Jeremy Catto: A portrait of the quintessential Oxford Don by David Vaiani (2024)

Just occasionally a book comes along that I have been keenly anticipating for months (almost two years in this case) and which does not disappoint. This was terrific, but it does help when it is a biography of someone I once knew and liked very much. Jeremy Catto was one of my tutors at university, and a man who had a big influence on me both professionally as a university academic and in terms of general life outlook.

After reading this book that I have come more fully to appreciate that I am by no means alone in this regard, and that being taught by him was one hell of a privilege.

When you don't know anything else, there is a tendency to think that your life experiences are normal and that everyone else is experiencing something similar. Not so. Catto was exceptional, and part of a dying breed even then back in the 1980s. I will be forever grateful for the ways he helped set me up for life.

It is difficult to convey just what made him special. He was a terrifically modest man; unassuming, bespectacled, tubby, gentle of manner and not someone who stood out from the crowd in any way. At the same time though he was both brilliant and eminent in his field. He had cracked the great conundrum that all teaching academics face of managing to be both authoritative and approachable at the same time. He achieved this though generosity of spirit, affability and by focusing 100% on the education of his students in an entirely genuine way. And for him the term 'education' went way beyond any notion of a formal syllabus.

In this biography, David Vaiani draws on dozens of reminiscences he has collected, all of which ring completely true, and are very similar to mine. It is, as the title suggests, a book intended as a portrait. And the likeness achieved is a very good one.

In my university work I have always subconsciously - and in some ways consciously - sought to emulate Jeremy Catto. Not so much in formal teaching, but in the way I deal with students. Nowadays of course it is not possible to organise tutorials during 'the cocktail hour' or to involve oneself quite so closely in the private lives of undergraduates. But in spirit I channel his example, largely because it works and also because I know no other way.

Having read this book, I have been thinking that his influence on me was perhaps wider, affecting the way I see the world and react to it. A preference for laughing at human folly (including his own) rather than getting upset or angry about it is certainly something I have taken from him, as is that rare combination of conservatism and libertarian iconoclasm.

He had to be an establishment man when necessary in order to get things done, but was at heart a non-conformist who thought everything out for himself and ploughed that furrow irrespective of fashionable or received opinion. He did not really care what anyone thought of him, disarming all with sweetness and charm, but never wavering in his convictions. All good traits that I think I look to emulate (often though sadly sans sufficient charm and sweetness) and which I have tried to carry through my life and to instil in my own students.

He loomed large at a formative time in life during which I, like many others, were susceptible to the influence of new role models who differed in many ways from those we knew within our families.

There is, however, one really obvious, mysterious and very big omission from this book, and one I found perplexing. Dr Robert Beddard, who very much formed a double act with Jeremy for decades, does not even merit an entry in the index.

The impression given here is that Oriel history teaching was uniquely Jeremy Catto's responsibility for four decades. Not so. He had a partner, who while very different in personality, played just as big a role in educating generations of students in the college. They were almost exact contemporaries, both arriving at Oriel in the late 1960s and retiring in the second five years of the twenty-first century.

Beddard has rather been airbrushed out of this account, and that is unforgivable given his formidable presence and influence. All the decisions taken about the teaching of history at Oriel, including who to admit as undergraduates, were joint decisions and should not be credited to Catto alone. So one big black mark there.

But in all other respects this book was just one huge pleasure to read. I particularly enjoyed the legacy chapter at the end in which David Vaiani gathers together comments made by several of Jeremy’s colleagues to sum up his contribution.

I cannot believe that he would have considered himself worthy of a full biography, but he would surely have been tickled pink to read this lovely final chapter.

Professor James Clark said this:

For me his legacy is the example of the possibility of excellence as a scholar and a teacher without careerism, earnestness, self-absorption or spite.

Spot on. I concur completely.

Addendum - email received from David Vaiani:

Dear Stephen (if I may),

I just wanted to write to thank you for your kind and generous review of my biography of Jeremy on your bookworm site. I am delighted that you enjoyed the book. It is always gratifying to receive a positive review.

On Robert Beddard, I agree entirely that he should have featured in the book and it remains a source of great sadness to me personally that he was not in it. Over the years after I left Oxford, Robert became a friend and even attended my wedding. However, although I tried to get him involved, he ignored my emails and then made it clear to me via a third party that he had no intention of appearing in the book. I cannot be certain, but I fear that at the end of their time at Oriel they had a pretty acrimonious falling out, which may explain why Robert did not wish to be involved in the book.

Anyway, for what it's worth, I thought you'd like to know that additional detail, given that you mentioned him in your review.

All the best
David