More Waughs Than One

Daisy Waugh, novelist and journalist, is interviewed on the writers’ website Litopia. She is the daughter of Auberon and grand daughter of Evelyn and has written several books, both fiction and nonfiction. In the interview she discusses her latest offerings in both genres, which were published in 2014:

… she promoted her last book, “a feminist diatribe on modern motherhood” by “lying on a giant, polystyrene cut-out of my own name. In a tight red satin skirt which didn’t belong to me, and some magnificent shoes covered in velvet and jewels, on loan from Manolo Blahnik.”

To promote her latest novel— she sits down with us! But before we get to Honeyville— the pet name of the only town in Colorado where prostitution was legal in 1913— she gripes about trying to make it as a Hollywood screenwriter. She also opens up about being a Waugh, an atheist who loves the Tarot and the personal repercussions of her successful and divisive I don’t know why she bothers: Guilt-free Motherhood for Thoroughly Modern Women. By the time we reach whether it was better to be a whore than a wife in the Wild West— as proclaimed by Honeyville’s protagonist— the gloves are well and truly off. This Daisy is no shrinking wallflower!

The book about motherhood was published in the US under the title The Kids Will be Fine.  According to Amazon postings, the novel Honeyville is about Hollywood.

In the latest issue of The Week magazine, the autobiography of Daisy’s father, Auberon Waugh, (Will This Do?) is selected by the magazine staff as one of their best books read in 2016: 

Auberon Waugh’s memoirs, published in 1991, were new to me this year. In extremely witty prose, Waugh recalls the trials and indignities of being the son of the famous English Catholic novelist Evelyn Waugh. He also shares what it was to be a Fleet Street veteran in London’s never-ending media war. Waugh knows what to do with a poison pen, whether he is aiming it at his teachers, his journalistic rivals, or socialist politicians. The many libel trials in which he was a defendant are entertaining in themselves. But the book is also a tender affair in parts. There is a rueful war remembrance of what it was to be an activist journalist on behalf of starving Biafrans in Nigeria. Or observations on the early career of media maven Tina Brown. The book is good gossipy fun, especially for Anglophiles of a certain age. —Michael Brendan Dougherty, senior correspondent



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