Product Description

A brilliant and feared critic, Kenneth Tynan was a nabob of the National Theatre alongside Laurence Olivier, and he was also the daring impresario who created "Oh Calcutta". He was a notorious eccentric, a louche sophisticate: connoisseur of cuisine, wine, literature and women. Where else could you find such a judicious blend of aesthetics, theatre lore, love, marriage, sex and politics? These sizzling diaries will remind older readers of a man whose reputation as the greatest critic of the twentieth century is still unchallenged and introduce younger readers to an electrifying writer who simply could not be boring.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #313646 in Books
• Published on: 2002-09-16
• Original language: English
• Binding: Paperback
• 448 pages

Amazon.co.uk Review
The Diaries of Kenneth Tynan reveals afresh the sparkling, undimmed loquacity of the man who turned theatre criticism into an art form in its own right. It is also a desperate, harrowing tale of a tormenting talent on a tragic trajectory, described by Tynan's second wife Kathleen, in her superb biography The Life of Kenneth Tynan as "electrically charged, but not earthed". Magnificently edited by John Lahr, himself a cherishable talent whose own authoritative New Yorker profiles are collected in Show and Tell, the journals cover the decade he spent in England and, latterly, California from 1971 to 1980, when he was buoyed up by commercial success of his sex revue, Oh! Calcutta, yet could not secure funding for a proposed movie project. A self-styled ergophobe, in writing with a stammerer's eloquence of his blockage, he still failed to budge it, and so occupied himself with starry socialising, political rumination, and the well-turned sentence. He describes his complicated relationship with Sir Laurence Olivier at the National Theatre, where he worked as dramaturg; he recounts inadvertently watching explicit pornography in the presence of Princess Margaret, the moment saved only by Peter Cook's ad-libbed funny-voice commentary; and he relishes the discovery that his career as a national critic had been initiated entirely due to a mistaken identity. Most affecting, though, are his appreciation of performers, always preferred by Tynan to the words themselves. Phil Silvers performing after a stroke, the vaudevillian genius of Max Wall, and the charm of Jacques Tati are all fulsomely described, and with commensurate flair.

And then there's the sex. As Tynan's health deteriorated (hereditary emphysema, exacerbated by heavy smoking), his anally-fixated sado-masochistic sexual demands, already related in his first wife Elaine Dundy's autobiography, Life Itself!, increased, as did his preoccupation with death. In truth, the diaries were his Green Room, a rehearsal space for the aphoristic nuggets with which he studded his public writing. Too intellectually uptight, perhaps, to be an artist, Tynan's tragedy was to realise this, and these gilded, chastening diaries allow us a voyeuristic, thrilling glimpse at the ever-absorptive reflection of this grand, inconsolable narcissist. --David Vincent

Review
"Kenneth Tynan is about to become a star...his scandalous diaries are a confessional cross between the two Alans, Clark and Bennett" Scotland on Sunday 'No one, they say, ever erected a statue to a critic, but Kenneth Tynan has bequeathed something even larger to posterity: a legendary life" Michael Billington, Guardian 'The Diaries of Kenneth Tynan don't half dish the dirt...Packed with scandal and salacious anecdotes about his famous friends and, believe me, it is premier-cru gossip, these diaries are a testament to his flamboyant wit' Tatler

Daily Telegraph
'One of the publishing sensations of the year'

Customer Reviews

Oh, A Delight!
It matters not a bit whether or not you have encountered the enigmatic Tynan before, you will find this collection of his diaries a thoroughly entertaining read.
This witty and irreverent collection (from 1970 until Tynan's death a decade later) not only gives the reader tales of Tynan's many famous friends (Princess, Margaret, Peter Cook, Richard Burton to name but three) but also an insight into his passions for theatre, the arts and the female bottom.
Tynan's extra-marital affair with the eclectic Nicole is riveting,at one point their exploits involve a bizzarre use of vodka, as are his Wildean quips and observations.
Tynan seems to emulate his hero Wilde during his final years in the USA by living and dying beyond his means. The destitute and near-starving family are somehow able to jet off to Europe for a party of month-long holiday, though.
All in all, Tynan's diaries are sad, truthful and curt but are also wry, entertaining and relevant. It's a great read that most will get through in little more than a single sitting. Essential.

A darker side of Tynan, but not as dark as you've heard.
Having read the Tynan letters and seen excerpts of the diaries in The New Yorker I was looking forward to the diaries. The diaries cover the 1970's to his death in 1980. This is the inner Tynan, where the letters are Tynan talking to the world, although it seems as if he kept this journal in order to make a record of parts of his experience he wanted known after his death. Several of the articles and reviews of the diaries paint a picture of desperation and escape into sado-masochistic sex, but although there are elements of Tynan's sexuality that seem almost infantile, I didn't see much evidence of anything really serious. It is hinted at in the introduction to Tynan's last days in California, where one of his daughters speaks of revelations from Kathleen that he has gone much further than before, and which Ken apparently answers with stories about Kathleen's various lovers (including Warren Beatty -- I remember Goldie Hawn being quoted as saying that all the women she had met in the movie business had experience with him in common). Outside of the mild s&m, there is very little in the diaries that couldn't be found in the diaries of an intelligent, articulate, and honest human being.

There is a great deal here about Tynan's inability to write. This is hard to figure out, because particularly in the letters he is always coming up with really wonderful ideas for serious writing projects, yet he is always looking for reasons not to work on them and takes refuge in projects which are short-term in nature and apparently of much less significance in the longer term. Then there are the movies, and the plays such as Oh! Calcutta! which may have seemed quite daring at the time, but which I don't think anyone will remember. He also speaks a lot about politics, but his arguments in favour of socialism are just not convincing. This is not because they couldn't have been convincing, but rather because they are all heat and little light, and this is because he never really developed them in any kind of depth. It is as if writing came very easily to Tynan, yet after his days at Oxford I am not sure he really developed his gift. Maybe the knowledge that he could have been much better and wasn't because he was always having to worry about keeping a roof over his head and that of his family, as well as the frustration of dealing with the politics and cliques and backstabbing at the National Theatre, which led him to the sort of socialism which was strongly felt but not quite so well developed or expressed.

Let me close by saying that reading the letters and the diaries left me wishing for the publication of Tynan's New Yorker pieces, his Playboy pieces, and perhaps his reviews for The Observer.

Funny, revealing and saddening portrait of a lost genius
I was too young to really remember Ken Tynan so I was interested to see what all the fuss was about. The tape is brilliantly read by Simon Callow and gives an easily digestible insight into this extraordinary man. The obsession with spanking and the descent into self loathing are a great counterpoint to the name dropping and general high living. I found the Charles DeGaulle story especially amusing. It cheered me up after a very dull week!