It is not quite as penetrating as many other biographies I've read, and I suspect this is because while some of the better biographies are written posthumously, West composed this work while Styron yet lived. The relative superficiality aside, the prose is vivid and elegant, and the critical views are convincing. ( )

Styron was one of our American writers who matured in WW2. Afterwords he duked it out (verbally) with Mailer and knew Vonnegut, Jones, Cheever, Yates, and some of the others. He did Chicago in 68 pushed for social justice (He wrote Nat and Sophie, after all).

Styron seemed the sane non-alcoholic in this group of writers (or maybe James West makes it look that way?); then he goes bonkers too. This bunch sure make writing look hard. Gotta mess with your soul and betrray /reveal everyone you love or just hung out with to write a novel? Seems that way!

I just wish that West could write a bit better. Someone once reviewed a piano concert by saying "he hit the right keys." West laid down the facts (But he gets better at making the narrative flow as he proceeds.)

The book is worth reading just to understand some of the obsessions of postwar times (along with Bailey's bios of Cheever and Yates--and there is a new Vonnegut bio that I am waiting for.) then be glad those times when Styron lived are over. ( )