I share that strong distaste for a kind of interest in author’s houses that
shades into property pornography: the Bloomsbury properties of Charleston
and Sissinghurst are good examples. They are staggeringly lovely houses, but
no writing of any real interest emerged from them, to be honest. When a
writer “makes it”, and splashes his dosh on some rolling acres, he may very
well find that ducal splendour doesn’t promote his writing abilities.
Somers… (View original article)