Mervyn Jones, novelist, biographer and journalist

Published on Friday 12 March 2010 21:25

Born: 27 February, 1922, in London. Died: 22 February, 2010, in Brighton, aged 87.

Jones was born in lavish surroundings in Regent's Park, London, his upbringing one of material advantage. His father was a leading psychoanalyst and close friend and biographer of Sigmund Freud, and the family had homes in Sussex and the Gower peninsula in Wales and a villa on the French Riviera.

However, Jones always maintained that his real mother was "Nanny", a working-class woman employed to look after him and his three siblings. His elder sister, Gwenith, died when she was just six years old, leaving Jones scarred and feeling very alone. In fact, he often commented that he had been born in to a "long line of loners", a reaction to his "privileged" upbringing.

His formative years were not always smooth, and his father's occupation meant that he was frequently psychoanalysed, whether he wanted or needed it. Despite this, he had great admiration for the man – an admiration that did not extend to his mother, Katrina, for whom he had strong negative feelings.

He was, however, very fond of Freud, whom he warmed to as a teenager, and he was quick to acknowledge the positive influence Freud had on the Jones family. Jones's education began when he was sent to a private boarding school, the fashionable Abbotsholme, in Derbyshire.

He loathed his time there, immersing himself in literature to escape his surroundings. He was extraordinarily creative, and, as is often the case with creative students in restricted environments, he was also rebellious and managed to find himself in trouble on a regular basis (he was expelled from school shortly before he was due to leave).

It was during this period that he discovered he was a socialist and a believer in Marxism. At 16, he joined the Young Communist League, around the time his father was busy rescuing Freud from Nazi-occupied Austria.

University beckoned and an offer had been made by Queen's College, Oxford. He turned the place down, much to the disapproval of his father, who was already vexed by his communist activities.

The decision created a rift in their relationship, and in August 1939, just as the Second World War began, he and his mother were sent to the United States, where he immediately enrolled as a student at New York University. He read voraciously, mostly poetry, and attended Auden lectures, but something was nagging at him and in 1942 he returned to Britain, intent on fighting fascism. He became a fully paid-up member of the Communist Party and took a job as a garage hand in the capital.

By November 1942, he was a second lieutenant in the anti-tank artillery and training for the D-Day landings. In October 1943, he was captured by Nazi soldiers in the Netherlands and spent the rest of the war in a prisoner-of-war camp until it was liberated by American troops.

His military career continued, however, and, following a short period back in Britain, he was mobilised to India for a further two years, leaving active service in 1947.

Returning to civilian life, he was offered a job with the Daily Worker by his close friend Claud Cockburn, who was the newspaper's star scribe and highly impressed by Jones's ability to write descriptively on any subject.

Jones declined the job offer, fearing a full-time position would interfere with his novel writing. He was making a good living working freelance and saw no reason to take up a salaried appointment.

In 1948, Jones met and fell in love with Jeanne Urquhart. She was five years his senior and a fellow communist and he adored her. They married in that same year and remained together until her death in 1990.

His love affair with communism was not eternal, however, and he left the party in 1951, but his political leanings remained socialist and he joined the Labour Party, standing unsuccessfully as a candidate in the Conservative stronghold of Chichester. It was his involvement in the Labour Party that first introduced him to Michael Foot, the man for whom he would later so famously act as biographer.

Job offers were now coming thick and fast as his reputation as a journalist grew. Many newspapers wanted Jones on their books, but he was happy to continue freelancing, writing primarily for the Guardian. He did eventually take up a role at Tribune, while Foot was editor, and covered politics, before moving on to the New Statesman, where he remained for 12 years (although remaining freelance and continuing to contribute to Tribune).

His employment at the New Statesman led to many trips around the globe, including Europe, India, the Middle East and the US. On his return from each trip, he would haggle with his editor about getting time off to write his next novel.

Jones wrote some great, if not classic, novels. His first, No Time To Be Young, was published in 1952, but probably his finest piece, and most widely read, was Holding On (1971), which was adapted for television.

Other significant successes include the 1968 A Survivor and his 1966 work, John and Mary, a story of casual sex turning to love. The latter caught the attention of a Hollywood film studio and Jones was more than happy with the 5,000 he received in film rights.

He was less than happy with the end product, however, despite a screenplay by John Mortimer and the presence of stars Dustin Hoffman and Mia Farrow. It was his one and only foray into the star-studded world of cinema.

His prose was always insightful, exploring the strengths and weaknesses of the human mind, perhaps unsurprisingly, given his father's occupation and his own upbringing. The depth, range and volume of his work left many feeling he deserved to be regarded more highly than he was.

Jones never achieved that elusive classic novel, but he set himself apart in the field of journalism, even if that had never been his ambition. His biography of Foot has been described as "effortlessly readable", although it was criticised for its "romantic" view of a man who had evident flaws.

He continued to write novels and biographies until his sight began to fail. He spent his later years almost entirely blind in a home in Brighton, but, despite the dullness of his physical state, his mind remained sharp.

He died on 22 February, 2010, aged 87, and is survived by his son and two daughters.