Abstract

Russell writes with wit, candor, and uncommon honesty about his Victorian childhood, his painful adolescence, and his extracurricular amorous conquests. On the credit side, it must be said that it offers a remarkable insight into the development of a remarkable man. But for the benefit of those with more than a casual interest in the philosopher named Bertrand Russell, it should be mentioned that this book suffers from chronic intellectual malnutrition. Not that there isn't a lot of name-dropping and folksy correspondence between the intellectual giants of the early twentieth century. There is a perfectly mad letter from Georg Cantor, who refers to Kant as "this abominable mummy"; and a perfectly charming one from Norbert Weiner's father, who, by way of introduction, states that his son has studied philosophy under "professors Royce, Perry, Palmer, Munsterberg, Schmidt, Holt, etc." In a delicious jest, Russell adds as a footnote, "Nevertheless he turned out well." There is, however, nothing substantial about philosophy in this book. At its close, Russell had completed Principia. He had returned to Cambridge already a most important figure in philosophy and mathematics. But there is no real discussion of the ideas which led up to and leavened this period in Russell's life. There is instead the dreary story of Whitehead's financial troubles. One hopes that a proper sense of the importance of things will be restored in future volumes of Russell's autobiography.—H. P. K.