A Sheer Pleasure

Life is filled with countless experiences, and some of them are truly a sheer pleasure. It could be the simple act of waking up to a beautiful sunrise, the warmth of the sun's rays gently caressing your face. Or perhaps it's the taste of a delicious home-cooked meal, the flavors dancing on your tongue and bringing a sense of satisfaction.

Sometimes, a sheer pleasure can be found in the company of loved ones. Laughing and sharing stories with friends or family, creating memories that will last a lifetime. It could also be the feeling of accomplishment after achieving a long-held goal, the sense of pride and joy that fills your heart.

Whether it's a big or small moment, a sheer pleasure has the power to brighten our days and make us forget about the stresses and worries of the world. It's those precious moments that we should cherish and hold onto, for they are the ones that make life truly worth living.

I really appreciate what Bellow expresses in these essays. Essentially, he makes the same point: that "serious fiction writing" has declined.

Nevertheless, for some unknown reason, even though he lists the deficiencies of contemporary fiction, he never cites a specific author or book as an illustration. And he hails from Chicago!

Perhaps it was also the case that before the internet, and especially before Amazon, it was not possible to write an anonymous book review. Now, anyone can ridicule, heckle, or slander any book by any author and remain anonymous.

Another advantage that contemporary "book reviewers" possess is that they don't even need to read the book.

I used to have a great fondness for reading Bellow's fiction. The reason was that it seemed more gritty and hardscrabble compared to the works of the patrician authors of his era, such as Updike and Cheever. This particular book, which is a collection of essays and speeches, is like a grab bag that presents various aspects of his life and writing.

He was always an excellent observer, which was one of the aspects I truly liked about his fiction. In this collection, perhaps the most enjoyable elements are the accounts of his travels, like his experiences in Franco's Spain and Israel after the Six-Day War. However, the philosophical and intellectual musings and abstractions, including his Nobel Prize speech, were less engaging for me. I struggled to understand exactly what he was trying to convey, other than a sense that things were better in the past. In fact, the overall tone of the book is rather curmudgeonly and doesn't age well with the passage of time. Apparently, the best period of his life was when he was a single young man during the Depression. He was broke, but could afford to feed and house himself inexpensively and didn't have the burden of others depending on him, which was perfect for a budding writer.

I find it difficult to recommend this book to a contemporary audience. Does anyone still read Bellow these days? Or for that matter, Updike and Cheever (not to mention Mailer and Roth)? Should they, and if so, what are the reasons? These are questions that I leave for you to discuss among yourselves.

Bellow is highly critical of contemporary culture. He rails against aspects such as mass society, which he believes has led to a homogenization and a loss of individuality. Scientism, with its overemphasis on scientific methods and reductionism, also draws his ire. Anti-intellectualism is another target, as he sees it as a threat to the rich intellectual traditions that he values.

On the other hand, Bellow mythologizes his own cultures. The immigrant experience in Chicago holds a special place in his heart, and he portrays it as a vibrant and complex tapestry of different ethnicities and traditions. The interwar left, with its ideals of social justice and equality, is also idealized by him. Additionally, he has a deep appreciation for the world of the literati, seeing it as a haven for creativity and intellectual exploration.

In essence, Bellow's work is a complex exploration of the tensions between the present and the past, between the forces that are eroding our cultural heritage and the values that he believes are worth preserving.

"Most likely, I have not achieved the goals that I had set for myself, but the greatest satisfaction is that of having freed myself from the tenacious errors of the past. Of entering an era of better errors." (p. 11)

"The way in which one challenges one's own convictions by exposing them to the risk of destruction is the ultimate proof of the value of a novelist." (p. 58)

"The best way to deal with the inevitable is to consider it a good thing." (p. 334)

These quotes offer profound insights into different aspects of life and art. The first quote reflects on the process of growth and the importance of learning from past mistakes. It shows that even if we don't reach our initial goals, the act of moving forward and leaving behind our errors can bring a sense of satisfaction. The second quote emphasizes the courage and integrity required of a novelist to question and test their own beliefs. By putting their convictions at risk, they are able to create more meaningful and authentic works of literature. The third quote presents a positive attitude towards the inevitable events in life. Instead of fighting against them, we should accept and embrace them as opportunities for growth and learning. Overall, these quotes encourage us to be open-minded,勇敢, and positive in our approach to life and art.

Some works are homages to people and cities, some are interviews, and some are essays.

These pieces possess the same complex and beautiful Bellow language that I have encountered in his fiction. However, they lack the same level of compelling power as his fictional works.

The homages offer a unique perspective on the individuals and places that have influenced Bellow. The interviews provide insights into his creative process and his thoughts on various literary and social topics.

The essays, on the other hand, explore a wide range of themes, from the human condition to the role of literature in society.

While these non-fiction works may not have the same page-turning quality as his novels, they are still a valuable addition to the Bellow canon. They offer a different side of the author and allow readers to gain a deeper understanding of his literary vision.

Nearly all of the essays presented here are worthy of perusal. Some, however, lack the vitality of others. I was delightfully surprised to discover that Bellow had penned something about Mozart dating back to 1992. Regrettably, the essay is somewhat disappointing, relying heavily on Edward Holmes's 1845 biography. It reads more like the pedestrian musings of a well-educated classical music dilettante than a profound exploration.

Where Bellow truly excels is in his vivid descriptions of Chicago, whether they emerge in his fiction or nonfiction. \\"The sun shone as best it could through a haze of prosperous gases, and the river flowed sluggishly beneath a chemical iridescence...\\"

\\"During the 1920s, the Kid was part of a bohemian discussion group on the Near North Side known as the Dill Pickle Club. Its collection of brainy and colorful eccentrics - poets, painters, and cranks - has long since been scattered by vulgar winds. Once, Chicago seemed on the verge of becoming a second London, but alas, it was not to be. Bowling alleys and bars proliferated, while bookshops did not.\\"

Describing the back stairs and porches of Chicago, he writes: \\"...blunt woodwork slapped together by literal-minded carpenters - the same rails, the same slats, treads, risers, floorboards, almost as familiar to a Chicagoan as his own body, supporting his physical existence. Beside all this lumber, a hibernating cottonwood, the large, sooty, soft, and graceless tree with crocodile bark, is precisely the sort of organism that would thrive in such an environment. Somehow, the cottonwood manages to survive beneath the sidewalks and successfully conducts its botanical affairs in the summer murk. In April, it drops its slender sexual catkins, and the streets are fragrant for a day or two. In June, it releases its white fluff. By July, its broad spearhead leaves are as glossy as polished leather. By August, everything is fibrous and brown.\\"

A recurring theme is the changing racial composition of Chicago. In Bellow's youth, the neighborhoods were populated by white ethnics such as Poles, Irish, and Jews. From the 60s through the 90s, blacks and Puerto Ricans were displacing the earlier groups (although technically, the earlier groups were not departing; their numbers were simply decreasing proportionately. There are still many of them). He curiously omits mention of the Mexicans (perhaps he mistook some Mexicans for Puerto Ricans?). (Chicago has the largest Mexican population in the U.S. outside of the Southwest.) However, he does have an overabundance of the word slum.

A 1960 essay on the state of Illinois contains the hilariously deadpan paragraph: \\"Some crucial ingredients of life were conspicuously absent.\\" (These ingredients turn out to be the life of the mind.) Perhaps when America is ultimately laid to rest in the graveyard of civilizations, this could serve as its epitaph?

The same Illinois essay includes Bellow's opinion that \\"the novelists who hold the most bitter view of our modern condition make the most of the art of the novel. \\"Do you think,\\" Flaubert responds to a correspondent who has complained about Madame Bovary, \\"that this ignoble reality, so repulsive to you in reproduction, does not weigh on my heart as it does yours? If you knew me better, you would know that I despise ordinary existence. Personally, I have always endeavored to remain as aloof from it as possible. But aesthetically, I desired this once - and only once - to fathom its very depths.\\"\\"

Regarding the Kennedy years, he writes in 1962: \\"The American presidency, for so many years confined in long johns,...was finally becoming modern.\\"

A common grievance of Bellow's is that the educated are our philistines. He perceives more hope for the life of the mind in the common person, the factory worker or drudge. A college education, he believes, extinguishes the passion for learning.

Nor does he believe that an excess of information is beneficial. \\"We have no use for most of the information provided by the New York Times. It simply poisons us. ....I avoid the Sunday papers; the mere sight of them numbs my mind. Newspapers must be read with caution, shrewdness, and defensiveness. You are well aware that journalists cannot afford to tell you plainly what is transpiring.\\"

On central European literature, his \\"favorites were Kafka and Rilke. In Rilke, the poetry meant less to me than the Brigge book, which I adored. It had a profound impact on me. Thomas Mann, on the other hand, I always regarded with some suspicion.\\" (Why??)

\\"...in Augie March, I aspired to invent a new kind of American sentence. Something like a fusion of colloquialism and elegance. What one finds in the finest English writing of the twentieth century - in Joyce or E.E. Cummings. Street language combined with a high style. I don't place as much emphasis on rhetorical effects today, but at the time, I was driven by a passion to invent.\\"

I had never before heard his Trotsky story. In 1940, Bellow happened to be in Mexico. An acquaintance of Trotsky whom he met there arranged a meeting between Trotsky, Bellow, and a friend with whom Bellow was traveling. On the morning of the scheduled meeting, Trotsky was assassinated. Bellow and his friend arrived in Mexico City at Trotsky's villa and were directed to the hospital, where they requested to see him. A doctor led them into a small room where \\"He had just passed away. A cone of bloody bandages adorned his head. His cheeks, his nose, his beard, his throat, were streaked with blood and with dried iridescent trickles of iodine.\\"

Interspersed throughout are tiny, precious anecdotes: \\"Once, I encountered Arthur Koestler on the boulevard Saint-Germain. I was leading my small son by the hand - Koestler and I had met briefly in Chicago. He said, \\"Is this your child?\\" I replied, \\"Yes.\\" I was then admonished: a writer had no business having children. Hostages to fortune....the whole spiel. I said, \\"Well, he's here.\\" It wasn't that I didn't admire Koestler. I did. But he was evidently as full of platitudes as the next person.\\"

Miscalculation

The late Saul Bellow has long been esteemed as one of the premier writers of the late 20th Century. His combative prose, erudite insights, and mastery of ideas earned him the Nobel Prize, an honor not bestowed upon either Updike or Roth, despite their remarkable works. I have cherished several of his novels such as Herzog, Henderson, Augie March, Humboldt's Gift, and still hold his fiction in high regard.

However, unlike Updike, I was not familiar with Bellow as an essayist. Compared to Updike, he did not seem overly interested in this form, or so I believed, until I perused this rather disappointing collection. While it contains some brilliant observations, like his essay on Mozart, the collection also houses his core criticism of modern culture - that it has been dumbed down to the point of being rubbish. He yearns for the late 19th and early 20th centuries, a time filled with literary and artistic giants. He lectures the reader repeatedly (literally, there are lengthy lectures included here), making the same point over and over again. He asserts many things in this collection, some of which are very difficult to follow, especially if one disagrees, and he comes across as a bit of a bore.
Perhaps he should have indeed confined these ideas to his fiction, such as Planet, Dean's December, etc., and refrained from venturing into other forms. In doing so, he becomes a less endearing writer. Yet, at times, his ideas truly soar, and his writing is, well....pure Bellow (hard to surpass). Therefore, this is a collection that is hard to love, but one that a Bellow fan must read, if only for those fleeting moments of Bellow's brilliance.

It is truly interesting to observe Bellow in a more unbuttoned and casual state when it comes to his non-fiction evaluations of people, books, and politics.

His works in this genre are wide-ranging, covering a vast array of topics and subjects. What makes them even more engaging is the touch of a knowing irony that he weaves throughout.

Despite the light-hearted and often humorous approach, Bellow presents all his ideas from a fundamentally moral and humane perspective. He has a deep understanding of the human condition and uses his writing to explore and comment on the various aspects of our lives.

Whether he is analyzing a particular political situation or critiquing a literary work, Bellow always manages to bring a unique and thought-provoking perspective. His non-fiction works are a must-read for anyone interested in gaining a deeper understanding of the world around us.

The collection under consideration here truly spans a remarkable period of several decades. It encompasses a wide range of works, with some being extremely engaging and captivating, while others unfortunately fall into the category of being rather banal.

One of the standout pieces is his autobiographical essay titled "In the days of Roosevelt", which is truly wonderful. It offers a unique perspective and a vivid portrayal of that era.

However, a travelogue that describes a trip around downstate Illinois reveals his somewhat limited understanding of rural America. This serves as a reminder that even great writers have their blind spots.

Some of the pieces in the collection are simply dated, having lost their relevance over time. But interestingly, his observations on Khrushchev are still as fresh, insightful, and entertaining as ever. They provide valuable insights into a significant historical figure.

His Nobel lecture is an absolute must-read for anyone who is interested in Bellow's approach to fiction. It offers a wealth of knowledge and inspiration.

In short, this volume is definitely worth skimming through in order to discover the good stuff that it contains. It is a collection that showcases both the strengths and weaknesses of the writer, but overall, it has much to offer.

A book that I initially began listening to as an audiobook soon led me to place an order for the physical copy. I knew that there were numerous passages within it that I would want to dogear, underline, and revisit. The author's bemoaning of the distracted public in 1980, with their consumption of newspapers and network TV, contains a lot of "you ain't seen nothing yet" moments. It makes one wonder how much more distracted we have become in the age of the internet and smartphones. The book seems to offer valuable insights into the changing nature of our attention spans and the impact of media on our lives. I'm looking forward to delving deeper into its pages and exploring these ideas further.

I have just read Sartre's "Between Existentialism and Marxism", and it was quite interesting to come across Bellows' frequently angry opposition to what he perceives as the devaluation of literature due to intellectual or political grandstanding. I have a great love for Bellows' fiction, but I was a bit disconcerted by the evidence indicating that he was often a cantankerous man who engaged in dime-store psychoanalysis of his contemporaries. However, the eulogies he wrote for his friends are filled with genuine affection. Zionism, American exceptionalism, and a love for Chicago are all intertwined with the depth of the man who penned Mr. Sammler. What an extraordinary individual he was!