RIP Edna O'Brien

The Irish writer Edna O'Brien died 7/27/24 at the age of 93. Her fiction focused on women's lives and feelings, about which she wrote with passion. Her writing was sometimes controversial, especially in Ireland, because of its frankness about women's sexuality and love affairs. Her first book, "Country Girls" (1960), for example, was initially banned in Ireland. As Hillel Italie wrote for the Associated Press after O'Brien's death, "Few so concretely and poetically challenged Ireland's religious, sexual and gender boundaries. Few wrote so fiercely, so sensually about loneliness, rebellion, desire and persecution." Nevertheless, O'Brien's writing was prolific, very popular, and prize-winning.

RIP Ellen Gilchrist

I recently ran across a mention of the author Ellen Gilchrist and, in particular, of her short story collection "In the Land of Dreamy Dreams" (Little, Brown, 1981), and I remembered how much I had liked this book and others of Gilchrist's in the past, but had not thought about her work for years, perhaps decades. I immediately requested the above book at my local library. Then I went online to remind myself about her life and her books, and to my surprise, I saw that she had died in January of this year at the age of 88. I was surprised not to have heard this news, although I soon found that she had received obituaries in the New York Times and elsewhere that I had somehow missed. She was well-known in the 1980s especially, but less so in recent years. She was a National Book Award winner with a distinctive voice, often from the viewpoint of upper-class Southern women, but in unpredictable ways. Gilchrist, who was a Mississippi native and later lived in Arkansas, with a familiarity with New Orleans, often drew on her own life experiences, and was known for her "wry and poignant prose," as the Washington Post put it after her death. Interestingly, in college she studied under Eudora Welty. Gilchrist's characters were sometimes eccentric, seemingly free from certain societal constrictions (allowed to be so, it must be said, because of class privilege), yet still a part of the world of those constrictions. Her 26 books -- novels, stories, and essays -- often included recurring characters. I did reread "In the Land of Dreamy Dreams," and was glad to have revisited the world portrayed by Ellen Gilchrist. Perhaps I will soon reread her other most well-known work, "Victory in Japan" (1984) as well.

RIP Alice Munro

A great light has gone out. Generally acknowledged to be one of the best short story writers ever, the Canadian writer Alice Munro died yesterday. She was 92 years old. She was highly lauded by many, and received many awards, including the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2013. Most of her stories are set in rural Ontario, which is where Munro lived for most of her life, and most often focus on women in that milieu. She has been compared to fellow short story writers Katherine Anne Porter and Raymond Carver. Fellow writers have praised her highly. Edna O'Brien ranked her with William Faulkner and James Joyce as influences on her work. Cynthia Ozick called her "our Chekhov." (I drew on today's New York Times article/obituary, by Anthony DePalma, for some of the above.) I have long read and loved Munro's stories (and her one novel, which she later said was more a series of linked stories); her work is so very original, powerful, psychologically astute, and perceptive. I have posted about her work here (e.g., on 7/22/10, 12/6/12, 10/10/13, and 8/3/14). What I have written today seems vastly inadequate, but I hope readers either already know her work, or will seek it out.

The Fiction of English Author Elizabeth Taylor

During difficult times, I often find myself revisiting old friends: authors and books that I have loved and admired greatly, and that I have frequently re-read. One such author whose books I have turned to again lately is the mid-20th century English writer Elizabeth Taylor. I have read and re-read almost all of her fiction, and have written here before (2/23/10, 6/27/15, 7/31/15), highly appreciatively, of her novels and short stories. I just re-read Taylor’s first novel, “At Mrs. Lippincote’s” (1945), and read for the first time her last book, completed while she was dying of cancer, and published posthumously, “Blaming” (1976). I won’t repeat all that I have written about Taylor’s work before, except to say that it is low-key in plot, highly focused on character, especially of women, and meticulously observant of the daily lives, thoughts, and feelings of her characters. Taylor does not shy away from portraying the less admirable aspects of her characters’ thoughts and behaviors, but always makes us understand them. She does not sentimentalize or dramatize, yet we readers are drawn in, mulling over and savoring each passage, each minute revelation.

RIP Beverly Cleary

I was one of the many, many children who loved Beverly Cleary’s books about Ramona Quimby, her older sister Beezus, Henry Huggins, Otis Spofford, and this author’s other indelible characters. Cleary, a librarian, had children ask for books about “kids like us,” so she started writing about kids and situations based on her own childhood in Oregon. Cleary’s books are relatable and funny, and readers feel they know her characters personally. The books have obviously had a wide appeal; 91 million copies of her books have been sold. The books have been translated into more than a dozen languages, and have won multiple awards. As a child, I loved the Ramona books, but the book I felt the closest connection with was “Ellen Tebbets.” Ellen had a secret: her mother made her wear long underwear, and when she changed for her dance class, she was petrified that others would find out. I don’t know why I particularly related to this book or to this situation, but I do remember to this day that the book made me feel like an insider, the one who knew the secret, and I did not want anyone else to know it. I had no idea that millions of other young readers also knew the secret; instead, it was as if Ellen had confided in me, and only me. I was sad to hear that Cleary had died on March 25, 2021, at the age of 104. What a great legacy she left! (Note: thanks to Hillel Italie of the Associated Press for some of the details I have written about here.)

"Amy Tan: An Unintended Memoir," on PBS

I still remember the wonderful shock of reading Amy Tan’s novel “The Joy Luck Club” when it was first published in 1989. There had been a few, but very few, novels by Chinese American authors published before this, the most notable of which was (in my opinion) Maxine Hong Kingston’s 1976 book “The Woman Warrior.” These two books together were true breakthroughs, not only for Chinese American writers, but for opening up possibilities for writers of other minority ethnicities. They were particularly meaningful as pioneer Chinese American women writers. It is perhaps hard for younger readers of today to realize how very white and male U.S. literature was before the 1970s and 1980s; see any college literature curriculum of the time, for example. “The Joy Luck Club” became a huge bestseller, and was made into a movie, and Tan’s later books were also very successful. Today I am writing about Tan and her novels because a couple of weeks ago, on May 3, I watched PBS’ program “Amy Tan: An Unintended Memoir,” about Tan, her family (especially her mother), her writing, her supportive husband, her being part of a writers’ rock band, her love of drawing birds, and how she learned to take risks, along with many other topics. Tan has struggled with the early loss of her father and brother to fatal brain tumors; with her own health issues, including a terrible case of Lyme Disease; with periodic writers’ block; and with criticism from those who quibble with her portrayals of Chinese Americans. There are interviews on this program with Tan herself and those who know her, including clips of her with her late mother. Also other authors, notably Kevin Kwan, speak with emotion of how Tan’s work was such a breakthrough, and paved the way for other Chinese-American writers. This program was so insightful, so interesting, and so beautifully produced that I was glued to the screen the whole hour and 40 minutes. It is a lovely tribute to this great writer (who lives in the San Francisco Bay Area, so we take extra pride in her and her work).

RIP Robb Forman Dew

I was sad to hear, belatedly, that the author Robb Forman Dew had died on May 22, 1920, at the age of 73, of a heart problem. I read her first and perhaps still most famous novel, “Dale Loves Sophie to Death” (1981) when it came out, and later read her other novels. She is known for, as the New York Times obituary put it, her unhurried “carefully etched novels of family life” that made her “one of our premier chroniclers of everyday life.” Readers of this blog know that these kinds of novels are among my most cherished. Dew was raised in the South, and felt she was shaped by her time there. Her becoming an author was partially influenced by her maternal grandfather, the well-known poet and critic John Crowe Ransom, with whom Dew was close. As a young adult, she formed lifelong friendships with several women writers, including Gail Godwin, Nancy Thayer, Louise Erdrich, and Anne Tyler. Besides her novels, she wrote a memoir, “The Family Heart” (1994), about her and her husband’s reaction to one of her sons’ coming out as gay. I am truly sad to hear of Dew’s death, especially at this relatively young age. Forty years after reading Dew’s first novel, and having read her other novels as well, I am inspired to re-read some or all of them; they are now on my to-read list.

Tommy Orange is interviewed by Laleh Khadivi

A few days ago, I was fortunate to hear (virtually, of course) the novelist Tommy Orange interviewed by another novelist, Laleh Khadivi, at the university where I teach, the University of San Francisco. Orange is the author of the innovative, powerful novel “There There,” about urban Native Americans living in Oakland, California. I wrote about that novel here on 10/26/18. Laleh Khadivi is the Iranian-American author of “The Kurdish Trilogy” of novels; she teaches at the University of San Francisco. The event was originally supposed to be in person, but like so many other events, had to be postponed, and ultimately ultimately conducted on Zoom, because of the pandemic. Orange spoke candidly about his own background and about the writing of this novel, his first. He wrote that he didn’t really know what a novel was until he read the novels “The Bell Jar,” by Sylvia Plath, and “A Confederacy of Dunces,” by John Kennedy Toole. With both novels, he was impressed by the tragedy and the suicide, but also by the way the novelists created art, created something beautiful. These two novels provided a doorway into many other novels he then read, including by Kafka and Borges. (During the interview, Orange noted Khadivi’s books by Borges in the bookshelf visible behind her. I smiled when he mentioned this, as I, like many other readers, often try during Zoom calls to see what books are on other people’s bookshelves.). Orange spoke of the current moment of auto-fiction, fiction which is close to authors’ own lives, almost memoir. He said it was hard to balance his portraits of the characters in his novel, wanting to be clear and accurate, yet avoiding stereotypes about Native Americans. The two novelists discussed how writing a first novel provides a type of freedom that does not exist when writing ensuing novels, when the writer has to deal with all the expectations of readers and critics. But Orange said he felt he could write the (second) book he wanted to write, and in fact is in the process of writing, and wasn’t worried about whether it would be successful or not; he would be happy just to have written it. The two authors talked about how novels develop in writers’ minds, and how they determine the structure of their novels. They talked about the concept of “tribes,” and about unjust systems of power, both novelists having written about oppressed groups lacking power. Orange made the point that Native Americans want to be seen as nations, not just as American Indians. He said that they have been dehumanized, and in order to be rehumanized, they need their culture, their rituals, and their stories. This conversation between two terrific writers was quietly powerful, even revelatory, and I for one felt privileged to listen in on their discussion, and appreciated so much the level of openness and the insights they shared.

RIP Nawal El Saadawi

I write in tribute to the late, great Nawal El Saadawi, physician, writer, feminist, activist, advocate for women, who died on March 22, 2021, at the age of 89. Her work was pathbreaking in her own country, Egypt, as well as throughout the Middle East and the world. She was a brave woman, always speaking out her truth, even when it was dangerous for her. Among other indignities and frightening experiences that she suffered were being jailed by Anwar Sadat in 1981 for protests against the Egyptian government, as well as receiving death threats. She dared to write about women’s sexuality, including in her first book, “Women and Sex.” She fought social and religious restrictions put on women, including fighting against genital mutilation. Meanwhile she wrote over fifty works of fiction and nonfiction; her work was translated into over forty languages. She received many honors, including being on the cover of Time magazine. But she was never given honors in her own country, Egypt. I first read some of El Saadawi’s work in my college days, and as a woman and feminist, I was struck by, and so admired, her work. What a difference she made in the lives of so many women! Thank you, Nawal El Saadawi!

RIP Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Many of us thought, with a kind of magical thinking, that Lawrence Ferlinghetti would always be with us. But the wonderful Beat poet, publisher, free speech advocate, bookstore proprietor, and longterm resident of San Francisco’s legendary North Beach, died February 22, 2021, at the age of 101. He is famous not only for his own poetry, but for such highlights as publishing Allen Ginsburg’s incendiary “Howl and Other Poems” in 1956, for which action Ferlinghetti was tried for obscenity but fortunately won the case due to a judge’s saying the poem had “redeeming social significance.” Ferlinghetti was enormously supportive to fellow poets. Perhaps his most powerful and lasting legacy is the City Lights Bookstore, opened in 1953 and still drawing visitors (pilgrims, in a sense) from all over the world. The bookstore was and is a center for literature and political activism. He received many honors over the years, including being chosen as San Francisco’s first Poet Laureate, and having the alley behind City Lights named for him. He will be honored and missed by those around the world who love poetry. His poetry collection, “A Coney Island of the Mind,” is still the most popular poetry book in the United States, with more than one million copies in print. He will always have a particular place in the heart of San Franciscans. To honor him upon his death, San Francisco Mayor London Breed spoke of “the immense power of his work” and of “his commitment to this city and its people,” and ordered the flag at City Hall to be flown at half mast. Countless people have been influenced by Ferlinghetti. I remember that when I moved to San Francisco as a young adult, decades ago, one of the first places I wanted to visit and pay tribute to was City Lights Bookstore. I was in awe of the place, with its vast variety of literary and political works, and its welcoming atmosphere. Thank you, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, for all you did and all you meant to so many people for so long. (My thanks to the San Francisco Chronicle for the information provided in its several articles about Ferlinghetti’s life and death.)

RIP Diane di Prima

I heard San Francisco poet Diane di Prima read within a month of my arriving in San Francisco for a new teaching position, many many years ago. I was excited to be in this fabled city, with its beauty and vibrant culture. As an English major, I had studied the Beat poets, but of course those were mainly men. The reading was in Golden Gate Park, and sure enough, the poets were almost all men. I was thrilled and starstruck to see them and hear them read their work. But Di Prima was a revelation, and she is the one whom I remember from that evening of poetry. That evening came back to me when I heard of Di Prima’s death on October 25th, at the age of 86. She was originally from New York City, and started writing poetry at a young age. One of her high school classmates, with whom she shared her early poetry, was another gifted and legendary poet, Audre Lorde. De Prima was a teacher, an editor, an organizer, an activist, and at one point, San Francisco’s poet laureate. She was also the mother of five children. She was unafraid to write about female sexuality, graphically at that, and about motherhood. She never stopped writing, even during her final eight years during which she suffered from Parkinson’s disease and other health problems. She lived life fully, literarily and otherwise, and she was a pioneer in poetry. I know she inspired many, including this blogger/reader/feminist. (Thanks go to reporter Sam Whiting at the San Francisco Chronicle, in his 10/29/20 obituary, for some of the details included in this post.)

RIP Deirdre Bair

I am very sorry to hear, today, of the death of writer Deirdre Bair. She died on April 17, at the age of 84, of heart failure. She was the highly respected biographer about whom I wrote very recently, on 2/18/20, on the occasion of my having read her 2019 book, “Parisian Lives: Samuel Beckett, Simone de Beauvoir and Me.” This book was a memoir about writing biographies of these two towering writers. In my post, I raved about this book, saying it was “one of the very best books I have read recently.” The combination of the fascinating subject matter, the excellent writing, and Bair's good eye for the telling detail made the book pure joy to read. Bair also wrote biographies of other well-known people, and was an active scholar and professor. I am sad that she is gone, and sad that there will be no more books from her.

I Have a Bone to Pick with Andre Aciman

Andre Aciman, the author of the novels “Call Me by Your Name” (2007) and “Find Me” (2019), among other books, believes that Virginia Woolf’s novel “Mrs. Dalloway” is “an overrated novel that I don’t find particularly gripping or interesting. I’m not even sure it’s well written” (New York Times Book Review “By the Book” interview, November 3, 2019). REALLY??? Of course everyone has the right to her or his own preferences in literature. But to go as far as to say this brilliant, breakthrough novel is overrated and not necessarily well written? I strongly suspect that this is at least partly a gendered opinion, based on the facts that the main character is a woman, that the novel takes place in one seemingly ordinary day(the much-maligned "domestic fiction," which is usually written by women, but when written by men, is much more laudatorily received) and that much of the novel takes place in the mind and memory of that woman. The added fact that the main event of Mrs. Dalloway’s day is a party may also be partly the object of Aciman’s disdain. Woolf’s prose is known for its experimental-but-still-true-to-realism quality. And although the main character is from a time past, and from an upper-class life, these facts in no way undermine the essential consciousness and preoccupations and inevitable realities of her life, and of the lives of many women (and, for that matter, some men). I understand that Aciman has written novels that, among other things, speak to and about the lives of gay men, and this is a good thing. But it does not excuse his almost contemptuous dismissal of one of the great novels of the twentieth century and indeed, of all time. Perhaps it adds context to note that in the same interview, Aciman also expressed disdain for “Anna Karenina,” stating that Tolstoy’s writing is “[e]pic, panoramic and gushy, but ultimately simple” and that the novel “did not change me.” One could take this as evidence of Aciman’s equal-opportunity scorning of great writers. However, note that in the NYT interview he only favorably mentions (with the exception of Djuna Barnes’ novel “Nightwood") male writers, including Dostoyevsky, Pascal, Racine, John le Carre, Joyce, Eliot, and Gogol. I had recently been considering reading Aciman’s new novel, “Find Me,” but after his diss of “Mrs. Dalloway,” I don’t think I will. (That’ll show him, right?)

RIP Toni Morrison

Toni Morrison died on August 5, at the age of 88. It feels shocking to type that sentence. Several commentators have stated that they thought that somehow she would be immortal. This eminent African-American writer, winner of the 1993 Nobel Prize for Literature and many other literary prizes, wrote so originally, imaginatively, and powerfully, and her work was so deeply influential, that it is hard to find words adequate to describe her work. Let me borrow some words from black writers who were influenced by her. Tracy K. Smith, in The Guardian (8/11/19), says that Morrison’s novels “chose black lives as their central subjects, enthralling readers with her commitment to the inner lives of black characters.” Jason Reynolds, in the same Guardian article, praises Morrison for her “audacity,” and states that she “up-ended” all the things that black writers had been told; she told black writers that they were “free – free to write however and whatever they wanted to write.” Morrison herself said she wanted "black people writing for black people." Many writers and critics agree that it is impossible to fully express how much Morrison influenced African-American writers and writing. Even before she started publishing her own work, Morrison influenced the literary world during her approximately 20 years as an editor for Random House, when she nurtured and promoted the work of many African and African-American writers. She published her own first novel, “The Bluest Eye,” in 1970, followed by “Sula,” “The Song of Solomon,” and her most well-known and critically-acclaimed novel, “Beloved” (1987). She received the Pulitzer Prize in Fiction in 1988, only after a letter signed by well over 40 notable black writers urged the awarding of that prize. Morrison went on to publish several more novels, as well as essays and children’s books; she also taught for years at Princeton University. In 2012, she received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President Obama. Through her writing (and editing and teaching), this towering American figure deeply influenced writers and readers of all backgrounds. I was one of her millions of readers, was deeply affected by her novels, and taught some of her work as well. Toni Morrison’s legacy will always live on.

RIP Nina Baym

Nina Baym was one of the important pioneer scholars who researched and publicized forgotten American women writers. She was, in a sense, part of the women’s movement of the 1970s and beyond, and in particular, one of the women scholars who re-examined the American canon, saw how biased it was, and determined to resurrect books by women writers. Baym died on June 15, 2018 at the age of 82, and this is a belated but heartfelt tribute to her. I was one of the longtime readers and English majors who was also starting to realize how male-dominated the world of literary fiction was, and who welcomed the women scholars who were trying to change this bias. I remember reading Baym’s work with excitement. She was a professor at the University of Illinois who started off by researching Nathaniel Hawthorne’s work, but in the 1970s became curious about the many lost women’s novels, and began to do research to rediscover women writers of the 19th Century. She explored the question of how it is decided which writing is significant, and realized that male critics heavily favored male writers and “male” topics. I am so deeply thankful to Nina Baym and the other women scholars of the 1970s and onward who made sure that women writers’ works were not lost to history, and who reminded us that the biases of critics in power can affect which writers are considered “good” writers who deserve to be read, studied, and remembered. The work of these women scholars was more of a revolution than is perhaps now acknowledged; is it a good thing, or not, that their conclusions are now taken for granted? In any case, it is important to remember that although Baym’s work and that of others changed the literary world forever, there are still biases that need to be fought in the world of literature.

RIP Diana Athill

Flipping through radio stations about a month ago, breezing through a little bit of BBC News, I suddenly heard the name Diana Athill, and gasped as I realized that this great English author and editor had died (on 1/23/19). Although she was 101 years old, I was shocked; somehow, as I enjoyed and savored her wonderful books, especially her memoirs, over the years, I had come to believe at some level that she would never die. Athill was a respected, even legendary, editor for the publisher Andre Deutsch in London for 50 years, working with such writers as Jean Rhys, Philip Roth, John Updike, Simone de Beauvoir, V.S. Naipaul, Margaret Atwood, and many more. In later years she wrote a series of memoirs, including “Stet,” “Somewhere Towards the End,” and “Alive, Alive Oh!” (See my blogposts of 3/5/10, 6/9/12, and 2/11/16 about Athill and her work.) Her writing provides a fascinating and revealing window into her literary life, as well as her complicated and in some ways unconventional personal life; this writing is wonderful, candid, vivid and generous. Athill was a strong, independent woman, and wrote fearlessly. She was, among other things, a great model of how to age; she was honest about the ups and downs of that process as she was about everything else. I admired her greatly, and her writing gave me great pleasure. I am sad that there will be no more books from her.

"A Life of My Own," by Claire Tomalin

Once in a long while, I love a book so much that I hesitate to write about it here, because I worry that I won’t do it justice. Claire Tomalin’s recent book, “A Life of My Own” (Penguin, 2017) is an example. Tomalin is a well-known English literary editor, critic, and esteemed biographer of great figures of British literature such as Mary Wollstonecraft, Samuel Pepys, Shelley, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Thomas Hardy, and Katherine Mansfield. So you already have an inkling of why I am so drawn to this writer. But to be more explicit: she is English (as you may remember, I am a bit of an Anglophile); she is a woman; she has been involved in literary matters her whole life; she has terrific taste in writers (several of the subjects of her biographies are among my favorites – in particular Austen and Hardy); she has lived a long and full life outside of her literary work as well, with a complicated and fulfilling – if sometimes difficult -- family life, including two marriages and four children. After being a biographer of so many others, in this book, at the age of 80-plus, she writes about herself. One of her themes, about which she is clear but not didactic, is the question for all women who want to “balance” a life in literature and a full family life of just how to do that; she does not shy away from describing how hard that balancing act sometimes is, but she also does not dwell on it. She writes engagingly about her family, her childhood, her education, her romances, her marriages, her travels, her various literary jobs, her own writing, the other writers she has known personally, her children, and much more. But what I am afraid of not being able to convey is what a wonderful, wonderful writer she is. She also strikes me as a fascinating (although unpretentious and down-to-earth in some ways) person, and her autobiography makes me wish I knew her personally. I loved reading this book, and I highly recommend it to you; do please consider reading it.

RIP Mary Oliver

The poet Mary Oliver died a few days ago, on January 17, 2019, at the age of 83, of lymphoma. This is a great loss, and she is being deeply mourned by her many, many readers and admirers. Actually, “admirers” is not a strong enough word for those who love Oliver’s poetry, and whose lives have been directly influenced by her poems. Some years ago, when I didn’t know Oliver’s poetry particularly well, I went to hear her read here in San Francisco. The venue was full, mostly of women, and there was something in the air that immediately indicated that the audience was thrilled to be there, almost worshipful, and that they felt a deep personal connection to her and her work. At that time, Oliver already had some problems with mobility, and had to be helped to and from the podium. But her presence and voice were strong, and from the moment she started speaking and then reading, she had the audience rapt. After this experience, I sought out Oliver’s poetry and saw why it was so popular. She writes about things that matter to her readers: how to live, how to observe, how to relate to nature, how to know what is most important, how to appreciate life. Some critics have been suspicious of her popularity (being popular seems to be automatically regarded as a defect) and have called her poetry lightweight or simplistic. They are simply wrong. (I can’t help wondering if some of the condescension shown to her work is because she is a woman, and because so many of her readers are women….) Her most famous line, in her most famous poem, “The Summer Day,” is “Tell me, what is it you plan to do/with your one wild and precious life?” This line has resonated with huge numbers of readers, and with good reason. But there are so many more poems that are also wonderful, beautifully written, aesthetically pleasing, and meaningful, even healing, to her readers. The stature and value of Oliver’s work have also been validated by her Guggenheim, her Pulitzer, and her National Book Award, among other prizes and honors. Goodbye, Mary Oliver, and thank you for your quietly stunning poems, which I am sure will be read by many, many more people for many, many more years.

Remembering Favorite Authors Who Have Died

The recent death of Philip Roth (see my post of 5/26/18) reminded me of how many great writers we have lost in the eight years (and a few months) since I have been writing this blog. I have posted about the deaths of several of these authors, writers whom I have read and admired and to whom I have felt somehow connected. Some of these are more well-known than others, but each one of them is missed by me and by many others. As a reminder of, and in honor of, the writers that have died, and about whom I have written “RIP” posts, I list them here (in alphabetical order): Edward Albee, Maya Angelou, Vance Bourjaily, Judy Brady, Anita Brookner, Dorothy Bryant, Alan Cheuse, E.L. Doctorow, Shulamith Firestone, Paula Fox, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Nadine Gordimer, Sue Grafton, Kent Haruf, Shirley Hazzard, P.D. James, Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, Bel Kaufman, Carolyn Kizer, Ursula Le Guin, Doris Lessing, Philip Levine, Kate Millett, Bharati Mukherjee, Robert Pirsig, Philip Roth, James Salter, Anita Shreve, and William Trevor. (As a reminder, you can search for any of these posts in the small search box on the top lefthand side of this blog.) It makes me sad all over again to construct this list. But I remind myself that each of these writers has left a legacy of her or his written work. And we can always find and read or re-read their work. My great hope is that more readers, now and in the future, will continue to discover these great writers.

RIP Philip Roth

The prolific and much admired American writer Philip Roth died May 22, 2018, at the age of 85. He was often spoken of as a possible recipient of the Nobel Prize for Literature. (I wonder if he might have done so this year, if it were not for the scandal that prevented any writer’s being chosen for this year, and now it is too late, as Nobel Prizes are not awarded posthumously.) Although he did not win the Nobel, he received two National Book Awards, a Pulitzer, a Mann Booker Prize, several PEN awards, and many other prestigious recognitions of his work. He received a National Humanities Medal in 2010, presented by President Obama in the White House. He wrote 27 novels and four books of nonfiction. I, like so many, read, admired, and enjoyed his early books. At a certain point, though, I became more disinclined to read his novels because they were so heavily representative of a very male, very masculine viewpoint. On the one hand, I admire any thoughtful and truthful representation of human experience and thought, and I did and do admire Roth for portraying areas of male experiences and especially sexual behavior that were not much written about before by mainstream literary authors. I am not a prude, and am not offended at all by this. But as an individual female reader, I felt discouraged from continuing to read every novel he published. Still, I want to honor him as one of the great American writers of the mid-to-late twentieth century, often grouped with Saul Bellow and John Updike as the preeminent American writers of their time. I also acknowledge that he wrote about many themes besides male (heterosexual) sexuality, including some political and historical ones, as well as, in particular, about Jewish American life. Roth will be long remembered for his fearlessness as well as for his great gifts as a writer.