An experimental biography of the ceramics entrepreneur Josiah Wedgwood that reveals the tenuous relationship of eighteenth-century England to late-capitalist modernity. Melancholy Wedgwood traces the multiple strands in the life of the ceramic entrepreneur Josiah Wedgwood (1730–1795) to propose an alternative view of eighteenth-century England’s tenuous relationship to our own lives and times, amid the ruins of late-capitalist modernity. Through intimate vignettes and essays, and in writing at turns funny, sharp, and pensive, Iris Moon chips away at the mythic image of Wedgwood as singular genius, business titan, and benevolent abolitionist, revealing an amorphous, fragile, and perhaps even shattered life. In the process the book goes so far as to dismantle certain entrenched social and economic assumptions, not least that the foundational myths of capitalism might not be quite so rosy after all, and instead induce a feeling that could only be characterized as blue.

Known for his journalism, biographies and novels, A. N. Wilson turns a merciless searchlight on his own early life, his experience of sexual abuse, his catastrophic mistakes in love (sacred and profane) and his life in Grub Street – as a prolific writer. Before he came to London, as one of the “Best of Young British” novelists, and Literary Editor of the Spectator, we meet another A. N. Wilson. We meet his father, the Managing Director of Wedgwood, the grotesque teachers at his first boarding school, and the dons of Oxford – one of whom, at the age of just 20, he married, Katherine Duncan-Jones, the renowned Shakespearean scholar. The book begins with his heart-torn present-day visits to Katherine, now for decades his ex-wife, who has slithered into the torments of dementia. At every turn of this reminiscence, Wilson is baffled by his earlier self – whether he is flirting with unsuitable lovers or with the idea of the priesthood. His chapter on the High Camp seminary which he attended in Oxford is among the funniest in the book. We follow his unsuccessful attempts to become an academic, his aspirations to be a Man of Letters, and his eventual encounters with the famous, including some memorable meetings with royalty. The princesses, dons, paedophiles and journos who cross the pages are as sharply drawn as figures in Wilson's early comic fiction. But there is also a tenderness here, in his evocation of those whom he has loved, and hurt, the most.

The story of the innovative genius who became pottery maker to royalty—and to the world: “You don't have to know a glaze from a slip to enjoy this.” —Kirkus Reviews Born in Staffordshire, England, to a family of traditional potters in 1730, Josiah Wedgwood would grow up to revolutionize the industry, founding the company still world-renowned in the twenty-first century. When he started work, the local ware was either fairly rustic, or made to look a little more sophisticated by the addition of heavy glazes. He worked to produce a lighter colored body and to use designs made to appeal to aristocratic tastes, convinced that where they led the rapidly growing middle class would follow. The result was cream ware which, when a whole service was ordered by the royal family, was soon christened queens ware. But Wedgwood was a distinctive character for more reasons than his artistry. As a businessman, he adopted an early form of mass production, and is believed to be the inventor of many modern marketing techniques such as money-back guarantees and illustrated catalogs. He was also a passionate early abolitionist who used his company to promote the anti-slavery cause, and he pursued the study of chemistry in order to understand the science behind the potter’s art, eventually inventing a kiln thermometer. This fascinating biography brings to life a remarkable eighteenth-century figure.