No one does it like Bellow. No one gets the rich contradiction of beauty and petty evil and above all fun of human existence. No one is as deadly on the page as him.
Thanks for this, but I do think you let him off the hook too easily on the Sammler point. The fact is that Bellow descended into reactionary politics, as many writers and artists do. It made his work worse. That book, in particular, is made worse for its racist depiction of the pickpocketer, which he doesn't do enough writerly work to distance the reader from. Many such (trotskyite) instances!
Nevertheless, Bellow remains an absolute favorite, a Chicago GOAT, and you did the best of him justice here.
Why would Bellows even want to "distance the reader from the racist depiction of the pickpocketer?" Humans don't live lives of cool, distant rationality. As much as we attempt to distance ourselves from the shadowy depths of our subconscious, it is there where our messy authentcity converges.
you misunderstand me: what I mean is that the passage reads as the author's racism not just the character's. there is too much identification with the narrative voice to say 'this is just one man's perspective.'
The point to me is that it's not necessarily important or interpreted correctly. I am as sure that Bellow had some bigoted views as I am that my own family elders did and do, it was and is a stubborn part of the culture. However, he wrote about people of all kinds with an honesty that today reads as pure racism but at the time was an artist exploring the experiences and perspectives of different types. Wouldn't it be a little strange if Sammler, an aging European alive during the social upheavals of the 1960s/1970s America, *wasn't* a little bit racial in his views and experiences? The point of all this, in my view, is the application of this for Sammler's enlightenment: the pickpocket demonstrates that he has only and exactly as much humanity as Sammler and that's a tricky lesson for him in the novel. Anyway Stanley Crouch wrote a nice introduction to the Penguin edition of Sammler and is also interviewed in the PBS American Masters documentary on Bellow, and he clarifies a few things regarding this issue. There is more to it, simply, than "Sammler was a stand in mouthpiece for Bellow himself" (which is not accurate).
I get this, and it's been a few years since I read it, but as a longtime reader of Bellow my overriding impression that it was kind of a stand in for the author. I might be off base, but it is also consistent with his real life reactionary turn.
It isn't just one man's perspective, but that of all of messy humankind. You are analyzing what needs to be metabolized. Bellows is encourging us to get out of our heads and into our guts.
I think being able to distinguish between satire/critique and genuine racism is important when engaging with a novel in which Black people are depicted as barbaric lazy criminals. Otherwise, the 'woke' critique that we shouldn't even read the satire begins to make sense.
I do not think 'barbaric lazy criminal' is an accurate way of describing the pickpocket character. However, Bellow works to bring everyone, including Sammler, down to the basest, least rational versions of themselves. This is the point of the book.
Wow, it's like you're in my brain. Just this morning, I re-read A Silver Dish. Yesterday, I started reading Augie March. The only one of Bellow's novels I've read is Herzog, but I can already feel myself growing obsessed with him and his prose. Loved your thoughts about Bellow as a mystic--it gives me a new lens through which to read him!
I've read everything and go back to Saul again and again--and long ago decided he was a genius--despite the crazy life story. I lived in Hyde Park, Chicago, for five years near where he did--and got an earful.
And then there's Epstein's horrendous essay about him; he even says that _Seize the Day_ is a terrible book???? Then he goes on about the wives. Then there's his son Adam's New York Times piece after his father's death.
But still the work stands for all the reasons you say. I could go on, but you've covered the brilliance so well!
It's interesting that "Ravelstein" was the book that hooked you at the beginning. It contains some of the most indelible "Bellow Mysticus" moments, similar to the bit you quoted from "Humboldt's Gift."
First, there's the remarkable two pages starting on p. 82 of my Penguin edition; this mini-essay begins "That I was hard on myself, Ravelstein took..." This is one of the best pieces of writing describing pure experience of the world without any preconceptions, through the eyes of a child, that I have yet come across.
Second, there are the hallucinatory descriptions of Chick's illness after he eats the poisoned fish. This part complements the earlier part, because here Chick (who is obviously Bellow; the book is very autobiographical) is experiencing reality not as a child but as an old man, and through the haze of illness. But the sense of bumping up against natural phenomena unmediated is similarly strong.
So we're clear--except for the very few exceptions mentioned here, aughts fiction was BAD? Categorically? Uh huh. Sorry, but the Woods moniker has aged poorly enough that he had to partially clarify it (and gee, how well do categorical denunciations of periods of art tend to age?). I generally despise Post-Modernism--at least the bulk versions of it--yet still found that round-up startlingly casual. But I'll be sure to let Franzen, Smith, DeLillo and Pynchon know you don't approve.
Fortunately, I also didn't need to read all of that to appreciate Herzog.
No one does it like Bellow. No one gets the rich contradiction of beauty and petty evil and above all fun of human existence. No one is as deadly on the page as him.
Thanks for this, but I do think you let him off the hook too easily on the Sammler point. The fact is that Bellow descended into reactionary politics, as many writers and artists do. It made his work worse. That book, in particular, is made worse for its racist depiction of the pickpocketer, which he doesn't do enough writerly work to distance the reader from. Many such (trotskyite) instances!
Nevertheless, Bellow remains an absolute favorite, a Chicago GOAT, and you did the best of him justice here.
Why would Bellows even want to "distance the reader from the racist depiction of the pickpocketer?" Humans don't live lives of cool, distant rationality. As much as we attempt to distance ourselves from the shadowy depths of our subconscious, it is there where our messy authentcity converges.
you misunderstand me: what I mean is that the passage reads as the author's racism not just the character's. there is too much identification with the narrative voice to say 'this is just one man's perspective.'
The point to me is that it's not necessarily important or interpreted correctly. I am as sure that Bellow had some bigoted views as I am that my own family elders did and do, it was and is a stubborn part of the culture. However, he wrote about people of all kinds with an honesty that today reads as pure racism but at the time was an artist exploring the experiences and perspectives of different types. Wouldn't it be a little strange if Sammler, an aging European alive during the social upheavals of the 1960s/1970s America, *wasn't* a little bit racial in his views and experiences? The point of all this, in my view, is the application of this for Sammler's enlightenment: the pickpocket demonstrates that he has only and exactly as much humanity as Sammler and that's a tricky lesson for him in the novel. Anyway Stanley Crouch wrote a nice introduction to the Penguin edition of Sammler and is also interviewed in the PBS American Masters documentary on Bellow, and he clarifies a few things regarding this issue. There is more to it, simply, than "Sammler was a stand in mouthpiece for Bellow himself" (which is not accurate).
I get this, and it's been a few years since I read it, but as a longtime reader of Bellow my overriding impression that it was kind of a stand in for the author. I might be off base, but it is also consistent with his real life reactionary turn.
It isn't just one man's perspective, but that of all of messy humankind. You are analyzing what needs to be metabolized. Bellows is encourging us to get out of our heads and into our guts.
I think being able to distinguish between satire/critique and genuine racism is important when engaging with a novel in which Black people are depicted as barbaric lazy criminals. Otherwise, the 'woke' critique that we shouldn't even read the satire begins to make sense.
I do not think 'barbaric lazy criminal' is an accurate way of describing the pickpocket character. However, Bellow works to bring everyone, including Sammler, down to the basest, least rational versions of themselves. This is the point of the book.
Do you honestly believe that Black people don’t understand and practice racism? Again, you are rationalizing this beyond Bellows’ intentions.
I don't know what you mean by Black people practicing racism
Wow, it's like you're in my brain. Just this morning, I re-read A Silver Dish. Yesterday, I started reading Augie March. The only one of Bellow's novels I've read is Herzog, but I can already feel myself growing obsessed with him and his prose. Loved your thoughts about Bellow as a mystic--it gives me a new lens through which to read him!
Love silver dish. Happy reading!
I've read everything and go back to Saul again and again--and long ago decided he was a genius--despite the crazy life story. I lived in Hyde Park, Chicago, for five years near where he did--and got an earful.
And then there's Epstein's horrendous essay about him; he even says that _Seize the Day_ is a terrible book???? Then he goes on about the wives. Then there's his son Adam's New York Times piece after his father's death.
But still the work stands for all the reasons you say. I could go on, but you've covered the brilliance so well!
i see Saul, I click like
To quote from Humboldt’s Gift: “Poet, thinker, problem drinker, pill-taker, man of genius, manic depressive, intricate schemer,
success story, he once wrote poems of great wit and beauty, but what had he done lately?”
It's interesting that "Ravelstein" was the book that hooked you at the beginning. It contains some of the most indelible "Bellow Mysticus" moments, similar to the bit you quoted from "Humboldt's Gift."
First, there's the remarkable two pages starting on p. 82 of my Penguin edition; this mini-essay begins "That I was hard on myself, Ravelstein took..." This is one of the best pieces of writing describing pure experience of the world without any preconceptions, through the eyes of a child, that I have yet come across.
Second, there are the hallucinatory descriptions of Chick's illness after he eats the poisoned fish. This part complements the earlier part, because here Chick (who is obviously Bellow; the book is very autobiographical) is experiencing reality not as a child but as an old man, and through the haze of illness. But the sense of bumping up against natural phenomena unmediated is similarly strong.
@Lillian Wang Selonick
So we're clear--except for the very few exceptions mentioned here, aughts fiction was BAD? Categorically? Uh huh. Sorry, but the Woods moniker has aged poorly enough that he had to partially clarify it (and gee, how well do categorical denunciations of periods of art tend to age?). I generally despise Post-Modernism--at least the bulk versions of it--yet still found that round-up startlingly casual. But I'll be sure to let Franzen, Smith, DeLillo and Pynchon know you don't approve.
Fortunately, I also didn't need to read all of that to appreciate Herzog.