RF Owen led an incredible life, filled with interesting travels and met a wide range of people, and navigated the dangers of being openly gay at a time when that was a crime. This is an edited memoir, from the three volumes that he gave his family members. THis book was both too long, and not long enough. Some parts are excellently written and very evocative-his first visits to French Polynesia are lovely, his account of his visit to Bahrain and what were then called the Trucial States are fascinating and astute-I know of them only as hyper developed oil economies, Owen visited them when they were just about discovering oil, and his accounts of the realpolitik with multiple countries vying for power and trying to establish friendly rulers is very well written. His accounts of his relationships with his partners Nick, and later GianCarlo are deeply moving. However, the sections about his experiences during World War II were irritatingly flip, the account of his drive through Africa too short, and I would have liked more about his visit to post-war Poland-there's strangely nothing of it, while there are reams about his , quite frankly, uninteresting friends in England. On the whole, I found this book a bit of a disappointment, given the fascinating life he's had. I would recommend reading it, the good bits as I've mentioned are excellent and very informative. Skip the rest, though!
2.5 stars, rounded up to 3

I very much found this book to be like the curate's egg - good in parts.

"Perhaps some boys believe, or can be hoodwinked into believing, that they are happy at school. I wasn’t, and no one could persuade me otherwise." On starting, I was simply enthralled. It was very much like meeting an ancient gent in a London club, and amidst wood-panelled walls, leather armchairs, and a glass of something strong, hearing the story of his life, with nothing removed, nothing left out. The author being an old Etonian from a family fallen on hard times after the Depression, and most fascinatingly, being bisexual/gay. The editor opens the text as a record of a life 'to see more of the world, to understand the people he met there, and to be generous to the people he loved.'

I devoured much of the first section in one sitting, leading us from Dorset, to Oxford, to serving as a conscientious objector, to London, and then to the RAF. I almost sent a txt to a colleague saying that he should buy the book immediately. I'm glad I held back.

What I loved about the book was firstly, its social history - several times in his life, everything was changed by some funds inherited or a private income given by a dead relative. I was particularly taken by the description of the social upheaval caused by the war, and the ensuing impact on sexual mores. "What was the point of working hard for a degree, what was the point of anything, much, when the Germans seemed so obviously to be winning? That idea - that certainty, rather - made a mockery of every normal aspiration. The future would be full of suffering, so why not make hay before the bad times began? It was an apocalyptic moment in history, with the world crashing about our ears. To pretend otherwise seemed ludicrous....The whole of society seemed to be in a state of flux, so why not me too, over anything I fancied...I was at large in London when all the conventions were breaking down. What in the world could be more enticing for a young man than that?...How welcome they were, those little flashes of sex, lighting the gloom of our otherwise darkling existence!"

The author travels the world, his connections in gay society, Eton, Oxford, and the Empire leading the way, again and again, he bears letters ‘of introduction' and 'to whom it may concern' opening doors and bedrooms. In the 1950s, he adopts a Persian manservant into his 'family,' brings him to London, and we see the evolution of this astonishing relationship over the decades. I found the glimpse into the early gay culture fascinating and the sea-change brought about by the Wolfenden Report. "Most of us weren’t less, but more moral - more open, less censorious, and above all no longer so apologetic."

The author had the most astonishing way with words and was able to paint vivid pictures of those long gone - "His nose was the most remarkable feature - bony, protruding in a way seldom seen amongst the living, the nose of an embalmed corpse...When roused, he would gobble like a turkey...My mother (should have known better, considering that this was her second war)..."

The final section of the book, his reflections on old age, of re-treading his steps, proving that one can return to places of supreme importance in life, and taking in honestly the half a century of changes, was moving to read.
"Growing old is really a long-drawn-out process of saying goodbye - to people, to things, to places. When young, you assume you’ll come back soon, then ‘perhaps one day’. Finally, ‘probably never’."

Predominantly, this book is a record of friendship, and in a culture where we have many online acquaintances, but few real friends - especially men - it was a delight to read of friendships - and perhaps more intimate relationships - being struck up in moments, and held dear over a century.

However, I found the middle section of the book, 1948-1970, simply exhausting. This was felt less a social history and more of a chronicle of the author's own life and his experience as a travel writer. There was simply too much in it - endless name-dropping, vast accounts of people and places that had supreme importance to him, but less so to those removed by half a century, and overwhelming detail about his travels - a daily itinerary, what he ate, what the weather was like, and I was surprised that these were not removed in an earlier revision. The book is rightly described as his 'marvellous adventures in love, war and high society', but reading such extensive detail about the constant arguments and domestic tiffs of his various relationships did not hold my interest.

I would have enjoyed the book far more if the section on the South Seas and Middle Eastern years had been shortened, and the sections on New York, India, Tibet and Russia had been removed entirely. The book comes to an astonishing 128 chapters! It is a condensed edition of the three-volume version printed for friends and family by the author, from 1 million words down to 200,000. I do not feel that the editing has been necessarily a success, although I imagine it would be a real effort to condense it further. I would hope that a forthcoming paperback edition might be further abridged.