I went to see Anthony Burgess in the aftermath of A Clockwork Orange. I can’t remember exactly when: but I have the impression that the movie had come out, had incited vociferous opposition, and Burgess was anxious to ‘put things right.’ He was staying in Grosvenor House hotel – or, maybe, the Dorchester: anyhow one […]

Burgess was always courteous and kind; the fact we enjoyed each other’s writing helped a great deal. When Burgess’s early novels of what were later called The Malayan Trilogy were published, I had only recently returned from that exotic region myself. Not only were Time for a Tiger and the others extremely funny, Burgess showed […]

I first met Anthony Burgess on Election Night 1966. As the then editor of the Penguin English Library I had commissioned him to write the introduction to one of the classic English novels. We met in the bar of the Café Royal. Burgess arrived with his then wife, Lynne. We chatted pleasantly for a while […]

Harold Harris, now dead, originally brought Burgess to Hutchinson for Beard’s Roman Women in about 1975 or 76. Possibly bought from an American publisher. In those days I don’t think Anthony was using a literary agent. My memory of this was that the photographer was very much part of the deal, and that it was […]

Monaco, 6 July 1978: He opened the door of the apartment at the top of the stairs on the top floor in the old sandstone-coloured building, shops on the ground floor, black-iron grilled balconies, 44 Rue Grimaldi. There he was, immediately friendly and easy-going, a swirl of bushy long grayish-brown hair like some mad painter, […]

I hope this brief note will demonstrate something of the kindness and generosity Anthony Burgess showed, back in 1990, to one very inexperienced writer – me. Burgess had been my literary hero ever since I read Earthly Powers, which made a huge impression on me: I was incredulous and spluttered indignantly on his behalf when […]

In the late 70s Klett-Cotta acquired the German rights for several books by two British writers: Doris Lessing and Anthony Burgess. Having been in a close relationship with the publishers (as an editor and translator, mostly of non-literary material) I was given the choice between the two. Both were unknown to me; my interest in […]

I met Anthony in the French House in the Summer of 1983. For those who don’t know it, the pub at 49 Dean Street in Soho is unlike any other. For years it still sported its original inn sign of the ‘York Minster’. But everyone called it by what it had been known as for […]

Anthony Burgess was wonderful, extraordinary, kind of a good-looking guy, you know, tall, straight, chain smoker of these little cigarillos. He’s a great man now and everyone takes him seriously, but he was a lot of fun and especially with the wives we had a lot of good times. He talked about music a lot […]

The most telling memorial to Anthony Burgess would have been to leave a big white gap on the pages of the Observer or the Independent or whatever – the space his words would have filled. His death must supply work for a good handful of aspiring literary journalists, job opportunities galore. And that’s just in […]