The Diaries Of A L Rowse

'I only saw one page of his journal and that inadvertently when he was staying with me. The passage quite erroneously ascribed to me an unseemly anecdote about the Duke of Windsor so I hope that source will be handled with caution.'

This alarmed quotation from a letter by one of Rowse's closest friends alerts us to the most constant quality of his diaries: their freedom and their love of gossip. In both of these, and for range, curiosity, sensitivity to the arts and instant reaction to people and atmosphere, Rowse is in the Pepys class.

But while Pepys's diary covers only nine years, Rowse's extend over the greater part of our century. He was born in 1903 and died in 1997. The son of a poor, virtually illiterate Cornish china-clay worker, he became one of the most prolific authors of his time and one of the best-read. Passionately fond of travel in his own country, in Europe and in America, he remained all his long life rooted in Cornwall.

Best of all is his zest. Rowse was not prepared to be bored and his journals are never boring.