Customer Reviews

More Die of Heartbreak

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An man long devoted to intellectual pursuits comes down from his ivory tower in a final bid for love, but finds himself defenseless in the real world, where people do not understand him but are happy to harness his prestige for their own purposes. Benn Crader is a world famous botanist, but he also is a soft-hearted man, as you will know when you encounter the quotation that includes the book's title. Will the great scientist protect his special intellectual gifts, or will he allow the pressures of his new, very materialistic adopted family to destroy him? It's a great premise for a novel, and Bellow covers many, many of its implications and takes the story to a logical yet surprising ending. Bellow's narrator, Crader's admiring nephew, often takes off on tangents to ruminate on current events, the contemporary intellectual scene and various intellectual pursuits. Some of these tangents seem to fit into the story better than others, and once in a while I got frustrated and found myself paging ahead to see when he would stop ruminating and start telling the darn story again. Yet Bellow's intellectual meanderings include many interesting observations about life, and taken as a whole, they help to build a textured world around the story. "More Die of Heartbreak" is not a literary classic, but it is worth reading.

Just when you think that you understand Bellow, this book comes along. By the way, do night buy this book, there is a newer version from Penguin in 2003 with a better introduction: ISBN 0142437743

I am a Bellow fan, read all of his novels, and wrote an Amazon guide: "A Guide to Reading Bellow." The present book is excellent. If I had to recommend just one, it would be "Herzog." but saying that, the present book is a surprise, like a breath of fresh air. Some of his novels have a warmth and charm, and have a certain tongue in cheek approach in describing the trials and tribulations of the narrator. The humour is mixed in with the meaning of our short lives, and the future of our souls. Bellow thought that the development of realism was the major event of modern literature. That includes how we view subjects such as sex, life and death, etc. Having said that, we see two changes here. One is that in most Bellow novels the men dominate the women, or they are equal. Yes, the women often divorce our hero in other works, but here the men are like putty in the hands of the women. Also, instead of one narrator, the present narrator, Kenneth, is so close to his uncle Benn that it seems like the story about two people not one.

In case you are new to Bellow, his novels reflect his life, his writings, and his five marriages during his five active decades of writing. He hit his peak as a writer around the time of "Augie March" in 1953 and continued through to the Pulitzer novel "Humbolt's Gift" in 1973. He wrote from the early 1940s through to 2000. His novels are written in a narrative form, and the main character is a Jewish male - usually a writer but not always - and he is living in either in New York or Chicago. Bellow wrote approximately 13 novels and a number of other works.

Bellow's style progressed over the five decades. The early novels "Dangling Man" and "The Victim" were written in the 1940s, 20 years before his peak. Some compare his style in "Dangling Man" with Dostoevsky's "Notes from the Underground." Having read both I would say that "Notes" is brilliant while "Dangling Man" is at best average and sometimes a bit slow, but the prose is excellent. Changes could be seen in his second book "The Victim" in 1947. The first half is slow, but then the pace intensifies in the second half. This increase in tempo and lightness carries on in his next book "The Adventures of Augie March" - his breakthrough book in 1953 that won a National Book Prize. He changes his style in "Henderson the Rain LKing" in 1959, and then returns to the New York-Chicago theme after "Henderson." Bellow hits a new high with "Herzog" in 1964, and that book sets the tone for a number of novels that follow. The present books follows later and came out in 1987.

In interviews, and from reading the early works, Bellow said that it was difficult to make the transition to becoming "uninhibited" in his writings. That transition ended in 1953 with "Augie March" and it was refined with "Herzog." After that, there is a certain sameness to the novels. We see a bit of a break in the present novel. There is a bit of laziness evident that he seems to use a number of quotations. But the plot is interesting, and he seems to take delight in exploring and reversing the role of man versus women. They women either ignore or try to manipulate the men, and at least one woman, Matilda, far out-classes our heroes (or as in Bellow novels, anti-heroes).

This is an interesting and unusual novel.

Saul Bellow was the one author on the syllabus of a college course I took years ago whose work(Herzog, I think) we never got around to. I am sorry it took me so long to get back to him.

The singular impression I got as I read and continued reading was that the story line held together throughout. Most writers have great inspiration and poor execution or great execution and poor inspiration, and the fabric frays. In this magnificent and therapeutic work, however, Bellow displays an admirable/enviable ability to manage the project and keep the reader invested to the very end.

Now back to Herzog.

I felt a certain tiredness in this work, a certain contrivance of a kind I did not feel in the most gripping Bellow works, Herzog, Seize the Day, Henderson the Rain King. But I also felt that old Bellow gift for inspired insight into life, a kind of reflectiveness on the everyday which makes a poetry of ' seeing'. The story here of the aging botanist in disappointed love as told by his botanist nephew does not in my judgment touch us in the deepest way .It's not the greatest Bellow but every Bellow has much to give.

This is the story of the relationships of a young faculty in a midwestern university with his uncle, a professor at the same university, with a sort of an ex-girlfriend, with whom he has a child, and with his parents, who live in Paris (where he grew up).

The first 70 pages or so of this novel are brilliant. Saul Bellow's gift for telling stories is depicted in them in both - plot and structure. He uses the English language and grammar as a musician uses notes to compose a beautiful and flowing piece of music.
Only after the first 70 pages the book becomes boring. The story is dragged and the beautiful usage of English turns into a demonstration of technique that doesn't really serve anything.

The verdict: Read the brilliant first 70 pages and then move to your next book...

There's something to be said for the relationship between the narrator and his uncle (portrayed by Corey Haim and Wink Martindale, disrespectfully), but most of the profundities spewed throughout this novel are just that - spew. This reads as a bucket of rationalizations for a dithering human to woo a woman, marry her, and then say, "Whoops! Eff it." When it all comes down, this sage of an uncle is a jerk. In him dwells something so human, so beautiful that he can seduce a beautiful woman into marriage (not that she's so nonaware that he holds some status), and then be so right darn right about dumping her on their honeymoon that he's abjectly blameless. Though this reeks of faux complexity, it holds a false stench just the same. The uncle's an idiot outside of his profession, the narrator's a pugilist to the extent he can whip up on a bathroom, and any semblance of a female lead is so stereotyped in effort to not be such that they have to become midgets or broad-shouldered broads. But Bellow does have thoughts coming out his head that you might not ever happen upon on your own.

I became interested in this novel at about the time I was going to put this down. My first instinct was best. This did become somewhat interesting, but it's hard to believe that Bellow wasn't stroking his own digressions, and the ending was as anti-climactic as what you would expect from any other mediocre novel.

Why don't more people read J. P. Donleavy?

The only thing that impressed me was the number of sentences, paragraphs--pages, even--that this guy wrote without saying anything at all.