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Completely engrossing.

You feel like such a decadent voyeur as you dip into these pages. John Cheever has an extraordinary way of luring you into his world, a world that is both captivating and somewhat disconcerting. One moment, you are drawn in by the allure of his writing, and the next, you feel a twinge of guilt for bearing witness to it all.

These journals are a treasure trove, filled with scandal, intellect, and beauty. They offer a glimpse into the mind of a brilliant writer, and as you read, you can't help but be amazed by his insights and observations.

They are the perfect nightstand reading, the kind of book that you can pick up and put down at will, yet always find yourself coming back to. So go ahead, eat up these pages, and let Cheever's words transport you to another time and place.

Cheever was indeed a remarkable writer. This 400-page book consists of approximately 5% of Cheever's Journal entries, spanning from the late 1940s until his death in 1982.

The majority of it delves into Cheever's arduous struggle with alcohol, complex family issues, and his conflicted emotions towards women. The writing is rich, dense, and well-crafted.

What a stark contrast to Charles Bukowski. For Bukowski, drinking, betting on horses, and pursuing women were his great passions. In contrast, Cheever drank to silence his inner demons and constantly felt a sense of guilt about it. While Bukowski lived for the sake of drinking, Cheever, at times, even desired to drink himself to death. Cheever sought the help of a psychiatrist, an idea that Bukowski would have scoffed at.

Anyway, this Journal has piqued my interest and made me eager to read more of Cheever's Fiction. Although his preoccupation with the Country Club and self-reflection could become repetitive and wearisome at times, there is still much to discover and appreciate in his works.

Starting this book for my book club, I was completely new to John Cheever. I had never read any of his works and knew nothing about him. I embarked on this reading journey blindly. At first, reading his diary was a real struggle, and I despaired at the thought of slogging through 400 pages. However, slowly but surely, I became more and more drawn into what I was reading. I'm not sure if it was because his writing in the journals became more interesting and well-written, or if I simply got absorbed into the story of his life.

The diaries span an impressive 35 years, with the last entry written just days before his death. By the end, I felt a deep investment in him and his life. It was truly moving to be an observer of someone's private thoughts for the majority of their adult lives.

His life was a complex tapestry. On the surface, he seemed to have it all. He was a successful author, with healthy children, a beautiful home, and the opportunity to travel to fascinating places. He had friends and a long marriage. But beneath the surface, there were many struggles. He was an alcoholic, attracted to men in a time when it was considered shameful and upsetting. He battled with depression and anxiety, and became addicted to pills. His marriage soured, and he always felt he didn't have enough money. He also had doubts about his talent and skill as a writer, experiencing shades of imposter syndrome.

Throughout the book, I couldn't help but wonder how his life would have unfolded if he had had access to modern antidepressants and had not self-medicated with pills and alcohol. I also questioned how much of his depression and anxiety was genetic and how much was due to the deep sense of shame he felt over his sexual desires. He used the word "lewd" frequently when describing his feelings for men, and I wondered if he was bisexual, as he claimed, or if he was actually gay but couldn't admit it to himself.

His relationship with women was also complicated. He loved being married, having kids, and having a stable home, which he associated with women. But he also desired the freedom and sexual pleasure that he thought men could offer. He felt he had to choose between security and sexual pleasure, and this internal conflict took a toll on him.

As I read about his struggles with addiction, especially as he aged and the impact on his health became more severe, it was difficult not to feel a sense of sadness. He wrote about being a sick old man, and yet, at 60, he seemed relatively young to me at 55. But the years of smoking, pill popping, and heavy drinking had taken their toll on his body and spirit. He was exhausted by the years of internal struggles and relationship issues.

Despite all of his difficulties, Cheever also found joy in some things. He spent a fair amount of time writing about his house and garden, and the happiness he felt when spending time in them. It was clear that he had created a haven for himself, a place to escape from the turmoil of his inner life.

Overall, reading John Cheever's diaries was a thought-provoking and emotional experience. It gave me a glimpse into the life of a complex and troubled man, and made me reflect on the nature of happiness, love, and identity.

How to relay the shock of reading Cheever for the first time?

It's like opening a door to a whole new world. The originality is simply breathtaking. His vision is so unique that it allows us to see the ordinary in an extraordinary way.

And then there's the cosmic sadness that pervades his works. It's a sadness that makes us feel small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things, yet at the same time, it makes us feel more connected to the human experience.

Here is his workbook from whence so many beloved stories come from. It's a treasure trove of inspiration and creativity, a window into the mind of a master.

As we flip through the pages, we can almost see Cheever at work, pen in hand, lost in thought, creating worlds and characters that will live on in our hearts and minds forever.

Reading his workbook is like taking a journey through his creative process, and it's a journey that we will never forget.

This took me forever to finish up.

It's truly amazing how each entry in this piece makes his struggle with alcohol, life, wife, son, daughter, and himself so much more concrete.

As I was reading through it, I could almost feel the weight of his burdens and the complexity of his relationships.

The details provided bring his experiences to life, painting a vivid picture of the challenges he has faced.

It's not just a story about someone's struggles; it's a deeply personal and relatable account that makes you think about your own life and the difficulties we all encounter.

The author has done an excellent job of capturing the essence of these struggles and presenting them in a way that is both engaging and thought-provoking.

I'm glad I took the time to read this, as it has given me a new perspective on the power of storytelling and the importance of understanding others' experiences.

Overall, it's a remarkable piece that I would highly recommend to anyone looking for a meaningful and impactful read.

The ultimate writer's journal.

John Cheever has been a very recent and exciting discovery for me. I had heard of his name before, but I never really delved deep into his world until I watched the film "The Swimmer." I was completely captivated by the film and became extremely curious about the short story on which it was based. So, I decided to read it, and it was truly amazing.

After that, I went on to read other short stories by Cheever, and to my delight, I realized that I had really missed out on something wonderful. He is an incredibly talented and highly insightful writer. His Journals are a testament to his remarkable skill.

Some of the material in the Journals is very painful to read, but the most interesting aspect for me was when he talked about his drinking. He is not in a state of delusion; in fact, he is almost like a scientist or someone like Burroughs who can objectively detect their 'problem' with a certain substance. Throughout this extensive book, he explores the world of alcoholism. He never escapes into a world of fantasy but rather confronts the reality head-on.

Moreover, he has an extraordinary ability to describe his surroundings in vivid and detailed prose. I firmly believe that anyone who keeps an ongoing journal, like I do, should definitely read this book. It offers valuable insights into the mind of a great writer and can inspire us to be more observant and creative in our own journaling.

A very raw look at a very complex man.

This work, which was published by his family after his death, likely had a profound impact. It was probably hurtful to a significant number of his peers. The revelations and insights presented might have challenged their perceptions and perhaps even their own self-images.

However, on the other hand, it was also very inspirational to any aspiring writer. The detailed and unfiltered portrayal of this complex individual could serve as a source of inspiration. It showed the potential depth and complexity that can be explored in writing. It demonstrated that even in the face of controversy and potential pain, a writer can be bold and unafraid to present a true and honest picture.

Overall, this publication offers a unique and valuable perspective that both stings and inspires.

A few lines that made me smile:

"I wake thinking of scrambled eggs, and it is revealed to me that any sentimental life with a man who is not my brother or my son is highly taxing and quite impossible." This line is both humorous and thought-provoking. It shows how the simplest things, like thinking of scrambled eggs in the morning, can lead to profound realizations about one's relationships.

"And then I pass the house that stands forever in the darkness of a grove of maples, susceptible to dampness, rot, and human depressions. A homosexual couple once lived there, quarreling bitterly about hairpieces, etc." The description of the house creates a vivid and somewhat eerie image. The mention of the homosexual couple adds an interesting layer of complexity, showing that even in a seemingly ordinary place, there are stories of love, conflict, and human drama.

"I eat sketchily and the first thing I think of when I wake is that I must have lost weight. I will weigh myself. By a loss of weight I mean that I will have recouped some of that youthful beauty I never possessed, that I will be kissed and caressed and worshipped. I see how far all of this is from the realm of common sense. Anyone who caressed and worshipped this old carcass would be someone upon whose loneliness, fear, and ignorance I preyed. This would be the exploitation of innocence. This I see as I swim so briefly through that stream that represents common sense. I will get into other, more seductive, waters, but there is always the chance I will return to this." This passage is a beautiful exploration of self-perception and longing. The narrator's preoccupation with weight and beauty reveals her insecurities and desires. At the same time, her awareness of the absurdity of her thoughts shows a certain level of self-awareness and wisdom. The idea of swimming in different waters, both seductive and common sense, adds a sense of adventure and possibility to the narrative.

Unsettling and a bit sad.

These words seem to capture a certain mood or feeling that is difficult to put into words. It could be the sense of unease that comes with uncertainty, or the sadness that lingers after a loss.

Perhaps it is the knowledge that things are not as they should be, or the realization that something precious has been taken away.

Whatever the cause, this combination of emotions can be overwhelming and leave us feeling adrift.

It may make us question our beliefs and values, or cause us to reevaluate our relationships and priorities.

Yet, in the midst of this turmoil, there is also the potential for growth and transformation.

By facing our fears and dealing with our emotions, we can emerge stronger and more resilient, better able to handle the challenges that life throws our way.

So, while the feeling of being unsettled and a bit sad may be uncomfortable, it can also be a catalyst for positive change.

The longing is not something absolute.

Half of the people in the world feel lonely all the time.

They don't long for a certain homeland, but rather for something within themselves that they lack,

or perhaps they don't have the ability to find it.

-----

John Sheffer

-----

The lonely human being, an isolated creature. Perhaps it could be:

A giant; a piece of wood; a stone; a vessel for wine; a column with a bent back

Sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, and emitting deep sighs,

Like the autumn winds.

----

In the middle of life, there is a secret, there is a hazy area. The most I can do at this moment is to feel the isolation, until the beauty of the visible world begins to fade away, until love, I felt that there were some wrong changes but I didn't know when they occurred, and I no longer had hope in searching for it.

Journals, as Robert Gottlieb, the former editor of The New York and the editor of this collection of John Cheever's personal writings, said, "even if written with an eye toward eventual publication, have no deliberate shape – they simply accrete."

In Cheever's four decades of self-observation, what accumulates most is a sense of yearning. He yearned for success as a writer, for domestic tranquility, and, above all, as a man with unrequited lust for intimacy, for realizing himself as a homosexual (using the vernacular of his day).

I read The Journals, which span from the early 1950s to just days before Cheever's death on June 18, 1982, gradually over about eighteen months, often using it as a prompt for my own daily scribblings.

This slow read, like a simmering stew on the stove, allowed me to savor the rich perspective of Cheever's own pottage. It included his embrace of the northeastern seasons – snow, skating, woods, walking; the hardships of his increasingly loveless marriage; the work of writing and the angst of selling; the deflating self-comparison to others; the excessive drinking; the any-gender priapic indulgences that increasingly leaned towards men over time; and the long battle with death from bone cancer.

Talent does not ensure happiness. In fact, it often seems to prevent it. Cheever, as he presented himself in these brutally honest recordings, struggled with dissatisfaction and unhappiness. However, he did find moments of contentment, or at least passing joy, in the ordinary: strolling the streets of springtime Manhattan, shoveling snow, ice-skating on a pond, or eyeing the curve of an ass, whether male or female, on the suburban train. In this way, he was like everyone else – an ordinary man who found pleasure in the everyday, albeit one with great talent and inner turmoil.

"I want a life of impossible simplicity," he wrote in 1966, a hope that eluded him, overwhelmed by the miseries of his alcoholism and the emotional turmoil of being closeted sexually.

"So I think work, work, work – that will be the solution to all my problems. Work will give meaning to my unhappiness. Work will give reason to my life," he wrote in another entry. "Twenty minutes later my mind strays to the gin bottle and I will presently follow."

Let's let Cheever speak for himself. After all, a journal is the repository of its keeper's post-mortem voice.

• "Time sits with us at the table, unwelcome stray." – 1975

• "Take your rightful place, I say, standing at the bathroom window, free of the fact that I have always been content with second best. I am not better than the next man, but I am better than I was." – 1976

• Up and down we go, completely absorbed in the illusion that fleetness and grace and speed are our possessions and had only to be revealed. We fall, but so does everyone else. – 1979

• "The brute force of loneliness would account for our most spectacular carnal escapades, those erotic collisions in underpasses on rainy midnights." -- 1980

• "I have done the wash, had the oil changed in my car, bought a loaf of French bread, taken the garbage up the hill, and last night I had a dream that a brilliant reviewer pointed out that there was an excess of lamentation in my work. I had, fleetingly, this morning, a sense of the world, of one’s life, one’s friends, and one’s lovers as givens. Here it all is – comprehensible, lovely, a sort of paradise. That this will be taken quite as swiftly as it has been given is difficult to remember." – 1981

Introspection isn't for everyone. As the writer Philip Dick once said about navel-gazing, "The problem with introspection is that it has no end." However, I remain fascinated by the minds of some writers. Perhaps this is because I am an aspiring writer myself and am thus obsessed with the inner workings of successful authors.

Maybe it's simpler than that, though. Journals take us behind the scenes, behind the curtain. We see the man behind the wizard. That is the charm of The Journals of John Cheever – one that admittedly requires some effort to uncover: it shows us Cheever not as the novelist but as the protagonist.