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Internationally recognised art and literary critic, writer and cultural producer. Published in ELLE, Glamour, Esquire and Cosmopolitan; member of the Union of Writers.

By Maria Bregman

André Maurois wrote biographies, but he was less a historian of facts and more a sculptor of character. In the lives of giants like Balzac, Hugo, and Dumas, he looked past the marble monuments of their success to find the restless, searching human being within – the person who, like the rest of us, was simply looking for meaning and a little happiness. His work was built on a simple premise: a biography should be a work of art, a story that reveals a soul.

It was an idea that took root early. Born near Rouen, Maurois found his path illuminated by a philosophy teacher, Émile Chartier. He later recalled the first day of class, watching his teacher write a quote from Plato in stark white chalk on the blackboard: “With all the strength of our soul, we must strive for truth.” That single sentence became the guiding principle of his life and work.

A Life of Action and Letters

Maurois was no detached academic. After earning his degree at sixteen, he went to work not at a university, but at his father’s textile factory. He was a soldier, serving as a liaison officer in the First World War. When the Second World War began, the 54-year-old writer volunteered for active duty. After the fall of France, he taught at the University of Kansas before returning home in 1946.

This experience of the world, of industry and of conflict, informed everything he wrote. His creative output was immense – some 200 books and over a thousand articles, from novels and essays to literary memoirs. He drew deeply from the classics, including Russian writers like Turgenev and Tolstoy, and his work consistently affirmed a belief in the power and resilience of the individual. In a sense, he stood against the modernist currents of his time, which often emphasized disillusionment and fragmentation.

Maurois believed that human nature was a constant. “I am 80 years old, you are 20,” he once wrote. “You have been led to believe that old moral values have passed away. This is a lie. If you look closely at the modern person, you will find, beneath the husk of words, the same person who has always been.”

He left behind a final word on the matter, a small book titled An Open Letter to a Young Man on the Science of Living. It waits for anyone, at any age, who is still looking for answers.