Edward St Aubyn

The Guardian

Edward St Aubyn: 'I never read things about myself because I’m so easily crushed'

The novelist on trying to escape Patrick Melrose, recovering from long Covid and putting to rest rumours that he wrote the eulogy for Princess Diana. Most interviews in the lockdown era are conducted by video, but the novelist Edward St Aubyn and I are talking by old-fashioned telephone because, his publicist warns me beforehand, “Teddy doesn’t do Zoom.” Of course he doesn’t. In truth, it’s a surprise that Teddy does telephones, because he often gives the impression that his presence in prosaic 21st-century London – as opposed to early 20th-century Russia alongside his great-uncle Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich, or 19th-century Britain with his great-grandfather, the Liberal MP Sir John St Aubyn, first Baron St Levan – is an administrative error shortly to be rectified.
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Edward St Aubyn: Double Blind review - constructing 'cognition literature'

The author of the Patrick Melrose books returns with a book about ecology and neuroscienceTimothy Allen. If it weren’t for the warning on the blurb, the first chapter of Double Blind would have you wondering whether you’d ordered something from the science section by mistake. It's a novel that throws its reader in at the deep end, where that end is made of "streaks of bacteria" and "vigorous mycorrhizal networks" that would take a biology degree (or a browser) to decipher. As is often the case, though, it’s worth it once you’re in. Double Blind is one of those rare books that does everything the blurb claims it will do. Humorous, philosophical, gripping and – yes – scientific in turn, this is a novel about finding charm and literary flair in the most unexpected of places.
The Guardian

Double Blind by Edward St Aubyn review – high jinks in high finance

Edward St Aubyn is best known for his immersive, darkly comic sequence of five autobiographical novels about the childhood, youth and middle age of Patrick Melrose, a minor English aristocrat who finds himself hooked on heroin after being repeatedly raped in childhood by his father. His publisher calls his new book his “first major work” since At Last, the fifth Melrose novel, which he’s surely too shrewd not to see as a diss on the two novels he published in the intervening 10 years: Lost for Words, a crass farce about a clueless book prize jury, inspired by At Last’s snubbing for the Booker; and Dunbar, a commissioned reimagining of King Lear that was overshadowed not only by the source material but by the Melrose novels that had presumably made St Aubyn seem like a sound bet to write it in the first place.