, the murmuring pines and the hemlock speak and in accents disconsolate answer the wail of the forest' over and over again, alternating this with the slightly less erudite `The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog'. After all, she did not wish her mentor to suspect her of lack of productivity! Though she only briefly refers to her many years spent in Seacliff Hospital, the mental anguish and emotional turmoil of these years clearly is shown to result in her greater self-awareness and appreciation. She writes: "I was taking my new status seriously. If the world of the mad were the world where I now officially belonged (lifelong disease, no cure, no hope) then I would use it to survive, I would excel in it. I sensed that it did not exclude my being a poet." At which point I put the book down, gave a great whoop of delight and danced around the room. You see, I, too, am a poet *wry grin*