James Boswell will turn 273 years old on Tuesday the 29th of October. Perhaps a small chorus of “Happy Birthday” please? Perhaps for a few of us a reminder about who James Boswell might be appropriate, along with a short note on why many of us still celebrate him in ways he surely would have enjoyed (a good, stiff drink foremost among them).

Born in Edinburgh in 1740, a Scot who much preferred the conviviality of London to his dour native country, James Boswell was a fascinating, charismatic character who — had he been a fictional creation — probably would have subject to extreme disbelief. There was a lot of the paradoxical in him: a good husband and father, he was also a chronic womanizer and an alcoholic. And lest I forget to mention it, he was the author of the greatest biography ever written in the English language, “The Life of Samuel Johnson,” first published in 1791 and never out of print since.

In that biography, Dr. Samuel Johnson emerges as one of the most powerful, overwhelming personalities ever described in literature — and yet, “he never quite escapes from his disciple, James Boswell,” writes critic Adam Sisman. In fact, Boswell is as much a force in the biography as his subject, and considering that Johnson was the preeminent man of letters in 18th century England, an outsized human being both physically and intellectually, that’s saying something. Boswell is not just an integral part of that biography but really, he’s the central character in my mind.

That book is not the only one he wrote. “Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides” vividly recounts a 1773 trip in which Boswell and Johnson traveled around many remote places of Scotland at a time when hardly anyone else did. The book offers some often very funny moments for the two unlikely companions and — WARNING: shameless confession coming up — was the basis for my 2011 book “Whisky, Kilts, and the Loch Ness Monster’ which you may not only read about but purchase at this site at this very moment if you are so inclined.

Boswell’s other books, however, “are like silverly minnows swimmming around a majestic whale” declares Boswell biographer Peter Martin in a brilliant reference to the impact of the extraordinary “Life of Johnson.” It’s a book you ought to read; you won’t regret the time.

As for Boswell, we celebrate him today not only for that distinguished literary achievement but for giving us a remarkable portrait of himself, in so many ways more fulfilling than the one he painted of Dr. Johnson. Boswell kept an astonishing number of diaries in which he recorded his daily life and thoughts over years and years. These have been published, and they not only document lives long past as vividly as if seen on television today but show us a Boswell who is a grandly, wonderfully, lovingly flawed human being, someone more memorable than any other figure i know of from the 18th century. And possibly beyond.

The diaries come in a dozen volumes, more than most of us will ever bother to read. ‘Tis a pity. They are absolutely breathtaking and downright lovable. I’ll be re-reading some passages in them to mark mark number 273 for J.B. And I’ve got that drink within arm’s reach.