It takes a brave writer to tackle once more the monumental figure of W H Auden. Any new book appears against the background of John Fuller’s exhaustive literary and bibliographical work on the poet, and the mighty biographies written by Auden’s literary executor, Edward Mendelson. It must therefore offer something different from either of these great projects: an introduction for the intelligent general reader, perhaps, or idiosyncratic reflection. 

Nicholas Jenkins’s The Island is neither of these. This substantial hardback is handsome in the usual Faber way. Its eight broadly chronological chapters are full of the author’s enthusiasm for Auden’s early work, on which it concentrates. They cover the familiar life story, from Auden’s birth in York in 1907, through his education at Gresham’s and Christ Church, Oxford, to the time he spent in Berlin and teaching at a provincial English school, though in fairly cursory terms. The majority of the 750 pages are dense with close readings of the poetry, and include over a hundred pages of thoughtful, detailed notes. Sharing a publisher with Auden means Jenkins is able to quote freely rather than having to resort to paraphrase, as other scholars and writers are forced to do by the cost of rights. As a result, The Island is rich with illustrative quotations. 

This should, then, be an intellectual plum pudding. And yet, from the outset, something seems slightly off. The chapters are arranged in three sections with landscape titles: ‘Marsh’, ‘Moor’, ‘Garden’. It’s an attractive conceit for a book subtitled ‘The Last of Englishness’, producing an instant sense of coherence. Better