The novelist Jean Rhys declared: ‘All of a writer that matters is in the book or books. It is idiotic to be curious about the person.’

I understand her viewpoint entirely. It is a noble and beautiful sentiment that what matters is the art, not the artist. When I was a little girl dreaming of writing my own novels someday, that dream did not extend beyond the fiction. Like most writers, I think, I did not dream of sharing myself with the world, only my story worlds: I pictured myself sitting quietly at a writing desk, lost in a fantasy world, writing and writing and writing. That is the art; that is what matters.

But in making a story visible – in publishing it and sharing it with the world – you invariably make yourself visible. Perhaps a couple of hundred years ago you could be a reclusive writer, simply lost in your art and invisible to your readers. But today we live in a very different world. People are expected to be more open and connected. People are interested in people, especially those who put out art into the public domain.

J.D. Salinger wrote: ‘What really knocks me out is a book that, when you’re all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it.’

Have you ever felt like that? I know that I have. Enjoyment of a book can spark intent interest in its creator.

Take, for example, one of my favourite classic writers, Charlotte Brontë. Her novel Jane Eyre is widely held to be one of the best in English literature. One hundred and sixty-eight years after its publication, we are not only fascinated by the book, however; we are fascinated by the author.

In November the media reported widely on the discovery of an unseen Charlotte Brontë poem and short story, tucked within the pages of a book belonging to Maria Brontë, Charlotte’s mother. Notable in reports was the excitement not merely over these new writings as they stand, but of the meaning that may be attributed to them: of what they say about the author, Charlotte, and her family. The collections manager at the Brontë Parsonage Museum in Haworth said the writing is ‘of interest to anyone interested in Charlotte’s life, and because of the tragic story of the Brontës, their lives are particularly appealing to a wide range of people’ (source: Guardian).

Around the same time, a new biography of Charlotte Brontë was published to mark the 200th anniversary of her birth:

From the blurb:

This beautifully-produced, landmark biography is essential reading for every fan of the Brontë family’s writing, from Jane Eyre to Wuthering Heights. It is a uniquely intimate and complex insight into one of Britain’s best loved writers. This is the literary biography of the year…

These two phrases stand out to me:

1. essential reading for every fan of the Brontë family’s writing
2. insight into one of Britain’s best loved writers

The first focuses on the writing, not the writer: in line with Jean Rhys’s vision. But the second shifts the focus to the writer, promising an in-depth exploration of the woman behind the words.

I believe Charlotte Brontë’s legacy is her writing, especially Jane Eyre. This is how it must be for all writers. Yet I cannot pretend I am not interested in the lady who wrote that great book; that I have not bought a copy of this biography and am impatient to begin reading it.

I can’t help wondering whether Jean Rhys, were she alive today, would also want to read the new Brontë biography. After all, she is most remembered for her novel Wide Sargasso Sea, which was a prequel to Jane Eyre, telling the story of Rochester and his wife, ‘the madwoman in the attic’.

What do you think: should we be interested in authors, or only their books?Do authors only become interesting when they write great works, or once their works have passed into the category of ‘classic’? Is there an author you would love to meet?