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The Afterlife of Arthur Koestler
JULIAN BARNES
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It is, finally, Cesarani's moral prating that seems—that broadens into—his most exasperating characteristic. One evening in 1971, after a succession of domestic and professional irritations, Koestler worked himself up into a state in which, according to Cynthia's diary, she "thought he was going to kick the [TV] set over." It appears to be an established biographical fact that the set remained unkicked, but enough has been done to offend Cesarani and his fabled sense of decency. "On such occasions," he sighs, "one looks in vain for evidence of the 'power and nobility' of Koestler's thought." Note the slimy use of "one." 

The pity of it for Scammell is that Cesarani has written what is known in journalism as a spoiler. You can't see the newspapers coming back for a second helping of serial rights when Scammell's authorized biography appears. Nor can you see too many readers with an appetite for both biographies, given the efficiency of Cesarani's tomb-robbing. Those with a particular interest in Koestler's Jewishness, those keen to disapprove, or to salivate over Biographical Anecdotes, may want to read this book. Everyone else should wait until 2001 for Scammell. 


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