OPINIONSnA Portrait of the Artisan as a Young Mannby Gregory J. Sullivann”Who are those hooded hordes swarmingnOver endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth “n—T.S. EliotnEvelyn Waugh: The Early Yearsn1903-1939 by Martin Stannard,nNew York: W.W. Norton; $24.95.nMany 20th-century literary figuresnhave undergone such exhaustivenbiographical treatment that a scholarnwishing to venture into well-traversednterritory is compelled to proffer a startlingnnew thesis to vindicate his labors.nAll too frequently, alas, the “novel”napproach is banal or strained—servingnup a bit of latent homosexuality in onenauthor, a touch of incipient feminism innanother. At times, however, a newnbiography invites us to reexamine anwriter’s oeuvre (or at least a particularnaspect of it) in a genuinely fresh way.nMartin Stannard’s Evelyn Waugh: ThenEarly Years 1903-1939, the first of anprojected two-volume work, is justnsuch an invitation; and the reason fornthis is Stannard’s manifest seriousnessnof purpose: the biography “attempts,”nhe says, “something which no othernbiographical study of Waugh has done:nto forge a relationship between thencrucial events of Waugh’s life and hisndeveloping aesthetic.” The ambitiousnobjective requires scholarship that is atnonce industrious and discriminating;nStannard’s efforts have both of thesenvirtues, and his book is certainly thenmost definitive account to date ofnWaugh’s early life and work.nStannard patiently sketches Waugh’snfirmly middle-class background, quietnchildhood (though there was a markedntension between father and son), andnGregory J. Sullivan recently receivednhis M.A. from Villanova University.neducation. Further, he marshals thenevidence to suggest that “Necessity,nnot vocation, drove [Waugh] to literature.”nThis serves to illumine Waugh’sndesultory education at Lancing and hisnlegendary dissolution at Oxford,nwhere, assuming an aesthete’s persona.nnnhe was preoccupied with extravagancenand detestation of his tutor, C.R.M.F.nCruttwell. “Waugh’s initial distaste fornhim,” Stannard comments, “was tenderlynnurtured into a fantasy of disgust.”n(Waugh’s vituperation was carriednover into his fiction: carefulnreaders, for instance, will recall thatnCruttwell’s name is attached to minornbut inevitably ludicrous characters,ne.g., the bonesetter in A Handful ofnDust.) After coming down with annunimpressive academic record, henmuddled through disappointing teach-nSEPTEMBER 1988/23n