man who consumed alcohol like the rest of us consume fresh air, Lowry was an extremely talented writer - and utterly incapable of getting any sort of grip on his life. He seems to have lived in a near-permanent state of crisis, stumbling from one disaster to another. Along the way he somehow managed to write a few pages - but only a few; his output was far from prolific and he had to struggle constantly to achieve what he did. Eventually he lost that struggle and headed for the great bar in the sky, killing himself in 1957.
Recommended:
Under The Volcano
Dark As The Grave Wherein My Friend Is Laid
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