Robertson Davies was a marvellous letter writer, one of a breed headed for extinction in the e-mail generation. This volume covers Davies’ late career, from age 63 to his death at age 83 in 1995, throwing light on the five novels, two librettos, and countless shorter writings he completed during this remarkably fertile period. They also reveal Davies the wit, Davies the crank, and Davies the compassionate friend.

True, many of the exchanges with friends are rather uninteresting to those outside his social circle. Far more entertaining are the letters in which Davies stings those he deemed ignorant. When an editor at Macmillan suggested that readers might not understand a certain biblical reference in The Lyre of Orpheus, Davies refused to make it explicit: “As for people who do not know what Christ’s First Miracle was, I pause on this holy day to drop a tear for them.” Another note scolds The New Yorker, which was sending him three copies of the magazine each week: “I am happy to redirect two of them to Old Folks’ homes and asylums for circulation managers who have lost their minds.”

Judith Skelton Grant, Davies’ biographer, provides concise introductions to each section, explaining episodes in the author’s life that put his correspondence in context. She has also annotated the letters extensively, sometimes displaying admirable detective work by tracking down the most obscure allusions. Given Davies’ response to the query about Christ’s first miracle, however, he’d be appalled by her tendency to explicate even the most obvious reference. Do Chopin, Dali, and “Old Ebenezer” really need to be identified in endnotes? A small sin, perhaps, but it clutters an otherwise wonderfully enjoyable collection.