Aubrey Beardsley, an account of his life

I can't imagine what it must be like to know that you are not going to live to a ripe old age: not just for a few months of an illness, but from your earliest times. Beardsley had tuberculosis which, in the late nineteenth century, was a death sentence.

Maybe because of this, or maybe because of his

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natural talent, he burst onto the art scene at an early age and, to quote the book, burned brightly, if not long.

As is to be expected, with a new style of art, public opinion was uncertain and, in an unfortunate British manner, the new was decried as unacceptable. Beardsley was recognised amongst artists but had to wait until long past his demise to be recognised for the unquestionable genius that he was.

This telling of his life is assured and packed with fact; were I to be a little critical, I would wish for a bit more joi de vivre: it's all a tad pedestrian. Worth the read, none the less.

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