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Kingsley was a friend and colleague of Charles Darwin. [9] One of his daughters, Mary St Leger Kingsley, became known as a novelist under the pseudonym Lucas Malet. [6] Kingsley's biography, written by his widow in 1877, was entitled, Charles Kingsley, his Letters and Memories of his Life. [6]
Kingsley Amis was born on 16 April 1922 in Clapham, south London, the only child of William Robert Amis (1889–1963), a clerk – "quite an important one, fluent in Spanish and responsible for exporting mustard to South America" – for the mustard manufacturer Colman's in the City of London, [3] and his wife Rosa Annie (née Lucas).
George Kingsley (1826–1892, England, nf) Henry Kingsley (1830–1876, ... Text is available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 License; ...
The Letters of Kingsley Amis (2001) was assembled and edited by the American literary critic Zachary Leader.It is a collection of more than 800 letters from Amis to many different friends and professional acquaintances from 1941 until shortly before his death in 1995.
Lucky Jim is a novel by Kingsley Amis, first published in 1954 by Victor Gollancz.It was Amis's first novel and won the 1955 Somerset Maugham Award for fiction. The novel follows the academic and romantic tribulations of the eponymous James (Jim) Dixon, a reluctant history lecturer at an unnamed provincial English university.
British novelist Martin Amis, who brought a rock ‘n’ roll sensibility to his stories and lifestyle, has died. Amis was the son of another British writer, Kingsley Amis. Martin Amis was a ...
Henry Kingsley (2 January 1830 – 24 May 1876) [1] was an English novelist, brother of the better-known Charles Kingsley. He was an early exponent of muscular Christianity in his 1859 novel The Recollections of Geoffry Hamlyn .
The Times Literary Supplement has called it a 'slight but bookishly funny early novel', in which Amis's alter ego Garnet Bowen is 'ludicrously sent off to Portugal in search of a reclusive writer named Wulfstan Strether', and admired the more serious and eloquent tone achieved when, finding himself in Lisbon, Bowen contemplates Henry Fielding’s tomb: