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Featuring over 500 entries written by an international team of scholars, The Encyclopedia of Twentieth-Century Fiction is an authoritative reference resource of up to date scholarship. Arranged in three volumes covering British and Irish fiction, American fiction, and World fiction, the entries cover major writers and their works; the genres and sub-genres of fiction (including crime fiction, sci fi, chick lit, the noir novel, and the avant garde novel); and the major movements, debates, and rubrics within the field. My entry on the novelist, critic, poet and editor Ford Madox Ford is in Volume 1 of the Encyclopedia

Haslam, Sara

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Open Research OnlineThe Open University’s repository of research publicationsand other research outputsFord Madox FordBook ChapterHow to cite:Haslam, Sara (2010). Ford Madox Ford. In: Shaffer, Brian ed. The Encyclopedia of Twentieth Cen-tury Fiction. Wiley-Blackwell.For guidance on citations see FAQs.c© 2010 Wiley-BlackwellVersion: Accepted ManuscriptLink(s) to article on publisher’s website:http://eu.wiley.com/WileyCDA/WileyTitle/productCd-1405192445.htmlCopyright and Moral Rights for the articles on this site are retained by the individual authors and/or other copy-right owners. For more information on Open Research Online’s data policy on reuse of materials please consultthe policies page.oro.open.ac.uk 1<ch>Ford, Ford Madox  Sara Haslam Open University  Ford Madox Ford is known, in the main, for his two acknowledged masterpieces, The Good Soldier (1995 [1915]) and the four novels that, together, make up Parade’s End (2002b [1950]): Some Do Not … (1924); No More Parades (1925); A Man Could Stand Up– (1926) and Last Post (1928). The Good Soldier is counted among the classics of modernism. Rebecca West cited the “wonders of its technique” in her contemporary review. Students of the period read the novel at first for these wonders, contending with its quintessentially unreliable narrator, John Dowell, as well as his tale of social disintegration, sexual intrigue, and violent death. Anthony Burgess called Parade’s End “the finest novel about the First World War.” Its perfectly weighted opening sentence introduces a text that is now familiar to many. Ford’s oeuvre includes a further nearly 80 books, however, and spans a great range of genres. Born in 1873, Ford was first published in 1891. He wrote fiction, fairy tales, poetry, and biography at the start of his career, caught and inspired by an extraordinary combination of late nineteenth-century influences. Most notably, this early work revealed a dedicated attention to his Pre-Raphaelite beginnings; Ford’s grandfather Ford Madox Brown illustrated his first publication, a fairy tale called The Brown Owl (1891), and Edward Burne-Jones the later The Queen Who Flew (1894).  Within little more than a decade, Ford became an editor, critic, and memoir writer too. His circle of interest widened quickly, owing to the range of influences on which he could draw, but more particularly to the writers – Joseph Conrad preeminent among them – that he soon met. (While Ford’s best-known books are populated in the main by lonely protagonists, with loose, or disintegrating, ties to the world, his writing life is characterized by its strong, though shifting, networks of artists who had, as he put it, “studied their Flaubert.”) The volumes of his trilogy England and the English were “boomed” from 1905. His “kaleidoscopic” London is a long way from fairy tales, and was called by the Daily Mail “the latest and truest image of London, built up out of a series of negations, that together are more hauntingly near to a composite picture of the city than anything we have seen before.” Both The Good Soldier and Parade’s End display similar series of multiple, fragmented perspectives;   2and the landscape of war becomes prominent in Ford’s work after 1915 – an effective context, or metaphor, for his explorations of individual psychology, as well as of relationships between individuals and nations. It is his rendering of this landscape that prompts judgments like Graham Greene’s “there is no novelist of this century more likely to live than Ford Madox Ford”; yet it never quite replaces the jeweled vision of the early fairy tales, or the historical romances like Ladies Whose Bright Eyes (1911), in which William Sorrell travels back to the Middle Ages and finds his soul eased by the comparative simplicity and freedom of life. Indeed, those early notions are themselves long-lived, reworked into poems like “On Heaven,” published in 1913 and much admired by Ezra Pound – he called it the “most important poem in the modern manner” – or “Latin Quarter” (1936), and the lovers’ precious “velvet blackness” found there.  Ford Madox Ford was called Ford Hermann Hueffer when he was born, in Merton, Surrey, on December 17, 1873. On that day, Dante Gabriel Rossetti prophesied that he would bring “glory to whichever of his two countries he may choose to adopt …” His father, Francis Hüffer before he anglicized his name, was German, a music critic for The Times; his mother Catherine was Ford Madox Brown’s daughter, and a painter herself. Ford first traveled when he was very young to visit his Hüffer relations in Europe; this route (London and Paris, through to the Rhine and Alsace-Lorraine) became one he would love, and was also one that, perhaps, sowed the seeds for his ideas about relationships in literature for the rest of his life. He believed in a “Republic of Letters,” and always stressed the special nature of the association between writers, and between European and trans-European literatures. The critic Vita Fortunati offers a different model for Ford’s statement between the two wars that “wherever there were creative thinkers was my country”: the community of artists that was the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Ford published a book about Rossetti in 1902, and one about the Brotherhood in 1907. The familial links with the Brotherhood began early: Madox Brown was Dante Gabriel’s mentor and friend; and Ford’s aunt had married William Michael Rossetti – the families would holiday together when the children were young. This became his first, strong, creative network. But while it helped him to develop a visual technique that would be with him until the 1930s (A. S. Byatt has recently examined his use of “colour words,” starting with the simple, pure tones of the fairy tales), as well as his ideas about artistic republics, there was an emotional cost to this kinship that would affect him as  3strongly to the end of his life. His childhood identification of his Rossetti cousins as “horrible monsters of precocity,” and “marvels of genius,” when compounded by the tragic early death of his demanding and judgmental father, contributed to a severe lack of self-confidence. The most serious effects of this particular family romance can be witnessed in his agoraphobic breakdowns in the early years of the twentieth century. A late chapter of Return to Yesterday, Ford’s memoir of the years 1894 to 1914, describes some of the resultant cures, and the “wickedly unskilful doctoring,” to which he was subjected at the time.  When his father died in 1889 there was no money (Ford would struggle with financial insecurity for most of his life). He went to live with his beloved Madox Brown. The strength of the bond he shared with his grandfather is shown in the name Ford eventually took, with surprising delay – considering the one he was born with and the cultural climate – postwar, in 1919. Madox Brown remained the most significant force in Ford’s creative life until, in 1898, he met and soon began to collaborate with Conrad. By this time, Ford had also married, in somewhat dramatic fashion. He had eloped with Elsie Martindale and was living in Romney Marsh, the hub of the most productive of his literary networks, which would come to include, as well as Conrad, the American writer Stephen Crane, H. G. Wells, and Henry James. But it was his meeting of Conrad that has been called the “crucial event in both men’s literary lives.” Ford learned much of his craft from this great writer, and developed an impressionist technique alongside him. He later said that his “literary friendship” with Conrad had been “for its lack of jealousy a very beautiful thing.” This is not to say the relationship with Conrad was easy. They wrote The Inheritors together (1901), then Romance (1903), but quarreled too, and broke with each other in 1909. (Ford nevertheless published a memoir of Conrad in 1924.) When Ford fell out with his fellow writers and friends, as he also did with Henry James, and with his great friend Arthur Marwood – upon whom he based Christopher Tietjens, the protagonist of Parade’s End – it was generally about one of two things: money, or the socially complicated (and emotionally painful) relationships Ford had with the women in his life.  The first of Ford’s editorial ventures, the English Review, emerged from discussions with Marwood, Conrad, Edward Garnett, and H. G. Wells when Ford and Elsie spent time in London in 1904. Ford wanted to become involved more widely in the literary scene, and also wanted to promote exciting modern writing. Though this  4review, which Ford founded in 1908, having moved back to London, has been described as “one of the best literary magazines ever to appear in these islands” (publishing new writers like Lawrence and Wyndham Lewis as well as established figures such as Hardy), for the period of his editorship from December 1908 to February 1910 it was a financial disaster. That he met and began an affair with the writer Violet Hunt at the same time, though his marriage had by this time failed, put too big a strain on his relationships with Wells and Garnett, and then with Conrad, Marwood, and James too. And I used the phrase “socially complicated” deliberately. Literary London may not have been ready for his attempts to divorce Elsie (with whom he had two daughters, Christina and Katharine), or for his long affairs with Hunt and others, but his relationships with what Joseph Wiesenfarth (2005) has termed the “regiment” of his women formed the other most significant of Ford’s creative networks. These relationships must be taken seriously in artistic, as well as biographical, or even moral, terms. Though it was partly the case that a new love affair seemed to stimulate the desire to write – a lover was often also a muse – this was not the whole truth of the matter. Ford worked tirelessly to support the work of those in whom he believed (as those writers he edited knew, this was not restricted to lovers). Even as his relationship with Violet Hunt disintegrated, he wrote to Lucy Masterman about how good Hunt’s latest novel was as he corrected its proofs. And Ford also learned from Hunt, and from novelist Jean Rhys, as well as from Stella Bowen and Janice Biala, the latter both important artists who rejuvenated his style. Bowen and Biala, in their turn, acknowledged an extensive debt to him; Hunt (1926) and Rhys (1928), on the other hand, published accounts of their lives with Ford that nearly destroyed his reputation.  By the time Ford began work on the first of the books that would make his name, The Good Soldier, his relationship with Violet Hunt was starting its decline. The novel’s opening chapters came out in the Vorticist magazine, Blast, on June 20, 1914. Less notably, he was also soon busy writing (somewhat idiosyncratic) propaganda for his good friend C. F. G. Masterman’s wartime propaganda bureau. He believed in the cause at first, and joined up, at the age of 41, in July 1915. But like most others, Ford had a miserable and tragic experience of war. He got his commission as a second lieutenant in the Welch Regiment (Special Reserve). “Here I am and hard at it – 6 a.m. to 7 p.m. everyday … Literature seems to have died out of a world that is mostly interesting from its contours,” he wrote from Cardiff, where he  5trained before leaving for France on July 13, 1916. As might be expected on this date, his destination was the Somme. His age meant that, although he asked to be at the front – and was for about two months – he was stationed mainly with the battalion transport. This did not mean that he avoided bombardment. Such positions were regularly shelled, and only a few days after he arrived he was blown up by one such shell; he landed on his face, suffering concussion and mouth injuries.  In an impressive section of Parade’s End, Christopher Tietjens is also blown up. His experience is a curious and liberating one. He finds that, surprisingly, he is still alive, and, full of adrenaline and feelings of indestructibility he rescues those men of his who lie around him, carrying them, pulling them from the disgusting viscous mud like an avenging angel. The indulgence of his physicality leads, by the end of the tetralogy, to a sexual fulfillment unavailable to him (but enjoyed elsewhere by his taunting, vicious, and stunning wife) before the war. This is how Tietjens is moved into, and begins finally to inhabit, the modern, postwar world. It was not so for Ford.  In Sussex, postwar, Ford was haunted. It Was the Nightingale (1934) records that Red Ford (the house he shared with Bowen), was “filled with a horde of minor malices and doubts.” Ford feared that the “shadows were alive … and that the dark, gleaming panes of the window hid other, whispering, beings that jeered” behind his back. In the earlier, and important, stylistic essay “On Impressionism” (1914), glass works very differently from the way it does in this memoir. In 1914 it is brightly, cheerfully, reflective, and, as a symbol, denotes the active and creative mind’s capabilities of being in two different places at once – places of time as well as of space. The clouded window panes of Red Ford are a postwar mutation, torturing the shell-shocked writer with what he does not, any longer, know about himself. Ford lost portions of his memory in the war, some of which never came back. (His hearing was also damaged, and he cannot quite catch what the ghosts are saying either.) Ford’s doubts about his failing memory, and thus his ability to reflect and, ultimately, to write, are a terror. Parade’s End helped to exorcise them, as did the country to which he went for succour. His instinct was to grow vegetables, cook good and simple food, and to merge in some way with the nourishing soil – a crucial stage in the journey to his beloved Provence.  By the time Parade’s End appeared in print, things were better for Ford (unlike most of the great books about World War I, it took less than 10 years to produce). Biographer Max Saunders (1996) writes that he was “back in the thick of  6contemporary literature,” partly as a result of editing the transatlantic review in Paris, publishing Hemingway, Stein, and Carlos Williams, for example. As the tetralogy appeared Ford was truly feted in New York in particular. (New York Essays and the travel book New York is Not America were both published in 1927.) For a while his money troubles went away. He never, however, lived in England again. His long and fulfilling relationship with Stella Bowen survived an affair with Jean Rhys while they were all living in Paris in the mid-1920s, but then he traveled to the USA in 1926 and 1927 without her and their daughter, Esther Julia, and it was destroyed by the distance and by further liaisons abroad. Until Ford met the last great love of his life, Janice Biala, on May Day, 1930, marking the start of the decade that induced most of his memoirs, he moved between Paris, Provence, and America, always writing (he published poetry, fiction, and criticism in this period alone), always finding and often becoming a hub of artistic conversation and endeavor wherever he was based.  Ford and Biala’s home became Villa Paul, on Cap Brun, for much of the remainder of his life. He was happy here, cooking, writing, and tending his garden, but he was suffering periods of painful and debilitating heart trouble. His illnesses did not prevent further travel to work at Olivet College, Michigan – he met the young Robert Lowell, who became an influential admirer, during one trip – and in New York. Ford completed one of his most important critical books, The March of Literature (1939), while he was at Olivet, and remained with Biala in New York for the autumn and winter of 1938. True to form, a new literary group was begun in the city early the next year at his suggestion, to promote William Carlos Williams, and “serious creative Literature in America.” The group came to include Ezra Pound, e. e. cummings, Allen Tate, Sherwood Anderson, W. H. Auden, Christopher Isherwood, and Williams himself, and there was talk about turning it into another review. In what James Joyce called “possibly the last public act of Ford’s life,” he wrote on May 10 to the Saturday Review to celebrate Finnegans Wake, and protest against the tone of the review the editor had published. Ford died at Deauville, having just reached France from America, on June 26, 1939. He is buried on the cliffs above the town.  SEE ALSO: Conrad, Joseph (BIF); Greene, Graham (BIF); London in Fiction (BIF); Modernist Fiction (BIF); Rhys, Jean (WF); Wells, H. G. (BIF); World War I in Fiction (BIF)   7<x>REFERENCES AND SUGGESTED READINGS Ford, F. M. (1891). The Brown Owl. London: T. Fisher Unwin. Ford, F. M. (1894). The Queen Who Flew. London: Bliss, Sands and Foster. Ford, F. M. (1896). Ford Madox Brown. London: Longmans, Green. Ford, F. M. (1902). Rossetti. London: Duckworth. Ford, F. M. (1906). The Fifth Queen. London: Alston Rivers. Ford, F. M. (1907a). The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. London: Duckworth. Ford, F. M. (1907b). Privy Seal. London: Alston Rivers. Ford, F. M. (1908). The Fifth Queen Crowned. London: Alston Rivers. Ford, F. M. (1910). A Call. London: Chatto and Windus. Ford, F. M. (1911). Ladies Whose Bright Eyes. London: Constable. Ford, F. M. (1924). Joseph Conrad: A Personal Remembrance. London: Duckworth. Ford, F. M. (1927). New York is Not America. London: Duckworth. Ford, F. M. (1930). The English Novel: From the Earliest Days to the Death of Joseph Conrad. London: Constable. Ford, F. M. (1933). The Rash Act. London: Jonathan Cape. Ford, F. M. (1934a). Henry for Hugh. Philadelphia: Lippincott. Ford, F. M. (1934b). It Was the Nightingale. London: Heinemann. Ford, F. M. (1938). Provence. London: Allen and Unwin. Ford, F. M. (1939). The March of Literature. London: Allen and Unwin. Ford, F. M. (1965). The Letters of Ford Madox Ford (ed. R. Ludwig). Princeton: Princeton University Press. Ford, F. M. (1995). The Good Soldier [1915] (ed. M. Stannard). New York: Norton. Ford, F. M. (2002a). No Enemy [1929] (ed. P. Skinner). Manchester: Carcanet. Ford, F. M. (2002b). Parade’s End [1950] (ed. M. Saunders), comprising Some Do Not …, No More Parades, A Man Could Stand Up–, and The Last Post. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Ford, F. M. (2003). England and the English [1907] (ed. S. Haslam). Comprising The Soul of London (1905), The Heart of the Country (1906), and The Spirit of the People (1907). Manchester: Carcanet. Ford, F. M., with Joseph Conrad (1901). The Inheritors. London: Heinemann. Ford, F. M., with Joseph Conrad (1903). Romance. London: Smith, Elder. Haslam, S. (2002). Fragmenting Modernism: Ford Madox Ford, the Novel and the Great War. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Hunt, V. (1926). The Flurried Years. London: Hurst and Blackett. Rhys, J. (1928). Postures. London: Chatto and Windus. (Reprinted as Quartet. London: Deutsch, 1969.) Saunders, M. (1996). Ford Madox Ford: A Dual Life, vols. 1 and 2. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Saunders, M. (ed.) (1997). Ford Madox Ford: Selected Poems. Manchester: Carcanet. Saunders, M. (gen. ed.) (2002–). International Ford Madox Ford Studies. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Saunders, M., & Stang, R. (eds.) (2002). Ford Madox Ford: Critical Essays. Manchester: Carcanet. Wiesenfarth, J. (2005). Ford Madox Ford and the Regiment of Women. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. 

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