Fine humans are not bound to be fine writers. Neither are fine writers necessarily fine humans. Patrick French knew that – he was a fine writer and a wonderful human being, and one of his masterworks was the biography of V S Naipaul, a fine writer, but not a nice man to know. In his two superb biographies, the aforementioned one of Naipaul, The World Is What It Is (2008), and his startlingly good debut, Younghusband: The Last Great Imperial Adventurer (1994), on the life of British explorer Francis Younghusband, French was one of the finest inquirers of lives. The biography genre, especially in India, descends into hagiography. In French’s hands, it was pure, deep exploration. All that mattered was how one told it.
He used the same toolkit with history – in Liberty or Death (1997) on the transfer of power from British India to Independent India; in the more personal Tibet, Tibet (2003); and in India: A Portrait (2011). French would have certainly written with the same dexterity and scholarship about his own post-life – now having access to the ‘primary source’ – if given the chance.
