…In a preface, Heehs quotes L. Gordon's characterization of previous Aurobindo biographies as "hagiographies," that is, as attempts to "read back the holy man into the earlier stages of his career" (p. ix), and distinguishes these from his own intention to steer clear of glorification. And indeed in Part One he succeeds in chronicling Aurobindo's history—especially the important political events in which Aurobindo was involved—without much speculation about the yogi-to-be's inner life. But Aurobindo's education in London and at Cambridge University and his work for a Maharaja and as a professor along with his role in the Bengal political upheaval reads at such a fast pace—the entire story is told in less than seventy pages—that little room is left for psychological interpretation, whether adulating, "reductionist," or whatever. And few are likely to notice the absence of it, the story is so intrinsically interesting for anyone who loves tales of the Indian nationalist movement or of life during the British Raj, whatever the interest in Aurobindo. Such is not the case with Part Two. The division in Heehs's book may reflect a natural break in Aurobindo's life—roughly, the years prior to his taking up residence in French-ruled Pondicherry and those after—but this prompts a radical change in Heehs's writing. In his Pondicherry years, Aurobindo presents his biographer with no such curious and exciting events to sustain a narrative as in the years before. So Heehs in Part Two inaugurates "biography" of a highly unusual sort. Part Two is an interpretive venture that is less successful than the chronicle of Part One…   more »