When Humphrey Carpenter's authorized biography of Robert Runcie, Archbishop of Canterbury from 1980 to 1991, was published last September in England, it produced a firestorm. Outraged cries of betrayal were aimed at both author and subject, and Lord Runcie was called everything from "blabbermouth" to "worthy successor to Judas Iscariot." Runcie himself disowned the biography, adding in a postscript: "I have done my best to die before this book is published."

The controversy stems from both the book's unconventional style and the author's unrestrained use of confidences. In the last days of his primacy Archbishop Runcie invited Carpenter - an established biographer and son of his good friend the Bishop of Oxford - to write an official life, citing Owen Chadwick's biography of Michael Ramsey as an example of a style he admired. But Carpenter had his own ideas, and armed with his tape recorder he spent five years recording conversations with Runcie, his wife Lindy, family members, friends and professional colleagues.

The result is a non-linear progression through Runcie's life and career based almost wholly on taped material gathered by the author. This material is quoted verbatim, often in a kind of Q & A format, then stitched together with commentary by the author. The end product is chatty, indiscreet, and highly readable, but not, I think, either kind or fair to Robert Runcie. His horror when he read the manuscript for the first time can be imagined; he had no idea that his remarks on subjects floated before him by Carpenter - the royal family, homosexuality in theological colleges and among clergy, internal divisions in the established church, Mrs. Thatcher's government - would turn up word for word in print. The reason for Runcie's failure to ask for veto power over the final manuscript remains a mystery. The consequences will haunt him for the remainder of his life.

The picture of Robert Runcie which emerges from these pages is that of a lively individual who is fascinated by people and is a keen observer of human behavior. His was an extroverted nature in a world where introversion and interiority were the norm. Doubts about his spirituality - difficulty in the practice of disciplined prayer together with a certain lack of interest in religion and theology - contributed to a lifelong sense of insecurity. When offered Canterbury, he took six weeks to make up his mind, giving as one of the main reasons for his reluctance: "I didn't think I was good enough for it. I wasn't spiritual enough."

Robert Runcie became Archbishop of Canterbury shortly after Margaret Thatcher took office as prime minister, and notable events of the decade in which he presided over the Anglican Communion included the marriage of Charles and Diana, the Falklands War, the movement for the ordination of women, and the Terry Waite saga. Each is examined in some detail, and I found it all fascinating reading - especially the tidbits of insider gossip - as I spent much time in England during the 1980s and followed the fortunes of the Church of England with considerable interest.

Carpenter's search for Lord Runcie's "feet of clay" turns up but two lesser failings: his "indecisiveness" and his use of "ghostwriters" for his speeches. Accusations of weakness and indecisiveness swirled around Runcie from the time he took up residence in Lambeth Palace. Yet many in the church eloquently refute the claim. It seems to hinge largely on which camp one is in. Voices highly critical of the archbishop have come from the conservative, traditionalist wings of the church and also from a government headed by a strong-minded prime minister. Liberals and moderates of the church mostly take a different view, and thoughtful leaders like John Habgood, former Archbishop of York, saw Runcie's hesitancy in making major decisions as a "measure of his sense of responsibility for the church as a whole, and his desire genuinely to represent its breadth." The task that fell to Runcie was to hold in balance the tension of opposites within this vast troubled edifice, and my impression after reading the book is that he has done very well.

Carpenter makes much - too much - of the archbishop's use of drafts written by others, then reworked by him, for his speeches. His colleagues considered it reasonable given enormous demands on his time, but Carpenter deems it a "cop-out." Tellingly, the index, under "Runcie," has many more listings on this topic than on any other, and I suspect that this is a case of Jungian shadow projection, for what is Carpenter's own book if not the words of others used verbatim?

This is not the "solemn, weighty official biography" that Lord Runcie had hoped for. That will come later, and certainly Carpenter's book will be an important source for any future biographer. In the meantime this volume will serve as an entertaining, idiosyncratic introduction to the life and times of Robert Runcie, 102nd Archbishop of Canterbury.

Lynn Hay

Champaign, Ill.