Alan Bennett

Alan Bennett’s first play, Forty Years On, was produced in 1968; his most recent, Allelujah!, in 2018. His annual diary has appeared in the LRB since 1983. The Lady in the Van was first published in the paper, and the LRB has also carried some of his Talking Heads monologues, as well as short stories, pieces of memoir and reviews. House Arrest: Pandemic Diaries came out in 2022.

Letter

Uncle Clarence

5 June 1986

Alan Bennett writes: Beg pardon. I had thought there were faults on both sides. When the next lot comes I hope Messrs Latimer and Wright will be around to tell us why we did the proper thing there too. Bags not be in the same cave.
Letter

Old Scholar

5 February 1987

SIR: Hugh Lloyd-Jones suggests that Oxford has succeeded better than Cambridge in combining critical scholarship with literary interpretation (LRB, 5 February). I was at Oxford in the Fifties and the Rector of my college, Exeter, was E.A. Barber, who brought out an edition of Propertius. When asked what he thought of Propertius as literature, Barber replied: ‘I have no idea. I didn’t bother with...
Letter

Victorian Values

17 March 1988

SIR: ‘But above all,’ asks Mr Hurd in his Tamworth piece (LRB, 17 March), ‘where were the parents of these [rioting] youths and what influence have they had on the way their children conduct themselves?’ I am not what the Sunday papers would call ‘an experienced Cabinet children watcher’, but my impression is that when it comes to ‘influencing the way their children behave’ the Cabinet...
Letter

Hello!

4 June 1998

I was pleased to see that in the latest issue of the LRB (LRB, 4 June) the Diary section was indeed a diary (and a fascinating one at that); all too often the space is used to smuggle in yet another book review. Over several years I’ve urged the editor to devote the space to a proper diary, so I hope she may now have conceded the point. I’m slightly nettled, though, that she should defer to W.G....
Letter

Bennett-Biz

21 January 1999

Stuart Hood (Letters, 4 February) misunderstands me in thinking that when I wrote that what Anna Akhmatova and Isaiah Berlin lacked was a touch of Kafka I meant that Akhmatova’s experience of life was insufficiently Kafkaesque. I would not say that, nor presume to say it, and ‘Kafkaesque’ is not a word I particularly like, as nowadays it is often just a synonym for the modish ‘weird’ or a...

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