Nancy, by Christopher Sykes (Harper, 543 pp., $10). Nancy Astor, in her heyday, was probably one of the half-dozen most famous women in the world—not so much for anything she did as for the spitfire vigor of her personality. This kind of fame, being so transient and intangible, renders a biographer’s task peculiarly challenging. Christopher Sykes, as one would expect from a very experienced and sophisticated observer of twentiethcentury history, has done the job most capably, although without much sparkle. Lady Astor’s character and prejudices were formed largely by her childhood and youth in Virginia. (Her sister became the celebrated “Gibson Girl.”) But it was her marriage to Waldorf Astor in 1906, and the position which it brought her in British political and literary society, that made her famous. She maintained turbulent relationships with George Bernard Shaw, T. E. Lawrence, Hilaire Belloc, Asquith, Winston Churchill; was for 25 years a member of Parliament; spoke loudly in favor of women’s rights and against alcohol; practiced Christian Science and annoyed Stalin. The “Cliveden Set”—the politicians and journalists who gathered at the Astor’s great country house —was supposed, in left-wing mythology, to have been a powerful influence toward appeasement during the 1930s. Such stories, however untrue, became ineradicable. As Mr. Sykes says: “Legends are toys. It is no use telling a child that his golliwog is only a piece of stuffed cloth. He loves his golly, and if anyone tries to take it away, he screams.” Nancy Astor had many opponents, but among those who knew her personally almost no enemies. She had a tart wit and a rough tongue: She could be wrong-headed, certainly, but (as this reviewer can testify) she was the most loyal and fearless of friends. And she added color to her time. A. LejeUNe
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