Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv was very much in favor of books about gedolim (although I doubt he ever read one) with two caveats. One: he was particular that they be fully accurate; Two: that they not contain distasteful anecdotes or descriptions.
Having written a biography or two (18, to be precise), I might add that neither of these statements are as obvious as they appear. Many believe that an educational story that conveys important lessons need not be put under the Accuracy-Microscope and, accordingly, hagiography is a ratchet winch. There is such an approach; it was not Rav Elyashiv’s.
As far as distasteful, he was not referring, I imagine, to the description of anything that would appear compromising or non-honorable. This is not distasteful; it is repugnant. Rather, the warning was (among other things) against ascribing to a gadol behavior no different from you what would expect from any observant Jew. The very commonness of the act (and that the author deemed it worthy of inclusion in a biography) is belittling.
The fact that the gadol hador returned a lost item, that a renowned posek was patient with an orphan or that a beloved rosh yeshiva remembered a former student’s name, contributes nothing to our veneration of the tzaddik and should be as common in biographies as the likelihood of the Coca Cola museum serving Pepsi.
As for the truth stipulation, I shall recount in this tribute matters that I personally witnessed. Chances are that any Jerusalemite my age had numerous interactions with Rav Elyashiv for he was the champion posek and readily available. I had the added advantage of having attended his shiur for nine years.
Rav Elyashiv’s measure of self-control had no parallel. We are not talking about curbing annoyance at an exasperating situation, or withholding a display of grief at a personal devastation. Rather, we refer to the fact that day in and day out, morning and evening, weekday and holiday, he was always, exactly, the same. His deportment on Yom Kippur was no different than on Purim; his expression at the funeral of a daughter no different than at the wedding of a grandchild.
The fact that he never appeared madder or happier, calmer or impatient is not a manifestation of stoicism, but a measure of self-control beyond our ken. His tefillah every day of the year was exactly the same (and not especially long). (I have heard that his birkas haTorah in the morning was an explosion (I must imagine, low-impact) of joy and emotion.) This mastery emanated from halachah.
The Shulchan Aruch prescribes how one is to act, which foot goes first and the scale of priorities. With the accuracy of a plumb line he adhered to every law resulting in conduct that was consistently unwavering. Because of his uncompromising conformance, the occasion of a death, a national calamity or personal good tidings had no impact on his external appearance.
It is for this reason that one may learn from everything that Rav Elyashiv did or did not do, said or did not say. He was always measured and never in a situation of hesach hada’as, in the grip of emotion or unfocused. Never.
This can also be worded positively. He was always concentrating on what he was learning. Most people are simultaneously in five different places (figuratively). For those blessed with a strong power of concentration, their singular focus will likely be tainted and infected by pressing matters of the day, people in their surroundings or personal discomfiture. Not Rav Elyashiv.
A little while before departing for his daughter’s funeral Rav Elyashiv requested that he be brought his check book. “What fiscal matter,” wondered those in his circle, “could be so weighty at this time?” The answer was not long in coming.