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Must you go?: my life with Harold Pinter
The subtitle of this wonderful memoir declares its this is 'my life with Harold Pinter', not Lady Antonia Fraser's complete life, and certainly not his. In essence, it is a love story and as with many love stories, the beginning and the end, the first light and the twilight, are dealt with more fully than the high noon in between. The result is a marvellously insightful testimony to modern literature's most celebrated marriage, between the greatest playwright of the age and a beautiful and famous prize-winning biographer. Must You Go? is based partly on Antonia Fraser's own diaries, which she has kept since October 1968 when she suffered from withdrawal symptoms after finishing her first historical biography, Mary Queen of Scots. Antonia Fraser has also used her own recollections, both immediate reactions (she always writes her Diary the next morning, unless otherwise noted) and memories. She has quoted Pinter where he told her things about his past, once again noting the source, and has occasionally quoted his friends talking to her on the same subject. Intriguingly her Diaries always pay special attention to any green shoots where Pinter's writing is concerned, perhaps a consequence of a biographer living with a creative artist and observing the process first hand. Harold Pinter and Antonia Fraser lived together from August 1975 until his death thirty-three years later on Christmas Eve 2008. 'O! call back yesterday, bid time return,' cries one of his courtiers to Richard II. This is Antonia Fraser's uniquely compelling way of doing so
328 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2010
63 people are currently reading
1,052 people want to read
About the author
Antonia Fraser
200Ìýbooks1,455ÌýfollowersAntonia Fraser is the author of many widely acclaimed historical works, including the biographies Mary, Queen of Scots (a 40th anniversary edition was published in May 2009), Cromwell: Our Chief of Men, King Charles II and The Gunpowder Plot (CWA Non-Fiction Gold Dagger; St Louis Literary Award). She has written five highly praised books which focus on women in history, The Weaker Vessel: Women's Lot in Seventeenth Century Britain (Wolfson Award for History, 1984), The Warrior Queens: Boadecia's Chariot, The Six Wives of Henry VIII, Marie Antoinette: The Journey (Franco-British Literary Prize 2001), which was made into a film by Sofia Coppola in 2006 and most recently Love and Louis XIV: The Women in the Life of the Sun King. She was awarded the Norton Medlicott Medal by the Historical Association in 2000. Antonia Fraser was made DBE in 2011 for her services to literature. Her most recent book is Must You Go?, celebrating her life with Harold Pinter, who died on Christmas Eve 2008. She lives in London.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 215 reviews
May 6, 2015
Memoir of a marriage between two people at the top of the literary game who had spouses, six children between them when they met, but cared more for each other than them. After their first meeting Pinter said to the author, "Must you go?" and the lust became an affair became marriage. 33 years of being in love, not just loving.
True love sometimes involves hurting others, when should we do our duty and when should we be true to ourselves? Antonia Fraser never addresses this or any other question that requires any depth to an answer. She writes only of their lives mixing with the glitterati of the literary, film and theatre world and of their love, always of their love for each other.
It is a lovely book, a deeply romantic read but in a real sense, not romance-novel at all, but it has to be said, it is shallow. I would have expected more of an author known for her deeply-penetrating and well-researched historical biographies. Perhaps love that deep needs no reflection, it just is two people as one and no questions, it's all an answer to the heart's quest in itself? I've never experienced that kind of love, but *I'd like to.
True love sometimes involves hurting others, when should we do our duty and when should we be true to ourselves? Antonia Fraser never addresses this or any other question that requires any depth to an answer. She writes only of their lives mixing with the glitterati of the literary, film and theatre world and of their love, always of their love for each other.
It is a lovely book, a deeply romantic read but in a real sense, not romance-novel at all, but it has to be said, it is shallow. I would have expected more of an author known for her deeply-penetrating and well-researched historical biographies. Perhaps love that deep needs no reflection, it just is two people as one and no questions, it's all an answer to the heart's quest in itself? I've never experienced that kind of love, but *I'd like to.
March 24, 2011
Real Housewives of Literary London.
I have rarely been this disappointed in a book. If reading a daytimer gets you off, you'll love it. But if you want to know what people were thinking and feeling while committing adultery, leaving their 6 kids behind, and dining with the rich famous, you're out of luck.
The author gives us no insight into why she fell so in love and her behavior comes across as selfish and blind to the needs of others. She drops names without any explanation of who they might be, as if to suggest that if the reader doesn't recognize who these 1970s literati were, they aren't worth bothering with.
I'm baffled by the glowing reviews.
I have rarely been this disappointed in a book. If reading a daytimer gets you off, you'll love it. But if you want to know what people were thinking and feeling while committing adultery, leaving their 6 kids behind, and dining with the rich famous, you're out of luck.
The author gives us no insight into why she fell so in love and her behavior comes across as selfish and blind to the needs of others. She drops names without any explanation of who they might be, as if to suggest that if the reader doesn't recognize who these 1970s literati were, they aren't worth bothering with.
I'm baffled by the glowing reviews.
February 13, 2011
Hemingway wrote somewhere that when two people are deeply in love, it is
Inevitable that their story will end in tragedy, since one will quite likely out-
live the other. I've been thinking about this recently because in the last few years I've read a handful of books by widows who were in deeply reciprocated love relationships and who write about those relationships in retrospect with great affection and a deep sense of loss. These books include Joan Didion's The Year of Living Dangerously, Sandra Gilbert's Wrongful Death, A Memoir, Eleanor Clift's Two Weeks of Life, Anne Roiphe's Epilogue, A Memoir. Obviously most of these books are written from a woman's perspective, since women outlive men (although I also recently read Donald Hall's The Best Day, The Worst Day, Life with Jane Kenyon, where he writes about his wife's long and losing bout with cancer).
Add to these titles, and many others, Antonia Fraser's My Life with Harold Pinter, her touching and moving account of her life with the great British playwright who died in 2008. Fraser and Pinter were in a 33 year relationship, though both were married to others (Pinter to a well-known British actress, Fraser to a member of Parliament) when they met in 1975 and did not marry one another until 1980 after both divorces were final and some recovery had occurred.
In her account of their life together, Fraser makes it clear how eminently suited they were for one another. Both high-achieving English writers, both moving in upper echelon social circles, both keenly intelligent, ambitious and gregarious with shelves filled with awards of various kinds (including, for Pinter, the Nobel Prize in Literature). This is an enviable relationship from almost any perspective, but that does not lessen the sting of Pinter's death, though he lived to the fairly advanced age of 78.
In addition to the lovely accounts of their feelings for one another, what distinguishes Fraser's book is its page after page of (high-end) celebrity dish. On these pages you will find appearances by Ralph Richardson, Lawrence Olivier, Faye Dunaway, Arthur Miller, John Fowles, Ian McEwan, Leonard Bernstein, Steve McQueen, Helen Mirren, Alan Bates, Vidia Naipaul, Sofia Coppola, Rex Harrison, Frank Sinatra, and the list goes on and on and on. Here's a typical passage:
Lunch at Kensington Palace with the Prince and Princess of Wales [yes, that's Princess Di] for Shimon Peres, Prime Minister of Israel, Philip Roth, in his waggish way: `Of course Harold hasn't been invited: he's Jewish.'
But these somewhat gloating passages of what it's like to be rich and famous are balanced by the warm, tender, loving feelings these two life partners shared. These feelings are epitomized in two poems, one which Harold wrote for Antonia, and the other which she wrote for him. Here is Harold's:
It is Here
What sound was that?
I turn away, into the shaking room.
What was that sound that come in on the dark?
What is this maze of light it leaves us in?
What is this stance we take,
To turn away and then turn back?
What did we hear?
It was the breath we took when we first met.
Listen. It is here.
The other, by Antonia, is in "bridge" language, because she believes bridge, "because it's about partnership, is a romantic game."
For My Partner
You're my two-hearts-as-one
Doubled into game
You're my Blackwood
You're my Gerber
You're my Grand Slam, vulnerable
Doubled and redoubled
Making all other contracts
Tame.
These are privileged lives, but well-lived, filled with love and creativity. The book is aptly titled with the question one lover asks another at the end of life: Must you go?
Inevitable that their story will end in tragedy, since one will quite likely out-
live the other. I've been thinking about this recently because in the last few years I've read a handful of books by widows who were in deeply reciprocated love relationships and who write about those relationships in retrospect with great affection and a deep sense of loss. These books include Joan Didion's The Year of Living Dangerously, Sandra Gilbert's Wrongful Death, A Memoir, Eleanor Clift's Two Weeks of Life, Anne Roiphe's Epilogue, A Memoir. Obviously most of these books are written from a woman's perspective, since women outlive men (although I also recently read Donald Hall's The Best Day, The Worst Day, Life with Jane Kenyon, where he writes about his wife's long and losing bout with cancer).
Add to these titles, and many others, Antonia Fraser's My Life with Harold Pinter, her touching and moving account of her life with the great British playwright who died in 2008. Fraser and Pinter were in a 33 year relationship, though both were married to others (Pinter to a well-known British actress, Fraser to a member of Parliament) when they met in 1975 and did not marry one another until 1980 after both divorces were final and some recovery had occurred.
In her account of their life together, Fraser makes it clear how eminently suited they were for one another. Both high-achieving English writers, both moving in upper echelon social circles, both keenly intelligent, ambitious and gregarious with shelves filled with awards of various kinds (including, for Pinter, the Nobel Prize in Literature). This is an enviable relationship from almost any perspective, but that does not lessen the sting of Pinter's death, though he lived to the fairly advanced age of 78.
In addition to the lovely accounts of their feelings for one another, what distinguishes Fraser's book is its page after page of (high-end) celebrity dish. On these pages you will find appearances by Ralph Richardson, Lawrence Olivier, Faye Dunaway, Arthur Miller, John Fowles, Ian McEwan, Leonard Bernstein, Steve McQueen, Helen Mirren, Alan Bates, Vidia Naipaul, Sofia Coppola, Rex Harrison, Frank Sinatra, and the list goes on and on and on. Here's a typical passage:
Lunch at Kensington Palace with the Prince and Princess of Wales [yes, that's Princess Di] for Shimon Peres, Prime Minister of Israel, Philip Roth, in his waggish way: `Of course Harold hasn't been invited: he's Jewish.'
But these somewhat gloating passages of what it's like to be rich and famous are balanced by the warm, tender, loving feelings these two life partners shared. These feelings are epitomized in two poems, one which Harold wrote for Antonia, and the other which she wrote for him. Here is Harold's:
It is Here
What sound was that?
I turn away, into the shaking room.
What was that sound that come in on the dark?
What is this maze of light it leaves us in?
What is this stance we take,
To turn away and then turn back?
What did we hear?
It was the breath we took when we first met.
Listen. It is here.
The other, by Antonia, is in "bridge" language, because she believes bridge, "because it's about partnership, is a romantic game."
For My Partner
You're my two-hearts-as-one
Doubled into game
You're my Blackwood
You're my Gerber
You're my Grand Slam, vulnerable
Doubled and redoubled
Making all other contracts
Tame.
These are privileged lives, but well-lived, filled with love and creativity. The book is aptly titled with the question one lover asks another at the end of life: Must you go?
December 31, 2016
precious precious people. started out well, but i was annoyed beyond belief by the end of it. finishing this book was a chore and perhaps a way of making sure i'll remember never to read anything about pinter again.
maybe that's a bit strong.
but really - a guy who labors for days over those sort of poems included in the memoir and can still win a nobel, albeit as a playwright, really?
the whole thing of screeching for the rights of the repressed and dispossessed, whilst living a life of luxury, defending milosevic, and getting all bent out of shape because some french ambassador of culture or something didn't know who the hell you were - please, spare me.
touching love story. well, these two were really into each other, and that's certainly great.
but i sure as hell doubt i would've enjoyed spending a meal with 'uncle cuddles'.
this review is of course completely uncalled for. sue me.
maybe that's a bit strong.
but really - a guy who labors for days over those sort of poems included in the memoir and can still win a nobel, albeit as a playwright, really?
the whole thing of screeching for the rights of the repressed and dispossessed, whilst living a life of luxury, defending milosevic, and getting all bent out of shape because some french ambassador of culture or something didn't know who the hell you were - please, spare me.
touching love story. well, these two were really into each other, and that's certainly great.
but i sure as hell doubt i would've enjoyed spending a meal with 'uncle cuddles'.
this review is of course completely uncalled for. sue me.
March 2, 2017
Read it years ago but it was so fresh and spontaneous and romantic . The book was sincere and it showed the creative side of both Lady Fraser and Harold Pinter
January 6, 2011
Who can resist a rollicking, passionate love story, but even more so, when the characters are vital, alive and have so many dimensions as this karmic couple. Antonia Fraser and Harold Pinter are level headed, famous and accomplished, married quite happily to others, when they meet in 1975 and are immediately transfixed, experiencing an instant magnetism that blazes off the page. The words in the haunting title, "Must You Go," were actually spoken from him to her that fateful night following an opening of his play The Birthday Party, a sentence resonating with pathos almost 34 years later when he passes. Their lives together follow the trajectory of the latter half of the 20th century through the present day, when it seems that they know everyone of any consequence, whether in the arts or in world affairs. It is difficult to find two people more in tune with one another on all levels, emotionally and intellectually. Her histories and mysteries, his plays, poems. As well as his continued skills as a director and even almost until his last year, as an actor. Thanks to their insatiable curiosity and dedication, they never ceased creating and contributing. Following his first fights with "the terror," Pinter was awarded the Nobel Prize.
Lady Fraser uses her journals which she religiously kept as springboards for this memoir, interspersed with comments that give perspective from the distance of time. The memoir is divided into three distinct parts: dawn, high noon and twilight, as she refers to them in her perface. Following their meeting and early days, "high noon" progresses thematically instead of chronologically. She is generous in her revelations and insights. There isn't a mean spirited observation or memory. She is truly a "Lady" in word and deed as well in title.
Lady Fraser uses her journals which she religiously kept as springboards for this memoir, interspersed with comments that give perspective from the distance of time. The memoir is divided into three distinct parts: dawn, high noon and twilight, as she refers to them in her perface. Following their meeting and early days, "high noon" progresses thematically instead of chronologically. She is generous in her revelations and insights. There isn't a mean spirited observation or memory. She is truly a "Lady" in word and deed as well in title.
December 24, 2013
Should I have been more interested in a diarised account by a noted author about her life with a notable playwright? Probably. I suppose, given that this tale is a tad controversial, a frank memoir short-circuits the Red-tops commandeering the narrative.
It all starts well enough, with the delicious frisson of sudden romance, and abandonment to a passionate affair. (But hang on a minute, she's got a husband and six kids already!).
However by the entry of 30th September: "Dinner with AJP Taylor...Filthy North Oxford food, Dutch gin to drink" I was beginning to struggle.
By the entry of 31st January: "Took Orlando and Figaro the spaniel down to the Harwoods in the Mercedes" I was on my knees.
Then on 6th February the coup de grace: "Not unfriendly talk with Hugh about finances. Me: out of two houses now, I'm not living in either of them, haven taken care financially of Scotland always and a large proportion of Camden Hill Square, to say nothing of school fees..."
Ten pages later, choking on a casually discarded silver spoon, I admitted defeat.
I'm afraid for me the airy whiff of privilege had turned to a distracting stink - the diary's constant punctuation with drinks, luncheons and dinner, be they in smart restaurants or at a name-dropped celebrity friend's home, rather belied protestations of impecuniousness.
I wouldn't have minded if I'd learned more about Harold Pinter's inner workings, but I simply didn't; nor was I prepared to tolerate 300 more pages of cultured hubris in the hopes that I would.
Tell me all that I missed - but I think I'll just stick to (her) historical books and (his) plays, thank you.
It all starts well enough, with the delicious frisson of sudden romance, and abandonment to a passionate affair. (But hang on a minute, she's got a husband and six kids already!).
However by the entry of 30th September: "Dinner with AJP Taylor...Filthy North Oxford food, Dutch gin to drink" I was beginning to struggle.
By the entry of 31st January: "Took Orlando and Figaro the spaniel down to the Harwoods in the Mercedes" I was on my knees.
Then on 6th February the coup de grace: "Not unfriendly talk with Hugh about finances. Me: out of two houses now, I'm not living in either of them, haven taken care financially of Scotland always and a large proportion of Camden Hill Square, to say nothing of school fees..."
Ten pages later, choking on a casually discarded silver spoon, I admitted defeat.
I'm afraid for me the airy whiff of privilege had turned to a distracting stink - the diary's constant punctuation with drinks, luncheons and dinner, be they in smart restaurants or at a name-dropped celebrity friend's home, rather belied protestations of impecuniousness.
I wouldn't have minded if I'd learned more about Harold Pinter's inner workings, but I simply didn't; nor was I prepared to tolerate 300 more pages of cultured hubris in the hopes that I would.
Tell me all that I missed - but I think I'll just stick to (her) historical books and (his) plays, thank you.
December 2, 2010
Please call her "Lady" Antonia, after all, her father was an Earl. She relates that she was quite relieved when at a dinner party the host correctly sat her to his right; the rightful place for the daughter of an Earl. Did she mention she is the daughter of an Earl? No doubt a fascinating life, lived around the best and the brightest. But this person is everything wrong with the British class system. Not a mention about how leaving her six (6!) small children might have affected them. Hmmmm. Guess the nanny would have mentioned if they had been upset. Do love her political leanings, but when she takes pot shots at the US for it's treatment of the native population I thought of Seth Meyers and SNL. Really? Really? More Barbara Cartland than Barbara Tuchman. Yes, they had an amazing life. And who isn't a sucker for a love story? It was interesting to read about some of it. Glad I don't know her. Quite.
September 6, 2015
If there’s one thing you walk away with after reading Antonia Fraser’s memoir Must You Go, My Life with Harold Pinter, it’s that she and her second husband Harold Pinter were deeply in love. Reading a memoir that doesn’t focus exclusively on tribulations its author has overcome is refreshing. Remarkable, even. Fraser has chosen to share what appears to be the happiest period of her life. And in the process proves Tolstoy wrong.
At a party in 1975 Antonia Fraser was involved in a conversation that included the playwright Harold Pinter. She was taking her leave when Pinter turned to her and asked “Must you go?�. And there it began. Both parties were married � Antonia with six children. The affair continued until 1977, when she divorced her first husband in the amicable manner that seemed to be the defining characteristic of their marriage. Pinter’s separation from his wife, the actress Vivien Merchant, was less amicable. The British tabloids had a field day and Merchant refused to sign the divorce papers until 1980. Fraser and Pinter married that same year and lived happily together until his death of cancer in 2008.
This 35 year period is told to us through excerpts of Fraser’s journals with some narrative explanation. She appears to be a rabid diarist � never missing a day. Which is funny when you consider that she’s a biographer by profession, accustomed to perusing her subjects� diaries, letters and papers in the course of her research. The entries that make up the book are not so much stream-of-conscious ramblings or emotional outpourings as they are concise cataloging of the day’s most interesting events. Fortunately Pinter and Fraser lived interesting lives and knew interesting people � so most of their days together are worth re-visiting. The name dropping that takes place on these pages is almost shameful! Jackie-O, Salman Rushdie, Samuel Beckett, Philip Roth� the list of literati seems never-ending. But her commentary is never salacious. These were the circles the couple traveled in, and as you read you get the sense that Dame Fraser would never commit the impolitesse of gossiping about friends.
I really enjoyed Must You Go, as I have every book I’ve ever read by Antonia Fraser. It may not be for everyone, though. One Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ reviewer negatively compared Must You Go to “reading a daytimerâ€�, and to be fair the description isn’t far off. It is this gift of brevity - Antonia Fraser’s ability to capture a moment in a deftly executed prose sketch â€� that makes her memoir so charming. Little jokes, witty descriptions, notes left on the pages by Pinter (which she welcomed) â€� it is the description of a full life encapsulated in a few lines a day. Fraser had the sense not to overwork the prose, or expand too much on the things her audience already knew. At times her admiration of Pinter seems almost worshipful, but the book was published 2 years after his death. Her loss is fresh. She obviously misses him. Equally obvious is her happiness in remembering.
Is it a complete picture? Probably not. But Must You Go is a glimpse into their private world. Fraser has every right to choose what she shares.
The audio version, which is what I listened to, is narrated by the incomparable Sandra Duncan. Her inflections are flawless. The 11 hours and 14 minutes moved by quickly, the only off note being the choice made to have the poetry by Harold Pinter which is referenced throughout voiced by a man. Whether it would have flowed so well or been so entertaining to read in book form, I’m not sure. I tend to think it would be. Yet there was something delightfully intimate about hearing it read (it’s written in the first person) as if Fraser was relating the stories over tea. In fact, I intend to avoid interviews given by the real Antonia Fraser. If her true voice differs too much from Duncan’s I’ll be devastated.
For more reviews, please visit my blog at
At a party in 1975 Antonia Fraser was involved in a conversation that included the playwright Harold Pinter. She was taking her leave when Pinter turned to her and asked “Must you go?�. And there it began. Both parties were married � Antonia with six children. The affair continued until 1977, when she divorced her first husband in the amicable manner that seemed to be the defining characteristic of their marriage. Pinter’s separation from his wife, the actress Vivien Merchant, was less amicable. The British tabloids had a field day and Merchant refused to sign the divorce papers until 1980. Fraser and Pinter married that same year and lived happily together until his death of cancer in 2008.
This 35 year period is told to us through excerpts of Fraser’s journals with some narrative explanation. She appears to be a rabid diarist � never missing a day. Which is funny when you consider that she’s a biographer by profession, accustomed to perusing her subjects� diaries, letters and papers in the course of her research. The entries that make up the book are not so much stream-of-conscious ramblings or emotional outpourings as they are concise cataloging of the day’s most interesting events. Fortunately Pinter and Fraser lived interesting lives and knew interesting people � so most of their days together are worth re-visiting. The name dropping that takes place on these pages is almost shameful! Jackie-O, Salman Rushdie, Samuel Beckett, Philip Roth� the list of literati seems never-ending. But her commentary is never salacious. These were the circles the couple traveled in, and as you read you get the sense that Dame Fraser would never commit the impolitesse of gossiping about friends.
I really enjoyed Must You Go, as I have every book I’ve ever read by Antonia Fraser. It may not be for everyone, though. One Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ reviewer negatively compared Must You Go to “reading a daytimerâ€�, and to be fair the description isn’t far off. It is this gift of brevity - Antonia Fraser’s ability to capture a moment in a deftly executed prose sketch â€� that makes her memoir so charming. Little jokes, witty descriptions, notes left on the pages by Pinter (which she welcomed) â€� it is the description of a full life encapsulated in a few lines a day. Fraser had the sense not to overwork the prose, or expand too much on the things her audience already knew. At times her admiration of Pinter seems almost worshipful, but the book was published 2 years after his death. Her loss is fresh. She obviously misses him. Equally obvious is her happiness in remembering.
Is it a complete picture? Probably not. But Must You Go is a glimpse into their private world. Fraser has every right to choose what she shares.
The audio version, which is what I listened to, is narrated by the incomparable Sandra Duncan. Her inflections are flawless. The 11 hours and 14 minutes moved by quickly, the only off note being the choice made to have the poetry by Harold Pinter which is referenced throughout voiced by a man. Whether it would have flowed so well or been so entertaining to read in book form, I’m not sure. I tend to think it would be. Yet there was something delightfully intimate about hearing it read (it’s written in the first person) as if Fraser was relating the stories over tea. In fact, I intend to avoid interviews given by the real Antonia Fraser. If her true voice differs too much from Duncan’s I’ll be devastated.
For more reviews, please visit my blog at
September 6, 2010
I only finished this book because I owe a review for the ARC. Ugh! 300+ pages of self-important boring diary entires and endless name dropping. I've never read any of her books before, and based on this, never will again!
July 10, 2011
Antonia Fraser, born in London in 1932, is a Brit of privilege ("Lady" Antonia Fraser); historian; successful writer in various genres (non-fiction includes The Weaker Vessel, The Warrior Queens, Marie Antoinette; detective fiction includes Quiet as a Nun and other Jemima Shore books); mother of six children by first husband Sir Hugh Fraser (b. 1918) who was an MP in The House of Commons from 1945-1984 and step-mother of one by her second husband, the 1975 Nobel Laureate/playwright and screenwriter Harold Pinter; and --- diary keeper.
That diary-keeping habit has given us Must You Go?: My Life with Harold Pinter, a book that, true to the subtitle, does indeed focus on Fraser's relationship and life with Pinter, beginning when they meet, forming a near-instantaneous connection, and continuing for the roughly thirty years of an ensuing affair, eventual divorces, marriage, and compatible life together until Pinter's death in 2008 (after eight years of his declining health beginning with a diagnosis of esophageal cancer).
The diary format contained entries that seemed "filtered," surprisingly unemotional in tone and too abbreviated, which, in my opinion, did not do justice to illuminating the topic. Reading a diary conjures up delicious suspicions of secrets revealed and glimpses of self-awareness, but this book has a more clinical touch. Did either really struggle with the moral questions of so public a breaking up of two functioning families, hers with 6 children? How were those close relationships "handled" or impacted? What was it about her own life that led to such a dramatic shift? And, what appealed to her so much about Pinter? Unfortunately, the reading experience left me generally unsatisfied, although the last half or third of the book less so.
The value of the book, perhaps, would rise considerably for those who are already somewhat informed fans of Fraser/Pinter -- or, better yet, if this book were read by such fans in conjunction with a more traditional biography or memoir of either (or both).
That diary-keeping habit has given us Must You Go?: My Life with Harold Pinter, a book that, true to the subtitle, does indeed focus on Fraser's relationship and life with Pinter, beginning when they meet, forming a near-instantaneous connection, and continuing for the roughly thirty years of an ensuing affair, eventual divorces, marriage, and compatible life together until Pinter's death in 2008 (after eight years of his declining health beginning with a diagnosis of esophageal cancer).
The diary format contained entries that seemed "filtered," surprisingly unemotional in tone and too abbreviated, which, in my opinion, did not do justice to illuminating the topic. Reading a diary conjures up delicious suspicions of secrets revealed and glimpses of self-awareness, but this book has a more clinical touch. Did either really struggle with the moral questions of so public a breaking up of two functioning families, hers with 6 children? How were those close relationships "handled" or impacted? What was it about her own life that led to such a dramatic shift? And, what appealed to her so much about Pinter? Unfortunately, the reading experience left me generally unsatisfied, although the last half or third of the book less so.
The value of the book, perhaps, would rise considerably for those who are already somewhat informed fans of Fraser/Pinter -- or, better yet, if this book were read by such fans in conjunction with a more traditional biography or memoir of either (or both).
April 20, 2016
Harold Pinter emerges from this memoir as a very intelligent, creative and thoroughly decent man and it is a pleasure to read his poems and learn of his personal life; unfortunately the book also fostered in me a deep dislike of his wife and its writer, Antonia Fraser. In her own diary entries, which form the bulk of the narrative, she comes across as a selfish, vain, unpleasant snob, which greatly hindered my enjoyment of the book. Her union with Pinter was clearly one of enormous and enduring love, so he must have seen much in her to adore but for the reader, that side of her is hard to reconcile with the self-pitying complaints of a woman so spoilt she claims depression over it raining while in Barbados. Even Pinter's long, distressing illness and passing becomes in the end all about Antonia.
Fraser's writing style is at times leaden and is overall uninspiring but in fairness, these diaries were not specifically written for publication. The long discourses on her politics grow very wearisome, though I realise this was an important aspect of their lives. I found the last few pages genuinely touching, as Pinter was so sadly broken by physical illness and one can only pity how his death must have devastated her. If only Fraser was more likeable.
I remain interested in Harold Pinter but I would probably have taken a huge amount more from reading his own work than this quite self-serving and irksome memoir.
Fraser's writing style is at times leaden and is overall uninspiring but in fairness, these diaries were not specifically written for publication. The long discourses on her politics grow very wearisome, though I realise this was an important aspect of their lives. I found the last few pages genuinely touching, as Pinter was so sadly broken by physical illness and one can only pity how his death must have devastated her. If only Fraser was more likeable.
I remain interested in Harold Pinter but I would probably have taken a huge amount more from reading his own work than this quite self-serving and irksome memoir.
April 17, 2011
Antonia Fraser was a respected author, wife of a Conservative Member of Parliament, and the mother of six children and Harold Pinter was a celebrated playwright, married to a well-known actress, and father of a son when they met in 1975. They fell in love, quickly divorced their spouses, and married. Their love story lasted for 33 years until Pinter's death in 1975. This memoir of their love story is based on Fraser' diaries. While it details their activities and literary successes over their period of their marriage and it is clear that Fraser and Pinter adored each other, there is a lack of narrative explaining the character and personality of Harold Pinter that so attracted Antonia Fraser. More a list of activites engaged in and personalities encountered, this memoir of a love story is ultimately unsatisfying.
January 13, 2017
Please, please go. Life is too short for me to finish reading about the irresponsible, navel-gazing, drivel of these two. They just seem to live in some alternate universe.
October 21, 2023
I am swung two ways by this book. In one direction it is a very moving account of the extra-marital affair and then marriage of Lady Antonia Fraser and Harold Pinter. It moves through success and fame to Pinter's death from cancer in 2008 and the physical and emotional trials of caring for the terminally ill. Against that there is what I sensed to be a form of selfishness.
When they met Antonia Fraser was married to the Conservative MP Hugh Fraser and Pinter to the actress Vivien Merchant. Hugh Fraser coped with the separation laconically, perhaps at heart he had always been a wealthy bachelor, while Merchant fell into a mordant alcoholism. Neither receive much in the way of sympathy from the author or from Pinter if the author's reporting is valid. Then there is Pinter's first born son, his only child with Merchant, who refused to accept the use of his father's surname. It seems that Pinter benignly put the estrangement aside with the belief that his son did not want to be associated with his father's fame and success. Did he really not have any notion that he was dealing with a young man devastated by his father running away and leaving him with a distraught mother who was finding solace in drink and an early death? From the book it seems not. Life was too good for a successful literary couple.
Strangely there is a tendency for Fraser to keep reminding us all that she was really quite short of money. I tend to think this was not the sort of penury which makes people worry about paying the rent or the next electricity bill, but rather the worry of being able to buy only two bottles of Dom Perignon rather than a case. An endless run of family holidays abroad and swapping a property in the middle of her ex-husband's rugged expanse of a Scottish estate for his house in Holland Park suggest the family finances were bouncing along quite happily.
Fraser's endless name dropping becomes a little tedious quite quickly, though I realise it is inevitable when dealing with a leading figure in the British theatre and a highly regarded screenwriter and Pinter's political views are smoothed over somewhat. After reading the text it is difficult to believe that one is hearing about the Pinter who described Tony Blair as a “mass-murdering prime minister� and “a deluded idiot� after the Iraq War and supported resisting America's economic blockade of Cuba, while insisting that Slobodan Milosevic received a fair trial when facing charges of war crimes after the wars in Yugoslavia.
However, Fraser's memories of her husband's last years when he was suffering from cancer and the trials faced by any carer show there was a deep and sincere love between the two. It becomes very moving towards the end though the ending itself is, and I suppose fittingly with its quote from Hamlet, very theatrical.
When they met Antonia Fraser was married to the Conservative MP Hugh Fraser and Pinter to the actress Vivien Merchant. Hugh Fraser coped with the separation laconically, perhaps at heart he had always been a wealthy bachelor, while Merchant fell into a mordant alcoholism. Neither receive much in the way of sympathy from the author or from Pinter if the author's reporting is valid. Then there is Pinter's first born son, his only child with Merchant, who refused to accept the use of his father's surname. It seems that Pinter benignly put the estrangement aside with the belief that his son did not want to be associated with his father's fame and success. Did he really not have any notion that he was dealing with a young man devastated by his father running away and leaving him with a distraught mother who was finding solace in drink and an early death? From the book it seems not. Life was too good for a successful literary couple.
Strangely there is a tendency for Fraser to keep reminding us all that she was really quite short of money. I tend to think this was not the sort of penury which makes people worry about paying the rent or the next electricity bill, but rather the worry of being able to buy only two bottles of Dom Perignon rather than a case. An endless run of family holidays abroad and swapping a property in the middle of her ex-husband's rugged expanse of a Scottish estate for his house in Holland Park suggest the family finances were bouncing along quite happily.
Fraser's endless name dropping becomes a little tedious quite quickly, though I realise it is inevitable when dealing with a leading figure in the British theatre and a highly regarded screenwriter and Pinter's political views are smoothed over somewhat. After reading the text it is difficult to believe that one is hearing about the Pinter who described Tony Blair as a “mass-murdering prime minister� and “a deluded idiot� after the Iraq War and supported resisting America's economic blockade of Cuba, while insisting that Slobodan Milosevic received a fair trial when facing charges of war crimes after the wars in Yugoslavia.
However, Fraser's memories of her husband's last years when he was suffering from cancer and the trials faced by any carer show there was a deep and sincere love between the two. It becomes very moving towards the end though the ending itself is, and I suppose fittingly with its quote from Hamlet, very theatrical.
October 6, 2018
I admit I was rolling my eyes at the beginning of the book with all of the posh talk about dinner parties with the upper crust of British society and deciding how to divide up multiple houses when the Frasers divorced. But -- once I had turned off the part of my brain that cares about income inequality -- this memoir won me over. If you're looking for a lot of information about Pinter's work or writing process, you won't find it here: this is an affectionate account of a long and happy marriage. And reading it now, at the height of political turmoil in the United States (this is the height, right? Please tell me it's not going to get yet higher), was enormously soothing, like the fairy tale you might tell a child at the end of a long, exhausting day.
January 31, 2014
A tender and warm, fascinating narrated memoir, with extracts from her extensive diaries, this historian recounts her long marriage with the poet Harold Pinter, eventually documenting his fight with, and eventual death, from cancer.
While not the usual type of book that I read, I had a vested interest as I have met both subjects a few times working at their local branch of Waterstones. Not only were they regular customers during my years there, but I did a reading event for Antonia about a year before Harold died. He was visibly ailing and Antonia called to see if there was any lift at the branch that she wasn’t aware of, to help her husband up to the first floor, where we did our events. I said that it wouldn’t be a problem and that despite not having a customer lift, we did happen to have a service lift. It was normally full of boxes, trays of wine glasses and chairs but I would clear it and that would be fine to save him from tackling the stairs. When I told my manager about my plans, he said to me, ‘You really want to take a Nobel prize winner up in that scabby thing?� and as much as he had a point, I didn’t have a lot of choice. The lack of lift really was a sore point and we had endless complaints from frustrated yummy mummies with double pushchairs already.
The night of the event came and the place was packed with people wanting to hear Antonia talk about the French king, Louis XIV. When the author arrived with her husband, we directed them to the service lift. But Harold wasn’t having it. It wasn’t because it wasn’t becoming of him, it was because of the sheer determination and the inner strength that the author has outlined in this fine book. He insisted to me that he would take the two flights of stairs. He motioned his wife on ahead and took his cane to the first step. Despite his protestations, I said that I could not let him do it himself and I at least accompanied him. So there we were with everyone darting past us and by God, we made it. Ten minutes it took but he did it. I had saved him a seat at the front but he said he wanted to sit towards the back, saying that this was her moment and not his, so I plonked him down on a chair and started proceedings.
A few minutes into her description of the work and its subject, Harold waves me over again. I trot over to his site and he motions me closer and whispers into my ear, ‘Tell her to speak up…� Right, I think. I look up and she’s in full flow and a room of around 75 people look enthralled. I look back to Harold and he shoos me to her. I didn’t want to interrupt or embarrass her, so I grab a pen and a piece of paper and scribble her a note. I tiptoe to her side and politely cough, handing her the note. She stops what she is saying and mutter Harold’s name. She unfolds the note and people look on curiously as I back away. Antonia laughs and says to the crowd,
‘My husband, always looking out for me.�
While not the usual type of book that I read, I had a vested interest as I have met both subjects a few times working at their local branch of Waterstones. Not only were they regular customers during my years there, but I did a reading event for Antonia about a year before Harold died. He was visibly ailing and Antonia called to see if there was any lift at the branch that she wasn’t aware of, to help her husband up to the first floor, where we did our events. I said that it wouldn’t be a problem and that despite not having a customer lift, we did happen to have a service lift. It was normally full of boxes, trays of wine glasses and chairs but I would clear it and that would be fine to save him from tackling the stairs. When I told my manager about my plans, he said to me, ‘You really want to take a Nobel prize winner up in that scabby thing?� and as much as he had a point, I didn’t have a lot of choice. The lack of lift really was a sore point and we had endless complaints from frustrated yummy mummies with double pushchairs already.
The night of the event came and the place was packed with people wanting to hear Antonia talk about the French king, Louis XIV. When the author arrived with her husband, we directed them to the service lift. But Harold wasn’t having it. It wasn’t because it wasn’t becoming of him, it was because of the sheer determination and the inner strength that the author has outlined in this fine book. He insisted to me that he would take the two flights of stairs. He motioned his wife on ahead and took his cane to the first step. Despite his protestations, I said that I could not let him do it himself and I at least accompanied him. So there we were with everyone darting past us and by God, we made it. Ten minutes it took but he did it. I had saved him a seat at the front but he said he wanted to sit towards the back, saying that this was her moment and not his, so I plonked him down on a chair and started proceedings.
A few minutes into her description of the work and its subject, Harold waves me over again. I trot over to his site and he motions me closer and whispers into my ear, ‘Tell her to speak up…� Right, I think. I look up and she’s in full flow and a room of around 75 people look enthralled. I look back to Harold and he shoos me to her. I didn’t want to interrupt or embarrass her, so I grab a pen and a piece of paper and scribble her a note. I tiptoe to her side and politely cough, handing her the note. She stops what she is saying and mutter Harold’s name. She unfolds the note and people look on curiously as I back away. Antonia laughs and says to the crowd,
‘My husband, always looking out for me.�
December 30, 2011
Seldom have I read a book so filled with literary references. They are on every page and, while Antonia Fraser's memoir of her life with Harold Pinter is lightweight, it is intellectually charged with interesting bits of flotsam and jetsam from the literary world of a couple who were immersed in literary lives and lights.
It was while at a social gathering in 1975 that Ms. Fraser walked up to Pinter, before leaving, to say that she liked his play, “The Birthday Party.� The two barely knew each other. He looked back at her with what she calls “amazing, extremely bright black eyes� and said, “Must you go?� He called her his destiny and wrote her love poems, some of them later collected in a volume called “Six Poems for A� (2007). She loved his bristling mind, his “awesome baritone� and the way his “black curly hair and pointed ears� made him look “like a satyr.� They remained happily together (marrying in 1980) for 33 years, through his Nobel Prize in 2005 and until his death from cancer, at 78, in December 2008.
There are many anecdotes that intrigue the reader in this delightful memoir. One of my favorite moments follows:
"Dinner with tom and Miriam Stoppard. The latter tackles Harold about the swearing in No Man's Land: 'This must be something in you, Harold, waiting to get out.' Harold: 'But I don't plan my characters' lives.' Then to Tom: 'Don't you find they take over sometimes?' Tom: 'No.'"
It seems that their life is filled with such moments and, when the literary references wane, there are the political highlights that bring alive the times (a span of three decades) with intrusions of bits about the IRA or left and right-wing political goings-on.
Pinter’s life force � he was mostly anything, it seems, but Pinteresque � comes through clearly here. Ms. Fraser details his love for cricket, tennis and bridge. He threw himself around recklessly on dance floors and swam “with a great splashing like a dog retrieving a ball.� The result is a wonderful read for anyone interested in the life of the epitome of a literary couple.
It was while at a social gathering in 1975 that Ms. Fraser walked up to Pinter, before leaving, to say that she liked his play, “The Birthday Party.� The two barely knew each other. He looked back at her with what she calls “amazing, extremely bright black eyes� and said, “Must you go?� He called her his destiny and wrote her love poems, some of them later collected in a volume called “Six Poems for A� (2007). She loved his bristling mind, his “awesome baritone� and the way his “black curly hair and pointed ears� made him look “like a satyr.� They remained happily together (marrying in 1980) for 33 years, through his Nobel Prize in 2005 and until his death from cancer, at 78, in December 2008.
There are many anecdotes that intrigue the reader in this delightful memoir. One of my favorite moments follows:
"Dinner with tom and Miriam Stoppard. The latter tackles Harold about the swearing in No Man's Land: 'This must be something in you, Harold, waiting to get out.' Harold: 'But I don't plan my characters' lives.' Then to Tom: 'Don't you find they take over sometimes?' Tom: 'No.'"
It seems that their life is filled with such moments and, when the literary references wane, there are the political highlights that bring alive the times (a span of three decades) with intrusions of bits about the IRA or left and right-wing political goings-on.
Pinter’s life force � he was mostly anything, it seems, but Pinteresque � comes through clearly here. Ms. Fraser details his love for cricket, tennis and bridge. He threw himself around recklessly on dance floors and swam “with a great splashing like a dog retrieving a ball.� The result is a wonderful read for anyone interested in the life of the epitome of a literary couple.
December 20, 2015
I was curious about this powerful and controversial literary couple. She is a noted historian (Mary, Queen of Scots, Marie Antoinette) and he the Nobel Laureate playwright, director, actor, and political activist. Must You Go? was the plea uttered by Pinter at his first, infatuated meeting with Antonia Fraser. Both were married, she to a member of Parliament with whom she had borne six children; he to a famous actress for whom he had written plays. Their subsequent love affair broke up both marriages and produced a scandal that titillated in the British press for a number of years.
I guess I was expecting more of a biography. The book is mostly excerpts from Fraser's diaries. It is essentially a justification for the love match, which disrupted so many lives. The selections alternately include evidence of Pinter's devotion to Fraser and name dropping about lunches, theatre openings and vacations with the rich and famous. It gets tiresome. You feel that the selections are intended to put everything in the best possible light. Also some of the names dropped are not meaningful to readers who are not steeped in British theatre or literary society.
I was looking for more insight into, for example, Pinter's political activism. I remember the negative reaction in the U.S. upon the announcement of Pinter's Nobel award. Fraser does not adequately link together the diary notes with background explanation. Also, for an acclaimed writer, the language in the diary notations is not inspiring. I did like the inclusions of personal poems that Pinter wrote for Antonia. Also, the struggles noted in Pinter's battle with cancer are touching. On the whole, however, the book struck me as more self-serving than expository.
I guess I was expecting more of a biography. The book is mostly excerpts from Fraser's diaries. It is essentially a justification for the love match, which disrupted so many lives. The selections alternately include evidence of Pinter's devotion to Fraser and name dropping about lunches, theatre openings and vacations with the rich and famous. It gets tiresome. You feel that the selections are intended to put everything in the best possible light. Also some of the names dropped are not meaningful to readers who are not steeped in British theatre or literary society.
I was looking for more insight into, for example, Pinter's political activism. I remember the negative reaction in the U.S. upon the announcement of Pinter's Nobel award. Fraser does not adequately link together the diary notes with background explanation. Also, for an acclaimed writer, the language in the diary notations is not inspiring. I did like the inclusions of personal poems that Pinter wrote for Antonia. Also, the struggles noted in Pinter's battle with cancer are touching. On the whole, however, the book struck me as more self-serving than expository.
September 14, 2013
MUST YOU GO tells the tale of a then, scandalous affair, in British literary circles. The affair ended in a long marriage between Harold Pinter and Antonia Fraser (after they divorced their other spouses) and is told in the most decorous of language. Written from Fraser's diary entries beginning in 1975, it describes the lusty thunderbolt that struck these two literary lights and continued forever. It is fun to read. A memoir, the tale is rife with ever-so-many plays begun and written; directed; performed; acted in and acclaimed. Also, research begun; books written; movies made of books, and lunches with high-brow friends in the literary and theatre world. Fraser, the mother of 6, includes the growing-up lives of her children in their private schools, and toward the end in their illustrious careers. Pinter, as a step-father, comes across as a generous and loving addition to a huge family. Their family vacations, called "FamHols" by Pinter, in castles, estates, resorts and expensive hotels seem quite a jolly affair. Fraser concludes the book with the catastrophic illness and death of Pinter in his early 70's. Fraser and Pinter and their family continue to have the best of times even as Pinter was dying.(Quotes Fraser: "... the best of times; the worst of times.") Pinter, a political activist all of his life, won the Nobel Prize when he was very ill. Fraser's account of his writing of his acceptance speech and the accolades and scorn that followed is fascinating. This is a charming tale of creative aristocrats and their almost improbable, to me, doings.
January 30, 2015
I thank Antonia Fraser for writing this book and taking me places. If I couldn't be married to my own current dearly beloved husband, I sure would enjoy being married to a Nobel prize-winning playwright. If you read this, you will mostly be treated to her journal entries and find out things like what plays they attended, where they ate dinner, (and with what famous people) and how his writing is going and how her writing is going. You must know that. So it's not the story of the marriage, per se, it's more the story of their LIFE. I mean, their goings and their doings. Which she says right in the title, but I still thought it was going to be more about the relationship. That's ok, though, I still liked it.
And Antonia Fraser is unfailingly optimistic and good-natured and Harold and she get along famously. They only argue over politics and that's just once in a while, and just for fun. I like Antonia Fraser because she seems to definitely have in mind serving her reader first and foremost. She's trying to make sure she includes only the things that would interest us. Many many memoirs are self-serving, self-pitying, depressing, and painful (especially American ones? Do you think so? I think Americans overshare--generalizing of course). Who knows what she is cutting out, but she's old school and British. And so.
And Antonia Fraser is unfailingly optimistic and good-natured and Harold and she get along famously. They only argue over politics and that's just once in a while, and just for fun. I like Antonia Fraser because she seems to definitely have in mind serving her reader first and foremost. She's trying to make sure she includes only the things that would interest us. Many many memoirs are self-serving, self-pitying, depressing, and painful (especially American ones? Do you think so? I think Americans overshare--generalizing of course). Who knows what she is cutting out, but she's old school and British. And so.
September 4, 2011
Was there ever a better, or more bittersweet title for a widow's memoir? Fraser tells us she chose her title because it was what Harold Pinter asked her as she left after their first encounter. A lovely arc.
I wanted the memoir to be as lovely as the title suggested, especially because Fraser says she complied most of the memoir from the diaries she kept throughout their long marriage. After all, this is the story of two married prominent people, one the mother of six children, who were so besotted that they left their spouses to live with, and then marry each other. Their early trysts were British tabloid news.
But Fraser is up to something else, maybe more an assertion that they did indeed live and love together, so much of the memoir is a recounting of places they went and other prominent people with whom they dined. Maybe she wants to get her story on the public record, the historical record as Pinter was a Nobel Prize winner.
There are some evocative moments recorded, including several lovely poems that Pinter wrote to celebrate his love for Fraser.
Not enough, however, to sustain a reader's interest.
I wanted the memoir to be as lovely as the title suggested, especially because Fraser says she complied most of the memoir from the diaries she kept throughout their long marriage. After all, this is the story of two married prominent people, one the mother of six children, who were so besotted that they left their spouses to live with, and then marry each other. Their early trysts were British tabloid news.
But Fraser is up to something else, maybe more an assertion that they did indeed live and love together, so much of the memoir is a recounting of places they went and other prominent people with whom they dined. Maybe she wants to get her story on the public record, the historical record as Pinter was a Nobel Prize winner.
There are some evocative moments recorded, including several lovely poems that Pinter wrote to celebrate his love for Fraser.
Not enough, however, to sustain a reader's interest.
January 4, 2011
Bought this for my mom for Christmas; someone else bought it for her, so I grabbed the non-gift copy and read it during the hols. Came away with a few realizations:
1. Fraser doth protest too much: she IS a Mitford character come to life.
2. I really need to be better acquainted with Pinter's work.
3. London is a small town if you're a literato.
4. Their love was profound, home-wrecking, poem-making, enduring, gorgeous etc. and I don't mean to diminish it in any way but it was so clearly made possible by their ample resources. Pinter buys a HOUSE across the garden from Fraser's (he lives with Fraser) in order that he can write in peace and quiet. Yes, I'd like that, too.
1. Fraser doth protest too much: she IS a Mitford character come to life.
2. I really need to be better acquainted with Pinter's work.
3. London is a small town if you're a literato.
4. Their love was profound, home-wrecking, poem-making, enduring, gorgeous etc. and I don't mean to diminish it in any way but it was so clearly made possible by their ample resources. Pinter buys a HOUSE across the garden from Fraser's (he lives with Fraser) in order that he can write in peace and quiet. Yes, I'd like that, too.
March 14, 2013
It may not be fair to rate this book or even to write about it since I only read half of it. I felt like I was reading Antonia Fraser's day timer in which she name dropped all of the famous people she knew and socialized with. She did not add any personal comments or insights into any of these events. She complained about financial problems as she spent her time attending parties and various events with the wealthy and famous of the era. Apparently, the second half of the book is more interesting, but I couldn't make it that far. It's rare I encounter a book I just can't keep reading, but this is one.
December 29, 2011
holy crap. so boring. so, so boring.
10/15/11 This book is written all in short diary entries. Which drives me nuts. 10/16/11 Does anyone REALLY quote Wordsworth this much in daily life? Every time someone buys a sack of groceries, it's all "'Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers,' I murmured to myself as I unpacked the go-gurts."
10/25/11 - I can't believe I have 10 pages left in this book and have abandoned it. Woe! What a boring, pretentious, HOLLOW account of a relationship and life. And Pinter's poetry is horrible.
12/29/11 - Never finished it. Never will.
10/15/11 This book is written all in short diary entries. Which drives me nuts. 10/16/11 Does anyone REALLY quote Wordsworth this much in daily life? Every time someone buys a sack of groceries, it's all "'Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers,' I murmured to myself as I unpacked the go-gurts."
10/25/11 - I can't believe I have 10 pages left in this book and have abandoned it. Woe! What a boring, pretentious, HOLLOW account of a relationship and life. And Pinter's poetry is horrible.
12/29/11 - Never finished it. Never will.
November 28, 2010
I completely changed my mind about this book half way through. At first I was disappointed that it was pages from Antonia Fraser's diary, and full of name dropping. They were, after all, a very famous couple. The title comes from one of their first conversations when she is about to leave a party, and he says "Must you go?" This is really an extraordinary love story told with lots of compassion and history, so in the end, I quite liked it.
January 11, 2011
oh, I really liked both of them before reading this book. remember Holly Hunter's anguished response to the sarcastic question..."it must be nice to always believe you know better, to always think you're the smartest person in the room"???
October 22, 2011
Another case where I wish Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ would incorporate the half star as I would give this a 3.5 if possible. A bit tedious in spots; however, for the most part the writing is witty and the subject matter is interesting and poignant.
November 29, 2010
Maybe if I was more familiar with Pinter's plays, I would have enjoyed this more. Don't expect juicy gossip but a very positive spin on Fraser and Pinter's life together.
April 27, 2011
Yay for getting back to reading! This was a bit of dazzle, incredibly romantic, somehow both real and unreal, will be loved by suckers for love and folks interested in geniuses, and Anglophiles.
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