Clive James: a tribute

Clive James died last weekend at his home, surrounded by his family, after a long illness. The poet, writer, critic and television star was one of the most remarkable, talented and insightful members of his generation. Loved by millions, he was an incomparable presence in the lives of his friends and readers right up until the end.

In 2014, when he seemed very near that end, I went to see him at his home in Cambridge to talk about life, love, poetry and the proximity of death. I feared that it would be our last conversation. Thank medicine it wasn’t. But before I’d even got home, Clive had written again to say that he wanted to re-emphasise to me the ‘gratitude’ he felt about his life. It was a very Clive sentiment that.

There is much to say. But for now I just wanted to republish that interview, with the reflection that I know his numerous friends and fans will all share in that gratitude. Gratitude for an extraordinary life and body of work and gratitude for the bonus years and all the love and life he packed them with.

Here is the full interview: Clive James has published a new poem days before we meet. It opens, ‘Your death, near now, is of an easy sort’. It is about a Japanese maple his daughter has planted in the garden of his Cambridge home where we are sitting, and whether the poet will live to see the leaves flame red this autumn. The poem has made news. ‘At the moment,’ he says, laughing, ‘I am in the slightly embarrassing position where I write poems saying I am about to die and I don’t. My wife is very funny on that subject.’ It is part of an astonishing late body of work. This month there is a new book of writing on poetry, Poetry Notebook.