Low’s Autobiography — David Low (1956)
My favourite autobiography
Being blacklisted by fascist Italian newspapers and marked for liquidation by the Gestapo seem to be quite mean feats for a Cartoonist, yet for David Low it somehow came with the territory. Here we have what might be my favourite autobiography.
The name David Low did not ring even the slightest bell as a friend handed me a charming hardback copy of his autobiography. “Wisdom and wit abounds, Ellie” was the only preamble given, followed quickly by an untinsled, “This is a boomerang book, I do want it back when you’ve finished”.
I see why.
Low’s autobiography is a gem. Charming and clever, insightful and candid, I hope to one day have a copy of my own; sitting loftily in a bookcase amongst some of my dearest literary loves.
A New Zealand native, “roughed up” in Australia before laying roots in London, David Low’s career as a publishing caricaturist transformed into that of a prominent political commentator. He found a niche; detailed drawings born from no apprehension they’d irk the masses, bringing with him an unabashed, antipodean perspective to the peculiar, stratified landscape of 20th century European politics.
Low is an engaging story teller, with the ability to capture the humour and integrity of a situation in equal measure. His work reads with both the comedic zeal of a Wodehouse offering and historical coherence of a well-made Netflix documentary. Within the recounts of his life story, and certainly in his body of work, Low paints a colourful picture of life during the first half of the 20th century.
Whilst I did not know of the man by name, I was surprised to discover that I was familiar with his cartoons. Works such as All behind you, Winston (1940), Very Well Alone (1940), Rendezvous (1939) and the wonderful Colonel Blimp are well apart of the classic iconography of that warring era.
He was positively a tour de force, stoking both praise and commendation simply with a bright idea the slight stroke of his pen. Low’s body of work bristled and bellowed, and thus struck a chord with European power-brokers and common people alike, and as Low himself tells us, certainly not always by design.
He counted as friends the likes of H.G. Wells and Aldous Huxley, and had complex acquaintances with many titans of the time — spanning curiously from Winston Churchill to Mahatma Ghandi. A true delight throughout his book is the interspersed recounts of correspondence Low received from readers and public figureheads alike. Particularly enjoyable is the boyish back-and-forth between Low and Wells across the expanse of their lifelong friendship.
The art of letter writing never felt so sorely missed.
This book should peak the interest of any reader who possess an explicit interest in early 20th century British politics, the World Wars, the bureaucracy of news publishing and the art form of caricaturing, or latter day cartoonists.
I enjoy nothing more than being windswept by a great book. Few in recent years have really stirred me into action quite like Low’s offering. Inspired is a word I reluctantly use, but here I must call a duck a duck. Truly inspired I am of this driven self-starter. ‘Do a Low’ is now a personal mantra I mutter amusingly to myself in moments of self-propelled pluckiness.
Best enjoyed with an Earl Grey and choc-coated digestive biscuit.
