The thing I found most enthralling about this biography of Borges, is also what gave me pause: the intense and assured focus on Borges' inner life and its influence on his writing. Williamson spins a compelling narrative about the how the traumas, and occasional triumphs, of Borges personal life were the driving force behind the triumphs, and occasional traumas, of his public life as an author, poet, and scholar. The book delves deep into the formative experiences of his life, from isolated in-home education and the wonder of his father's library, the pressure of his storied patrician familial background and his mother's expectations, to his struggle's with romantic love and his own insecurities about being worthy of it. Williamson's depiction of Borges channeling those feelings into writing is persuasive and effortless, almost always letting the actions and creative works speak for themselves in showing their relationship.

And yet...while I found no reason to doubt Williamson's psychological assessment of Borges, I found myself wondering about the veracity claims about his mental state and motivations. Knowing my own feelings hard enough...I don't know how I could ever be as certain of another human being's mental and emotional state as Williamson is of Borges'.

And yet...surely Borges would hear my argument and laugh and assure me, that all history, particularly all biography, is itself a form fiction; a tale told a particular way to convey a meaning. As Williamson shows very effectively, his writing is littered with biographical details drawn from his own life and of shelves of those around him. Borges intentionally blurred the line between fiction and history so often, that it feels fitting that this biography would take the form of a well crafted narrative that compels you, and makes you want to believe.