This marvellous book is the closest we'll ever get to an autobiography of Larkin, and is fitting consolation for those infamous diaries that he had burned, the contents of which will forever remain a mystery. Actually he mentions the diaries and his intention to eventually have them burned quite early on in these letters; and he forbids Monica from staying at his flat in Hull, when he was ill in hospital, out of fear that she may read them.
There are many such intriguing details in these letters that will delight Larkin fans, as here we get the real man, off guard and speaking his true mind, in a way that he would only do to the love of his life. The story of the relationship runs alongside that of Larkin's rise to fame, and of the latter he is typically self-deprecating about his substantial achievements. Of the former, it is all a touch poignant and sad. After Larkin's retreat to Belfast, he gets the top job in Hull, and here is the ideal point for him and Monica to get together, to marry. He has plenty of money and could easily support the both of them, but he wriggles on the hook for too long and the moment is lost. Later when details of his dalliances with other women--notably Maeve--emerge, he is effusively apologetic to the distraught Monica, but he cannot help but go on living his double life with minimum ties, in order to maintain the right existential conditions for his writing.
We know this story from the Motion biography, but through these letters it comes over more profoundly, from the man himself. Comparing the two books yields some striking insights, such as the intimate writing to Monica on his 50th birthday, followed by drinking champagne with Maeve in his flat afterwards. Larkin urged Monica to burn his letters, but happily this remarkable archive survived to cast another unique light on his sadness and genius.