More than the “revolutionary historian” promised by the subtitle, the Eric Hobsbawm chronicled in Emile Chabal’s biography is above all a canny academic entrepreneur. Early in his career, Hobsbawm found a literary agent and converted his lectures for undergraduates into a series of best-selling books. He made valuable contacts with rising-star scholars and publishing houses in continental Europe. He traveled widely: not so much for archival research, which he practiced sparingly, but for conferences, lectures, and intellectual tourism in appealing destinations. The Soviet Union, which occupied a central place in his thought for obvious reasons, did not qualify for more than a brief, unpleasant visit.

He displayed a knack for keeping himself in the public eye, with a steady stream of journalism and polemics, and for a degree of tactical adaptation. In the 1980s, he pivoted from writing the histories of the working class that defined his early work to studies of nationalism and invented traditions. By the late 1990s, he had achieved such eminence that he could turn down a knighthood while requesting — and receiving — a considerably more prestigious and exclusive appointment to the Order of the Companions of Honour, an award also tied to the monarchy but with less symbolic baggage.