{"id":149709,"date":"2020-12-30T09:00:12","date_gmt":"2020-12-30T14:00:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=149709"},"modified":"2020-12-11T16:59:29","modified_gmt":"2020-12-11T21:59:29","slug":"the-great-writer-who-never-wrote-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2020\/12\/30\/the-great-writer-who-never-wrote-2\/","title":{"rendered":"The Great Writer Who Never Wrote"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>We\u2019re away until January 4, but we\u2019re reposting some of our favorite pieces from 2020. Enjoy your holiday!<\/em><\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_144979\" style=\"width: 1034px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/05\/eo9z-_oy38q.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-144979\" class=\"size-large wp-image-144979\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/05\/eo9z-_oy38q-1024x576.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1024\" height=\"576\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/05\/eo9z-_oy38q-1024x576.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/05\/eo9z-_oy38q-300x169.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/05\/eo9z-_oy38q-768x432.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/05\/eo9z-_oy38q.jpg 1160w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-144979\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Cecil Barton, Stephen Tennant (\u00a9The Cecil Beaton Studio Archive at Sotheby\u2019s)<\/p><\/div>\n<p>By the time of its reclusive occupant\u2019s death in 1987, the faux-Elizabethan country manor Wilsford, in Wiltshire near Stonehenge, overflowed with a dusty mishmash of valuable antiques, ephemeral gewgaws, and exotic objets d\u2019art. Outside, ivy shrouded the gables and moss thickened on the roof tiles. In the overgrown gardens stood a myriad of neglected statuary, marble urns, stone columns, and rococo fountains. To disperse it all, Sotheby\u2019s hosted hundreds of potential bidders, over four days, at what they described as an \u201cEnglish eccentric\u2019s dream house.\u201d Said eccentric was Stephen Tennant, who was born at Wilsford in 1906 and died there, aged eighty-one. According to his devoted housekeeper and nurse, Sylvia Blandford, he\u2019d have turned in his grave at the spectacle of his possessions being pawed over and auctioned off piece by piece. But he had left no will. Death was not, perhaps, a notion permitted within Tennant\u2019s elaborate fantasy world, into which he had retreated ever deeper as the decades passed.<\/p>\n<p>Like a fairy-tale character magically granted every conceivable blessing, only to discover those blessings carry a curse, the Honorary Stephen James Napier Tennant began life arrayed with sublime advantage. His father, Sir Edward Tennant, came from a family who owed their vast wealth to a Scottish ancestor\u2019s invention and patenting of bleach powder in 1799. Edward\u2019s blue-blooded wife, Pamela Wyndham, was a socialite who courted the leading artists and writers of the day. Pamela doted on Stephen, her youngest child of five, and encouraged him in his creative pursuits. As he was turning fifteen, she even arranged for his first art exhibition, at a respected London gallery. All the biggest national newspapers covered the event, offering fawning praise of the artist and his work. It must have been intoxicating indeed. And yet, as any former child star will attest, nothing warps one\u2019s sense of self like youthful celebrity.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2020\/05\/12\/the-great-writer-who-never-wrote\/\">Read more &gt;&gt;<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Tennant wrote letters, painted pictures, and worked on a novel, never to be completed. His most significant published work was his 1949 foreword to his friend Willa Cather\u2019s essay collection.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1048,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[68282],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-149709","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-best-of-2020"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>The Great Writer Who Never Wrote by Emma Garman<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Tennant wrote letters, painted pictures, and worked on a novel, never to be completed. 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