BY all accounts, Charles Dickens possessed the kind of vigour that would justify speculation about Faustian deals with Satanic forces. A writer of such inexhaustible energy that the word “prolific” seems to be an understatement, he — among other things — churned out monthly serialised novels, started several theatrical revues, fathered children into the double-digits, and globe-trotted to America or Europe at the drop of a hat. His entire life was a blur of activity, keeping him perpetually occupied.

In her biography, Charles Dickens: A Life, Claire Tomalin takes a fresh approach towards Dickens’ life, looking past his public persona as a writer, and delving deep into his personal life. Having a childhood that seems to have been the inspiration for David Copperfield, Dickens grew up in the shadow of a father with an uncanny ability to rack up debt. Years of his father avoiding creditors and grubbing for loans led to Dickens spending most of his formative years in a factory gluing labels onto jars of boot blackening. This gruelling experience of poverty is what undoubtedly led him to spend his adult life haunted — and inspired — by the spectre of financial solvency. His manic energy and productivity was what brought him money, and clearly money spoke to Dickens in a most compelling manner.

Once he began writing, Dickens really hit the proverbial jackpot. His public readings brought forth veritable geysers of cash (for example, his American tour in 1867 resulted in a profit of almost £1.4 million in today’s currency). This is not to say that Dickens was all about cash-flow, but understanding his desire to be financially secure is an important component of the humanisation that Tomalin brings about in her biography. Dickens is shown as a man of many traits: he was charming and altruistic, energetic and outgoing, but also tormented and dictatorial, harsh and vindictive.

Tomalin — an accomplished writer who has clearly done her homework — focuses on Dickens’ domestic life, rather than on a lengthy analysis of his written output. This is a relatively fresh approach; many past biographies tend to go on about Dickens the author, rather than Dickens the man. Tomalin, on the other hand, explores the complexity of his life-story rather than exclusively focusing on just his symbolism as a writer. The man was certainly complex enough. As his daughter Katey recollected, and Tomalin recounts, Dickens “was not a gentleman… he was too mixed to be a gentleman.” He was though, undoubtedly, a genius.

He was also something of a complete cad, as evinced by his marriage to Catherine Hogarth, whose fecundity, (she bore him 10 children), seemed almost abhorrent to him; Dickens wrote many letters bewailing his wife’s fertility and his offspring to his friend, John Forster, apparently absolving himself of any part in the process of engendering a family. Initially obsessed with Catherine’s sister Mary, (who died at the age of 17, and next to whom he insisted he wanted to be buried), Dickens underwent a particularly despicable mid-life crisis moment, publicly divorcing Catherine and — to add insult to injury — taking out newspaper advertisements that explained his decision.

Following the divorce, he took up a relationship with a young actress, Nelly Ternan (the subject of a previous biography by Tomalin); 18 years old at the time he met her, Nelly was almost three decades Dickens’ junior, and his affair with her was carried out under a cloud of deep secrecy. At one point, while discussing Dickens’ behaviour and his subsequent decline — by his 50s, the prolific writer suffered from gout, neuralgia and had a minor stroke — Tomalin comments with icy precision: “You can feel sorry for him as he struggles, but it is impossible to like what he did.” Indeed. It is not difficult to imagine Catherine Hogarth, betrayed cruelly, as the model for Dickens’ infamous Miss Havisham.

Two centuries have revealed so much about Dickens that Tomalin’s ability to parse everything and find something new to bring to the fore is really rather remarkable. She does not skip analysis of his novels, nor does she fail to criticise him, but what really demonstrates her talent as a writer is her conjuration of time and space. Using language that compels you to keep reading, she analyses Dickens’ novels with great acuity, but makes her account of his life so intensely readable that it is a palpable sense of the man himself that emerges. Tomalin doesn’t hesitate to condemn Dickens when his behaviour demands it, yet she writes throughout with great sympathy and unrivalled knowledge in prose that — for once — can be justifiably described as “limpid”. It is no easy task to tease out the threads of such a vivid tapestry, but Tomalin shows an awareness of what has already been written about her subject, choosing instead to veer into a direction that is more shadowed but no less compelling. It is a treatment worthy of (and befitting) a writer of spectacular talent and scope.

Charles Dickens: A Life (BIOGRAPHY) By Claire Tomalin Penguin Books, UK ISBN 9780141036939 576pp. £9.99